Wrath of the Furies (16 page)

The eunuch shooed Bethesda away, and the litter sped past the house of Eutropius and ascended even higher up the hill, beyond the theater, passing mansions even grander than that of Eutropius. At last we could go no higher, for the street ended.

The eunuch indicated that I should step out of the litter first. I looked for Bethesda and beckoned for her to join me. The eunuch ushered the two of us up the steps that led to the entrance. The massive bronze doors stood wide open, flanked by two of the brawniest guards I had ever seen. By their raven hair, dark skin, and exotic armor I took them to be Persians.

The house before me was one of the grandest I had ever seen, ornamented with fluted marble columns and rimmed with many terraces and balconies. At the top of the steps, I turned and swept my gaze across the city below. To the west, silhouetted by the sinking sun, I saw the wooded bluffs beyond the harbor. Below us were countless rooftops clustered around the concave mass of the theater. To the northeast, dominating the plain beyond the city, stood the Temple of Artemis.

This was my first sight of the temple since I had arrived, and the first time I had seen it from such a lofty vantage point. I drew a sharp breath, amazed that the temple appeared even larger than I remembered, and more beautiful. The temple did not stand in complete isolation, for a number of lesser buildings consecrated for sacred uses were scattered on the surrounding grounds. But these more modest structures only served to highlight the magnificence of the temple. Clad in marble and gold and brightly colored paint, it glittered like some monstrous jewel box—which in a way it was, for the temple was even more spectacular inside than out, a repository of fabulous treasures of every sort, from rubies and emeralds to antique weapons to the famous painting of Alexander the Great that seemed to lunge forward from the wall.

The temple had been the first World Wonder I visited, and none that I saw afterward, not even the Great Pyramid, had impressed me more. Antipater had spoken truly when he wrote his famous poem about it. I silently mouthed the words:

I have seen the walls of Babylon, so lofty and so wide,

And the Gardens of that city, which flower in the skies.

I have seen the ivory Zeus, great Olympia's pride,

And the towering Mausoleum where Artemisia's husband lies.

I have seen the huge Colossus, which lifts its head to heaven,

And taller still, the Pyramids, whose secrets none can tell.

But the house of Artemis at Ephesus, of all the Wonders Seven,

Must surely be the grandest, where a god may rightly dwell.

If Artemis truly dwelled in the temple, she was not alone. I had been told that a great many Romans were seeking sanctuary there, and indeed, I saw many people moving in and out of the temple and milling about, some sitting on the temple steps while others loitered around the great altar. A few of these people were the priests of Artemis, called Megabyzoi, recognizable even at such a great distance by their bright yellow robes and tall yellow headdresses. But many more were obviously Romans, equally recognizable by the white togas they wore. The women I took to be Roman wives and daughters. Others in the crowd were probably household servants and slaves who had accompanied their masters in search of a safe haven.

While I stood staring at the view, the eunuch obtained permission for us to enter. He ushered us onward, through the massive entry and into a large courtyard. Here he stopped to confer with another official, this one even more ostentatiously dressed. The gewgaws dangling from this man's turban appeared to be made of silver and precious stones, rather than base metal and glass, as no doubt suited a chamberlain of the royal household.

“But you will make sure I get the credit for finding this one?” insisted the eunuch. The royal chamberlain gave him a curt, dismissive nod, then, with a simple movement of one eyebrow, indicated that I should follow him.

We left the courtyard and entered one wing of the house. Every space was filled with sumptuous decoration, from the frescoes on the walls and ceilings to the geometric mosaics underfoot. Beside me, I saw Bethesda staring at our surroundings in wonder.

We walked down a long hallway, passing busy slaves and bustling military officers. At last we arrived in a small but dazzling vestibule where every architectural detail and ornament appeared to be covered with gold foil. Mosaic peacocks spread their wings on the floor beneath us. Painted storks and egrets wheeled across the ceiling above us. I could only wonder what sort of fabulous room lay beyond.

The chamberlain at last spoke. “I understand that you are mute.”

I nodded.

“But you can hear, and have all your other senses?”

I nodded.

“Good. And this is your slave, who speaks for you?”

Bethesda opened her mouth to speak, but the man silenced her with a raised finger. He hummed and clicked his teeth.

“Ah, not the most ideal situation. Court protocol dictates that a slave may speak directly to Her Majesty only in certain rare circumstances. But … I suppose this might be one such circumstance. And yet.…” He appeared to weigh his options for a long moment, then nodded. “Yes, I have it! What is your name, slave?”

“Bethesda,” she said.

The man made a face. “What sort of name is that?” He grunted, but did not wait for an answer. “Well, then … slave,” he said, unable or unwilling to pronounce her exotic name, “when a question is asked by Her Majesty of your master, which you are capable of answering, you will whisper the answer to me, and I will convey the answer to Her Majesty. Do you understand, slave?”

Bethesda drew a deep breath. She narrowed her eyes. “Yes, I understand.”

“Very good. Well, then, follow me.” The man signaled to a servant who stood beside the door, who obediently opened it for us.

 

XII

We entered a room that seemed to be wrapped in layer upon layer of gauze.

Everywhere, hanging vertically, were translucent veils of soft, lovely colors—lilac and azure, mossy green and buttery yellow. Though they were hard to see, there were openings in these veils, for we passed through one shimmering layer after another. The soft touch of the veils as they slid against my cheeks and the backs of my hands was delightful.

Of what fantastic material were they made? I suddenly realized it had to be the famous silk of Cos, an example of which I had first seen in the home of Antipater's cousin Bitto in Halicarnassus. She had worn a green garment made of the stuff, which clung to her flesh like a rippling sheet of water. No fabric was more costly than the silk of Cos. Had these been sheets of hammered gold they could hardly have been more valuable. I wondered how anyone, even Mithridates, could have got his hands on so much of the stuff. He must have plundered the island's entire store of silk.

From somewhere ahead of me I heard the sound of someone giggling—a boy, I thought, with some surprise. No, it was a girl—or rather, it was both, a boy and a girl laughing together. Slanting sunlight lit the room, passing through some veils and reflecting off others. The queen was able to see me before I could see her.

“Is this the mute?” said a girlish voice, to a background of boyish giggles.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And who is the lovely creature with him?” asked the boy, whose shape I was just beginning to discern as we stepped through yet another layer of veils.

“His slave. Because he has been struck mute, she travels with him, to speak when he cannot.”

“How tiresome that must be for them both,” said the boy.

The chamberlain pushed aside one last veil, and I finally saw the young man, who half-sat, half-reclined on an elegant couch, propped on one elbow. The cut of his long, sleeveless robe was distinctly Egyptian, as was his simple uraeus crown. It looked as if a slender cobra made of gold had wrapped itself around his head, with its flattened, ruby-eyed face poised to strike from the middle of his forehead. The young man had slender arms but a chubby face. Perhaps he was predisposed to fatness, like his famously fat father—for as surely as the fabrics surrounding us were the silks of Cos, this was the son of the deposed king of Egypt.

By rights, I thought, he probably should not be wearing that royal crown. But then again, he was the nephew of the current king, so perhaps, by the rules of the incestuous Ptolemy clan, he still had some claim to a princely crown. Apparently the chamberlain thought so, for after a great deal of bowing—which I did my best to emulate, indicating to Bethesda that she should do likewise—he addressed both young people before me with royal titles. Both, I say, for seated on an adjacent couch, reclining in a similar pose and head to head with the prince, was a curious being who could be none other than Queen Monime.

“Your Majesty, Queen Monime; Your Majesty, Prince Ptolemy—I present to you Agathon of Alexandria, a young man who has lost the power of speech.”

I had never seen anyone quite like the young queen. She was so petite as to be almost dwarfish. Her size made her appear to be almost a child, but only at first glance, for the curves of her body were decidedly those of a woman. I had always thought that Bethesda was voluptuous, but Monime was even more curvaceous, a fact that her clothing did nothing to conceal. A nod to modesty was perhaps intended by the wispy white veils that hung from her gown here and there, but these were so flimsy they merely accentuated the shimmering white garment beneath, which clung to her like a second skin.

The flesh of her bare arms was as perfectly white as her gown, and had a translucent, pearly sheen; moment by moment it seemed to glitter as if reflecting all the various colors of the roomful of veils around us. Her hair was like red gold, likewise reflecting the colors of the room. Around her forehead, serving as a royal diadem, was a simple fillet of twined purple and white wool.

Her features were delicate, and only very subtly enhanced by cosmetics—a bit of kohl to outline her eyes and some henna to redden her lips. She looked like a girl made up to pass for a woman. Like the Egyptian prince, she was still a teenager. She had very large eyes, so it should have been easy to ascertain their color, but this seemed to change from moment to moment, at first green, then green verging into blue, then blue with hints of violet.

Beside me, the chamberlain stood with his face slightly lowered, not gazing directly at either of the royal personages. I realized I should do likewise, but found myself staring at the queen, unable to look away. She stared back at me with a cool, calculating gaze.

I heard the music of a lute. When had it started? The sound was soft, but not distant. Somewhere in the room there was a musician. Lamps were being lit, for as reddish twilight faded, rosy lamplight took its place. Lamplighters and a musician were in the room, then, and surely there were handmaidens as well, to serve the queen, and there must have been armed guards to protect her and to keep watch on Prince Ptolemy. But I never saw them. Everyone around us was hidden behind layers of veils. I saw only the queen and the young prince of Egypt, reclining head to head. Their couches were atop a dais several steps up from the floor, so that even though they reclined and I stood, our eyes were on the same level.

The queen had a voice to match her giggle, surprisingly girlish from a creature so voluptuous. “So, Agathon of Alexandria, you are a man who once could speak like everyone else, but now you are mute. Is that correct?”

I nodded.

“How is it that you lost your voice?”

The chamberlain turned to Bethesda, who spoke in his ear, not quite loud enough for me to overhear. Eventually the man nodded and turned back to the queen.

“As Her Majesty the Queen may know, and as His Majesty the Prince undoubtedly knows, the inundations of the Nile bring blessings but also curses, for when the waters recede, the muddy ground releases vapors that can cause a multitude of maladies. This man contracted one such illness. He suffered a fever for several days, and afterwards he could not speak. Not a word has passed his lips since then.”

“He's not still ill, is he?” said the prince, looking at me warily. “He's not carrying some contagion?”

The chamberlain turned once again to Bethesda. This time she spoke just loud enough for me to overhear. “Tell the fat boy that my master is more fit than he shall ever be.”

The chamberlain grimaced slightly, then turned back toward the dais. “The Alexandrian is well, Your Majesty, and his malady is not contagious.”

“What is he doing in Ephesus?” asked the queen.

With some hesitation, the chamberlain turned to Bethesda. Again I was just able to overhear her. “Tell the white moth that my master comes to seek a cure for his muteness at the Temple of Artemis. Perhaps you should likewise seek a cure for that bad breath of yours.”

The chamberlain was visibly flustered for a moment, then recovered and put on a smile for Her Majesty. “He comes to seek the blessing of Artemis and to ask that she restore his voice.”

“Well, he mustn't do that!” said the queen, sounding peeved. “Not yet, anyway. He'll be of no use to us if he gets his voice back. The Magi were quite explicit. The ritual must be ‘heard by one who cannot see, seen by one who cannot hear, witnessed by one who cannot speak.' Wait … did I get that right?” She frowned, then giggled. “Yes, I think I did. It's a bit of a mouthful, isn't?”

“You mean a tongue twister,” said Prince Ptolemy.

“Not a tongue twister, silly. That's something hard to say because the words sound alike and go all slippery on you.”

“Perhaps, but one shouldn't say ‘mouthful.' It sounds rude.”

“You mean it sounds dirty?” The queen giggled.

“Only to
you
,” said the prince, giggling back at her.

Monime rolled her eyes. “Well, we see what comes of being brought up on a remote island by priests and eunuchs. You're such a prude, Ptolemy.”