Selene of Alexandria (7 page)

"I turned around and this clumsy son of a three-legged camel dropped a basket of eels…"

"What?" the skinny man protested. "If this female hippo didn't take up the room of five people, I could have easily…"

Selene banged on the copper cauldron again. "Quiet! I don't give a fig about the eels. I want to know why you are all in such a panic."

Rebecca entered the kitchen on the heels of Selene's tirade. Taking in the disorder, she said, "Your esteemed father sent word he was bringing guests for the evening meal and asked that you oversee the preparations. With you gone, we were trying to arrange the evening ourselves, but," she paused, shrugging her shoulders, "you know the old saying about too many generals."

Momentary panic seized Selene followed by a rush of gratitude for the work the servants had already done. She had become more adept at this type of entertaining since her mother died, but she still relied heavily on Rebecca and the others to see to the details. "How soon will they be here and how many are we to prepare for?"

"Shortly after sundown. Your father is bringing the Prefect and Archdeacon Timothy to the evening meal. Phillip, Nicaeus and you are also to be in attendance."

"Orestes? The Prefect is coming tonight?" Selene squeaked, her panic returning.

Rebecca held her gaze, saying in a calm voice, "Six is an auspicious number. I'm sure we can avoid disappointing your father's honored guests."

Taking a deep breath, Selene girded for battle. "Of course. We have Father's good name to maintain. Rebecca, take two servants to the main quarters and see that the vestibule and dining area are in order. It wouldn't do for guests to stumble over loose tiles or foul their garments with dust. When you have set them their tasks, meet me in my quarters. I must prepare as well. Nicaeus?" Her brother stopped his surreptitious progress through the back door. "Would you see what wines we have available?"

He bowed low. "Of course. Anything else, Mistress of the House?"

She threw an over-ripe kumquat, which he ducked. "No, dear brother, just check the wine and get yourself cleaned up." She turned back to the servants with a sense of purpose. "Cook, what do you have in mind for the menu tonight?"

Selene watched in the mirror as Rebecca tucked in the last curl and secured it with a jeweled comb. She stood and Rebecca tied a gilded cord around her wine-red gown so as to best show off Selene's slim figure. Rebecca always knew the perfect decorative touch that elevated a good presentation to an exquisite one whether it was clothes, food or statuary. Selene turned for a last inspection. Rebecca nodded her approval just as someone knocked at the door.

"It's Nicaeus. Father approaches. Are you ready?"

"Yes." Selene opened the door and linked arms with her brother. She looked over her shoulder at Rebecca. "Go to the kitchen and make sure all is ready. If there are problems, come get me."

Rebecca gave her a short bow. "Of course, Mistress."

Selene and Nicaeus strolled out of the cramped warren of bedrooms on the top floor and descended a broad marble staircase into the spacious public rooms. Most homes of the rich celebrated open communal space and theirs was no exception. Built in a rectangle with blank walls facing the street, colonnaded public rooms on the ground floor opened onto a central courtyard. The rooms held little furniture, but the floors and walls sported lavish murals of country scenes and colorful mosaics commemorating Greek and Egyptian legends.

Selene checked the arrangements in the courtyard garden. Aromatic torches kept insects at bay. Water trickled from a fountain surrounded by green shrubs. In the triclinium, where they took their meals, green and red striped cushions adorned the couches. Someone – Selene assumed Rebecca – had arranged a spray of lilies to complement one of her father's favorite fishing scenes on the wall. Oil lamps depending from a chandelier shed a soft glow, creating an air of intimacy appropriate for discourse.

Nicaeus and Selene arrived in the vestibule to see the impressive figure of the Prefect conducting an animated conversation with their father. Archdeacon Timothy, a barrel-chested man who seemed totally unencumbered by a shriveled left leg, thumped Phillip on the back as the latter finished a story.

Selene made a deep curtsy.

"Lady Selene." Orestes took her hand and raised her to her feet. "It is good of you to receive me on such short notice."

When her eyes met his cool green gaze, she stopped breathing. She felt a blush rising and ducked her head, unable to meet the eyes that seemed to see into her soul. "Th-thank you, sir. Welcome to my father's house." She retrieved her hand and turned to the rest of the party. "Archdeacon Timothy, it's so good to see you again. I'm pleased to welcome you to my father's house." She bowed slightly to her father. "I hope the preparations are to your satisfaction, Sir. Shall we repair to the courtyard?"

Her father's eyes glowed with pride. "I'm sure all will be perfect, my child." He took her arm and gestured to the rest of the party to proceed. "Please, let's see what miracle Selene has wrought."

Cook did well, Selene thought as she surveyed the remains of the feast. The lamb spiced with cardamom and the marinated palm hearts were particularly fine. The bones of the fowl stuffed with liver and onions littered platters. She had not tried the eels, but the men seemed to enjoy them. She would have to remember to commend Cook for her efforts. Selene reclined on her couch, sipping watered wine, listening to Orestes and Phillip regale the dinner party with stories of adventure and piracy.

They seemed easy with each other and her father watched Phillip with barely concealed surprise. But then, her brother always seemed to mix well in whatever company he found himself – high or low. It was the low company which sparked Calistus' stern disapproval.

The conversation turned to council business – increasing disorder in the city and the need for more guards – as the servants removed the platters. The house staff looked fine in their matching livery of white with a deep blue stripe on their tunics. Rebecca, in a fresh robe and neatly dressed hair, exchanged a few pleasantries with Phillip then continued to carry a bowl of rose-scented water and linen towels to each guest to wash their hands.

Another servant stood ready to serve candied figs and dates stuffed with nuts. Selene gave him a hand signal to offer the treats to the guests. Orestes chose one of each and nibbled in a peculiarly dainty manner. Selene noted with annoyance that Nicaeus took a more than generous share. She waved the servant past her own plate to make sure there were plenty for the others. Concentrating on the logistics of the meal, the sound of her name took Selene by surprise.

"Selene, I understand you are quite an athlete." Orestes smiled at her. His slightly parted lips revealed a crooked front tooth. Her breath caught in her chest. She opened her mouth to reply.

"She's faster than anyone I've seen, especially over long distances," Nicaeus broke in. "You should see her leap a wash or take a hill. The gazelles can't even keep up with her. She's good with a javelin and sling as well, but I can outshoot her with a bow."

Selene felt the heat rising in her face and was grateful for the lamp's flickering shadows. The uncertain light also hid the murderous glance she sent her brother, but did nothing to leach the warning tone from her words. "Nicaeus, I'm sure our honored guest doesn't want to hear about me."

"On the contrary, I admire women who can take care of themselves. The native women in Britannica are superb athletes. Many are warriors and leaders of warriors more feared by the Roman troops than the Celtic men. My grandmother was reputed to have led a chariot charge in one of the last battles beyond Hadrian's Wall only one month before giving birth to my mother."

That explained his height and coloring, Selene thought – he was of barbarian stock! "And what of your mother?"

"She died giving birth to me. My father was Prefect to Londinium. He remarried to a proper Roman lady." A shadow crossed Orestes' face. Selene, unsure if it betokened grief or the wavering light of the lamp, preferred the more romantic explanation.

"I understand you served in Britannica as well," Calistus said, raising another cup of wine and admiring its deep red color through the translucent glass. "A tragedy for the Western Empire when it lost that colony, but given the current state of barbarian-benighted Rome, it's as well that the troops were recalled. It's impossible to keep order so far away."

Selene glanced sharply at her father. How unlike him to make such an impolitic remark especially after the Prefect revealed his own barbarian ancestry. She motioned Rebecca over and, under the guise of giving her more directions, asked that her father's drink be well watered.

Orestes sipped his wine and said in a regretful tone, "I'm not sure Britannica ever was Rome's, Calistus. As with many provinces, their roads may be straight and paved, their harbors bustling, but underneath is a stubborn wildness that yields not to outside influences. Egypt, in a strange way, reminds me of my homeland."

Selene laughed. "I have heard Britannica is a land of cool mists, magic trees and strange bogs. What about such a country could remind you of our blazing desert and meandering Lady Nile?" She tried to imagine cool wet wilderness, but her experience failed her and she had only hazy notions of reed-filled swamps and familiar crocodiles.

Orestes looked directly into Selene's eyes. "Both have been conquered but have taken on only the trappings of their conquerors. Britannica pretended to be Roman, but is quickly reverting to petty kingdoms. Egypt absorbed the conquering Greeks with barely a ripple and bowed to Caesar while changing nothing but the names of its gods."

"Surely in four hundred years there has been change! We are a Christian nation," Selene protested.

"The Empire has only broken in two, but Christianity is splintered. There are nearly as many sects and cults now as before. The old gods vie with the new and their disruption is stamped on this city. My work here will be quite … challenging."

Selene, caught in Orestes' intense gaze, turned her sight with difficulty to Archdeacon Timothy as he spoke. "Some would say the troubles in Alexandria are due to malignant demons or the 'disruption of the gods' as you put it. If the truth were told, it is the lack of work and the heavy taxes that leads faction to fight faction. A few men are amassing wealth and power while the ordinary people become ever more burdened."

"A few men have always held wealth and power, Timothy." Calistus snorted. "There is nothing new in that."

"But there has always been enough left over to care for the rest." Timothy shook his expressive face. "Soon Alexandria will be no better off than Rome after that Visigoth Alaric sacked it."

"I have every intention of forestalling such a calamity," Orestes said. "I hope your Patriarch will assist me in this. How is his health? When my secretary inquired about an appointment, he was told Theophilus was indisposed and receiving no visitors."

"It is but a cold on the chest. The Patriarch works too hard and has become frail of late so the physicians advise him to rest and build his strength. I do my small part as his eyes and legs during this time of confinement."

"The Archdeacon is being too modest," Calistus interjected. "He is the Patriarch's successor, as have been all Archdeacons."

Timothy raised an eyebrow. "Not recently. Patriarch Athanasius fostered Theophilus and chose him as successor."

"The Emperor has seen fit to appoint his own from time to time," added Phillip.

"Theophilus served in all levels of the church first," Calistus protested and waving his hand dismissively at Phillip, "and the imperial appointments – disasters, one and all!"

Selene noticed her brother's mouth tighten at his father's correction.

"I assure you this Emperor will take no hand in the succession," Orestes said.

"And let us not forget Cyril. Theophilus is grooming his nephew for the Bishopric. No," Timothy shook his head. "My succession is much less than assured."

"In ten years, Cyril might be ready. A Bishopric is not an empire or business to be handed down from father to son or uncle to nephew." Calistus reached over to pat his friend on the arm. "The clergy would never propose and the people would never affirm a Patriarch so young and inexperienced."

"Let us pray this discussion is premature." The Archdeacon raised his goblet in a toast. "To the Patriarch's health!"

Orestes finished the last of his drink and Selene motioned for a servant to refill his goblet. Orestes put his hand over the mouth of the cup. "No more. This is excellent wine, but I fear I must leave. Tomorrow I have much work to do and I have no wish to make decisions with a sore stuffed head."

The company rose, rearranging robes and making small talk on the way to the vestibule. Selene accompanied her brother Phillip, clinging tightly to his arm. Calistus held Orestes' elbow as they walked. "Who else are you calling on in these early days?"

"Other city councilors, the Patriarch when he is well and, of course, Lady Hypatia."

"A wise choice. Any man of substance who visits our city should wait on Hypatia. She is much respected by the city fathers as well as her fellow philosophers."

A slave held out Orestes' short military style cape. He shrugged into it, addressing Archdeacon Timothy. "And how fares the Lady Philosopher with the church elders?"

"Theophilus has only the highest praise for Hypatia's intelligence, wit and good will for this city. Although a pagan, she has remained above the fray." Timothy chuckled. "Indeed, the good Patriarch's only complaint is that he has been unable to convert her. She remains stubbornly convinced that philosophy transcends all religions. And Hypatia, when arguing philosophy, is a most formidable lady. If not for my faith, she could almost convince me."

Orestes and Phillip clasped forearms in a farewell grip. "Thank you for inviting me to your father's home, my friend." He bowed to Selene and took her hand for a kiss. "And you, gracious Selene. Thank you for accommodating us on such short notice. I hope to see you soon."