Written in the Ashes (18 page)

“Yes, certain.” Tarek and Jemir nodded.

“Lock the doors behind me and do not let anyone in under any circumstances.” Alizar spun, grabbed his cloak, and rushed out into the street.

Hannah watched the green door click shut behind him and shuddered, feeling nothing good could possibly come of this.

“You must listen to reason, Orestes.” Alizar found the governor in his home as dawn approached.

“Alizar, I must appease the Jews. This is my election now.” Orestes stood in his silk evening robe and jute slippers and sipped a cup of tea. He held out a cup to Alizar, who shook his head.

“You have the choice to release Heirax.”

“No, he is to be tried tomorrow.”

“Under what charge?”

“Sedition.”

“Heavens, man.”

“Cyril will think twice about dealing with me now. He will see what power government and law still hold over his little church. It is a move I must make given the fall of Rome. I must establish my authority in Alexandria immediately.”

“Have you gone mad? He will retaliate, Orestes. You know Cyril as well as I.”

“Let him retaliate. What can he do?” Orestes was besotted. The party had gone well. The lighthouse was restored. Due to his ever-increasing popularity, Orestes was one election from praetorian prefect and his gleaming reputation had not one mark upon it. All of Egypt was in his hands.

Alizar protested. “He can do plenty.”

“You know I respect you old friend, but this time you are wrong. We have won. With Heirax gone, Cyril will withdraw.”

“Orestes, come to your senses. You must set Heirax free or Cyril will unleash the Parabolani on all of us in the name of the Christian God.”

“This conversation tires me.” Orestes settled in a deep chair on one side of the hearth and gestured to Alizar to take the one beside him, but Alizar chose to stand beside the fire. He picked up a small green malachite sphere to turn in his hands. Rather than continue to discuss what had transpired, Orestes divagated and brought up Hypatia’s latest lecture series on the Enneads, and the discussions that had ensued thereafter, all of which Alizar had missed.

But Alizar kept the conversation on Heirax. “You must not kill him. Put him on the wheel for a day if you must, but let it go at that.”

“Ah, Alizar, you will see in the end I am right.”

“That is what concerns me.” Alizar excused himself to the kitchen and found Phoebe making another pot of tea, her long silver hair plaited over her shoulder, her hazel eyes bloodshot and fatigued. He spoke quietly. “Phoebe, you must do what only a wife can. Convince Orestes to change his mind.”

Phoebe laughed. “You know him as well as I, Alizar. He was born under the sign of the ram. Once he makes up his mind, there is no changing it.”

The following day, it was announced by Orestes in the agora that Rome had fallen to the Goths. He proclaimed the name of Emperor Honorius as triumphant, and elaborated with the death of the Goth leader Alaric and his army. He finished with the words, “Rome shall rise again!”

Pandemonium broke out in the streets. The people became agitated and restless, eager for a fight.

Some time later, Alizar watched from his tower as Heirax was condemned for sedition and tortured publicly till death on the breaking wheel. His body was stretched on a large wooden cartwheel, and as the wheel was rotated, one by one, Orestes broke his bones with an iron hammer. First a crushing blow to the knee, then the elbow, then the shoulder, then an ankle, both wrists. The crowd was enormously pleased to hear Heirax screaming over the course of the afternoon. They cheered each time the hammer blow came down. Eventually, once Heirax had passed out from the pain, he was eviscerated and, still alive, was left strapped to the cartwheel, which was strung up from a tall column so the crows could eat his entrails.

Cyril wasted no time in calling together the mob and the leaders of the Jewish community to threaten them to stop backing Orestes. He even went so far as to insist that the fall of Rome was brought about by the pagans worshipping the Roman gods. But the Jews, who already resented Cyril’s maneuvering to take over the city, in turn invested all their confidence in Orestes, tithing their support to the governor for strength and protection.

Alizar and the rest of the house watched uneasily as day after day the tension in the city mounted between the Jews and the Christians. He paid countless visits to Orestes and even considered paying one to Cyril if he thought it would do any good. Finally, he had no choice but to sit and watch and wait.

Hannah carried a cup of peppermint tea to Alizar in his tower late one night to find him pacing the available floor, weaving between stacks of dusty leather-bound codices, instruments, unraveling scrolls and bunches of dried herbs and flowers. “You really think something is going to happen,” she said, shoving aside several enormous books to clear a tiny spot of table for the teacup.

Alizar grunted. “When you place a kettle on the fire, the water boils.” He faced her. “If you press a lid to that kettle, the water boils all the faster.”

Hannah nodded. “I feel in my bones there will be riots,” she said. “Everywhere there is talk only of Rome. The people are mad with grief.”

“Hannah,” said Alizar. “You have nothing to fear. This house has stood five hundred years, and it will stand five hundred more. Trust me. These events will pass. Keep your faith.”

So.

Their suspicions were confirmed five nights later. It was a warm evening, and most everyone in the city was outside tending their gardens or socializing with family. Alizar was polishing his library shelves with Jemir when he heard the shouting from beyond the walls of the courtyard.

“The church! The church of St. Alexander is aflame!” the cries rang out.

Alizar locked eyes with Jemir. St. Alexander was Cyril’s church.

Jemir stood. “Should I call Aziz to ready a horse for you?”

Alizar did not move. He was thinking. “No, not yet.”

Jemir looked confused.

“I am not going to ride into the lion’s mouth. It might be a trick. We must wait until we know for certain. Call Tarek. We will send him to spy.”

“He is out already, I am afraid.” Jemir said. Alizar nodded. So Tarek was at the brothel again. No matter. They still had time. Another crier would come by the courtyard and more news would spill over the wall before the night ended.

Time crawled on. Church bells all over the city clanged to announce the fire, so there was nothing to measure the hours. The sound of pounding on the green door in the atrium brought everyone in Alizar’s house running. Hannah was peering through the keyhole as Alizar strode through the atrium. “Who is there?” His voice reverberated through the marble anteroom.

“Gideon.”

Alizar threw open the door. “Gideon, tell us the news.”

“You have not heard, then?” The captain stepped inside, his black
klamys
twirling a circle. Hannah watched him from behind the statue of Hermes, eager to hear what was happening.

“A crier came by hours ago saying St. Alexander was on fire.”

“A hoax.”

“A hoax? You mean it did not burn? I had thought this might be the case. Speak.”

“Far worse. A group of Jewish fathers hid all around the entrance. When the Christians came to save their church they were ambushed. The men were angry the Christians had been killing their daughters. It had to come to this.”

“How many killed?”

“Hard to say. Seventy, maybe more. But that is not all. Cyril organized his Parabolans and they are riding into the Jewish quarter at this very instant, tossing torches into all the synagogues. He is determined to have every Jew in this city dead by morning or else exiled into the desert.” Gideon was speaking as rapidly as he could get the words out. “It is mayhem and death. The Jews are fleeing as the Christian mobs ransack their homes. Some are fighting off the mob. There must be hundreds dead already. Hypatia is hiding as many as she can in the library. I thought you could hide more here.”

“I can do far better than that.” Alizar said. “My ship will sail at dawn. Ready your crew at once, Gideon. I must get to the Gate of the Sun.”

Gideon nodded. Alizar buckled his sword and rushed out the door. Around the corner they collided with Tarek, who had been at a full sprint. He careened into Gideon and toppled backward in the dust.

Alizar helped him up. “Tarek, come with us. No, better yet, fetch any men you can round up and meet us at the Gate of the Sun. And shut the women in the house. Tell them to keep the door locked until I return.” Tarek nodded and disappeared.

Alizar and Gideon quickened their steps, rounding the knoll that marked the edge of the Brucheon from the Jewish quarter as smoke flooded their nostrils. The scattered pockets of orange flames rose from several synagogues and spread to nearby homes. Everywhere, the chaos of bodies churned in all directions as people fled the fires. Braying animals stampeded into the crowds of frightened men and women, crushing whatever they touched; horses, camels, donkeys, goats and chickens were all set loose in pandemonium. At the end of the street, Gideon split off to the harbor, and Alizar pulled his
petasos
over his head and continued toward the flames.

At the end of a dark alley, Alizar found the Queen’s Theatre still untouched. Several actors quietly ushered Jewish families inside to hide. One little girl held in a boy’s arms screamed and struggled, her hands waving in the air, grasping for some unseen person. The boy, his eyes white as a wild horse’s, clamped a hand over the little girl’s mouth and rushed through the door.

Alizar promptly forgot the exhaustion from his voyage. There were over two hundred thousand Jews in the city. Close friends he had known for over fifty years were somewhere in the chaos, fighting for their lives, their children endangered, their homes being destroyed. Damn Orestes’ pride.

Alizar wound his way deeper into the residential district of the Jewish Quarter, which was falling into shambles. Two women in the street were fighting over a cooking pot, crashing sounds came from behind every door, and there in the midst of the flames were the Parabolani led by Peter, who stood a full head above all the others. The priests in black robes pounded their fists on the doors of the homes, grabbing Jewish families and throwing them out into the street by force. Alizar averted his eyes as one of the priests broke an old man’s arm, jerking the man away from his door to let a Christian family plunder his home.

“By the will of God all Jewish property now belongs to the Christians of Alexandria,” Peter called out. “Be banished into the desert or face death.”

The Jews were realizing they were outnumbered. Some of them had gathered their possessions, herded by the Parabolani like livestock toward the Gate of the Sun and the bleak desert beyond.

“All Jews are now exiled from this city by ordinance of the Bishop,” Ammonius shouted, standing beside Peter, his black hood concealing his face.

“Ordinance,” Alizar hissed. “Cyril cannot make ordinances.”

Families were running in the dark. A woman with a white scarf pulled over her head rushed into the arms of a man who pressed her tightly against his chest. Beside them, a toddler with a dirty face was sitting in the street, screaming. Everywhere came the sound of crying and fighting, the smashing of walls. The impoverished Christians were moving in like hungry rats on an abandoned feast. Apparently, thought Alizar, they would claim the kingdom of heaven for themselves even if it meant evicting the current residents. Alizar pinched the ridge of skin between his eyebrows as the smoke made his eyes water. He had to get to the Gate of the Sun before the Parabolani.

Back at the house, Tarek locked Hannah and Leitah in Naomi’s upstairs bedroom. Hannah dashed to the balcony to see what was happening. Then she stepped back into the bedroom and began rummaging through a chest. “I have to help,” she explained to Leitah. “Stay here and keep watch over Naomi.” She pulled several items from the chest: the strangest being a large wooden doll, black as soot, with nails for eyes. Hannah shuddered and went on rummaging until she came upon what she was hoping for: some forgotten boyhood clothes belonging to Naomi’s son. Leitah helped her bind her breasts with a length of cloth, then Hannah cinched a
tunica
around her waist and piled her hair up under a cap, deciding that as a boy she would not be recognized. A leather cord bound around her neck like jewelry concealed the slave collar. She did not consider her ankle, or even of the incident in the market with the Parabolani weeks before. She climbed down the trellis from the balcony and jumped to the street, running as fast as her feet could carry her to the Gate of the Sun.