by Albert Noyer
"Now? By Galley? In probable winter storms?" Minicius cracked his knuckles and guffawed as if all who traveled by sea were insane. "Indeed, Sir, a fine seasonal jest."
"I'm serious. We must leave Pergamum as soon as possible."
Sensing lost business, Minicius's warm tone turned as chilly as the sea breeze. "Which will be no sooner than March or even April."
Getorius pointed to wharf-side. "There's a bireme out there being readied to sail. You can see it from here."
"The Egyptian Hermopolis to Alexandria? On late season imperial business, perhaps, but she will not take on passengers."
"Can you get us to Dyrrhachium at least?" The agent's body convulsed in mirthful sobs as he tried to stifle new laughter. "Constantinople, then," Getorius persisted, although annoyed at the man's amusement. Alienate him and we'll have no chance of getting out of Pergamum.
Minicius pulled Getorius by his cloak and limped to a flyspecked parchment glued to the wall. Outlines of Western Asia, Greece, and the Italian peninsula were inked on the sheet, with faded red lines wavering out from Elaea to various ports.
"As Hermes is my witness, from Troas to Constantinople, perhaps," the agent proposed, his stubby finger tracing the route. "But only by booking an insane master willing to risk his cargo for greater profit." Minicius shook his head. "Roman to Roman, sir, even with Neptune smiling, you might reach that capital after great danger and discomfort."
"There are three women with us. Two are elderly widows anxious to return to Ravenna before winter."
"Then let them choose a suitable port for burial. Eleusis, perhaps, where they may at last see the sacred Mysteries." Minicius chuckled at his macabre jest and returned to the counter.
"You're positive nothing is available along these docks?"
"As Hermes is my witness. Sirs, you stay where in Pergamum?"
"The Poseidon."
Minicius's fleshy lips parted in a vague smile. "Ah...ruler of the sea, thus a most fortunate name. If I hear of anything I'll send word." He reached for a leather-bound book on the counter. "Your name, Sir, for my ledger."
"Getorius Asterius, to Ravenna." If he knew I was a surgeon the price would undoubtedly inflate by half again.
As the agent slowly formed the letters, he probed, "Sirs, your clothes tell me you are men of quality. Have you no steward or house slave who could arrange passage?"
"I did hire a guide, Herakles, but he seems to have disappeared."
Minicius glanced up from writing. "Herakles the Thracian?"
"Yes. What do you know of him?"
Minicius scratched a scab on his arm. "This guide was recommended to you?"
"He found us at Herakleia."
"And lost you at Pergamum." The agent's body shook with suppressed mirth as he held up the ledger. "There, Sir, I have your information. Should anything turn up...."
"Fine, fine. Mincius, you look like you know of a decent place to eat in Elaea."
He chuckled, patting his girth. "You indeed are observant, sir. You and your silent partner will find good Latin cooking at Maritima. Portions heavy. Cost light. Via Larii, far end of the north wharf, to the right of the arch."
"Gratias. You'll contact me one way or the other?"
Minicius closed the ledger, his eyes solemn. "As Hermes is my witness."
The man knows our guide, yet parried my questions about him, Getorius thought as he and Brisios walked their horses to the Street of the Seagulls. As I discovered in Dalmatia last spring, a shipping agent would be an easy conduit for smuggling.
The two men passed shops whose signs identified different ethnic groups: Syrians, Cypriots, Judeans, even merchants from Arabia. The last quarter housed vendors from the West. The Via Larii was entered through a brick archway whose keystone had long ago been inscribed with the SPQR initials of republican Rome.
At the Maritima, a stable slave took their horses. The spacious eatery was built against a hill overgrown with pine trees, whose resin odor mingled with the smell of seafood fried in olive oil. Only a few patrons dined. Minicius had been truthful: except for the Egyptian bireme, autumn had ended the sailing season, thus returning to Ravenna would be next to impossible. I would have completed my research if we hadn't come to Pergamum. Wintering here isn't what we planned. The widows failed in their attempt to endow a church, and Tranquillus remains a mystery in a series of murders that Arcadia and I hadn't expected on this 'vacation.'
For the meal Getorius ordered a dish he recognized, Sarda Farsilis, boned bonito fish stuffed with a mixture of pine nuts, dates, honey, mint, and chopped boiled egg. When asked about wines, the table slave suggested a sweetened white vintage from Cyprus. As he left, the server looked hard at Brisios, but made no comment.
While waiting for their food, the two men sipped wine without speaking.
Getorius studied Brisios. Sandy hair...blue eyes. Germanic. I did find out a little about his origins, yet I know more about the breed of his dog than I do about him.
"Brisios, my house steward bought you because, like him, you speak Frankish. I've freed him and his wife."
"I know."
Getorius chose his words carefully. "I haven't discussed this with your Mistress, but I'm thinking about your manumission. Making you a freedman."
He looked up sharply. "Surgeon?"
"I realize this is sudden, but I've watched you on this voyage, spoken with you. Except for your, well, social status, you're like, like."
"Any free person?"
Getorius coughed into a fist. "I suppose that's what I meant. Today you were treated as a free citizen. Even Minicius thought you were my business partner."
"That slave who took the fish order wasn't fooled."
"How would you feel about being free? You told me you liked Zoë. That should please her."
Brisios flushed and fidgeted with his wine cup. "We haven't talked about that."
"I've seen you two together. A slave can't marry, but as a freedman, who knows?"
"I do like her."
Brisios fell silent. Getorius looked away, half-wishing he hadn't given him unjustified hope, and realizing he should not have suggested that Zoë might be interested in him.
When the bonito was served, Brisios picked at the steamed fish, obviously pondering his owner's offer. He finally looked up at Getorius. "What if my mistress doesn't agree with you?"
"I think Arcadia would, Brisios. You could still work for us if you wanted, just as Childibert and his wife do"
Getorius began eating rapidly to end the speculation. The fish was fresh, well-prepared. For the sweet course he ordered Jericho dates stuffed with pine nuts and cooked in honey. Outside, at the stable, Getorius glanced at the sun and guessed it was around the seventh hour. They would be back at the Poseidon by late afternoon.
* * *
As Getorius cantered his horse alongside Brisios toward Peramum's south gate, gray smoke still rose from the direction of the Asklepion. Had the monks brought the rioters back later in the morning? At the entrance, a barrier of logs set up on the road blocked access to the city and sentries challenged travelers. Their officer wore an imperial uniform similar to those of guards at the Great Palace in Constantinople.
"Some new crisis has occurred while we were gone," he muttered to Brisios. "Those aren't Pergamum's civic guards."
While identifying himself and Brisios, Getorius felt new concern for Arcadia and the widows. The guard who looked at his authorization refused to answer questions, but let the two men through as if they were expected.
At the Poseidon two sentries in similar uniforms patrolled the entrance. Getorius was waved in, again as if the guards knew of him and his slave. Inside the gate, a mud-stained travel coach with curtains of purple silk stood in the courtyard. Well-dressed servants aired bedding and cleaned out the coach's interior.
"We seem to have an important visitor," Getorius observed, "yet what would an imperial official be doing here at this time of year?"
Brisios said, "I'll g
o tell Zoë we're back."
"Fine. I'll let your Mistress and the two widows know that the prospects of returning to Ravenna are up to the whims of two pagan gods, Hermes and Neptune."
The women were not in the garden or dining room; in fact, both areas were deserted. Getorius went to their room to see if Arcadia was there. Outside a nearby room's door, he was surprised to find the same Germanic guard who had come with Sophia to the Nova Roma at Constantinople. Alarmed, Getorius asked him, "Has something happened to my wife?"
Without replying, he rapped on the door with his dagger handle. Sophia opened it a short way.
Getorius looked past the young woman and saw Arcadia in the room. "What is going on?" he asked, grateful that she was well, yet mystified at the guard's and Sophia's unexpected appearances. Instead of responding, the woman opened the door wider for him to enter. "Arcadia, what is all this?"
Before she could answer, a woman resting on the bed, propped up by pillows, called out in a husky voice of unquestioned authority, "Surgeon. It is Our pleasure to greet you."
Startled as he was, Getorius needed no introduction to realize that the beautiful woman who spoke to him was Aelia Pulcheria Augusta, the pious and strong-minded sister of Eastern emperor Theodosius II!
CHAPTER XXII
Stunned by Pulcheria's arrival, Getorius could only stammer, "Augusta, how did you? I mean, so rapidly."
"Arrive here, Surgeon?" She smiled indulgence at his bewilderment. "Along with an escort of guards and torchbearers, an Augusta can order the prefect of imperial post roads to have bonfires lighted every half mile of the way."
"You also traveled at night?"
"The matter is urgent."
"Incredible! In Italia, that would only attract brigands."
Arcadia asked, "Augusta, how, again, did you find us? In what way could you possibly know that we were in Pergamum at this exact time?"
Her light laugh reflected imperial amusement. "Did not Herakles take you each night to stay at an imperial mansio?"
"What has that to do with it?"
Pulcheria explained, "Our managers are called 'curiosi.' After you left Abydos, they reported to Us each day by courier on your whereabouts."
Troubled by her admission, she even knew his guide's name, Getorius asked, "Eslan, Nysus, the others. All were informing on us?"
"To your benefit would you not agree, Surgeon?"
Sensing testiness in her tone, Arcadia interposed, "Getorius, the Augusta is tired. We should let her rest."
Pulcheria's right hand waved dismissal of the thought. "Let me be informal. As I told your wife, Surgeon, my trusted bishop, Flavia Ignatia, turned out to be as she warned, 'cunning as a serpent, while appearing gentle as a dove'."
"Ignatia? Arcadia mentioned her name, but nothing about the bishop."
"Your wife did not confide in you?"
Wondering if she had expected to be deceived, Arcadia reminded her, "Augusta you swore me to secrecy."
"Medica, would that my ministers were so conscientious. Enough to say that I found Ignatia had been made only chorespiskopa, an auxiliary bishop. As such, she had no authority to ordain presbyters, and most certainly not to appoint another bishop."
Arcadia asked, "Then Epiphania's ordinations were invalid too?"
"Indeed. I hesitate to say I was betrayed, yet in her zeal to restore what she
considered to be a rightful place for women in church ministry, Bishop Ignatia was willing to contravene the canon laws of Holy Church."
Getorius asked, "Augusta, you do know that Epiphania is dead?"
Pulcheria nodded and shifted position against the pillows. "Your wife informed me. It seems that Epiphania was polluted with the error of Hellenism. That Osiris rite you witnessed was a pagan mockery of The Crucified One's resurrection."
"In her defense, Augusta, she wanted to supplant superstition with the True Faith by placing Christ above Egyptian deities."
"Surgeon, error cannot combat error. Were Epiphania alive, I would dismiss the Hunnic woman and send her to repent in a convent at Trapezus."
Getorius still was curious about Pulcheria's almost miraculous arrival. "Augusta, when did you leave Constantinople? By what route?"
Pulcheria evaded an answer. "Surgeon, such information could be useful to my enemies. What did you find at the Asklepion? I understood that Apollonios had made it another enclave of paganism."
"He's involved in unethical practices, yet his treatment methods are an advance over any I know about in the West."
"I noticed smoke from the direction of the shrine."
"The library and its books are burned, the temple of Asklepios vandalized." Against his better judgment, Getorius added, "Christian monks led that mob, provoked it into destroying the shrine."
"At times," Pulcheria interrupted, "the Holy Ones of God are overzealous in His service."
"Overzealous? Augusta, those rioters destroyed irreplaceable medical texts." Getorius noticed his wife's warning frown at arguing with the emperor's sister, yet continued, "Who knows what diseases might have better understood and cured?"
Pulcheria stiffened and reverted to the formal pronoun. "Surgeon, We desire to speak further with your wife."
Getorius recognized a taut order to leave. "Very well, Augusta. I'll find Maria and Melodia and tell them what I found out about returning to Ravenna."
After he left, Arcadia apologized, "Augusta, my husband meant no disrespect."
Pulcheria patted the mattress alongside her. "Come sit here. Maria gave you my letter?" At Arcadia's nod, she said, "You have considered my offer to finance your women's clinic and declined."
"How did you know? I haven't even told my husband."
"I was sure Droseria would influence you against it."
"Yes, she wrote me a note just before her death."
"I can surmise its nature and my dear friend was undoubtedly correct in this instance."
"She warned me about Epiphania through a Psalm."
Pulcheria nodded as her eyes teared slightly. "That sounds like my Droseria. Arcadia, where is the presbyter who came with you?"
"Tranquillus disappeared after that acropolis rite. My husband suspects him of one of the murders that occurred here."
Pulcheria reacted with a slight rise of her eyebrows. "What of Herakles?"
"Also gone." Arcadia decided not to elaborate. If informers had not yet told her, Pulcheria would be furious at hearing of the guide's smuggling activities.
The Augusta acknowledged the information without further questions. "I am exhausted and Nysus is preparing another room. After I rest awhile, we shall have supper together with your husband and speak of other affairs."
"Augusta, I'm sorry the bread riot prevented us from an audience with Emperor Theodosius. We had a letter and gifts for him from Galla Placidia."
"A letter from my aunt?" Pulcheria did not mask the suspicion in her question.
"I presume it is a greeting." Arcadia stood up, a bit nervous. She may ask me for the letter to take back to her brother. "Augusta, I should go and allow you to rest."
Pulcheria nodded and settled back on the pillows. "Medica, may The Crucified One bless you."
* * *
When Getorius returned to his room, Arcadia poured him a cup of wine, before asking about Elaea.
"The port is closed for the season," he told her. "I found an agent who negotiates for galleys traveling to Ravenna, but he said that there won't be a chance until spring."
Arcadia paused in filling her own cup to look at him. "I hope we're not forced to spend the winter here."
"I don't look forward to that either." Getorius sat on one of the room's chairs, took a sip of wine, then hesitated a moment before saying, "Arcadia, I should have talked with you first, but I implied to Brisios that we might free him."
"Manumission? A serious matter, yet being with him on this journey changed my attitude toward slavery." She smiled. "Husband, it's an excellent thought. We can pay him as our worke
r."
"I told him that, but he might want to stay here with Zoë. Have you noticed his interest in her?"
"Yes, he's awkward, but that's to be expected. She's a strong woman." Arcadia sipped from her cup. "I've never seen a manumission ceremony."
"It's a legal procedure in front of a magistrate, like disposing of any property."
"Property? Getorius, that's my point. We've been dealing with a person as if he were non-human chattel. The Church at least might free slaves who are ill or those too old to work."
"We've treated Brisios well." Getorius realized the implication of what Arcadia had said. "A presbyter could perform the ceremony with the Church's blessing."
"Yes, if only Tranquillus were here." Arcadia's voice trailed off. "I didn't want to mention it in front of Pulcheria, but I had a sense of where Lydia might be."
"Oh? Where is that?"
"At Epiphania's bier on the acropolis. Her body still is there, undisturbed."
"You went up there without me? That was a foolish thing to do."
"Zoë came with me. We rode horses to that Throne of Satan. Lydia agreed to come down and arrange a funeral. She admitted that Epiphania knew about the death of Sixtus and that the bishop at Ephesos would stay in Rome until a new Pontiff was elected. She timed that bizarre rite during his absence, but miscalculated the virulence of those monks."
"And she couldn't have known that we would arrive with the misogynous Flavius Bobo taut as a bowstring."
Arcadia said, "Nysus will have Epiphania's body brought down."
"What about Hermias? I'd almost forgotten about him."
"Nysus told me he's buried in a cemetery for slaves near the Serapion."
Getorius glanced at a section of blue sky showing in the upper window. "We might have an hour before supper."
"My mind is still foggy from not getting enough sleep last night." Arcadia coaxed, "Lie down with me a short time and then I'll look for unwrinkled clothing that's fit to wear when dining with an Augusta."
They lay together under sheepskins stitched together into a covering. Soon Arcadia's regular breathing indicated that she slept. Getorius remained awake, his mind still clogged by events that had come to a climax with Epiphania's death. Yet there were unresolved questions. This plot has gone far beyond Euripides. What will Pulcheria do when she discovers that Tranquillus is an agent of her aunt, meddling in an Eastern religious matter? Why didn't Placidia go to her niece with the information? The Augusta seems friendly, yet she may yet think we're part of a conspiracy to bypass her in the eyes of Bishop Proklus at Constantinople. Herakles is the only person with enough contacts to get us back to Italia. When he finds out that Pulcheria arrived, he may go on to Smyrna and hide out with his associates. He may be there already.
