Written in the Ashes (16 page)

Synesius laughed heartily, an unusual occurrence. Something about Hannah’s sincerity, however, deserved a genuine answer, not the elusive one he would give any other student. He let his eyes drift up into the sky and then across the sea. When he spoke his voice shed something of the impersonal tone he used while teaching. “When my brother, Julian, and I first came to the shores of Pharos it was with one of the Nuapar monks, Kolossofia Master Junkar, who had found Julian in Ptolemais after our parents died. I will never forget that voyage in the small skiff upon the water, and the first sight of Pharos, which, in the thick fog of morning, was not a sight at all, but the sound of the priestesses singing on the shore. My brother and I were transfixed by it, like Odysseus, begging to be tied to the mast. Master Junkar said something to us then that I have never forgotten. He turned to us with sternness and said ‘Sirens hold no promise for a monk.’ When I came to the library and began to study under Hypatia, I found her views were similar to the creeds of the Nuapar.”

“How so?”

“One of the other students in her lectures who often sat beside me fell in love with her, and although he tried to keep it a secret, she discovered his affections.”

“And?”

“She brought with her on the following day the cloth soiled with her menstrual blood and flung the stained rag upon his writing tablet. Then she said to him, ‘That is the hideous flesh you love. Flesh that betrays us with its impurity.’ Of course he never swooned over her again.”

“I do not believe she would ever do something so crude. Not Hypatia.”

“Crude indeed. Hypatia would go to any length to illustrate her teaching. She cares nothing for who is offended. The story carried her reputation as far as Londinium, I believe.”

They stopped beneath the shade of one of Cleopatra’s Needles in the east, a slender granite obelisk perched on a small knoll that overlooked the harbor where many rocking ships swayed together rhythmically on the shifting sea, the masts almost touching, but never quite reaching.

“Do you suppose that Psyche and Eros lived in eternal love once they were reunited?” asked Hannah. Though the question was innocent, and based upon their readings of the morning, as she asked it, Hannah’s heart conjured an image of Julian. His oceanic eyes. His gleaming bronze skin. The way he moved. A little sigh escaped her lips.

Synesius pursed his lips in contemplation. “That depends on what you mean by love. Love and desire are always mistaken for one another. The first is a praxis, one that Christ lived by example; the second, merely a fleeting sensation. Desire for another causes one to lose control of the mind, and the mind’s peace must be savored and preserved, for once it is lost, it is extremely difficult to regain.”

“It seems to me that would be like never taking one of those fine ships out of the harbor.” As she spoke, Hannah’s hair came undone from where it was knotted at the nape of her neck and began to swirl around her shoulders in the breeze.

“Ships that go to sea are how shipwrecks come to be,” Synesius parried.

Hannah turned to him, her eyes aglow. “Yes, but not all ships that set out of the harbor are lost.”

He returned her gaze as a dignified cat might regard a simple kitten. “Yes. The ones that escape a fate on the bottom of the ocean are eventually split apart from years of wear. Saltwater has that affect on wood.”

“But better the bottom of the ocean than to rot beside a dock forever.” Hannah said, the words more for herself than Synesius. She let her eyes wander back to the surface of the sea blotched with wide swaths of green and grey, a sea that could quench the thought of thirst, but never the thirst itself. There beyond it stretched the outline of Pharos and the jagged southern cliffs where the impressive lighthouse waited for its light to be restored. And somewhere on the north shore of the island was Julian, in the Temple of Poseidon.

Just then a messenger came running up the walk behind them. He thrust a letter into Synesius’s hands, and then departed as swiftly as he came. Synesius tore the seal on the letter and read it, then looked at Hannah and folded it up.

Hannah tipped her head, intuiting something. “What is it, Sy?”

Synesius tried to mask his concern. “We should go to the Lyceum across the garden. I want you to see the gymnasts and have a lesson. It would do you well to learn yoga, as a supple body produces a supple mind. Then afterwards, we can begin your arithmetic.”

“Today? But the day is mostly spent.”

“Yes, today,” said Synesius firmly. “And into the evening if need be.”

So.

Once she returned that night, Hannah found Alizar’s entire house had been ransacked. Pots were smashed, tapestries that usually hung on the walls were torn and lying scattered about the rooms. Alizar’s hounds came running and buried their noses in her hands, as if they had not been fed.

Hannah tossed them some scraps and rushed to the upstairs room to check on Naomi. When she opened the door she saw that Naomi was still in bed, and seated beside her was Leitah.

“Oh, Leitah! What happened?” Hannah rushed in.

The silent girl shook her head.

“Where is Tarek?” Hannah ventured.

Leitah made a crude thrusting gesture with her hips and pointed out the window.

“He has been at the brothels then?”

Leitah nodded.

“But Jemir?”

Leitah shook her head. Hannah knew immediately it was the Parabolani.

Hannah sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on Naomi’s warm calf. “What should we do?”

Leitah shook her head and tears fell down her cheeks.

Hannah reached forward and took the girl in her arms, letting her sob. That was how she came to suspect the private love of Leitah and Jemir.

The project of cleaning the house took most of the evening. Hannah kept praying that Jemir had only been briefly detained, but she knew they may never see him again. She felt strangled with guilt. This was all her fault.

Well after dark Tarek burst in the kitchen door. “What in Hades happened here?” he said.

Hannah was seated at the table, eating some seed bread and hard white cheese. She broke off another piece and placed the cheese on it, and bit down, letting the nourishing flavors mix in her mouth. She felt as if she had not eaten in days. She looked haggard, her eyes red and puffy, though she had some satisfaction the house around her had finally begun to look normal again.

“The Parabolani,” Tarek answered his own question.

Hannah swallowed and looked up at him. Her eyes confirmed.

Tarek sat beside her at the table, suddenly vulnerable. “Where is Jemir?”

Hannah shook her head.

“Leitah?”

“Upstairs in Naomi’s bedchamber. She will not come down.”

“Then they have Jemir.” Tarek hung his head. He looked helpless, his angular features acquiring a kind of cowardice. He reached for her bread and broke off a hunk in his hands and shoved it in his mouth. He looked like a little boy, all sad eyes and no strength.

Hannah got up. “I will make some tea.”

Tarek nodded. “We will wait. Jemir will come.”

The Parabolans did not return, but neither did Jemir. Days passed. Hannah, in addition to her regular duties, helped Leitah plant herbs in the garden and attend to chores in the kitchen. There was no need for words, even if Leitah had been in the practice of speaking. They exchanged glances and soft pats on the arm, and when Leitah began to sob pushing the rag across the steps, Hannah held her and whispered soothing syllables of love. All they could do was wait.

Jemir staggered in at dawn three days later, his face bloody, his wrists badly bruised and cut, as if they had been hanging him from his hands by a rope. Alizar’s hounds greeted him with a loud braying, then happy tongues lolling, prancing around his legs and licking his fingers.

Leitah was the first to the garden gate when she saw him coming up from the entrance by the stable. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He gave himself to her embrace. They had hobbled as far as the fig tree when Hannah came running down the walk to assist Leitah as she helped Jemir to the cushions at the far end of the kitchen where he could lie down.

“How did you escape?” asked Hannah as she quickly poured Jemir a glass of wine and raised it to his lips as Leitah held his head.

Jemir groaned. “I did not escape. I was released.”

Just then, Tarek appeared at the door, having been awakened by the commotion of the hounds. “Not by the bishop?”

“Apparently by the governor, Orestes.
Kalimera
, Tarek.”

Tarek nodded and walked across the kitchen to pour a glass of wine. “I knew you would make it out.”

“And?” ventured Hannah.

“The battle has been taken to higher ground,” said Jemir as he spit a little blood into a rag lying nearby. “No one takes interest in a pawn when they can have a king,
Kuklamu
. The governor Orestes came and struck a deal.” As Jemir spoke, Hannah noticed that one of his teeth was missing in the front row on the top.

“What kind of deal?” asked Tarek.

Jemir lay back on Leitah’s lap, closing his eyes. “I was not informed, merely released.”

Leitah poured a cup of water into a bowl and lifted a rag to Jemir’s face to begin to clean the cuts.

“This is all my fault,” said Hannah, her face punctured with guilt, “what happened to you. I am so sorry.”

“Did they find the door to Alizar’s tower?” Tarek asked seriously.

Jemir shook his head. “No. I sealed the entrance in time.”

“And did they learn anything from you about Alizar’s work?”

Jemir shook his head. “That I would take to my grave.”

Tarek then relaxed back onto the cushions and turned toward Hannah, sipping his wine, daggers in his eyes. “This trouble was all your doing.”

“Then perhaps you should not have cursed me while I still live beneath your roof,” Hannah said brusquely, helping Leitah by dabbing at the dried blood beside Jemir’s eye.

Tarek glared at her. “You think you will earn your freedom with a tongue like that? I will see to it that you remain a slave in this house forever.”

Hannah cringed as Tarek stood and left the room. Jemir found her eyes. “Alizar is the master here,” he said, reassuring her, “not him.”

“I do not see how you stand living here. You are not a slave anymore. You could go anywhere…you have your freedom.”

Jemir coughed a little and spat again. Then he squeezed Leitah’s hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss. “This is our home.”

So.

11  

That evening, Alizar’s ship, the
Vesta
,
was sighted drifting into the harbor. His timing was such that Governor Orestes thought it might be the perfect occasion for a party, and so he arranged one in the Caesarium gardens behind the Great Library. He hired acting troupes to perform for the feast, complete with strolling jugglers, acrobats, clowns, fire-eaters and magicians. The finale would be later that evening on the beach, when the new brass reflector as tall as a man was to be hung in the lighthouse. The complaints of the sailors who bemoaned that the bonfires on the beach were not bright enough would finally be assuaged, as the beam from the lighthouse would be, once again, visible for many lengths at sea.