by Albert Noyer
Andros opened a door in the tower and handed his torch to Lydia.
"The porter will wait for us," she said. "A circular stairway leads to a lower level. Be cautious."
The deaconess preceded the women down to an anteroom with three doors on its opposite wall. Kneeling at the left portal, she pried out a brick and tripped a catch, then slid the door into a wall recess. The dank smell of mold, mingled with that of incense, permeated an inner chamber. A faint sound of flowing water was heard, muffled by the temple's interior. "Step inside," Lydia ordered the women.
When the widows hesitated, Arcadia urged them in, "If we're to meet Epiphania, we must do as the deaconess asks."
Several oil lamps set in niches gave light to the room. The illumination revealed murals painted in an Egyptian style that the painter of Britto's sign had tried to imitate. Two human figures with the heads of a falcon and ibis worshiped a sitting, mummified king in a horned crown. A white bull strode across an adjacent panel. Undulating across the center, a serpent gazed in the same direction as a snake-headed human figure that held a knife in each hand.
Melodia half-silently mouthed, "Frightening imagery. Pure idolatry."
Lydia seemed amused at her remark. "We are familiar with Osiris, the Egyptian lord of the dead. He once shared this temple with the bull-god Apis, and now does so with us."
"With Christians?" Arcadia recalled a procession she had seen that spring at Ravenna's harbor. There had been shaven priests, a live monkey, and birds, but only a graceful statue of the goddess, Isis, not these grotesque half-human monsters. She looked at the opposite wall. Five figures approached a standing Osiris and Apis, but their heads had been crudely painted over with depictions of Eastern saints.
Three doors were repeated on the far wall, two of them false stone portals intended to delay intruders. After Lydia rapped a signal on the central panel, a young woman with Hunnic features slid back the door. It revealed a row of cots taking up one side of a good-sized room, warm and ablaze with candlelight. A trestle table, benches, storage cabinets, and cooking stove were at the far wall. The remaining wall backed a wooden altar with a mural showing three women in black witnessing Christ's empty tomb.
"This is like a dormitory," Arcadia remarked. "One could live down here."
"As we had to do," a husky voice behind her interrupted.
The voice and accent were unfamiliar. Arcadia turned to see a stocky woman wearing a presbyter's tunic and standing at the door to an anteroom. Although she looked less than thirty years old, her stiff black hair, cut short, was interspersed with white strands. Thin, white scars marred her face, without totally disfiguring the skin.
Arcadia surmised that the woman's almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones were from her Hunnic father; blue-green eyes were her mother's legacy. "Epiphania?"
"And you are the medica my deaconess mentioned" she replied without smiling,
"Yes. These ladies are Maria Aemiliana and Melodia Vibulana."
"My benefactresses." Epiphania nodded to them. "Where is Droseria?"
"Very ill, too weak to come," Arcadia told her. "Presbytera, what is the reason for this secrecy, this deception about your death? It's not what we expected."
Epiphania ignored her question. "How is Bishop Ignatia?"
"She seemed well, but we only saw her once. "Again, why are you and these women hiding in a pagan temple?"
"Medica, Christ warned that the daughters of light must be more clever than those of darkness. For now it suits my purpose to be thought of as dead."
Losing patience at evasive replies, Arcadia demanded, "What is your purpose?"
Unfazed, Epiphania moved gracefully to the altar. "Ultimately, to restore women to their rightful place in Church ministry. Mark and Matthew record that a number of women disciples watched the agony of The Crucified One. Luke includes Johanna, wife of Herod's steward. They were at the tomb for the burial, and then went to prepare spices to bring back after the Sabbath." She indicated a painting behind the altar with a sweep of hand. "After his Resurrection, The Crucified One first revealed himself to Maria of Magdala, Johanna, and James's mother. They were unafraid to return to the tomb, while the Apostles cowered in fear inside Jerusalem."
Arcadia said, "At Ravenna, an Arian presbytera emphasized the same readings."
Epiphania's almond eyes further narrowed in scorn. "We need no heretics to teach us orthodoxy. John writes that the Magdalene came alone, saw the empty tomb, then ran to tell Peter and John. Medica, Christ first showed Himself to her! A woman was witness to His resurrection. Have you read her Gospel?"
"I haven't."
"The Magdalene tells of how The Crucified One came to her in a vision and told her secret knowledge about the relationship of the mind to the soul and spirit. He instructed her on how the soul may rise past the four material elements."
Arcadia interrupted, "I've heard similar 'secret knowledge' in discredited Gnostic texts. Another concerns Judas Iscariot."
Oblivious to Arcadia's remark, Epiphania continued her tirade, "The Magdalene confronted Peter after he questioned her vision and stood up to his jealousy. The Scroll of Thomas and an Egyptian account confirm her words. Texts in Pistis Sophia tell of powerful women disciples."
"I'm not knowledgeable enough to comment," Arcadia said, looking toward the widows. "Ladies, are you?"
When they shook their heads, Lydia explained further, "Ignatius of Antioch wrote about an inclusive 'presbytery.' He maintained that the Eucharist could be offered by anyone to whom a bishop gives consent. It was Tertullian and Ireneus who deviated toward patriarchal rule."
Epiphania clenched her fists in a controlled rage. "Tertullian wrote that women were the doorway to Satan, dangerous and futile beings who should be kept in subordinate roles, because a woman, Eve, introduced evil into the world." A rap sounded on the door. "That would be Dorothea. Admit her, Deaconess."
After the door was slid back, a middle-aged woman entered the room. A pale girl of about eighteen years hesitated a moment, then followed.
Epiphania embraced each one. "The peace of The Crucified One with you, Dorothea. Chastity." She gestured toward Arcadia. "This is the medica I told you about."
Dorothea nodded and told the girl to sit down. Chastity took a seat at the table, folding and unfolding a linen cloth as tears welled in her eyes.
Epiphania said, "Dorothea, tell the medica your problem."
"'Blessed are the bodies of virgins, for they are acceptable to God and shall not lose their virginity.' Thus the Apostle Paul wrote to holy Thekla."
Arcadia asked, "What has that to do with me?"
The older woman glanced at Epiphania before explaining, "I wanted the ill-named Chastity, sniveling over there, to join our Sisterhood and earn redemption. Recklessly, the heat of lust seduced her and she is no longer a virgin. Medica, I want you to."
"No!" Arcadia protested before Dorothea could finish. "I'll not abort her child."
"You misunderstand. Chastity is not pregnant."
"Then she doesn't need a physician."
When Dorothea hesitated, Epiphania prodded her shoulder to continue. "Women cannot make themselves eunuchs for the kingdom as Paul advised, yet it is possible to surgically remove the center of their lust."
"Clitoral excision?" Arcadia rebelled at the thought. "I won't do it! It's a barbaric mutilation."
"No," Epiphania disagreed, "an ancient custom among our mountain tribes."
"Like those ritual scars on your face?" Arcadia wondered if Epiphania had submitted to the sexual operation as a girl. "Presbytera, a physician takes an oath not to harm a patient."
"And you have taken this oath?"
"No. I won't until my husband thinks I've had enough training."
"Then you violate no ethics and will save a sinner's soul."
Arcadia response was firm. "I will not do the procedure!"
"Kalos." Epiphania's anger melted away as rapidly as it had surfaced. "Perhaps we should send Chastity to Mela
nia's convent at Jerusalem." She bent to stroke the girl's hair. "You would like to see where The Crucified One lived, wouldn't you?"
Without looking up, Chastity slowly nodded assent.
"Then we'll not speak of this again. Deaconess, our guests will join us at the table and I'll further explain our Sisterhood."
After the women were settled, one of the Hunnic deacons brought a pitcher of watered wine and poured pottery cups half full.
Epiphania handed one to the girl. "Drink this, Chastity. I only thought of your eternal salvation." She glanced around the table. "Ladies, I'm grateful for your help in reinstating women to a full place serving our religion. Certainly, in pagan times men honored cult priestesses. The Vestal guardians of the Roman hearth were virgins like those women in Pulcheria's circle. Medica, you may have heard of Soranus from our nearby city of Ephesos."
"Yes, I'm reading his book on gynecology."
"The physician reports on the unusual health of virgin priestesses in Anatolia."
"Commendable," Melodia ventured, "yet I'm not sure what you mean about women ministers. Maria and I assumed that because only men were present."
"At the first Eucharist?" Epiphania anticipated the objection and her eyes again reflected anger. "Re-read the Testaments. Disciples, not the Twelve alone are mentioned. These disciples included the women who saw The Crucified One's empty tomb. Yet, for over a century male clergy have warred against women ministers. Today desert monks condemn females for their own sexual weaknesses."
Arcadia thought, Certainly, this is without doubt the feisty woman Pulcheria described. I almost pity this Apollonios.
Epiphania ranted on, "Strong women like Aelia Pulcheria and Empress Eudokia are in positions of power at Constantinople. We hear that Ravenna has a pious female, Galla Placidia, advising her son, the Western Basileus. The root of Jesse is blossoming with women who again take their rightful place in the Church."
"Presbytera, "Arcadia said, "in the West we've heard little about this rightful
place. Bishop Chrysologos never speaks of it."
"Because men like Origen and Tertullian...Polycarp...suppressed knowledge of the early role of women. Yet We have read their diatribes against us. What they criticize must have been happening. So now, We shall be a two-edged sword."
Arcadia noted that Epiphania had begun using the imperial "We" in referring to herself. The woman's zealotry is spawning a disturbing self-importance.
Epiphania's face relaxed and she stood up. "Ladies, We realize how startling this must be to Western Romans. We shall preside over a Divine Liturgy, the old Rite of Constantinople, not the Roman one corrupted by the Bishop of Rome."
Arcadia declined. "I cannot stay, and I'm sure I speak for the widows."
After Maria and Melodia murmured agreement, Epiphania's scowl returned. "You shall stay."
Arcadia recalled the olivewood case that Pulcheria had given her and took it from her sleeve. "Presbytera, Bishop Ignatia wanted you to have this."
"Kalos, I forgot to ask, but you did bring it." Epiphania reached for the case and twisted off its cover without looking at the bishop's seal. She eased out a vellum document and a ring, then read for a moment. After nodding approval, she looked at Arcadia, "If you wish to leave, you need not stay for Our Liturgy."
"Droseria is ill. I should look in on her."
"Andros will take you back, medica, but no one must know what you've seen."
"Of course, Presbytera, we've all agreed on that."
"Then hear Our vesper prayer before you go." She extended her hands in orante position, closed her eyes, and recited.
"Hail, joyous Light of His pure glory poured
Who is Eternal Father, heavenly blessed,
Holiest of Holies, Jesus Christ, Our Lord.
Now we are come to the sun's hour of rest.
The lamps of evening around us shine.
We sing of Father, Son and Holy Spirit divine,
Worthiest are You at all times to be sung
With uncorrupted tongue,
Son of our God, giver of life alone.
In all the world, Lord, may your glories be known."
* * *
Andros returned in darkness to the Poseidon by a route lighted with torches. The two widows said little, both exhausted and unnerved by what they had witnessed that evening. Maria did remark that she thought Epiphania had a barbarian face that resembled some of the Arian Goths at Ravenna.
When the women entered the mansio, Getorius was sitting in the empty dining room, impatiently toying with a wine glass by the flickering light of a lamp. A vellum sheet and small red book were on the table. He bolted up when he saw Arcadia.
"Where have you been? You've been gone for hours!"
Maria answered quietly, "Surgeon, do not be angry with us."
"Angry? I was worried about the three of you."
Arcadia said, "We were called away by Lydia."
"So the deaconess is back? Where did she take you?"
Maria shook her head. "We had to promise not to tell you."
"Not tell me?" Getorius controlled his frustration and turned to his wife. "I...I'm sorry, to tell you this, but Droseria died while you were away."
"Died? No! She was resting when I left."
"Cara, I'm sorry."
"Where is she?"
Britto's assistant has already come. The manager doesn't want the bodies of those who died from illness to long remain here."
"Imbecillus! Idiot!"
"Arcadia, it's the danger of plague." Getorius picked up the vellum sheet. "This note was on Droseria's table addressed to you."
Trembling, her eyes brimming with tears, Arcadia slumped down on a chair near the lamp. She snapped open a drip of white wax with Droseria's monogram, unfolded the sheet, and silently read the dying woman's shaky writing.
"My dear Arcadia.
"You have been so very kind to me in my final suffering, which I offer to The Crucified One, He who suffered for our salvation. I thank you. Unfortunately, Epiphania died horribly before I could meet her, yet you asked me if I knew what was in the letter of Pulcheria. The Augusta has been my inspiration for exalting the role of virgin women, making them instrumental in the plan she believes was ordained for New Rome as the City of God that Bishop Augustine envisioned. Certainly, this is a noble aspiration.
We discussed your wish to set up a clinic for women at Ravenna. The Augusta believes that your marriage will interfere with this effort. My dear Arcadia, I see your husband as a gentle man willing to share his medical skills with you. I realize you have hurt him while pondering Pulcheria's offer that you forsake your marriage and live as sister and brother. Your devotion to me has also been a source of alienation that pained me."
Getorius gestured with his empty wine glass. "What does she say?"
Arcadia shook her head slightly and continued reading. "Long ago I took a vow of virginity, yet admit that I was not without feelings for a certain man and, yes, he for me. I do not regret giving him up for The Crucified One, yet your marriage bond puts you beyond such a sacrifice. As the Apostle Paul wrote to the Ephesians, 'He who loves his wife loves himself, for no man ever hated his own flesh, but he feeds and cherishes it, as Christ also does the Church. The two will become one flesh.' I am terribly weary, please read all of Paul's words yourself. Before leaving New Rome I read in the Book of Apocalypse what was to be written to the angel at Pergamum: 'These are the things he says who has the sharp, long, two-edged sword.' That reminded me of a verse of Proverbs V in my red codex. I wish you to have the book. I am too weak to write more and must seal this.
"Vale, my dear Arcadia, from a grateful Droseria."
Numb from grief, folding the note, Arcadia dried her eyes on a sleeve, then asked softly, "Getorius, hand me that red book."
"What did Droseria write to you?"
"Please give me the book."
Arcadia thumbed through the pages until she found six marked verses in the fifth section of Prover
bs and read: "For as a honeycomb the lips of a strange woman keep dripping, and her palate is smooth as oil." The next lines are underlined in scarlet ink.
"But the after-effect from her is as bitter as wormwood. It is sharp as a two-edged sword. Her feet are descending to death. Her very steps take hold on Sheol itself. Her tracks have wandered she does not know where. Keep your way far off from alongside her and do not get near the entrance of her house." Arcadia looked away. As sharp as a two edged sword. That's what Epiphania said she would be. Droseria never met the presbytera, yet did she discern that something was wrong and is trying to tell me?
"Arcadia?"
Getorius's voice sounded far off, as if he called her name from another region of the cosmos, somewhere beyond the Pleiades. "I'd like to sleep now," she said, looking up at him. "Could you mix me a valerian drink that would help?"
"Of course, but won't you tell me about Droseria's letter?"
"I'd like to go to bed, Getorius, yet I think that now everything will be all right."
CHAPTER XII
Shortly after dawn, Getorius rose and dressed, letting Arcadia sleep off the sedation. Still upset at his wife's deception, unsure of the meaning of her final remark the evening before, he sat in the bedroom browsing through Sappho's poems. Baffled at her unexplained distance, verse XCV made him ache for her usual warmth: "Sleep upon your lover's white and tender breast, and on her bosom find your rest." He leafed back to a poem about a woman without schooling. "When you are dead you will lie forgotten for eternity, as a wanderer among those not yet born, a mere shadow entombed in the palace of Hades." The verses made him think of Brisios in the slave quarters. That could be his or any slave's epitaph. Slaves are everywhere, yet they have a life of their own that most owners know little about. Some of the quarry workers on Prokonnesos were condemned slaves leading miserable lives and with only early death in their futures. Certainly the Church accepts slavery. Presbyters read Paul's letters urging slaves to obey their masters and for masters to treat them well, but Christ had little to say on the matter. What do I really know about Brisios? He keeps to himself with his dog, Nigello. I'd planned on getting to know him better on this voyage.
