Wrath of the Furies (18 page)

Damianus was the deaf man. He banged the wall once, very hard, to communicate the vehemence of his agreement:
No, Gnossipus, you do not exaggerate!

But Gnossipus certainly liked to talk. He had been talking nonstop ever since the chamberlain left me in the room. His constant chatter was grating, but marginally more bearable than his flute playing. Had I a voice, I would have yelled at him to shut up. The only voice I had—Bethesda—lay curled on the rug at my feet. She had somehow managed to fall asleep, and began to snore very softly.

Gnossipus paused. “What is that sound? Is there a cat in the room? Cats make me break out in hives!”

Damianus brayed, which was his way of laughing. He drew a breath, then managed to make a passable cat noise, though it sounded as if the cat might be drowning in a well.

“Oh, that's you, Damianus!” said Gnossipus. “Is there a cat in the room or not? Let the slave girl speak. Oh, wait—that's her, isn't it?”

Damianus brayed again and banged the wall twice. I should not have wished to be lodged in the room behind him, with all that banging, though it would have been preferable to the room in which I found myself.

The banging woke Bethesda. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. How delicate she looked in the soft lamplight, leaning back against the bed with her legs tucked beneath her. From where I sat above her on the narrow bed, I had a lovely view of the tops of her breasts and the cleavage between. Oh, if only the two of us had been alone in that room!

The door swung open and the chamberlain stepped inside.

“I hope you're here to call us to dinner,” said Gnossipus.

“Is that all you ever think about, being fed?” said the chamberlain. “Your dinner will be late tonight. The priests and the wise men need to have a look at your new roommate first.”

“Ah, the same inspection I received, as did our deaf friend, I suspect,” said Gnossipus. “I hope you're not bashful, Agathon.”

“Shut up, Gnossipus,” said the chamberlain. “No one is to speak to the mute until the priests are done with him. Now come along, Agathon, and follow me.”

I saw that he was accompanied by two armed guards.

I got up from the bed. Bethesda got up and stood beside me. When I stepped toward the door, she followed, but the chamberlain raised his hand.

“Only the mute witness. No one else.”

“But what if they ask questions of my master?” said Bethesda. “How is he to answer? And what if he has questions for them?”

“He will simply have to manage as best he can.”

“But surely he should be allowed to have his voice.”

The chamberlain gave her a sour look. “Let me explain something to you, slave. I am about to take your master to a room full of Magi and Megabyzoi. In case you do not know, the Megabyzoi are the priests of Artemis. They are sworn to chastity, and there are strict rules regarding any contact between the Megabyzoi and women. In an official proceeding such as this, in a closed room, no female may be present unless she is a virgin. Now tell me slave, are you a virgin?” He gave her a penetrating look, and when she did not answer, turned to me. “Well, Agathon, is your slave a virgin? Ah, you may be mute, but that blush on your face tells me all I need to know. Now come along, and leave the slave girl behind.”

I looked at the two men with whom I was leaving her and felt a bit uneasy. Gnossipus seemed harmless enough, but I had learned almost nothing about the deaf man. Bethesda crossed her arms and assumed a posture that announced she could take care of herself. I should have liked to kiss her good-bye, but not in front of this particular audience. I gave her a nod, then turned to follow the chamberlain.

We went up one staircase, exchanging wooden steps for marble, then up another flight of steps, and then another. This uppermost floor of the house was not as grandiose as the main level with its imposing statuary and large reception halls. The hallways were narrower, the rooms smaller, and there were fewer people about, but the fittings and furnishings were exquisite. There was a hush about the place, and an atmosphere of mystery. Perhaps it was just the thick carpets, absorbing every sound, and the faint light from the lamps in sconces on the wall, inadequate to dispel the shadows all around us, but it seemed as if this was a place where secret things were done.

The chamberlain showed me into a room at the end of a long hallway. The room was even more dimly lit than the hall, and for a moment all I could see of the men surrounding me were their faces, peering back at me. There were at least twenty of them. Some were quite old, and only a few were as young as myself. As my eyes adjusted, I began to perceive their costumes.

The Magi were a motley bunch, dressed in many colors, wearing various sorts of head coverings. The jewels in their necklaces and rings glittered brightly, reflecting the lamplight. The Megabyzoi were more alike and austere, dressed entirely in yellow, with tall headdresses that dominated the room.

A number of lamps were brought into the room and placed in a circle on the floor around me. The light blinded me, so that I could barely see the men around me.

One of them stepped forward, inside the ring of lamps, so that I could see him clearly. By the towering audacity of his headdress, I knew he must be the Great Megabyzus. His wizened face looked hard and wily by the harsh lamplight. I recalled some very unpleasant dealings with his predecessor, who had been wicked as well as wily. I would need to keep my wits about me with such a man. That would be no easy task, and it was about to be made harder by the first words he spoke.

“Take off your clothes, Agathon of Alexandria,” he said, in a deep, commanding voice. “Everything, including your shoes. We need to see you naked.”

 

XIV

“Naked,” he repeated, when he saw me hesitate. “Just as the gods made you.”

I took a deep breath.

Greeks, of course, go naked at every possible opportunity. They practically make a religion of it. (I mean the males. The wives and daughters of Greek citizens are kept covered up.) Romans are not quite so eager to strip naked in public; even at the baths, some men modestly conceal their genitals with a towel. I had never been particularly shy about taking off my clothes, at least in suitable circumstances. Being gawked at by a bunch of fully dressed men did not strike me as particularly suitable, but there was nothing conditional about the Great Megabyzus's instruction. It was an order, not a request.

I bent down to unstrap my shoes, and kicked them past the circle of lamps on the floor. I pulled my tunic over my head, folded it, and handed it to the chamberlain. I took another deep breath, undid the loincloth around my hips, folded that as well, and placed it atop the tunic.

I was wearing nothing else, except the necklace I always wore, from which hung a lion's tooth. I began to take that off as well, but the Great Megabyzus stopped me.

“That pendant—is it an amulet of some sort?”

I nodded.

He turned to one of the Magi—the foremost among them, the Grand Magus, to judge by the man's ornate plumage and his prominent placement in the group—and held a whispered conference. He turned back to me. “You may leave on the amulet, for now.” He stepped back and slowly looked me up and down. “Raise your arms above your head. Good. Now turn about to face each of the four walls in turn. Slowly.”

I did as he said, feeling their eyes all over me. I experienced a curious surge of confidence—I was a fit young man in a room of mostly old men, after all, and had nothing to be embarrassed about as they looked closely at this, that, and the other part of me.

“He appears to have all his parts,” noted the Great Megabyzus.

The Grand Magus grunted. “Yes. And I see no blemish.” The squinting old man spoke flawless Greek, but with a distinctly Persian accent.

“Have him bend over and touch his toes,” said one of the Magi behind me.

“Do so,” said the Great Megabyzus.

At this order I almost balked, but the tone of the high priest allowed no dissent. I did as he requested. I was afraid I would be asked to perform the awkward and unseemly task of rotating in this position, but after a cursory inspection, the Magus behind me declared, “No blemish.” This seemed to satisfy the others, and I was allowed to stand upright again.

The Grand Magus stepped closer and squinted. “But what is that mark on his forehead?”

“Where?” said the Great Megabyzus.

“There.”

“Ah, yes, I see. It looks like a scar. Should that disqualify him?”

“That depends.
Is
it a scar, young man?”

I nodded.

“Not a blemish he's had from birth, then,” said the Grand Magus. “So the question must be, how did he obtain this scar?” He looked past me, at the chamberlain, who noisily cleared his throat.

“I must admit, Your Eminence, I didn't notice the scar,” he said apologetically. “Had I done so, I would not have bothered Your Eminence—”

“Oh, stop sniveling!” snapped the Grand Magus. “How did the Alexandrian come to have this scar?”

“I have no idea,” whimpered the chamberlain. His manner, so haughty with me, was quite the opposite in this room full of frowning religious authorities.

The Grand Magus opened his mouth to further rebuke him, then noticed that I was attempting to communicate something, using my hands. Again he squinted. I realized he must be quite nearsighted.

I repeated the gesture, pointing first at the pendant that hung from my necklace, then at the scar.

“What is that amulet, anyway?” said the Grand Magus, stepping closer.

The Great Megabyzus put his head alongside that of the Grand Magus. “If I'm not mistaken, it's the tooth of some sort of beast. A bear, perhaps?”

I shook my head.

“Or a big cat?”

I nodded.

“An unusually large Egyptian housecat, probably,” said the Grand Magus. “The Alexandrians adore such creatures. Is that the tooth of some beloved pet?”

I shook my head and made a gesture of enormity, spreading my hands in the air.

“Bigger than a housecat?” said the Great Megabyzus. “Are you saying this was the tooth of … a tiger?”

I shook my head.

“Or a panther?” offered another Megabyzoi.

I shook my head again.

The Grand Magus drew very close, squinting at the tooth. He gasped. “Why, this is the fang of a lion!”

I nodded vigorously. Again I pointed from the tooth to the scar.

“Are you saying, young man, that the mark on your forehead came from that tooth?”

I drew back my shoulders and nodded gravely. The scar had in fact been made by the tooth, but not because the lion bit me. The actual circumstances were rather complicated, and I would have needed a voice to explain. The wise men jumped to their own conclusions.

The Grand Magus stepped back and nodded thoughtfully. “The most ferocious of all animals drew close enough to scar you with its fang—yet here you stand before us, alive and whole, except for that small scar. And the fang that made the scar you wear as a trophy around your neck—an amulet to mark your good fortune, no doubt! You grappled with a lion, and lived to tell the tale—is that correct?”

I held my chin high and nodded. What he had said—the last part, anyway—was the truth, after all.

“Agathon of Alexandria, a fortunate man you must be, indeed,” declared the Grand Magus, “despite the infirmity of your muteness—though for a man to be speechless is not always an unfortunate thing, or an unwise thing, as every wise man here knows. I think, my fellows, that we have here a splendid candidate to play mute witness to the ritual. It took us a while to find him, but here he is. Do you agree, Your Eminence?”

The Great Megabyzus made only a small nod, so as not to upset his towering headdress. “I'm not surprised that he was the last of the three to be found. A man who is mute but not also deaf is not so very common, yet that is what was prescribed. But what the gods prescribe, the gods provide, as the saying goes.”

One of the younger Magi stepped forward. “But what of his muteness, and the exact nature of it? Was the Alexandrian born without speech, or did he possess the power of speech and then somehow lose it? Might this be a factor in his acceptability?”

The chamberlain answered. “This young man lost the power of speech only recently. In fact, he came to Ephesus for the express purpose of making pilgrimage to the great temple and pleading to have his speech restored by Artemis.”

The Grand Magus squinted and hummed. The Great Megabyzus nodded thoughtfully, then spoke.

“It seems to me, Your Eminence, that your fellow Magus raises a pertinent question. Is there more than one kind of muteness, or multiple degrees of muteness, and does this Agathon possess the muteness required for the ritual? We might even ask if he truly is mute at all, since we have only his word for it—so to speak.”

The Grand Magus tilted his head to one side. “Do you suggest that we should test his muteness somehow? I suppose we might place him in some extreme situation, and see if he might indeed mutter a word or two, perhaps to save himself or some loved one from physical harm…”

I drew a sharp breath, not liking the direction this conversation was taking. Was I to be tortured? If so, could I keep from speaking? If I spoke, my torturers would know that I was not only an imposter, but also a Roman.

“We could stick him with a pin and see if he yells,” suggested the Magus who had insisted on examining my backside for blemishes.

The Great Megabyzus saw the look on my face and smiled. “Oh, I hardly think that's called for. Given the circumstances, we have no reason to doubt this young man's identity or his inability to speak. He could hardly have foreseen that upon his arrival in Ephesus he would be called before us for the singular fact of his infirmity. More worrisome to me is the idea that he might be curable, if not by human physicians, then by divine intervention. What if, before the ritual—or worse, in the middle of it!—he should suddenly regain his speech? That is, after all, what he came to Ephesus to do.”