Steven Saylor: The judgement of Caesar

I gripped Rupa's arm. "Did you see her?"

He signed with his hands. Who?

The old priestess, I began to say-then remembered that Rupa had had been off scattering Cassandra's ashes in the river when Bethesda sought the counsel of the wisewoman. Rupa had never seen her.

I frowned and squinted, trying to catch another glimpse of her face amid all the others. "Only someone… I thought I recognized. But perhaps I was only-no, wait! There she is! Do you see her?" I stood on tiptoes and pointed. "It must be her; she looks exactly the same! The white hair pulled into a knot; the skin like weathered wood; that ragged woolen mantle…"

Rupa shook his head, then drew a sharp breath.

"You see her, then?"

He signed: Look at the younger woman with her. Look!

"Younger woman? Where? I don't see anyone-unless you mean the woman wearing the cloth headdress and-"

Like Rupa, I drew a sharp breath. The two of us stood stock-still, staring in disbelief.

"It can't be," I whispered, "and yet…"

Rupa nodded vigorously, even as he furrowed his brow, as if to say: It is her. And yet it can't be her…

"It's a trick of the light," I said, squinting at the apparition-for surely the woman in the yellow linen gown, her hair concealed in the folds of a nemes head-cloth, was only a phantom. And yet, the old crone could see her, for the two of them exchanged a few words, apparently about the relative merits of two combs offered by a vendor. They were too far away, I told myself; the Egyptian sun was too bright, making a dazzlement of their distant faces. I was seeing what I wanted to see, not something that was actually there. Yet Rupa seemed to see the same thing. Or did he?

Dissatisfied with both combs, the woman and the crone were moving away. Other, nearer faces intervened. I rose on tiptoes and pitched from side to side, trying to keep her in sight.

"It is her, isn't it?" I said. "It's…" I pressed my lips together, summoning the strength to speak her name aloud.

Rupa interrupted. He hooked his forefingers together to make the sign that signified his sister, and made the word an exclamation by the look on his face: Cassandra!

My jaw froze. The sound died in my throat. I had been about to say a different name.

I was suddenly uncertain. Perhaps the woman did look a bit like Cassandra. And yet…

Where was she? I had lost sight of the woman, and of the old crone as well. Both of them had vanished into the crowd.

"She was too old to be Cassandra, wasn't she?" I said, my voice hollow. "And Cassandra was blond. We couldn't see her hair, because of the headdress, but this woman had darker features, didn't she?"

Rupa shook his head, looking troubled and confused. I saw tears in his eyes.

No, I thought, it wasn't Cassandra we had seen. That was impossible. Cassandra was ashes now; not even ashes any longer, but ashes dissolved in the Nile-her ephemeral remains merged with the everlasting river, so that Osiris might give her everlasting life.

Had Cassandra believed in such things? I wasn't sure. But Bethesda had. Most certainly, Bethesda had believed in a world beyond this world and in the supernatural power of the great river Nile.

For an hour or more we lingered in the vicinity of that market. I pretended to shop, looking for trinkets and toys to take home as souvenirs to Diana and Aulus and my new granddaughter, but in reality I was hoping for another glimpse of the crone and the woman who accompanied her. But I did not see them again that day.

That night, I asked Meto to cancel my passage on the ship bound for Rome.

"Why, Papa? I thought you couldn't wait to leave."

I shrugged.

"You went sightseeing with Rupa today, didn't you?"

"Yes."

Meto smiled. "Perhaps you enjoyed yourself, after all?"

"Perhaps."

"Good! Alexandria is an amazing city. Take a few more days to relax and see the sights. Shall I arrange passage for you on the next available ship, or the one after that?"

"I'm not sure when I'll be ready to leave. I have a sense of… unfinished business… here in Alexandria."

"Just let me know when the time is right. But don't wait too long. Once Caesar returns from his cruise up the Nile, it will be time to press on with the war elsewhere, and I'll almost certainly be leaving Alexandria myself." Day after day I returned to that market, sometimes with Rupa, sometimes with the boys, sometimes alone. I gave every possible reason for doing so, except the real reason.

The vendors at the market soon came to recognize me, for I questioned every one of them about the two women I had seen that day. A few seemed to have some vague notion of whom I was taking about, but none could offer any insight into the identity of the women, their whereabouts, or whether they might return.

Over and over, Meto arranged for me to board ships sailing for Rome, and over and over, at the last moment, I told him to cancel those plans. One more day at the marketplace, I told myself; if I can visit the place just one more day…

Even with all the wonders of Alexandria open to them, Androcles and Mopsus began to grow restless. Caesar and Cleopatra returned from their journey up the Nile. Caesar's inner circle, including Meto, made ready to depart from Alexandria. Meto began to press me about my own arrangements.

"Surely the time has come, Papa. Once I leave, it won't be as easy for you to arrange passage. Shall we set the date?"

"I suppose we should," I said reluctantly.

"Unless you have some compelling reason to stay longer?" He frowned. I was keeping something from him, and he knew it.

"No. Let's set a date and stick to it."

"Good. There's a ship leaving for Rome the day after tomorrow."

I bit my lip and felt a dull pain in my chest. "Very well. I'll be on it."

The next day, which was to be my last full day in Alexandria, I went to the market alone. I arrived very early and stayed there all day. The vendors shook their heads; they were beginning to think I was mad. The old priestess and the other woman never appeared.

The next morning, Rupa and the boys were up early, ready to board the ship for Rome. My trunk was packed. All was ready.

Meto had promised to escort us to the pier. He arrived beaming with excitement. "Can you believe it, Papa? I'm going with you! Caesar's sending me back to Rome. He needs someone to deliver a dossier to Marc Antony, and he says there's no one better for the job. But the fact is, I think he's rewarding me with a trip home in return for… well, for a certain amount of unpleasantness that you and I had to endure. It's a good thing you postponed your trip so long, after all, because now I can go with you!"

"Yes, wonderful news," I said, trying to muster some enthusiasm. I could see that Meto was disappointed by my reaction. We proceeded to the harbor.

The sky was cloudless. A favorable wind blew from the south, carrying the dry, sandy smell of the desert. The boys ran onto the deck, despite Meto's caution that they would have to behave themselves aboard a military vessel. Rupa, assisted by one of the sailors, carried my trunk aboard. I lingered on the pier.

"It's time, Papa," said Meto. "The captain's called for everyone to step aboard."

I shook my head. "I'm not going."

"What? Papa, there's no reason for you to stay. I don't understand. Think of Diana! You must be eager to see the baby-"

"Rupa!"

Rupa sat on the trunk he had just carried aboard, catching his breath. He sprang up and came to me.

"Rupa, you have the key to the trunk, don't you?"

He nodded and reached into his tunic to show me the key, which hung from a chain around his neck.

"Good. Open the trunk. On the very top you'll see a leather bag with coins in it. Bring it to me; I'll need some money."

Meto shook his head. "You're actually going to stay, aren't you?"