The Seven Wonders: A Novel of the Ancient World (Novels of Ancient Rome) (8 page)

At length, I heard the iron door open, and then slam shut.

The music outside ceased. The crowd grew silent.

The sound of a girl sobbing echoed through the cave. The sobbing eventually quieted, then drew nearer, then ended in a gasp as Anthea, dressed in a simple white tunic, stepped into the large chamber and perceived me standing there.

In the dim light, she failed to recognize me, and started back in fear.

“Anthea!” I whispered. “You know me. We met yesterday in your father’s house. I’m Gordianus—the Roman traveling with Antipater.”

Her panic was replaced by confusion. “What are you doing here? How did you come to be here?”

“Never mind that,” I said. “The question is: how can we get those pipes to play?” I gestured to the Pan pipes dangling above our heads.

“They really exist,” muttered Anthea. “When the hierodules explained the test to me, I didn’t know what to think—pipes that would play a tune by themselves if I were truly a virgin. But there they are! And I
am
a virgin—that’s a fact, as the goddess herself surely knows. These pipes will play, then. They must!”

Together we gazed up at the pipes. No divine wind blew through the cave—there was no wind of any sort. The pipes hung motionless, and produced no music.

“Perhaps
you’re
the problem,” said Anthea, staring at me accusingly.

“What do you mean?”

“They say the pipes refuse to play in the presence of one who is not a virgin.”

“So?”

“Are
you
a virgin, Gordianus of Rome?”

My face grew hot. “I’m not even sure the term ‘virgin’ can be applied to a male,” I said evasively.

“Nonsense! Are you sexually pure, or not? Have you known a woman?”

“That’s beside the point,” I said. “I’m here to save you, if I can.”

“And how will you do that, Roman?”

“By playing those pipes.”

“Do you even know how to play them?”

“Well…”

“And how on earth do you propose to reach them?”

“Perhaps you could play them, Anthea. If you were to stand on my shoulders—”

“I’m a dancer. I have no skill at music—and even if I did, standing on your shoulders wouldn’t raise me high enough to reach those pipes.”

“We could try.”

We did. Anthea had a fine sense of balance, not surprising in a dancer, and stood steadily on my shoulders.

“Try to grab the pipes and pull them free,” I said, grunting under her weight. She was heavier than she looked.

She groaned with frustration. “Impossible! I can’t reach them. Even if I could, the chain holding them looks very strong.”

From out of the dim shadows came a voice: “Perhaps
I
could reach them.”

Recognizing the voice, Anthea cried out with joy and jumped from my shoulders. Amestris stepped from the shadows to embrace her mistress, and both wept with emotion.

I realized Amestris must have followed me to the cave, slipped inside while the door was still open, then concealed herself in the shadows. It was her breathing I had heard in the quiet darkness.

Amestris drew back. “Mistress, if you were to stand on the Roman’s shoulders, and I were to stand on yours—”

“I’m not sure I can hold both of you,” I said.

“Of course you can, you brawny Roman,” said Amestris. Her words made me blush, but they also gave me confidence. “And
I
can play the pipes,” she added. “You’ve said yourself, mistress, that I play like a songbird.”

From outside, after a long silence, the sound of lamenting had gradually resumed. Women wailed and shrieked. Hearing no music from the cave, the crowd assumed the worst.

Anthea put her hands on her hips and gazed up at the pipes, as if giving them one last chance to play by themselves. “I suppose it’s worth a try,” she finally said.

She climbed onto my shoulders. While I held fast to her ankles, she extended her arms to steady herself against the rock wall. Amestris climbed up after her. I thought my shoulders would surely collapse, but I gritted my teeth and said nothing. I rolled up my eyes, but I couldn’t lift my head enough to see what was going on above me.

Suddenly I heard a long, low note from the Pan pipes, followed by a higher note. There was a pause, and then, filling the cave, echoing from the walls, came one of the most haunting melodies I had ever heard.

The wailing from outside ceased, replaced by cries of wonderment—and did I hear the voice of Theotimus, uttering a howl of confusion and disbelief?

The strange, beautiful tune came to an end—and just in time, for I could not have supported them a moment longer. Amestris climbed down, and Anthea leaped to the ground. I staggered against the wall and rubbed my aching shoulders.

“What now?” whispered Anthea.

“Supposedly, the door should open of its own accord,” I said.

“If it doesn’t, the Megabyzoi have the key,” said Amestris. “Perhaps they’ll unlock it.”

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for that to happen. But I wouldn’t be surprised if Theotimus joins us soon.”

“What do you mean, Gordianus?” said Anthea.

I hurriedly explained that there was a secret entrance in the chamber beyond—and told them what I wanted them to do.

Only moments later, there was a sound from the rear entrance, and a flash of light as it was opened and then shut. I heard a stifled curse and an exclamation—“By Hades—the ax, the knife, the mask—where are they?”—and then Theotimus stepped into the main chamber. In one hand he held his priest’s headdress, which he must have removed in order to duck through the small doorway. He stopped short at the sight of Anthea and Amestris standing side by side, then gazed up at the dangling Pan pipes.

“How did the slave girl get in here?” he said in a snarling whisper. “And how in Hades did you manage to play those pipes?”

He was unaware of my presence. I stood behind him, my back pressed against the wall, hidden in a patch of shadow. At my feet were the knife and the ax—the deadly implements with which he had intended to kill Anthea.

I had moved the weapons deliberately, so that he could not pick them up when he entered—and also so that I could use them myself, if the need arose. Theotimus was a large, strong man—he had a butcher’s build, after all—and if we were to come to blows, I would need all the advantages I could muster. But before resorting to the weapons, first I wanted to try another means of dealing with him. In my hands I held the stag’s-head mask.

While the sight of the two girls continued to distract the Megabyzus, I stole up behind him, reached high, and placed the mask over his head. His head was larger than Chloe’s, and it was a tight fit. I shoved downward with all my might, and through the palms of my hands, I could feel the impact of the short, needle-sharp spike fixed inside the top of the mask as it penetrated his scalp.

I had glimpsed the spike the day before, in the temple, when I looked inside the mask. If my guess was correct, the spike had been covered with a poison that had caused the death of Chloe; her motions of panic and dismay had not been acting or dancing, but death throes, as the poison entered her skull and worked its evil on her. After the mask was removed, the puncture mark and any traces of blood amid her lustrous red hair would not have been visible to anyone unless they closely examined her scalp, and there had been neither time nor reason to do so before Theotimus arrived and took control of the situation. No wonder the Megabyzus had expressed alarm and moved so quickly to snatch the mask from me after I picked it up, and afterward had brought it to this hiding place, along with the implements with which he intended to put an end to Anthea and a sack for the disposal of her corpse.

No doubt it had been his intention to wait until the grieving crowd dispersed, and then, at his leisure, to return to the cave, come in by the secret entrance, and deal with Anthea. Before killing her, what other atrocities had he planned to commit on her virgin body? A man who would commit murder against one of Artemis’s virgins in the goddess’s temple certainly would not stop at committing some terrible sacrilege in the sacred cave of Ortygia.

Theotimus was a monster. It seemed fitting that his own murder weapon should be used against him.

But did enough poison remain on the spike to work its evil on Theotimus? The puncture certainly caused him pain; he gave a cry and reached up frantically. Clutching the antlers, trying desperately to remove the mask, he lurched this way and that, looking like a dancer playing the role of Actaeon. He ran blindly against one wall, butting it with the antlers, and then against another. Convulsing, he fell to the ground, kicked out his legs—and then was utterly still.

The three of us stared down at his lifeless body for a long moment. I was hardly able to believe what had just happened. Never before had I caused a man’s death. I had done so deliberately, and without compunction—or so I thought. Nonetheless, I was gripped by a succession of confusing emotions. I became even more confused when Anthea grabbed my shoulders and kissed me full on the mouth.

“My hero!” she cried. “My champion!”

Beyond her, I saw Amestris gazing at me. Strangely, her smile meant even more to me than Anthea’s kiss.

“Come, Anthea,” I said, stepping back from her embrace, “there’s no reason for you to remain a moment longer in this terrible place. I can open the iron door from the inside, using the same tool I used to get in. The door will open, you will step into the daylight, and the door will shut behind you. The trial shall end just as it should.”

“What about you and Amestris? What about—him?” She looked at the corpse of Theotimus.

“Amestris and I will leave by the back way. And later, after we’ve talked with your father, we’ll figure out what to do about Theotimus.”

So it happened. Staying out of sight, I opened the iron door for Anthea and then shut it behind her. Through the door, I heard a loud cry of joy from Eutropius, and the cheering of the crowd.

Amestris and I headed toward the back of the cave. Under the pipes of Pan, she grabbed me and pressed her mouth to mine. Her kiss was very different from the one Anthea had given me.

It was she who broke the kiss, with a laugh. “Gordianus, you look as if you’ve never been kissed that way before.”

“Well, I…”

She gazed up at the pipes and frowned. “What do you think? Would the pipes have played if I hadn’t come along?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did the presence of one who was not a virgin prevent the pipes from playing? I worried about that when I decided to follow you inside. But a voice in my head said, ‘Do it!’ And so I did. And surely it was the right thing to do, for only with the three of us working together were we able to save my mistress.”

“I’m sure we both did the right thing, Amestris. But are you saying that you’re not…”

She cocked her head, then smiled. “Certainly not! No more than you are, I’m sure.” She laughed, then saw my face. Her smile faded. “Gordianus, don’t tell me that
you
have never…”

I lowered my eyes. “I don’t know how these things are done in Ephesus, but it is not uncommon for a Roman citizen to wait until a year or so after he puts on his manly toga before he … experiences the pleasures of Venus.”

“Venus? Ah, yes, that’s the name you Romans give to Aphrodite. And when did you put on your manly toga?”

“A year ago, when I turned seventeen.”

“I see. Then I suppose you must be due to experience the pleasures of Venus any day now.”

I didn’t know what to say. Was she making fun of me?

Feeling suddenly awkward, I led her to the rear door and we made our exit from the cave unseen.

*   *   *

That night, after the initial joy of his daughter’s salvation had subsided a bit, Eutropius conferred with Antipater and Mnason and myself. The others were at first shocked at my impious behavior in breaching the entrance of the cave of Ortygia—“Crazy Roman!” muttered Mnason under his breath—but Antipater suggested that perhaps Artemis herself, driven to extreme measures to rid her temple of such a wicked priest, had led both Amestris and me to the cave, and to Anthea’s rescue.

“The gods often achieve their ends by means that appear mysterious and even contradictory to us mortals,” said Antipater. “Yes, in this matter I see the guiding hand of Artemis. Who else but Gordianus—a ‘crazy Roman,’ as you call him, Mnason—would have even thought of breaking into the cave, and entering ahead of Anthea? Theotimus was counting on our very piety to doom the girl, knowing we would do nothing to stop or affect the trial. Yes, I believe that Gordianus and the slave girl were nothing more or less than the agents of Artemis,” he declared, and that seemed to settle the matter.

As for the body of Theotimus, Antipater said that we should do nothing and simply leave it where it was. Perhaps it would not be found for a very long time—unless some of the Megabyzoi were in league with Theotimus, in which case they might or might not realize the cause of his death, and either way would be unable to implicate Anthea or anyone else, and would almost certainly conceal the fact of his death. It would seem that the head of the Megabyzoi, after making a foul and false accusation against Anthea, had vanished from the face of the earth. The people of Ephesus would draw their own conclusions.

“Everyone knows Theotimus was a puppet of the Romans,” said Mnason. “People will see his downfall and disappearance as a divine punishment, and a sign that the rule of the Romans and the traitors who support them is coming to an end. Perhaps—perhaps the death of my dear Chloe will serve a greater purpose after all, if it brings her beloved city closer to freedom.”

Antipater laid a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder. “I think you speak wisely, Mnason. Your daughter was a faithful servant of Artemis, and she will not have died in vain.” He turned to Eutropius. “I had hoped to stay longer in Ephesus, old friend, but the situation here makes me uneasy. With all that’s happened, I fear that anti-Roman sentiments are likely to turn violent. The faction that favors Mithridates will be emboldened, the Roman governor will feel obliged to react—and who knows what may happen? For the sake of my young Roman companion, I think we should move on, and sooner rather than later.”