by Albert Noyer
Getorius shrugged uncertainty, "As well as can be expected in light of events."
"Kalos. You must try this smoked fish. Delicious. I'll call the freedwoman."
"Not yet. I'm anxious to know if my wife and I were correct in our reconstruction of what happened here."
"I will be honest, Asterios, it pained me to misinform you."
Arcadia told him sharply, "Then rectify that with an explanation!"
After two more men entered the dining room, Herakles cautioned, "Let us go behind the screen."
Arcadia stood and looked around. "Where is Aelia Pulcheria?"
"Domina, she will breakfast in the warmth of her room."
The dining tables had been cleared of the previous meal's dishes; only a soiled linen covering remained. Herakles brought his food to one side of the board. "Mulled wine?" he offered, holding up a small pitcher.
Getorius shook his head. Was I right in assuming that Aristides induced Flavius Bobo to kill Epiphania?"
The guide nodded. "It was immediately apparent that the Bobo marriage was an unhappy one."
"So the 'counseling' Aristides mentioned actually enlisted Flavius in Epiphania's murder."
"One of the Egyptians would have accomplished that, yet my belief is that Flavius already intended to kill his wife while here. The priest made that easier and allowed him to vent his anger on Epiphania, another domineering female he hated."
Getorius brushed crumbs off the cloth and smoothed it out. "So, Aristides lured Basina outside with the promise of a healing bath. Someone, possibly Rufinus, drowned her and blame was diverted to Hermias. In a rage, Flavius destroyed his wife's medications and murdered her slave."
Arcadia recalled, "It was Aristides who brought us Flavius's crushed hat to divert suspicion from himself."
"Hermias's body was carried to the acropolis that night by co-conspirators."
"Well paid and chosen, Asterios. They are the ones who would sail Hermopolis from Elaea to Egypt. The priest's thievery and escape were planned over time."
Arcadia said, "Herakles, if my husband hadn't gone to Trajan's temple that morning, the body of Hermias might never have been found."
He reinforced the coincidence. "Moira, as the Greeks say. Fate."
Getorius continued, "In the temple, Rufinus explained his part. Aristides needed the embalmer's Egyptians in Alexandria and offered him a reward greater than Britto's mortuary. Then, unexpectedly, Pulcheria arrived."
"The priest had been looting the treasury, obtaining illegal papaver, yet his scheme was unraveling like a tunic woven by a blind child. A safe passage document from Pulcheria would assure his escape."
"Frightening." Arcadia shivered despite her woolen cape. "The Augusta and Sophia would have been killed."
When the guide's silence was a confirmation, Getorius said, "We know that Tranquillus came here to investigate Epiphania."
"Asterios, he was relieved to hear of her death in the fire. " Herakles pointed to Arcadia with a chunk of bread. "Domina, the presbyter learned from you that she was not the embalmed woman. He questioned me about Epiphania, yet I knew nothing of her plan to stage that drama at Zeus's temple."
"But you found out from Lydia," Getorius said. "You couldn't compromise what you knew by talking to us."
"As I revealed, Asterios, it pained me."
Arcadia asked, "What could Aristides have told Pulcheria to make her go to that temple?"
"Domina, she believed Apollonios was her enemy. Aristides planned to lie about me by telling her he had proof that I conspired with the Physician to destroy Epiphania's church and pilfered tax money. The Augusta, being so distant, could not be totally certain of my loyalty. They say, truly, that wise distrust is the parent of security."
Zoë came in and scowled at Herakles. "Thracian, finish eating. I need this table for a meal after the manumission. Surgeon, you and your wife might wait until then to eat more. For now Brisios will bring you honey-pastry and mulled wine."
"That will be fine, Zoë."
Herakles watched her return to the kitchen. "The woman is bold as a strutting magpie."
"She saved our life by bringing us through the slave tunnel," Arcadia reminded him. "Why doesn't Zoë like you?"
"Perhaps my act was too convincing? A convert to a religion is often intolerant
of others not of their faith. Asterios, has not Pulcheria ordered the Asklepion destroyed?"
"Yes, and I'm bewildered. She can be pious as an abbess one moment, then ruthless enough the next to order bloody executions."
"Aelia Pulcheria's determination destroys her enemies. She has acted, will act, in savage ways to protect her position as Augusta." Herakles paused to consider his next remark. "She would have let Sophia die rather than give in to Aristides."
"Unbelievable!" Arcadia blurted. "And they call us in the West 'barbarian Romans'."
"Domina, Aristides conspired with those monks in fomenting a riot, but what have they accomplished? In the name of religion they destroyed hope for unfortunates who come here for cures." Herakles pushed his plate way in frustrated anger. "Ignorance truly is the night of the mind."
Brisios came in with the breakfast food. He looked ruddy from a bath, his blond hair and mustache trimmed. The tunic and boots he wore were new.
Arcadia complimented him, "Brisios, you look very handsome in those clothes."
"Mistress, Zoë bought them for me as a manumission gift."
"It's only about two hours until the ceremony."
Herakles stood up, muttering, "I go before that annoying magpie orders me out."
Getorius laughed. "And for your sake you had better be here at the fourth hour."
He grinned back. "The magpie. Kalos, I wish you all good health."
Arcadia asked her husband, "What should we give Brisios?"
"Money, I suppose. He'll need it if he decides not to stay with us."
"Because of Zoë?"
"It's hard to know what she thinks of him, but we've noticed his feelings for her. Let's take this food to our room. I may read you more of Sappho's poetry until it's time for the ceremony."
* * *
At the fourth hour, rain continued to pelt the roof and the glass-paned doors of the Poseidon's dining room. Daylight was gloomy enough that lamps were lighted.
Water that seeped in from the garden kept the mopping crew busy. As a stove fire warmed the room, the succulent odor of roasting pork wafted in from the kitchen.
When Getorius and Arcadia entered, Tranquillus saw them and moved to a far side of the room.
Getorius murmured, "The presbyter doesn't want more questions."
"Don't harass him. Oh, here are the widows." Arcadia waved them over.
"Miserable weather," Maria lamented. "An evil portent for this ceremony."
Melodia chided her, "Maria! We're past those pagan superstitions. We were going to ask Herakles about returning home. He will be here, won't he, Surgeon?"
"Yes, but as I told you, galleys aren't sailing at this time of year. Perhaps a coach back to Constantinople is the best we can do."
"The roads are quagmires," Maria complained, her normal stoic acceptance drowned by the rain. "This poor weather will continue and we'll be trapped here until spring."
Getorius suggested, "Ladies, talk to the presbyter. He may have ideas."
"Of course." A smile creased Melodia's wrinkled cheeks. "After all, Maria, he was assigned to watch out for us."
"And others as well," Getorius added, thinking of Galla Placidia.
"Others, Surgeon?"
"Nothing, Maria. Talk to Tranquillus before the Augusta comes in."
An hourglass adjusted to the shorter days of October had drained a quarter of its sand when Pulcheria arrived. Escorted by Nysus, she wore a maroon silk tunic and white woolen cape over her shoulders. A pearl tiara set off her raven-dark hair and a gold medallion minted with her image hung around her neck. She spoke with Tranquillus briefly, then came to Getorius.
"Su
rgeon, We are ready to begin. Nysus will bring in Brisios."
"Where is Sophia?" Arcadia asked.
"Ill."
Pulcheria did not explain, but Arcadia realized how badly the young woman had been affected by her near-brush with death and a brutal execution she witnessed.
Just as Nysus returned with Brisios and Zoë, Vidimir appeared by the door, mud-spattered and sodden from the downpour. He did not enter, but his slight nod toward Pulcheria signaled to the Augusta that her deadly commands had been carried out.
Calmly, she ordered, "Presbyter, you may start."
Tranquillus motioned for Brisios to stand in front of him. "We are here to witness the manumission of a slave, Brisios, by the ceremony of Vindicta. Rather than the rod symbolizing freedom, I will give the blessing of Holy Church to this new Roman citizen by laying my hands on his head. Who is the owner of this slave?
"I am," Getorius replied. "My wife, Arcadia, and I."
"Come hold onto the arms of your slave." After the couple moved alongside Brisios, each grasped an arm and felt him become rigid at their touch. Tranquillus continued,
"Is it your will to manumit your slave to the status of a freed Roman citizen?"
"It is," Getorius and Arcadia replied in unison.
"State the reason for this intended manumission."
"We have come to realize that involuntary servitude is immoral and degrading to one created in God's image." On impulse, Arcadia added, "Brisios has become more than our worker. He shared the hardships that have plagued us on this journey."
Tranquillus frowned at her boldness in speaking out, but placed both his hands on the slave's head. "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, through my sacerdotal authority and in the spirit of Paul's words to the Galatians, 'You are sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus. For all who were baptized unto Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor freeman, neither male nor female, for all are in union with Christ Jesus'." He pressed down on Brisios's head, "I bless you and commend the decision of your Master. Getorius, repeat the words, 'Hunc hominem liberum volo,' then turn Brisios to face witnesses and both release your holds on him."
"I wish this man to be free." He eased Brisios around, then both let go of his arm.
"Augusta," Tranquillus called out, "Please apply the document of manumission."
Pulcheria came forward, touched Brisios's shoulder with a rolled parchment, and pronounced, "As an Augusta of the Roman Empire, We declare you a free person and citizen of Roma on this twelfth day of October, in the thirty-second year of the Imperium of Our Illustrious Eastern Basileus, the Second Theodosius."
Clapping broke out as Pulcheria handed a red-faced Brisios the manumission document. Hesitant, he bowed awkwardly to her, then lightly clasped his former owners' hands. Finally smiling, he went to give Zoë an embrace. Nysus stepped forward and grasped his shoulders in congratulation.
The Poseidon's staff had watched from a doorway. Two men came out, one carrying a peaked Phrygian cap, an ancient symbol that identified a free man's status. The other took a small leather bag from inside the cap and held it out. "Brisios, we collected a few bronzes for you in your first purse."
Nysus placed the cap on the new freedman's head. It was too large, but the staff hooted approval.
Pulcheria, nearby, called out to Brisios, "You served as the Surgeon's gardener and groom, did you not?" At his shy nod, she held out a calfskin bag. "Ten gold solidi are yearly wages for such work. Our gift to you is that sum."
Cheers and applause covered Brisios's new embarrassment. Zoë wiped her eyes on a sleeve and ordered hoarsely, "Now let's eat. I didn't spend all morning preparing this feast to see it fed to jackals." Her smile faded to doubt as she looked toward Pulcheria. "Augusta, will you eat at the same table as the staff? We are freepersons."
Getorius thought, She's testing Pulcheria. Once the Augusta leaves, I would be surprised if that escape tunnel ever is filled in.
"It is Our pleasure," Pulcheria told Zoë, and went to seat herself at the head of the table. She beckoned for Tranquillus to sit on one side of her, Getorius on the other. Arcadia was next to Brisios at the long table. Maria and Melodia seated themselves across from her. Nysus and five members of his staff, three men and two women, took places at the far end of the board.
When Vidimir returned in a clean uniform and stood behind Pulcheria, she turned and whispered to him in Gothic. He bowed slightly and left the room.
Zoë excused the limited fare for her imperial guest with what was more of an accusation. "Augusta, the city is closed off by your guards. Markets are almost bare." She looked away from her toward the kitchen. "However, we were able to get an aper from nearby mountains." She clapped three times. At her signal, two kitchen servants carried in a roasted wild boar on a wooden trencher, its fat still sizzling. "The sauce is celery and thyme with mint. There's conger eel, mushrooms, beets, cucumbers and boiled oruza. And for you visitors from the West, the round loaf of bread that you bake there." Zoë's olive complexion flushed when she acknowledged applause from the diners, then brusquely ordered, "Now eat, all of you!"
Nysus shouted, "Drink my sweet wine from Cyprus. Not Cappadocian vinegar!"
"He's paying, so have all you want," Zoë added, seating herself next to Brisios.
Served by the most recent freed-persons, the group settled down to the meal.
After a sip of wine and a taste of boar, Getorius decided to probe Tranquillus about slavery, but had to speak across Pulcheria. It won't take long before she's involved in the conversation. "Presbyter, you read Paul's words suggesting there's no distinction in rank among the baptized. Isn't that a contradiction if you're free or slave? It would to me, were I the latter."
Pulcheria glanced sharply at Getorius, yet said nothing.
Tranquillus chewed a piece of bread before replying, "On earth, Christ was a carpenter. Thus he sanctified work whether by slave or free."
"But he followed Joseph's trade as a free man."
Pulcheria interposed, "All Chritstians receive the same Sacraments. Surely, Surgeon, you would not say that men and women become hermaphrodites through baptism?"
She's clever. I can see how she debated a heretic bishop and won. "Of course not, Augusta, I'm clarifying how the Church views slavery."
"What is your opinion, Surgeon?"
"Truthfully, I've never given it much thought. Slavery is a necessary niche in society."
Pulcheria turned back to Tranquillus. "In freeing Brisios, you read a biblical passage. You're surely aware that Hebrews owned slaves."
"But only for six years, Augusta. They were freed in the seventh."
Pulcheria fixed him with a chilling stare. "Presbyter, We have read Exodus and Deuteronomy. God is master of all, yet, in imitating a slave, His Divine Son bent to wash and dry his disciples' feet. Christ warned them to do the same or have no part in Him, and thus I have freed most of my slaves."
"Commendable, Augusta," Tranquillus mumbled, returning to his food.
Getorius doubted that Pulcheria ever washed even a single slave's' foot. Arcadia, having read his thought, shoved her husband's arm and gave him her "Don't-say-something-you'll-regret"glare. Satisfied, she turned to Brisios. "The Surgeon and I wondered what you might like as a manumission gift. Money, of course, but also something more personal."
Brisios glanced at Zoë, who was speaking to Nysus. He leaned toward Arcadia. "Mistress."
"No," she corrected. "Call me 'Domina' now."
"Domina," he confided, "I don't want Zoë to hear me, but could I borrow that book of poems the Surgeon has been reading?"
"By Sappho? Yes, I understand you've read some Aesop." Arcadia realized his intent. "You want a poem to read for Zoë."
He nodded slightly. "One that is not too difficult."
"I'm sure there are some simple verses. Can she read?"
"I'm not sure, Domina."
Arcadia touched his arm. "Of course, you ma
y take the book."
The meal continued in relative silence; the staff was subdued in the presence of an Augusta of the imperial family. When Pulcheria excused herself soon after Vidimir returned, it gave permission for anyone else to leave. Nysus stood to escort Pulcheria back to her room, but she declined and went back alone.
With their imperial guest absent, the Poseidon's staff became more open and jovial in their banter. Zoë ordered fresh pitchers of wine brought in, then turned her attention away from Brisios to join her fellow servants' ribald teasing. They spoke Greek, but in a short while, from their mocking laughter and glances at the Western Barbaromae, it was obvious the former slaves were sharing insulting stories about past owners.
After Arcadia caught the word Basileus, and heard the group's jeering laughter, she looked toward Getorius. He nodded agreement; they were ridiculing Emperor Theodosius.
The men began to fondle the two women servants, with Zoë and Nysus not seeming to mind or objecting. Tranquillus and the two widows had left shortly after Pulcheria. Now Arcadia felt uncomfortable among a staff that turned rude, almost hostile. She finished her meal to please Zoë, then signaled Getorius with her eyes that she wished to leave.
He stood up, feeling the effects of the strong wine. "Zoë, you cooked a feast fit for Zeus, but you must excuse us now."
The freedwoman acknowledged him only with a drunken wave of her wine goblet. But when Brisios rose to go with the couple, she rebuked him. "Brisios, y' don't need t' go with them. You're a free man now."
"I'm going to lend him something," Arcadia told her. "Brisios may return if he wishes."
Zoë mumbled an obscenity in Greek about the nature of her 'gift', then turned back to her companions.
On the way to the room, neither one mentioned the staff's mocking jests. Getorius opened the unlocked door, then stepped aside to let Arcadia enter. Brisios followed.
Arcadia had taken a few steps to find the book, when she bent to examine the floor. "Getorius, those are wet boot prints. Someone has been in here."
"It was probably the servant who lighted our stove."
