Steven Saylor - Wrath of the Furies

The two men stood out for very different reasons, one on account of his size-he was even taller than the king, indeed quite possibly the largest man I had ever seen-and the other because, unlike everyone else, he was dressed in white. The giant had a gaunt, grim face and yellow hair, and held a chain linked to an iron collar around the Roman’s neck-for the other man was most certainly a Roman because he was wearing a toga, and not just any toga but one with a broad purple stripe, marking his status as a promagistrate authorized to wage war. This had to be the captured Roman general, Quintus Oppius, and his keeper was the giant called Bastarna. Kysanias had told me these two might be present, the king’s bully leading the king’s pet Roman on a leash. Standing out because of his toga, was Oppius meant to attract the attention of the Furies and call down their wrath on his fellow Romans?

Kysanias stood before at the opening in the low stone wall. We gathered before him in a semicircle. He addressed us in his deep, commanding voice. “We have arrived at the Grove of the Furies. This stone wall marks the perimeter of the sacred precinct. Except for the sacrificial knife and ax in my hands…” Kysanias held them upright, so that the blades glittered in the torchlight. “Except for these, no weapon of any sort can be allowed beyond this point. If you wish your bodyguards to accompany you, Your Majesty, they must lay down their arms.”

“That will not happen, Your Eminence,” said Mithridates. “These men keep their arms at all times.”

“Then they must remain outside the wall,” said Kysanias. In his voice I heard no quaver of doubt or hesitation, and took heart. Might we succeed, after all?

“Very well,” said the king. “These men will stay here. Except for Bastarna. I want the Roman dog to witness the sacrifice, and someone has to hold his leash. Lay down your weapons, Bastarna.”

The giant made a grumbling noise, but obediently unbuckled the sword and sheathe from his belt and removed several other small knives and bludgeons from his person.

“Does any other man here have a weapon?” asked Kysanias. “If you wish to enter the grove, you must lay it down now. Any weapon present during the ritual is likely to provoke the rage of those we are here to placate.” Kysanias looked at Mithridates as he said these words. Even in Alexandria people knew the story of the concealed blade that Mithridates had used to kill an unsuspecting rival in full view of both their armies, pulling it out of a hiding place next to his genitals after both men had professed to be disarmed.

Kysanias continued to stare at the king. Mithridates gazed back defiantly, but finally reached into his clothing and pulled out a dagger. The silver handle glittered with jewels. He handed it to the captain of his bodyguards.

The man took the dagger reluctantly. “Your Majesty should not go unarmed into a place where his bodyguards cannot follow.”

“But if every other man present is unarmed, there will be no danger,” said Mithridates. His eyes swept across the semicircle of listeners, and for an instant he looked straight at me. Another trickle of sweat worked its way down my spine.

The king’s gaze eventually came to Monime. They smiled at each other, as if at some private joke, and then Monime reached into the folds of black silk and pulled out her own bejeweled dagger, a smaller companion to the one carried by her husband. Mithridates took it and handed it to the captain, who now held a royal dagger in each hand and did not look happy about it.

“Let us enter the grove,” said Kysanias, turning around and leading the way. We followed in single file down the gravel path. No instructions were given; everyone seemed naturally to fall into place. The king went first, with the members of his retinue following, except for the bodyguards, who stayed behind. Then came the Megabyzoi and the Magi, except for Zeuxidemus, who stayed back to usher we so-called witnesses before him. Damianus led Gnossipus by the hand. I followed, with Zeuxidemus behind me.

I glanced back at him. His eyes glittered with excitement. “Have courage!” he whispered.

Yet at that moment, walking toward the black circle of towering trees, my courage reached its lowest ebb. My knees wobbled. My mouth turned dry. The earth tilted beneath me. What madness had possessed me, that I had abandoned the safety of the eunuchs’ house outside Alexandria to come to this godsforsaken spot?

I reached to my breast and clutched the lion’s tooth hanging there. “Cheelba, give me strength!” I dared to whisper.

When I had first looked at the circle of cypress trees, I had seen no place to enter, but there was such a place, a sort of tunnel that had been cut in the dense foliage, just high enough and wide enough for a man to step through. The king had to lower his head, and the light-bearers had to stoop low and carry their torches with outthrust arms. Bastarna the giant had to stoop very low, yanking the Roman general behind him. Except for Zeuxidemus, I entered last of all.

The circle inside the cypress trees was larger than I had expected. It seemed almost as if we had stepped through a magical barrier, that so much space should exist inside a circle that looked so much smaller from the outside. The diameter of the circle was perhaps equal to the height of the surrounding trees. In such a space, there might have been room for a small temple, but there was none. Nor did I see any sort of shrine or any statue or image of the Furies. There was only a large altar in the very center of the space, which appeared to be crafted from a single piece of dark red marble. We did not encircle the altar, but gathered before it, so that our party filled less than half the circle.

The night before, Kysanias had described the space to us and we had worked out how and where each of us should stand. I went to one side of the altar, along with Gnossipus and Damianus. Kysanias went to the other side of the altar, with the Grand Magus next to him. The others gathered at the foot of the altar, with the king and queen foremost. Behind the royal couple stood their retinue, including Antipater and Rutilius, the Magi and Megabyzoi, Ptolemy and Bastarna and the rest.

I gazed up at the circle of starry, moonless sky beyond the treetops. It seemed to me that the circle of trees formed a vertical tunnel, a portal between the night sky and the underworld. What might emerge from such a opening?

Stands for holding torches were set to either side of the altar, near the head, so that one of these stands was not far behind me, and another not far behind Kysanias. All of the dozen or so torches were set into these stands.

The sacred space seemed somehow to enfeeble the torches. They had burned brightly outside the grove, but now began to flicker, providing a fitful, unsatisfactory light.

“We could have done with a few more torches!” muttered the squinting Grand Magus.

It was no accident that only a dozen of the Megabyzoi and Magi carried torches. There should have been twice as many. Kysanias had taken charge of this detail, deliberately limiting the number of torches so we that might have the advantage of semidarkness from the start. The torches were also smaller and more short-lived than the more long-lasting torches normally used for a nocturnal ritual.

When everyone else was assembled, the sacrifice was brought in.

It was just as I had seen in my dream: Freny was naked, with her arms bound to her sides and her mouth gagged, carried by six men. The bearers laid her on the altar and then quickly withdrew. Freny writhed in terror and looked up at the faces around her. When her eyes met mine, she furrowed her brow, at first confused, and then, for one brief instant, hopeful. Then the Grand Magus and Great Megabyzus began reciting an incantation in unison, and I saw the hope die in her eyes. She shut them tightly, like a child refusing to acknowledge the unbearable reality of what was about to happen.