Selene of Alexandria (49 page)

"Our agent verified the physical resemblance to the extent he could given the condition of the body. The embroidery and jewelry matched the description I gave him. I'm satisfied it is Selene."

"An unfortunate end for such a promising girl. I had hoped she would redeem herself and die penitent. I needed her accusations against Hypatia in my reports to the Augusta." Cyril steepled his hands. "However, we can salvage some small crumb of good from this sorry mess. Her story will be an example to the congregation of the need to resist pagan witches."

"Excellent. I will give the details to the presbyters. Should I draft a sermon?"

"No. I will compose this one myself. You may discontinue watching Calistus' home and servants. I need the parabolans to help us discreetly remove the Nitrian monks." Cyril reached for pen and paper then hesitated. "Arrange for one of the deacons to visit young Phillip and offer God's solace. With his father incapacitated and sister dead, he might be confused or angry."

"It will be done, Your Grace. What of Orestes and Hypatia?"

Cyril chewed on the end of his reed pen. "We must be more circumspect concerning the Prefect." He looked sharply at Hierex. "We don't want another attack on his person."

The little man fidgeted. "I didn't know the monks would be so volatile."

"I should have." Cyril sighed. "They nearly killed my uncle, decades ago, over a matter of doctrine. That was why he sent me to study with them for six years, so they would know me, and I them, when I took the Bishopric."

Cyril shook his head. "The monks are too dangerous to use in the city. My flock resents their rampages. We must wage a more subtle campaign; drive a wedge between Orestes and that pagan woman. If opinion turns against Hypatia, Orestes will have to abandon his public regard for her or risk losing the support of the populace. If he does forsake her he has no one but me to come to."

"Either way, Orestes becomes ineffectual as a governor." Hierex' eyes gleamed. "I will see to it."

Cyril waved his hand in dismissal. "Keep me informed."

"Phillip!" Selene ran to her brother. He picked her up and swung her around as if she were a little girl, then put her down, gasping; skin pale. Selene put her hand to his sweating forehead. "No fever, but you shouldn't exert yourself so soon after an illness." Her face collapsed. "I don't want to lose you, too. How is father?"

"No better." He tucked her arm in his, and they trailed to the sitting room. "I don't know what keeps him alive."

"I want to go to him. There is nothing I can do, but I want to see him one more time. And Rebecca?" Seated beside him on a couch, Selene looked into her brother's shadow-filled face.

"Rebecca tends our father as if he was her own, but still refuses to marry me." Phillip scrubbed his cheeks and knuckled his eyes but the action didn't erase the marks of illness or pain from his countenance. "I don't know what to do."

"Rebecca has suffered many losses – her mother, brothers, nearly her life – at the hands of Christians." Selene snuggled closer, head on his shoulder. "She needs to heal, as do we all. Give her time and trust that whatever happens, happens for the best."

"How can you say that, with what you've gone through?" He gathered her to his chest. "How is it for the best that you are hounded by the Patriarch, and must live in a shadow world, cut off from your rightful place in society? My little sister is dead and it's all for the best," he said bitterly.

She hugged him back. "I know it seems strange, but this necessity helped me see what is important in my life. Stripped of my past, I have the opportunity to make my own future. I will never again be Selene, daughter of Calistus, with all the protection and obligations of a young woman born to my station. I will take on new obligations, but of my choosing."

"It's a hard world for a woman alone." Phillip laid his cheek on her hair. "You need the protection of a brother, the support of a family."

She pushed him away at arm's length. "You will always be my beloved brother. But I am no poor ignorant woman, burdened with children, abandoned by her husband. I have an education and skills. I can make a living, possibly even find happiness." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Desperately, Phillip said, "Orestes told me he offered you shelter as long as you wanted. It would be an easy life and out of danger." Phillip's eyes slid away from hers. "You will be dead. No shame will attach to our family. I could visit as often as you wished."

"Do you believe I could be happy here? I can't marry Orestes and living as a cloistered concubine would be little better than taking a cell in the desert." Selene shook her head. "You, who are closest to me, should know food, safety, even companionship are not enough. I need to make a difference, make things better, if only in small ways."

"You've changed, little sister." Phillip could not hide the worry in his eyes. "You've grown up in ways I never expected. It's just that…you, Rebecca, Father…in so short a time is difficult."

"I know. I lose you all too." Selene stiffened with resolve. "I won't let Father die without me. I will visit him. Tonight."

"No, Selene, it's…" Phillip saw the look in her eyes. "What time?"

"I'll be at the servant's entrance shortly after dark. Tell Father I'm coming home."

Selene pulled the cloak over her hair, hiding her face in deep shadows. Demetrius led her the back way through the garden to the servant's quarters and out of the mansion's grounds. Nut juice darkened her face and hands, well-placed smudges of kohl deepened lines from nose to mouth, other lines created wrinkles in her smooth brow. She took on the gait that comes with the burdens of age.

Orestes had told her it was too soon to go out, and much too soon to go to her father's house. She threatened to leave undisguised if he didn't help. The hurt in his eyes and bitterness of his words haunted her. "I knew I couldn't keep you safe here forever." He'd laughed harshly. "We're a fine pair of fools, you and me. May God look after you, because I can't." He had stomped out of the room before she could say good-bye.

Demetrius opened a small door in the side of the wall and passed her a key. "You'll need this to return, Mistress."

"I don't know when I'll be back. Tell Orestes..." she hesitated, "just tell him I'll stay safe."

She slipped out of the servant's entrance and down the steep hill. People hurried to their homes and evening meal. With her old woman's hobble, she blended with the crowd, keeping a watchful eye. After several minutes, she realized a well-built youth, with something of the soldier in his bearing, trailed her.

Selene's heart thudded in an erratic rhythm. Did Cyril's people still hunt for her? Or did the youth see an easy target for robbery? She ambled across a square and ducked into a crowded tavern. The young man followed and casually surveyed the crowd.

Selene snagged a servant by the sleeve. "Do you have a latrine?"

The harried woman hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "Out back."

Selene slipped out. Tables and benches crowded the patio, lit by oil lamps. At the far end of the garden, a small building announced its purpose by its odor. A tree next to it overhung the wall. She glanced back. No sign of the nosy young man. Selene scrambled up the tree to the top of the wall and down to the alley behind. From there she made it to her father's home with no shadow but her own.

Selene knocked on the kitchen door. The scuff of sandals preceded the door opening. Lamplight flickered on Rebecca's face. Selene sidled through with one last glance over her shoulder at the empty alley. She pulled back her hood.

Rebecca's eyes went wide. "Selene, is that really you?"

Selene held out her arms. They embraced, then Rebecca pulled back to look her over more carefully.

"I thought I'd never see you again. When we heard you had escaped, I hoped you'd left the city. The Bloody Patriarch's men turned this place upside down. I practically threw them out of your father's room. They scared poor Aaron out of the last of his wits. He dreamed for days that the "bad men" came to take us away. When Orestes gave me your message…"

Selene chuckled. "Slow down, my friend. We will talk, but first I must see my father."

"Of course." Rebecca hugged her again. "I'm so happy you're safe."

"We need to be careful." Selene gently disentangled herself. "You never know who might be listening at keyholes. Someone told Cyril of things in our household." Her voice caught. "Did you hear of Mother Nut?"

"Another life I hold the Patriarch responsible for." Rebecca's moist eyes became flinty. "I have my suspicions about who told tales. I sent her home to her family. The rest of the servants are in bed. But you're right, we shouldn't tarry." Rebecca led Selene out of the kitchen, toward the private quarters.

They arrived at Calistus' door. Phillip sat by the bed, a lamp in the corner burning low. He rose and embraced his sister. "There's no change. He hasn't eaten or drunk in days."

Selene hardly recognized her father. Flesh had melted away, leaving pasty gray skin stretched tight over bones. His breath came in shallow irregular gasps. Selene sat in the chair her brother had vacated and picked up her father's skeletal hand.

"It's Selene, Father. I've come home to take care of you."

Selene thought she saw her father's lips twitch, more likely an illusion caused by the flickering lamplight or eyes blurred with unshed tears.

"We'll leave you alone." Phillip ushered Rebecca out.

Selene took a sponge from a bowl by the bed and squeezed water into her father's mouth. It ran down the sides of his face. She wiped off the moisture. Deprived of doing anything substantive for her father, Selene found herself humming a lullaby – one her mother had sung to her.

The night crawled by, filled with memories of her father and brothers. Sometimes she spoke aloud, asking if Calistus remembered the time she got stuck in the fig tree, or she scared Nicaeus by putting a snake in his boot. Sometimes she sat in silence, or crooned nonsense words. The quiet watch and long day eventually overcame her.

As the water clock struck three, Rebecca shook Selene awake. "He's gone."

The hand Selene held was cool and dry. She checked her father's breath and pulse, lifted his eyelids.

Selene had dreaded this day for over a year. She thought she had shed all her tears, and was surprised by the clenching pain that shot from her heart to close her throat with an iron grip. She drew a ragged breath. Tears oozed down her stained cheeks.

Generation, growth and decay – the inevitable cycle of mortal life. She knew the process intimately, had wrestled with loss both expected and unexpected. This empty husk was not her father. His absence, a sharp pain, she knew from experience, could only be blunted by time.

Selene crossed his arms over his chest and kissed her father one final time. "I'll tell Phillip."

"He's in your father's study. I'll stay with the body." Rebecca touched her arm. "I think he knew you were here. That's why he held on so long; waiting for you."

"Thank you, Rebecca."

Selene went downstairs to her father's office. Several lamps made the room bright as day. Phillip looked up, started and rose to his feet. "Father?"

Selene moved into his arms. "He's gone." Phillip clenched her tight and bent his head into her hair. She felt his breath shudder as he stifled sobs. "He's out of pain now, brother."

"I know." Phillip released her and rubbed his stubbled face, erasing any trace of tears. He went to a pitcher sitting on a side table. "Would you like some wine?"

She nodded.

"I kept hoping for a miracle." Phillip handed her a cup. "Each time I walked into his room I expected him to sit up and greet me. I knew it wouldn't happen, but I couldn't help myself." His gaze turned inward, and he crashed his goblet on the desk, slopping red wine over the papers, staining them like blood. "He's been sick a whole year and what did I do? Gad about the city, playing the spy. Acting the fool is more like it. He needed me home and I spent my time in taverns. I avoided my responsibilities – just as he always accused me."

"Father knew you did important work. He took pride in your friendship with Orestes."

"Much good it did him, you or Orestes."

"Father had a disease of the heart. Nothing you did could have prolonged his life or cut it short. And your relationship with Orestes saved my life." Selene set down her goblet to take his face in her hands. "Don't blame yourself. The pain of losing Father causes such morbid thoughts. I know. I tell myself it's a blessing; he's released from the agony of his failing body. That's why it hurts so. I don't want his death to feel natural, accepted. I want to howl at the moon, twist God's arm and make Him give my father back."

Phillip sighed. "You feel angry and I feel guilty. We make a fine pair." He sopped the wine from a pile of ledgers and notes.

"What are those?" Selene asked to distract him from his self-abnegation.

"Account books, tax receipts, civil levies." Phillip's mouth turned down in a bitter line. "Father was in worse straits than we thought. He owes thousands of talents, and guess who holds most of the notes?"

"Not Ision?"

Phillip nodded glumly. "He's been buying them since your inquest. I'll have to sell almost all the land and, in these bad times, will not get near their worth. With the rents gone, I can't afford this house and its upkeep, much less my civic obligations."

"Surely you can get more time on the notes." Selene grasped her brother's arm. "Next year's harvest might be better."

"One good harvest won't save me. Besides, why would Ision wait when he could have both land and harvest?"

"I had no idea." Selene gripped his arm. "Phillip, what will you do?"