by Albert Noyer
A moment later the tribune who had arrested Virilo on the wharf, the day before his galley sailed, came into the room.
“Surgeon. Your housemaster told me you were here,” the officer said. “The Empress Mother is ill and orders you to come to her apartment immediately.”
“Galla Placidia? I…I don’t have my medical case here.”
“Nevertheless,” he insisted, “you will return with me to the Imperial Quarters.”
“Arcadia, I’ll come back after I see what’s wrong with her.”
“Ask Placidia if I could see Thecla again soon. I’m worried about her.”
“Now, Surgeon.” The tribune grasped Getorius’s arm and escorted him roughly out the door.
Ravenna
Chapter fourteen
Getorius was surprised when Publius Maximin answered the Tribune’s knock on the door of Galla Placidia’s private reception room.
“Senator. How is the Empress Mother?”
“Not actually ill, Fortuna be thanked,” Maximin said in a confidential whisper. “She wanted you to come on that pretext.”
“Come for what?”
“Ah, my Surgeon,” Placidia called out from a couch across the room. “I’m pleased that you’re here.”
“I understood you were not feeling well.”
“Do I look ill?”
“No, no. Thankfully, not at all.”
Galla Placidia, the headstrong daughter of the late emperor Theodosius, was just past fifty years of age. Getorius had examined her in January, after being appointed to the palace staff as physician. Considering her adventurous life, the woman was in remarkably good health. Captured at Rome thirty years ago by invading Visigoths, Placidia had married one of their kings, been ransomed back after his murder, then became the reluctant wife of Constantius III, the then Western army commander. She had borne him two children. Getorius’s train of thought was interrupted when he heard the empress speaking.
“…And so, Surgeon, I’m grateful that you came.”
“I’m honored,” he said, “but I also wanted to see you about my wife. Arcadia has been arrested.”
“The Senator told me. Ridiculous. Tribune…Lucullus…isn’t it?”
“Yes, Empress.”
“Lucullus, bring the surgeon’s wife here immediately. Let Leudovald begin investigating the origin of those false coins attributed to my son, and only then may he question her.”
“I’m grateful,” Getorius said.
Maximin stepped between the two. “Surgeon, the Empress Mother wants you to witness something. She feels you can be trusted, because of your help in exposing that business about the forged will.”
“Senator, I don’t want that brought up,” Placidia ordered curtly. “Germanus, the bishop at Autessiodurum, where that dead abbot came from, will visit Ravenna in the summer. I’m sure it has nothing to do with the affair, yet I’ll deny knowing anything, except that I was assured the abbot’s death was accidental.”
“As indeed it was an unfortunate accident, Empress,” Maximin emphasized. “I regret I was not there to prevent it.”
“Enough, then.” Placida turned to Getorius. “I understand you met a native of Sina on your, ah, impromptu voyage to Dalmatia.”
“Chen? Yes.” What is she getting at? I barely spoke with him. What has the senator been telling her?
A knock sounded. Maximin admitted Lucullus and Arcadia, then he dismissed the officer.
“My dear,” Placidia greeted Arcadia warmly, “I hope you haven’t been mistreated.”
“No, not at all. But Leudovald insists on questioning me in the morning.”
“Nevertheless, you shall sleep at home tonight.” Placidia stood up and walked over to her desk, behind which a mosaic monogram of her name was inlaid on the wall. “I wanted your husband here…and you.” She ran a hand over the golden initials representing her name. “Senator Maximin’s contact in the pepper trade has apprised him of an amazing Sinese product whose manufacture is secret. Death is said to be the penalty for betraying the process, but this Chen evidently is willing to risk that for reasons I won’t ask about.”
“Death?” Getorius asked. “What product would warrant such a penalty?”
“That’s what I intend to find out.” Placidia unsnapped a key from the ring at her belt and handed it to Maximin. “Senator.”
Maximin opened the door to one of her anterooms. Inside, Zhang Chen sat behind a table. He rose and bowed, then cast a glance of recognition at Getorius and Arcadia. Getorius thought the man seemed pleased to see them, although he said nothing.
“You’re both sworn to secrecy about what you see here as if…as if on your surgeons’ Hippocratic oaths,” Placidia warned the couple. “Chen wanted witnesses to this disclosure.”
“I ask you come, As-t’us,” Chen said.
“You’ve evidently made a good impression on him,” Placidia remarked.
Getorius was unsure of why he and Arcadia were being made privy to what this product was, but could guess the reason why the Augustus was not included. Valentinian was better known for hunting, consulting astrologers, and bedding young slave girls, than for his interest in ruling the Western Empire. His mother, however, had showed no hesitation in taking up her son’s duties.
Chen was translating into Latin a vertical scroll covered with the unfamiliar writing of his country. The characters resembled the ones on the crate.
“Are you almost finished?” Placidia asked him.
“Soon finish,” Chen replied in his sing-song accent.
On the floor next to the Oriental, Getorius noticed the flat crates that had been taken aboard the Cybele, but the four smaller ones were not with them.
“Chen, show us the…what did you call it?” Placidia asked.
“You would pronounce it ‘Chih’ in your language.”
“Open the top crate, man,” Maximin ordered brusquely. “The Empress is waiting.”
Chen frowned at him, but began to pry open boards that had already been loosened from their securing dowels. Getorius put a hand on Arcadia’s shoulder and led her closer to see what the crate contained. What precious commodity can Maximin have found? A new variety of gemstone, or a fabric that surpasses the beauty of silk? Some exotic spice or wood? A different kind of incense?
As Chen unwrapped a waxed silk cloth that had protected the box’s contents from moisture, stiff sheets of a tannish-color material became visible.
Placidia stared at the bland material without commenting, but her expression changed from one of anticipation to a glower of displeasure.
Getorius was also puzzled. After expecting shimmering fabrics, or jewels, even sweet-smelling condiments, there were only rectangles of a dull material that had no obvious purpose. “It just looks like stiff cloth,” he said, through his own disappointment. “What is it for, Chen?”
“Yes, tell us,” Placidia demanded. “What nonsense is this you bring me, Senator? Explain yourself.”
Maximin smiled thinly. “With respect Empress, I intend to do so. Surgeon, you spend time in the library. Examine a piece of the material in that crate.”
Chen pulled out the top sheet and handed it to Getorius. Arcadia fingered the texture with him, then held it up to the light. “It’s almost like manuscript parchment, but smoother,” she noted. “It resembles a fine vellum.”
Getorius smelled the sheet. “It’s not animal hide, but I’ll concede that it would make an excellent writing surface.”
“Exactly, Surgeon!” Maximin burst out. “This Chih, or whatever the Oriental calls it, has been used as a writing material in his country for three hundred years. And it’s incredibly simple and inexpensive to make. Old cotton or linen garments, hemp waste…any material like that…is mashed to a pulp and the sheet formed on a bronze screen. Chen is writing down the exact method. After he’s constructed a mould, he’ll demonstrate the process for us.”
“But why all the secrecy?” Arcadia asked. “It seems this would benefit scribes and make manuscript o
r book copies much less expensive.”
“Because, my dear,” Placidia explained, “the Senator tells me we’ll have the papyrus, vellum, and parchment manufacturers to contend with. Also butchers who provide skins to tanners, even farmers who raise the sheep and calves.”
Maximin elaborated, “Entire industries would be destroyed, and the artisans’ livelihoods with it. To say nothing of riots provoked by papyrus and parchment workers’ associations. No, this will have to be accepted gradually. We can’t even hint to anyone of the material’s existence.”
And since you’re the one who brought it here, when it is manufactured, all the profits will go to you and the Imperial family. “Senator, there were four smaller crates,” Getorius recalled. “Are they part of this process too?”
Placidia looked up sharply at Maximin. “What other crates, Senator? These two are all you brought here.”
“Th…they are…my own property, Empress,” Maximin stammered, flushing. “Nothing to do with this. Nothing at all.”
“Is that true, Chen?” she demanded.
“Belong sen-t’or. Thing different from Chih.”
“Very well. Chen, I want you to finish translating the instructions for making this…this. Mother of God! What did you call it?
“Chih, Empress.”
“No”—Placidia made a gesture of annoyance with her hand—“I want a Latin word for the material, but one that won’t arouse curiosity. Getorius, you said it looked like papyrus. We’ll call it that.”
“Or ‘papir,’” he suggested. “To distinguish between the two.”
“Yes, that’s close enough, and I can pronounce it. Understand, Chen? We’ll call this ‘papir’ from now on.”
He bowed. “Pap-ir, Empress.”
Arcadia wanted to know more about Chen and his country, and a quiet place to do so would be at home, over supper. “Chen, my husband and I would like to invite you to have your evening meal with us. Our villa is at the corner of the Vicus Caesar, not far from here at all.”
Hearing the invitation, Maximin glanced toward Placidia, but she gave no sign of disapproving. “How kind of you, my dear,” she said instead. “Of course you may go, Chen, once you’ve finished translating. That probably won’t be for several hours.”
“I’ll have one of my guards escort him,” Maximin offered. “Chen is staying at my country villa. No point in his getting lost.”
Chen bowed to Arcadia again. “Zhang Chen be happy eat with you Ar-cad’a, As-t’us.”
“Good.” Getorius hoped that he might also learn something about medicine in Chen’s country. “Senator, if he’s there by the tenth hour I could show him my clinic.”
“You hear, Chen?” Maximin held up ten fingers. “Tenth hour, at the surgeon’s. Now finish translating that scroll of yours so I can have the moulding screen made.”
When she reached home, Arcadia consulted with Ursina on the dinner menu, then persuaded Getorius to join her in the warm pool of the bath. After soaking in the tepid water, they went to the bedroom to relax for a short while.
Getorius had decided not to tell his wife about finding Giamona nude in the bathhouse, nor about the incident in her barracks room, but he did talk about being taken to the hidden gladiator camp and amputating Tigris’s arm. Despite her interest, Arcadia dozed off from the strain of her palace detention.
Later, after dressing, Getorius went to the clinic to see if anyone was there, and to check on how well his specimens were being preserved now that warm weather was approaching.
Arcadia joined Ursina in the kitchen to supervise the meal. '
One of Maximin’s guards brought Zhang Chen to the surgeon’s villa in the late afternoon. The sun was still high, but the day was cool, so Getorius led him into his study rather than to the garden. He could take him to see the clinic later. Arcadia came in with Silvia, who was carrying a silver pitcher of wine steeped in herbs, and three matching goblets.
Chen wore a high-necked tunic of orange silk, belted with an embroidered flower-pattern sash. The garment’s flowing sleeves were decorated with black bands at the cuff. Black silk shoes with curved toes protected his feet. When he took off his squarish hat, his glossy black hair was tied in a topknot. He smelled of jasmine.
Arcadia thought Chen looked strained, almost unhappy. Getorius had also noticed that he seemed ill at ease, but attributed it to awkwardness in unfamiliar surroundings, and language difficulties. Chen’s first words confirmed the latter suspicion.
“As-t’us. I will not know words in your language.”
“We don’t know any in yours,” Getorius pointed out to relax Chen’s fears. “You’re doing remarkably well.”
“When we have guests,” Arcadia said, “we start with absinthium, an herbed wine that’s a little bitter tasting. It’s supposed to improve your appetite.”
“No,” Chen declined with a shake of his head. “Your wine can make one act fool. Rule of Lao Tzu forbid us to drink it.”
“Laho Tsoo? What is that?” Getorius asked.
Chen smiled. “As your language is difficult to me, so that of Sina is to you. Lao Tzu is teacher, like your Ge-es-Kr’st.”
“Jesus Christ? I see. But you must drink something. I’ll send Primus for a pitcher of corma. It’s a sweetened beer.”
“No, As-t’us.” Chen pulled a finely crafted sandalwood box, inscribed with red characters, from his sleeve and held it up. “I bring drink for you.” He slid open the cover and filtered dried black leaves through his fingers. “We call this D’a.”
“How is it prepared?” Arcadia asked. “Do you soak the leaves overnight?”
“Have slave boil water, three cup, then put four spoon D’a in…in…I do not know how you name it. Pyramid pan with small holes.”
“A sieve?”
“Perhaps that is word. After D’a leaves have soaked, we drink hot.”
“Hot? Interesting,” Arcadia commented. “I’ll take the box to Silvia and give her instructions. Thank you for letting us know about a custom of your country.” It would be strange to have a hot drink with the meal, but she did not want to make Chen feel any more uncomfortable than he already was by declining his offer.
After Arcadia left, Getorius asked Chen about the man he had mentioned. “Did this teacher give you other precepts…other rules?”
“Rule? To follow Tao, the Way, we are forbid to kill, to steal, to not tell truth. Be with other man’s wife.”
“Amazing, Chen. It’s almost as if Moses spoke to your people as well as the Hebrews.”
“But there are things we must do,” Chen continued. “Honor parents. Be loyal to the Ti and teachers—”
“Tee?”
“Ti is like your emperor, As-t’us. And we must not harm living beings.” Chen hesitated before adding, “There are other rules, but many of my people find it easier to honor sky daemons. They make gods of rain, snow. Even of Lao Tzu. At the beginning of our year, Ti order that we must believe in these daemons. Worship them. I not like.”
That’s why Chen may have left, Getorius thought. “Tell me about your country. Where were you born?”
“Zhangan. Town on big river we call Huang.”
“How did you happen to come west to Roman lands?”
“To Ta-ts’in, as we call your country? When I was boy, my father take me with him in caravan that bring serica, what you call silk…to Pes-in’us.”
“Pessinus, in Galatia?”
“Yes, As-t’us. When my father die in Zhangan, I go back to Pes-in’us.”
Getorius realized what the man’s connection with Diotar might be. “So you became a merchant, a trader, in Pessinus?”
Before Chen could answer, Arcadia and Silvia came into the study. Silvia poured out three cups of steaming, amber liquid from a silver pitcher. Getorius sniffed the fragrant drink.
“It’s good, Chen,” Arcadia commented, after taking a sip. “Very delicate flavor.”
Getorius tasted his. “Nice, but bland. Romans would want a spice
like pepper or cinnamon added to it.”
“Don’t be critical,” Arcadia murmured. “Chen, our dinner is ready. Getorius, will you show our guest to the dining room, while I tell Ursina? Silvia and Primus can serve.”
The glass-paned doors of the dining room faced west. They were closed against the cool weather, but a shaft of sunlight angled in to give the area brightness and a little warmth. Getorius directed Chen to sit next to him at Nicias’s old marbletop table. Ursina came in with the first course, setting the dishes on a side table that Arcadia’s father had given her as part of her dowry.
Arcadia had chosen a first course of early asparagus cooked in an egg custard, and a similar dish with anchovies. Both were served with olives and thin bread.
Chen was familiar with Roman cooking, but did not particularly like it. In Pessinus he had lived in a large community of merchants from his own country, who had continued their own food traditions. Nevertheless, he ate everything Silvia and her small son put on his plate. He found the strong taste of the anchovies a novelty, since Pessinus was not located near a sea. The river fish he was used to eating had a milder flavor.
For the second course Ursina grilled sea bream and served the fish with a sauce of pepper, lovage, caraway, and onion. A salad of dandelion and chicory greens accompanied the fish. By then the lees in Chen’s cup were cold, and Silvia had not come in with a fresh brew. In order not to dishonor his host, he agreed to accept a little of the watered Faventia wine that Getorius offered.
After the bream, a dish of lamb stew flavored with onion, coriander, and cumin was accompanied by chopped beans seasoned with asafoetida and the pungent fish sauce that Ursina used to salt every dish. Arcadia explained that it was called garum, a seasoning since ancient times.
Conversation lagged during the meal because of Chen’s difficulty with the language and his custom of concentrating on the food to please his host. Getorius wanted to ask him about the friend who had been killed in the earthquake, and about the contents of the four padded crates still at Maximin’s, but felt the questioning might be too personal. He was curious, especially, about the smaller boxes. What startling product, other than the writing material, had the man brought, which needed to be protected with quilted padding?
