Mary Reed: Six for Gold

Thomas opened his fist to reveal a piece of yellow enameled metal as long as his finger, formed in the shape of a T.

“This was given to me to take to the meeting. It’s a cross, as you see, but the figure of the Christian god’s son has been snapped off, along with the top. The fellow I was meeting was supposed to have the matching part.”

Anatolius held the artifact up and squinted at it in the fitful lamplight. He could see the enamel was chipped at the top and that another chip, toward the base, marked where the feet of the crucified man would have been attached.

Thomas looked expectantly at Anatolius. “Do you think this will help find out who killed the senator?”

“It might if John were here.” Anatolius handed it back to him. “Since he isn’t, you’d better stay somewhere else for a while. Somewhere no one would expect to find you. If the senator was as freshly killed as you say, it’s possible whoever murdered him was still nearby. If so, he might well decide to silence you in case you witnessed the crime.”

“But what will Isis say when I don’t show up for-”

The clatter of footsteps on the stairs interrupted them.

A figure burst into the room. Thomas dove for the doorway, smashed into the intruder, and pinned him to the wall, sword to his throat.

“By Jupiter’s balls, Anatolius!” croaked Francio. “I was going to chide you for leaving the door unlocked again, but now I see why you don’t bother, with guards like this.”

Thomas stepped back with an oath.

“He isn’t a guard, he’s a friend,” Anatolius said.

Francio looked dubious. “This ruffian?”

“Thomas is a member of John’s household.”

“Truly? There must be a fascinating story there. However, I’ve come to drag you away to dine. Nothing goes better with a good meal than sparkling conversation. I’ll supply the meal, you supply the conversation. Bring your impolite colleague along too. Perhaps some good wine will sweeten his tongue.”

“Francio, I’m sorry. I can’t accept your kind invitation tonight.” Anatolius paused and then smiled. “Thomas, however, is free. And you’re correct. He has many fascinating stories to tell.”

Francio gaped at Anatolius for a heartbeat before looking toward Thomas with an expression akin to horror.

“Faster, it’s the end of the world!”

John came awake at the sound of Peter’s voice. It was still dark. For an instant he wondered why his bed was rocking.

Earthquake, he thought, and then remembered he had gone to sleep, as he had each night for the past week, wrapped in a cloak, huddled on the deck of the Minotaur .

“Hurry, master! Look!” Peter pointed at the horizon.

John climbed to his feet and squinted in the direction indicated by the servant’s trembling finger. A bright glow lay along the waterline.

“The Lord’s sun is behind us!” Peter cried, horror written on his face. “Another sun is rising!”

John smiled to himself. Peter’s view of the world was somewhat more apocalyptic than one might expect of an elderly army cook. “That’s the lighthouse in Alexandria.”

Peter stared at him. “We’re nearly there? The waters are treacherous? To think we’ve come all this way, only to run the risk of being drowned!”

“We’ll be safely in the harbor before you know it.”

Peter nodded, but didn’t look convinced.

***

The heavenly sun had fully risen by the time the Minotaur came within sight of the source of its man-made twin. Peter, convinced that his prayers for their salvation from wreck had been answered, chattered excitedly to Cornelia.

“The lighthouse is impressive, mistress, but what could have possessed the builders to give it such a strange shape? A square base beneath that tier with so many sides and a cylindrical tower at the top? It looks like the Tower of Babel!”

“Perhaps the architects got into an argument about what form it should take and to satisfy everyone used all their suggestions? A compromise in stone?”

“I never expected such a sight!” Peter went on. “It may be we’ll see the pyramids as well.” He shaded his eyes and peered upwards. “There’s a statue on the lighthouse roof! Whose could it be? How do they get fuel all the way up there? It must take a great deal to keep a fire going every night.”

The nearer they drew to the harbor the faster flowed Peter’s words. “I wonder if the people looking after the fire ever cook their supper on it? The master says there’s an enormous bronze mirror reflects the firelight out to sea.”

Cornelia laughed, then a cloud seemed to pass over her features, and she squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them they glistened. She did not tell Peter his endless stream of questions reminded her of Europa when her daughter had been a child.

Doubtless inspired by thoughts of cooking suppers, Peter was now prattling about finding fish for their evening meal.

Cornelia watched the shore advance towards them.

It had changed little since she first visited Egypt, and how many years ago had that been? Flat, unbroken, and mostly featureless, the demarcation between land and water was obscured in a roiling heat haze. A few obelisks poked up from among nondescript rooftops. The obelisks appeared to bend and twist in the heat, as if they were being melted.

As the Minotaur slid past the lighthouse, between the breakwaters, and into the harbor, Cornelia wondered whether she were dreaming. The bright, wavering scene reminded her of a reflection on water. If she put her hand out, it would all dissolve in ripples and she would wake.

She directed her gaze toward the crystal-clear waters of the harbor. A lion with the head of a man swam through the depths and vanished under the hull. Then she was looking down on a street lined with pink granite columns. There were monuments too. She drifted above the city like a bird. She let out a gasp of astonishment.

A startled Peter cut short his ramblings on the possibility of finding nets to catch fresh fish. “Mistress? Are you ill? It’s this dreadful heat! Should you not sit down?”

The servant’s voice brought her back to reality. She remembered the sunken grounds of the ancient palace, the result of the endless series of earthquakes Alexandria had suffered. She pointed this new, exotic sight out to Peter, who was almost as delighted as he had been by the lighthouse.

Within the hour, the crew was tying the Minotaur to a dock swarming with raucous humanity. Even then, Cornelia could not quite banish the feeling of unreality, that she had one foot in the present and the other in the past.

***

While the ship was being secured John was accosted by Nikodemos. The ship’s captain was a powerfully built man with skin sunburnt so dark he resembled a bronze bust of an emperor.

“Lord Chamberlain, my instructions were to transport you to Alexandria and so my business is now complete.” He gave a slight bow. “Let me add that I’ve never before carried a passenger by command of the emperor. It has been an honor.”

“The emperor is not one to waste time when important matters are concerned.”

“True, sir.” Nikodemos regarded John with a keen gaze and abruptly changed the subject. “You’ll find this is a fascinating country. The old ways linger and not just in heathen outposts. I’ve heard there are still many in Egypt who worship the sun god of old. Some have said to me that such heretics deserve nothing more than immediate execution and being left out in the open so ravens can dine on their eyes.”

John was silent.

“Such vengeful talk must make the patriarch and his bishops become heaven’s runners,” Nikodemos pressed on, “racing to their churches to pray for the souls of both sinner and sinned against.”