Written in the Ashes (12 page)

And Naomi sighed.

Hannah sat up. Then Naomi sighed again, and her breath wavered on the exhalation, almost as though she were attempting to form words.

“You know it is there,” Hannah whispered.

Naomi’s lips quivered.

Hannah crept to the bed. “Please wake,” she said. “Please, for me.” As she watched the butterfly pumping its wings, she slipped her fingers into Naomi’s hand and squeezed.

A little breeze crossed the room and Naomi’s eyelids fluttered and opened. The butterfly did not stir. Hannah found herself looking at eyes as green as summer grass. Naomi’s lips tipped slightly upward and she squeezed Hannah’s hand ever so gently in return. So gently. “Thank you,” she whispered, and then her eyes closed as the resting butterfly lifted from her chest and vanished through the open window.

Hannah threw open the door and called to everyone to come quickly. Tarek was out, but Jemir and Leitah came at once. As Hannah told them what had happened, Jemir brought his hands to his heart. “It must be an omen,” he said. “She will be well again, Cardea willing. We must pray.” And so they each bowed their heads and prayed in a circle around the bed where Naomi lay. Hannah hoped Jemir was right, that the butterfly was an omen. She felt that if Naomi recovered it meant that everything else would be well also, that her father was alive and that they would be reunited, and the Parabolani would forget the incident in the market.

Later that day a visitor came to the house. When the bell rang, everyone stopped breathing. The servants of Alizar’s house flinched at every odd sound in the walls, dreading the coming of the Parabolani. Jemir was the brave one who went to the door to see who it was.

“Hannah, there is a visitor for you.” Jemir stood in the doorway of Naomi’s bedroom leaning against a pillar, holding a tray of sweet cakes. His heart was heavy for the girl, poor desert child sold into slavery, and now this. She had not spoken a word of what happened that day in the market. Sorrow had tipped the ballast of her heart, and she was sinking. He fussed over her, baking his concern into special cakes to revive her happiness, to no avail. There was no music left in her for Alizar’s house.

“I am coming.” Hannah gathered the blanket around her body, picked up her cane and found her way downstairs to the atrium. There in the hall, a tall gentleman in a long, wine-red robe stood serenely. Even with his back to the entrance, Hannah knew who it was at once.

“Synesius.” Hannah’s lips faltered upward toward a smile. His constant stoic expression that always seemed so cold, in that moment, warmed her like the desert sun. She was glad to see him.

Tarek had just come in from the stable and heard voices, so he hid behind a pillar in the hall, watching Hannah. As Tarek saw her face come to life at the sight of her tutor, he stiffened. With a clenched jaw, he curled his fingers into his palms.

Synesius tilted his head, regarding Hannah’s bandaged ankle. “What has happened to you?”

Hannah took a step backward. “We can go into the courtyard to speak. Please.”

They stepped into the bright sun of noonday and followed a stone path that led down a slight slope to a lion’s head fountain set in a low wall that poured a cool stream of water into a catch basin filled with blue lotus blossoms. Alizar’s horses grazed in a pen just beyond it.

Hannah sat on the edge of the wall beside the pond. “Sy, I am sorry I missed my lessons.”

Synesius glanced at her leg.

Hannah bit her lower lip and looked down at the bandage. “It was in the market. I slipped.”

He studied Hannah’s face. “And who were you running from?”

Hannah looked up and met his discerning eyes. Perhaps he already knew. “The Parabolani.”

“I thought as much.”

“We were in the market and they dragged this young girl out in front of everyone and made horrible accusations. Then they…well, they killed her.” Hannah teared up. “I was so foolish, taken over by my anger. I actually thought I could stop them.”

The flicker in Synesius’s eyes showed that her tutor was familiar with the Parabolani and their tactics. “Alexandria contains the greatest extremes, Hannah. This city, like Alexander her patron king, knows only the pendulum’s swing. Her center stands for an instant, then shifts. Such is life.”

“Do you mean we should ignore what the Parabolani are doing?” Hannah narrowed her eyes.

“We have no choice.”

“No choice?”

“The battle is over our heads.”

“But surely something can be done.”

Synesius sighed and took a seat on the low wall. “Hannah, do you know who Theodosius the Second is?”

“The emperor.”

“Yes, the emperor, a boy of eight years old.”

“A child?”

“Yes. Most of the rumors we hear from court say his elder sister, Pulcheria, holds the influence of the Eastern Empire, as she is in charge of his education and interests. Emperor Honorius, the western emperor, remains as interested in Alexandria as a baby in a bowl of asparagus. It was their father, Emperor Arcadius, and his father before him, Theodosius, who insured the Christian empire would uphold the edict forbidding pagan practice.”

“What does it mean?”

“That those who are not Christian, like the followers of Mithras and Osiris, Zoroaster, the Druids, the Romans, and even the ancient hierophant of Eleusis may not worship their gods. There has been some tolerance for the Jews, but even that is waning. They are all deemed pagans.” Synesius shook his head. “For all I know, Alexandria may be the last place in the Mediterranean the pagans dare to pray. Elsewhere they have all gone into hiding or embraced Christ to save themselves from persecution.”

“Is that why you became a Christian?”

Synesius clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace. “I am a gnostic Christian, not an orthodox Christian. I have particular interest in Christ and his disciples, especially Mary Magdalene. I am translating her writing and the gospel of Thomas now with a team of other Coptic scribes. The practices of the Parabolani are atrocious, true. Our bishop may be a self-righteous man, but Christ himself was and is a worthy teacher, as are his disciples. Christ’s emphasis was always on inner knowing, and on love.”

“But this girl they killed was practically a child. How can you willingly connect yourself to that?” Hannah squinted up at Synesius where he paused with his head before the sun, an aureole of light illuminating his shoulders as a bee swept past his chin and dove into a purple blossom on the pond.

“As a gnostic Christian, I do not. The teachings of Christ and the church founded in his absence by Paul are not the same. Jesus himself did not create a church, he merely asked his followers to bless others and spread the teachings. Unfortunately, this split among the Christians has sent those of us who believe differently than the orthodox into hiding. Cyril would be killing the gnostics along with the pagans if there were any left to kill. Most students of Valentinus, the teacher of my lineage, were silenced before I was born. I know how to walk in orthodox circles without arousing suspicion, as my life is a work of subtle influence.”

Hannah plucked a flower and twirled it between her fingers, her lips pressed together in thought.

“I disappoint you?” Synesius said.

Hannah shrugged. “Perhaps you care more for those scrolls than you do a young girl’s life. I do not understand.”

Synesius nodded, empathizing with her sentiment. “The Great Library of Alexandria is devoted to uncovering and preserving truth, not resolving human suffering, though the two are certainly intertwined. We study the heavens, the seas, works of all ages, cultures and centuries, and the contributions of great minds that have come and gone and shared their wisdom with us, even those that have made us question our treasured beliefs. The truth is humanity’s greatest inheritance, Hannah. And you are right, I would protect it over all else.”

Hannah shook her head. “I do not understand.” It was a philosopher’s speech that did nothing to reframe the events in the market for Hannah’s heart. Feeling neither more nor less consoled, she gazed down into the little pool at the star-shaped blooms of the blue lotus flowers, listening to the water trickling from the lion’s mouth on the wall.

“Hannah,” Synesius stood up. “I have also come today to invite you to sing at a very important lecture this coming Saturn’s day. Alizar spoke quite highly of your talent before his departure, and our current musical accompaniment has taken ill. We would like you to take his place. Alizar arranged that it will pay you three
siliquae.
”

“What kind of lecture?” Hannah sat up in surprise. Here then, was Alizar’s promise that she could earn her freedom; although three silver
siliquae
were a mere glint on the surface of one hundred gold
solidi
.

“An unveiling of the most important contribution to science to come out of the Great Library in six hundred years.” Synesius’s calm voice, usually bereft of emotion, welled with excitement.

Hannah tipped her head. “Go on.”

Synesius lowered his voice to a whisper. “Centuries ago, Archimedes of Syracuse brought certain drawings to Alexandria of a mechanism he conceived that can discern the position of the entire cosmos, sun moon and planets. He was killed before he could construct it. The mathematicians of the Great Library have devoted their lives to its creation. Hypatia’s father, Theon, came the closest but failed, and now Hypatia herself has supposedly created a working model of Archimedes’ design. She plans to unveil it during her lecture. Magistrates, royalty, rhetors and prefects have sailed from across the Mediterranean to be there.”

Hannah drew a sharp breath. How could she possibly perform before hundreds of people? The thought was paralyzing. “Synesius, it is a very generous offer, but—”

“Hannah, you must. It is expected.”

Hannah stood abruptly and hobbled over to the sprawling fig tree with its leaves like giant puzzle pieces twisting in the breeze. “Maybe bravery comes easy to you Synesius, living within the safe confines of the library walls. But that girl’s blood covered my face when she lived not moments before. My face!” She threw up her hands and several silver fish at the surface of the pool darted back into the murky shadows.

“I know it is difficult.” Synesius rose and smiled gently. “Hypatia would appreciate meeting another woman of exceptional talent.”

Hypatia. Hannah thought of Jemir’s description of her, “made of light.” In all her visits to the Great Library she had never seen the famous female philosopher. If Synesius had come to ask this favor of her, she knew it must be important. “I will be there,” she said.

Synesius smiled and bowed to leave. “Good then. Get some rest.”

8  

When he heard that Hannah would perform at such an important lecture, Jemir secretly shook several copper coins from the bottom of a bag of odds and ends and counted them. Then he left the house.

On Saturn’s day eve Jemir knocked on the door of the stable with a fine dress of peacock blue silk in his arms, but Hannah did not respond. He called out to her, and Leitah appeared at the door.