by Albert Noyer
Lydia bent to kiss Epiphania's ring, then beckoned to Arcadia. "Episkopa Theodora Epiphania will preside over a Eucharist, then speak with you."
"Episkopa?" Annoyed that Lydia had kept silent, Arcadia nevertheless said, "I'm pleased for you, Presbytera, but how and where were you made a bishop?"
Epiphania replied without emotion, "The document and ring you brought from Bishop Ignatia ordained me as such."
"Isn't that the prerogative of Sixtus, the Bishop of Rome?"
Epiphania deflected the criticism. "Your Pontiff claims to be the successor of Peter, but in our Eastern Church the diocesan Metropolitan and his bishops nominate candidates. Yet, medica, have you not heard? Your Sixtus died in late August."
"Died? No, we were on our way to Constantinople. Who succeeded him?"
"Of that we have no word. Ignatia saw fit to ordain me Bishop of Trapezus and as an emergency measure chorepiskopa, Auxiliary at Pergamum."
"What emergency?"
"The Metropolitan at Ephesos is in Rome for the funeral of Sixtus. He will stay until the election of another pontiff, thus Pergamum has no bishop. Many churches in eastern Anatolia are without ministers. Meanwhile, Nestorians take advantage of this to sow evil seeds of heresy among the good wheat."
"So, in turn, you'll ordain as many women deacons and priests as you can."
"Indeed I shall, medica, and in one dramatic act turn people away from
Apollonios and his pagan shrine."
Arcadia speculated, "It seems that Ignatia saw the death of Sixtus as an opportunity to hurry your ordination as bishop. Is it even legitimate?"
"Legitimate?" Epiphania's ritual scars became white lines etched on her face. She stood and leaned the crook against the altar. "Medica, was it legitimate for Tertullian to name women a public menace? To call us 'A temple built over a sewer'?" She pushed a book on the altar toward Lydia. "Deaconess, read how else he insults women."
Arcadia shook her head. "I don't need to hear that now."
"Medica," Epiphania snarled, "you will listen! Read, Deaconess."
Lydia repeated words she had read many times. "'You, woman, are the first to unseal the forbidden tree. You are the first to fall away from divine law. You are she who enticed Adam to ruin, whom even Satan was not bold enough to attack. You destroyed so easily God's image, man. Because of you, even the Sons of God die'."
Epiphania added, "The faithless people shall soon see the power of The Crucified One. With Paul they will ask, 'O, Death, where is your victory? Death, where is your sting? Death is swallowed up, victory is won'."
The verses made no sense. To stop her ranting, Arcadia asked, "Epiphania, why have you brought me here?"
"Why, Medica?" The bishop's voice became cajoling. "I need you to supervise my new hospital at Trapezus."
"Trapezus?" Arcadia felt a deadly apprehension grip her senses. She could put me in a carriage on the way to that remote city on the Euxine Sea before Getorius or anyone else knew I was gone. "I'm married, and have a father, a future life at Ravenna."
"'Whosoever does not give up father and mother'."
"I'm familiar with Christ's admonition!" Anger at her request replaced Arcadia's fear. "Bishop, if that's why you brought me here, then my answer is no."
"Your husband may come with you. Many couples live as sister and brother."
Epiphania's coaxing voice was sweet as honey now. "Why not you, Arcadia? You could be of great service to us, to The Crucified One. You would be another two-edged sword, female and physician, serving ill women."
Two-edged sword? Arcadia recalled that Lydia had said Epiphania was waging war with the long sword of her mouth. Droseria's letter. What had she wanted me to read in Proverbs? 'As a honeycomb the lips of a strange woman keep dripping, and her palate is smoother than oil. But the after-effect is bitter as wormwood, sharp as a two-edged sword.' Arcadia regained her composure. "Bishop, you've never explained why you're deceiving people with a report of your death. Now you mention some dramatic action."
Epiphania repeated quietly, "'O, Death, where is your victory'?"
With sudden clarity Arcadia realized, My God, Epiphania somehow plans to stage a 'resurrection' that will discredit Apollonios!
Epiphania anticipated her thought. "Medica, the daughters of light must be cunning as serpents."
As calmly as possible, Arcadia insisted, "I wish to go back to the Poseidon now."
"Impossible!" Epiphania shrieked. "You will remain here until Andros takes you to Trapezus."
Sharp raps on the door interrupted the bishop. Lydia slid out the bolt and opened the portal. One of the young women Arcadia had seen in the passageway hurried in.
"Episkopa," she said in an anxious voice, "Andros signed that an intruder has entered the far end of the river channel, under the temple."
"A curious child, perhaps?"
The woman shook her head. "He thinks it a man."
Arcadia dared hope that Getorius had found out where she was and came for her.
Epiphania thought the same. Her almond eyes were black, lusterless, as she snarled, "Your husband, Arcadia? Have you betrayed me?"
"No! I on my oath."
"Bind this stubborn medica," she ordered the deaconesses. "Place her in the punishment cell."
Before Arcadia could react, four of the Hunnic women stepped forward. Two pinned her arms to her sides, while another pushed a cloth into her mouth. The fourth brought a rope and secured coils around her body, immobilizing any ability to reach out.
Bound, Arcadia was half-carried to a side door in the narrow hallway and pushed into a small room. A deaconess set a lighted oil lamp on a table, with the X P monogram of Christ stamped on the clay bowl. She pulled the door shut and slid an outside locking bolt into place. After hearing the rasping sound, Arcadia waited a moment before glancing around the dank cell.
A table, a chair, cot, and slop bucket were the only furnishings. The cell's humid air smelled of fish and rat urine. Breathing hard from the gag and fear, Arcadia slumped onto the cot and struggled to lean upright against wall's raw bricks. The sound of running water is stronger here than in any of the rooms so far. A river evidently runs under the temple and comes out at that arched opening beyond the wall. She looked at the upper cell wall. A rusted iron grate blocks a good-sized ventilation window left in the brickwork. A pale gleam of light in the rectangle betrays daylight entering in the distance. Yet, even if I could reach that grate. Tears of frustration welled in Arcadia's eyes and ran down her cheeks. She tasted salt at the corners of the gag. Don't panic, woman, pray to Cosmas. The saint helped you in that ice room at Ravenna.
With a few difficult tries, Arcadia managed to work the gag out of her mouth and breathe more easily. "Cosmas, the river channel is directly outside this cell and that could be helpful if Getorius is outside. He'll find a way to get in the temple, won't he?"
The tentative question to her saint was an abrupt realization of her desperate hope. Getorius is on the acropolis. How could he possibly know where I am? After thinking a moment, Arcadia exclaimed aloud, "Of course, Cosmas, the two widows! After my husband asks them where I went, they'll tell him about the Serapion. That is him out there, so I've nothing to do except wait until he finds me in here." She glanced around again. "Epiphania called this a punishment cell, so not all of the women she brought from Trapezus are completely manageable."
Despite her uncertainty, and the growing numbness in her arms from the rope binding, Arcadia fell into an exhausted doze.
* * *
A sound at the ventilation grate startled her awake. She struggled to sit as upright as possible. The flickering lamp still cast yellow light across the iron bars, but when she looked up at the opening, no one was there.
Arcadia's arms felt deadened. Circulation had been impaired by the rope, yet it was the thought of rats entering through the opening that distressed her: black fecal pellets and a strong smell of urine indicated they had been here many times.
She looked up a
gain and saw two hands grasping the bars.
Getorius has found me! Arcadia exhaled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. She watched as the grate was pushed forward, its retaining rivets wrenched out in a shower of rotten mortar bits. An indistinct head and face appeared against the tunnel's dimness.
"Getorius?" she dared ask in a whisper.
But by the feeble light of the lamp she saw that it was not her husband who peered into the room. The bricked opening silhouetted the upper body and unshaven face of Flavius Bobo, the long-suffering "sewer rat" from Arminum.
CHAPTER XIV
After a moment of disbelief, Arcadia felt alarm riffle her spine. "Bobo?" she blurted out. "Flavius? We thought you were dead."
Startled by the unexpected voice, Basina's husband stuttered, "What Who?" Then he noticed Arcadia half-sitting on the cot. "Domina Asteria?"
"I though you might be my husband."
Flavius slid the grate down the wall to the floor, grunting as he struggled to pull his stocky frame through the cramped opening. After jumping down, he faced Arcadia. "Domina, you surprised me, I didn't expect to find anyone here. Why, you're tied up. Let me free you" He unsheathed a slim belt knife to slash at the rope binding her.
"Gratias." Arcadia stood up to massage feeling back into her arms and recover from her alarm at the man's unexpected appearance. "Flavius, I'm relieved. We thought you had been murdered by Hermias. Why are you at this Egyptian temple?"
He sheathed the knife and brushed mortar dust from his mud-crusted tunic. "It's Basina. She drowned in that pool last night."
"We know that. Apollonios called my husband and Herakles over there early this morning. I'm so sorry. Do you know how it happened?"
Flavius pulled the chair to the table and slumped down to rub a nervous hand through beard stubble and over his balding scalp. "Domina, my room in the men's dormitory faced the mud pool. Sometime late in the night I heard voices and looked outside. By moonlight I could see Basina and her slave arguing near the pool. I'm sure she made him take her to bathe against what the physician ordered." Flavius paused to wipe his eyes with a tunic sleeve, then absently traced the Greek X P on the lamp with a stubby forefinger.
Arcadia noticed tears streaking his cheeks and reached over to touch his arm. "Flavius, I realize this is painful. What happened next?"
He patted her hand and looked up with a pained smile of gratitude. "Gratias, Domina. Next? I think Hermias was afraid someone would hear Basina, so he helped her into the pool. She slipped and fell face down in that...that terrible slime."
"Didn't Hermias try to pull her out?"
"She's quite heavy and kept sinking in. I think he panicked. I know I did."
"You? What did you have to fear?"
"Domina, I was afraid of being blamed. You've noticed that she's not...that Basina isn't exactly nice to me. It was wrong, but I ran off." He turned away from her to rub his eyes and ask," Why did you think Hermias had killed me?"
"He disappeared after destroying your wife's medications and cutting off his slave collar. That priest-assistant found your hat nearby with the straw crushed and blood on it. We surmised that Hermias drowned Basina as revenge for mistreating him, and then killed you."
Flavius looked back at Arcadia, shaking his head. "No, I could never believe that. He was so patient. It was an accident. I saw it. He ran off like I did."
"I believe you, Flavius, but why did you come here to hide out?"
"Here, Domina? I knew about the Serapion from the time Father brought my mother to the healing shrine. I told you that I had come to Pergamum before."
"Yes, I remember you did."
"While she was being treated, Father and I had time to inspect the city's main sewer, even the river channel that runs under this temple and its amazing engineering."
Poor man, he only seems articulate when he's talking about drains. Arcadia took her hand from his arm. "Flavius, you'll eventually be found here. Tell Apollonios the truth, just as you did to me. He'll be relieved to know that the drowning was accidental."
"You think so?"
"Absolutely. Hermias will be punished when they find him, but you really have nothing to fear."
Nodding as if half-convinced, Flavius scratched his rash and looked around the cell. "Domina, this looks like prison. How did you get here? Who would be in this place? I thought the temple was abandoned."
"I had a disagreement with someone." Arcadia hesitated about telling him about her argument with Epiphania. "Flavius, it's complicated, but there was a woman minister at that burned church. She's not dead, and has ordained others." She paused. I'm telling him too much. "I can explain later, Flavius. I fell asleep. What hour is it?"
"Past the sixth, I think."
A scraping noise sounded at the other side of the door; someone was sliding the door's bolt open. Flavius scrambled up from his chair and stood next to the portal.
When the door opened, one of the two deaconesses who had brought Arcadia said, "You're to come with me and..." The woman stopped, noticing the grate leaning against the wall and Arcadia's ropes cut. She looked around and muffled a scream with her hand when she saw Flavius.
Arcadia quickly reassured her, "Deaconess, I know this man. He entered through that ventilation grate."
"The intruder Andros reported. You...you say you know him?"
"Yes, Flavius Bobo is one of our guide's clients. He came here with us."
Her fear mollified, the deaconess insisted, "Nevertheless, the man must leave immediately."
"Last night his wife accidentally drowned at the Asklepion," Arcadia told her. "Have a little pity for him."
"Andros will take him back to his lodgings," she offered less forcefully. "I came to tell you that the Bishop wants you back in the chapel."
"She'll be relieved to know that the intruder is harmless."
"Follow me, both of you."
Unpleasant woman, Arcadia thought. When the deaconess opened the room's door, Epiphania was helping Lydia arrange vessels on the altar for the Eucharistic rite. After she saw Flavius, the bishop's face registered surprise, then acute displeasure. "Medica," she demanded, "who is this man? How did he get in here?"
Arcadia replied, "His name is Flavius Bobo. He feared being falsely accused of drowning his wife and came here to hide out."
"Flavius," she scowled, "men are not welcome in this temple."
"So you're Epiphania." His pronunciation of her name was not a question. "You supposedly died in the church fire."
"I am very much alive. Maria Theodora Epiphania, Bishop of the diocese of Trapezus."
"You're a bishop now?" Without warning Flavius's face transformed into a mask of rage. Before Epiphania or her deaconess could react, he had unsheathed his knife and lunged at the bishop. The steel blade caught her in the side. She staggered back to clutch
a hand under the gold chasuble against a crimson stain that spread onto her under-tunic.
"Canicula! Bitch!" Flavius ranted and advanced on her again, his reddened blade held high for a lethal thrust to Epiphania's neck.
Lydia, closest to Flavius, recovered from shock, snatched up an oil lamp, and threw it at him. The clay bowl shattered on the base of his skull, splashing burning oil on his shoulders and back. Bellowing curses, Flavius reached back, trying to slap at the flames with a beefy hand. Lydia picked up the bishop's staff and swung it hard at his head; the heavy olivewood shaft broke as it struck him with a sickening thud that sent slivers of wood flying onto the altar. Knocked off his feet, the knife dropped from Flavius's hand. He struggled to one knee, a stunned expression of disbelief on his face, blood staining his nostrils. Staring ahead, he clutched his head, groaned, and sagged to the floor.
Two deaconesses ran to help their bishop as Epiphania's assailant lay still, face down, his tunic licked by flames. Arcadia snatched off the altar cloth and spread it over Flavius's back, kneeling to beat at the flames with her hands. Only smoldering embers remained when she reached up to feel the man's th
roat pulse.
Arcadia's eyes reflected horror as she looked up. "Flavius is dead, Lydia. You've killed him."
"The curse of anathema on the man," she spat out. "Medica, tend to our bishop."
Epiphania was laid on her back, breathing in gasps, her narrow black eyes staring upward. Arcadia moved aside the stiff chasuble, lifted her tunic, and located a bloody wound on a white alb beneath. She saw that the blade had entered Epiphania's lower abdomen, cutting through muscle and possibly penetrating an intestine. If that were so, a compress could control bleeding, but a lingering, painful death was all but inevitable.
Arcadia's response was terse. I can limit the hemorrhaging, but the wound probably is fatal."
"No!" one of the Hunnic deaconesses screamed. "Who is this man? Why did he attack our bishop?"
Another accused Arcadia. "Medica, you sent him here. You betrayed us."
"I did not! I thought Flavius had been murdered by his wife's slave."
A Hunness demanded, "How did he know Epiphania's name?"
"Enough!" Lydia ordered. "This wastes time. Take the bishop to her room." She turned to Arcadia. "Do what you must to save our bishop."
"I could begin, but my husband should come to treat her."
Lydia shook her head. "By then you must know that the humors of air will have corrupted those of blood in the wound. You immediately shall repair the knife's damage."
"I've never done anything like this," Arcadia objected. "And I have no
instruments."
"All you require will be in our medical supplies."
Semi-conscious, Epiphania was carried and laid on her bed.
Lydia spoke to the attending women in Greek, then went to open a cabinet containing ointment jars and took out a wooden case. She slid the cover off, displaying a selection of surgical instruments whose names were listed on the cover in Egyptian, Greek, and Latin scripts. "Choose," she said, placing the case on a bedside table.
