“The Trident,” Didymus whispered.
Pantera ran over to the body of Acme and came back with the beautiful sword that Miriam now knew to belong to the son of Caesar. He shrugged. “I’d never afford one otherwise,” he said. Then he nodded toward the raging storm. “Let’s go.”
“Go?” Miriam asked.
Didymus had knelt, and he was holding up the Seal of Solomon, his fingers holding it delicately so as not to touch its dark stone. “See it in your mind and it’ll take you there,” he said. He stood, carefully handing it to her and then placing one hand upon her shoulder. “It’ll take us, too.”
Pantera took her other shoulder, and the three of them looked to Lapis and Thrasyllus, who were holding each other close. “Ready?” Miriam asked, hoping she’d really be able to use the Shard.
Lapis looked to Thrasyllus. He smiled. “We’ll stay,” he said. “Someone will need to distract Tiberius from his headache when he wakes up.”
“But the Romans might kill you,” Pantera said.
Thrasyllus looked up at the sky for a moment. “The stars say otherwise.” He smiled at Didymus. “Call it a leap of faith.”
Didymus came forward and shook his hand. “Be safe, my friend.”
“I’m sure we’ll see each other again,” Thrasyllus said. “And in the meantime, I’ll keep Rome off the trail—wherever it takes you.” He looked down at the unconscious man. “Anyway, I think I can do a lot of good in his service. I was weak before. I was scared. But you know, I think he’s really the weak one. I see that now, and I think I can use that to help people. I think I can save lives.”
“Do that,” Didymus said.
Miriam nodded at Lapis in thanks, but already her attention was turning back out at the storm. It was dropping down upon itself at the edge of the mountains, collapsing into the west wadi where she’d first seen Abdes Pantera, the Roman archer from Sidon.
She pictured the spot. The terrace. The vineyard. The place where she’d stood to take her aim.
Didymus was once more at one shoulder. Pantera squeezed her reassuringly at the other.
She closed her eyes.
She grabbed the Shard.
* * *
They found them at the bottom of the west wadi, below the now-dry waterfall that had washed them and their pursuers down into oblivion. The Romans were all dead, all swept farther down the canyon by the receding flood.
Miraculously, Vorenus and Juba were alive. They were kneeling on the wet earth. Pullo was between them.
Juba looked up at the flash of their arrival. He stood, coming toward them. His face was grave. He shook his head.
Miriam shoved past him, crying out, and she fell to her knees at his side. “Pullo?”
The big man who’d thrown her into the air and caught her as a babe—who’d helped her learn to crawl, learn to talk, learn to run and dance and sing—almost seemed to be resting in the cushion of the earth. Except there were rocks there, too. He’d fallen directly on them.
“It’s his back,” she heard Juba whisper to the others as they came. “It’s broken.”
Miriam reached for his hand. When she folded her own around it, he didn’t grip her back. But he turned toward her, his eyes still bright. He smiled, though there was blood at the corner of his mouth.
“Miriam?” His powerful voice, which had far more often rumbled in laughter than it had boomed in anger and authority, was a whisper now. “Is that you?”
“It’s me,” Miriam said. She squeezed his hand, hoping for a response. “I’m here. So is Didymus. We’re all here.”
He nodded, and the light of the crescent moon fell across the shadows of the beautiful scars of the face she loved. “Selene,” he whispered. “It was her. She said I had more to do.”
“You saved us,” Vorenus said. He had hold of his old friend’s other hand. He was holding it to his chest, to his heart.
Pullo smiled. “Always am.”
“Always will,” Vorenus said, but the reality cracked his voice.
“Am done, my friend. Is my time.”
“No,” Miriam said. “We’re going to get you out of here.”
“I’m glad,” Pullo said, his eyes passing over to Miriam and back to Vorenus again. “Glad I got a second chance at love.”
Vorenus squeezed his hand tighter and bowed his head to hide his tears.
“We love you, Pullo,” Miriam said.
“More than I could ask for,” Pullo said. He coughed blood. “I think you were always right about God and all that, Vorenus. Always were the brains.”
“Nothing without you,” Vorenus said.
“Will need to be,” Pullo whispered back. His voice was growing fainter.
“Stay with us,” Miriam implored. She was squeezing his hand desperately, hoping for a sign of response. “You’re my father,” she said, choking on the words but letting them come. “I never say it, but I always think it. You and Vorenus. You’re not uncles. You’re my two fathers. Please, Pullo—”
“So strong,” Pullo whispered. He was looking past them, up at the moon. “Isn’t she strong, Vorenus?”
Vorenus was weeping openly now. “Stronger than you or me. We raised her that way.”
Pullo made the slightest of nods. “We did.”
“So much I want to say, I—”
“I know,” Pullo whispered. “Me, too.”
“Stay,” Miriam said.
“You should see it, Vorenus. White shores…”
“Stay!” Miriam shouted. She put his hand to the Shard on her chest. She pressed it there, closing her eyes, but nothing happened. “No,” she gasped. “No! Father! No!”
“Miri—” Pullo whispered.
Miriam scraped at the edges of the Shard, weeping, screaming.
Pullo’s hand fell away.
Miriam tugged at her flesh as if she might pull the object free. As if she might undo what had been done. The cuts from her nails flashed in and out of being.
“Miriam,” Vorenus said. And his steady hand came up and enveloped hers and held her still. “Miriam, he’s gone.”
She looked down. The big man’s eyes were closed as if he was sleeping, but his mighty chest neither rose nor fell. “He can’t—”
Vorenus leaned forward and through his tears kissed the big man on the forehead. “Bastard always promised me I’d go first,” he said.
“It’s not true,” Miriam said. “It’s not. The Shard. If I can—”
Vorenus reached over Pullo’s body and pulled her close to him in an embrace. They held each other, shaking.
And then there were hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” Pantera whispered.
Vorenus squeezed her again, long and steady and true, and then he gently lifted her up into Pantera’s waiting embrace.
For a moment her sorrow flashed to hot rage and Miriam slammed her fists into her lover’s chest. Pantera let her strike, taking the blows until the fury turned back into sobs. Then he held her tight and shared her grief.
“We can’t just leave him here,” Juba said. His voice was quiet, almost reverent.
Miriam looked back through her tears. Vorenus was still kneeling beside his dead friend, still gripping his once-strong hand. “We won’t,” her other father said. He looked up at her, his face full of both sorrow and hope. “The tomb,” he whispered. “Can you take us there? All of us?”
EPILOGUE
A BOOK OF LIFE AND DEATH
PETRA, 4 BCE
The battle was over. The Romans had been turned back, but the city was still in tumult. There were cries of horror and of divine wrath: a fire, an earthquake, strange storms, men dead upon the high mount.
In all the chaos, the tomb in which the Ark of the Covenant had long been hidden was forgotten. No one guarded its shattered courtyard, and no one noticed the pale blue light that for a moment flashed into existence there.
Nor did anyone notice when a single torch was kindled and by its light five figures lifted the enormous form of anoth
er and carried him to his final home.
They laid Pullo upon the funerary shelf where the Ark had once sat. It seemed fitting, Vorenus said, and no one disagreed.
Didymus had charcoal and some scraps of parchment from his time with the dead Simon’s rebel army, and so he wrote a note that they placed beside Pullo. It was written, at the suggestion of both Miriam and Vorenus, to a woman named Dorothea. It told her to honor Pullo. That he’d once been a great legionnaire, a good father, and the most noble friend. It also told her where Pullo and Vorenus had hidden a cache of coins in their house. It would take some digging through the ashes to get to it, but Vorenus was certain that it would be enough to secure both a proper sarcophagus and the commissioning of a third statue for the front of the tomb. That middle niche was still empty, after all.
When it was done, they stood around in a kind of stunned silence. Didymus saw that Vorenus had placed the Book upon another of the shelves in the chamber, and so he walked to it. He saw how unexpectedly plain it was. Just a simple, leather-bound book. And yet it held everything. It was the Book of Life and Death, the fate of the world. It was the Book of Thoth, the Babylonian Tablets of Destiny. How could that be so? What was truly written on its pages? In what language was it inscribed?
Didymus took a few steps toward it.
“You know,” Vorenus said from behind him. “Caesarion once told Pullo and me what he would do with the Book of Thoth if we ever found it.”
Didymus stopped, suddenly aware of how his arm had already been lifting toward the Book. “What’s that?” he asked.
“He said he’d destroy it. ‘We’re not meant to know the mind of the gods,’ he said.”
“Always the best of us,” Didymus said. He let his arm come back down to his side. “The torch, then?”
“No,” Vorenus said. “I don’t think we really can destroy it. Preserve it. Protect it. That’s what they said.”
“They?”
“The angels,” Vorenus said, and then he laughed for a few seconds, almost as if he was trying to convince himself to feel mirth again. “I guess I have a lot to explain.”
“We all do, I suppose,” Didymus said. He turned away from the Book. Juba stood in a corner, staring at scorched marks upon the wall, lost in thought. Closer, Miriam and Pantera were embracing. They were in love, and the boy was trying to bring her mind to better things by saying that what she’d done on the mount was amazing, and that he hoped he never made her angry. Miriam smiled, and she leaned into his chest in appreciation of both his efforts and his love, but Pantera didn’t see the worry on her brow. Nor did he see the way her hand fell to her belly and held it, as if fearful of what it contained. Didymus didn’t understand all these signs, but he understood enough.
“I’m sorry,” he heard Miriam saying. “For all this. For whatever it is.”
Pantera smiled back, holding her in reassurance. “We’ll find out together. Whatever happens, we can face it together.”
“We’ll find answers,” Didymus said to them all.
They looked in his direction. Miriam and Pantera, Vorenus, and even Juba.
“Where?” Vorenus asked.
“Qum’ran,” Didymus replied. “A village I’ve heard about, a community of scholars in the desert. It could be a place to start.”
“I must go home,” Juba said. “We have a son.”
Vorenus walked to him, embraced him. “I understand. We’ll get you away from here. Get you on the road home.”
Juba nodded, looking at the ground.
“For now, we all need to go,” Vorenus said. His voice was cracking, but he was holding back the emotion to get them to safety.
Didymus nodded his head in agreement, and then he motioned for Vorenus to take the Book, for he trusted no one else with the task. “Let’s go,” he said. His heart was heavy, but there was work to be done. He was certain they all felt the same. “All journeys start with a single step. So let’s start with getting out of here.”
* * *
A pale light flashed upon the Mount of Aaron, far to the west of Petra. Then five people stood alone upon its quiet summit. They looked out across the distant city where such horrors had been. There were lights moving upon the Mount of Moses, and they hoped that the friends who’d stayed behind would be well.
As the hours passed they stood or sat or paced. They cried together or alone.
Without words, they came together when the sun began to break over the far horizon.
It was a new day. A new beginning.
No one spoke, but they had agreed to hold hands. One life to another.
And then, in a flash, they were gone.
* * *
THE END
GLOSSARY OF CHARACTERS
Abdes Pantera. Tiberius Julius Abdes Pantera is the name of a Roman archer from Sidon whose tombstone was accidentally discovered during the construction of a railroad in Bingerbrück, Germany, in 1859.
Alexander Helios. Son of Mark Antony and Cleopatra VII, twin brother of Cleopatra Selene, he was likely born in the year 40 BCE. He disappears from reliable historical records after the fall of Alexandria in 30 BCE.
Alexander the Great. Alexander III, born in Macedon in 356 BCE, succeeded his father as king in 336. In his youth he led a number of Greek city-states to revolt against what had been a Macedonian-led alliance, and Alexander quickly set in motion a series of campaigns that led him as far north as the Danube and solidified his position as ruler of a united Greek state. Alexander subsequently moved his armies east against the Persian Empire, then the largest and most powerful state in the known world. He led his men to conquer Asia Minor and Syria, routing the Persian armies and defeating city after city. In 332 he entered Egypt, where he was declared to be the son of Ammon, an Egyptian deity. For reasons unknown, he faced off with the armies of the Kush but refused to fight them. Instead of continuing his campaign south into Africa, he moved north and founded the famed city of Alexandria, which subsequently became the capital of Egypt. Returning east, he captured Babylon and put an end to the Persian Empire before entering central Asia and defeating several states. Alexander then journeyed toward India, where his armies, though successful, finally balked at fighting farther from their Greek homes. Throughout his long career, he is said never to have lost a battle, and though severely wounded on several occasions, he was still reportedly vigorously strong. Nevertheless, he died under uncertain circumstances shortly after returning to Babylon in 323 BCE. After his death, he was placed in a golden sarcophagus, which made its way to Alexandria, and his world-spanning empire soon broke into rival states. Pharaoh Ptolemy IX Lathyros melted down his golden sarcophagus around 81 BCE when he was short of money (an act for which the angry citizens of Alexandria soon killed him). Alexander’s miraculously preserved body was at that time transferred to a crystal sarcophagus, which remained on display in the city until its disappearance around 400 CE.
Apion. An Alexandrian scholar who wrote a commentary on Homer, he would later become famous for writing an anti-Jewish tract that was replied to by Josephus in his Against Apion.
Caesarion. Caesarion, whose full name was Ptolemy XV Philopator Philometor Caesar, was born to Cleopatra VII in 47 BCE. According to Plutarch, he was rumored to have been executed by Octavian after the fall of Alexandria in 30 BCE, though his exact fate is strikingly unknown. While later Roman writers questioned his paternity, there is little reason to question the claim made by Cleopatra that he was the son of Julius Caesar.
Cleopatra Selene. Daughter of Mark Antony and Cleopatra VII, twin sister of Alexander Helios, she was likely born in the year 40 BCE. After the fall of Alexandria in 30 BCE she was placed under the guardianship of Octavia, the sister of Octavian, before being married to Juba II sometime between 25 and 20 BCE. The date of her death is uncertain.
Cleopatra VII. The last pharaoh of the Ptolemaic dynasty, Cleopatra VII ruled Egypt from 51 BCE until her suicide at the age of thirty-nine after the fall of Alexandria in 30 BCE. As pharaoh she had
an affair with Julius Caesar, to whom she bore his only known son, Caesarion. After Caesar’s assassination in 44 BCE, Cleopatra took the side of Mark Antony in the civil war against Octavian and eventually bore him three children: Ptolemy Philadelphus and the twins Cleopatra Selene and Alexander Helios.
Corocotta. According to Cassius Dio, Corocotta was the leader of a guerrilla campaign against the Romans in Cantabria who personally accepted from Caesar the award that had been established for his capture. Little more is known about him.
Didymus Chalcenterus. Born around 63 BCE, he wrote an astounding number of books in his lifetime on a wide variety of subjects, though he is now primarily known as an editor and grammarian of Homer. One of the chief librarians of the Great Library in Alexandria, his name Chalcenterus means “bronze guts,” supposedly a statement about his indefatigability as a scholar.
Dorothea. Unknown to history.
Isidora. Unknown to history.
Juba II. Probably born in 48 BCE, he was left an orphan by the suicide of his father, the king of Numidia, in 46. Adopted by Julius Caesar, the man who’d caused his father’s death, Juba was raised as a Roman citizen and ultimately joined his adopted stepbrother Octavian in the war against Mark Antony and Cleopatra. He was restored to the throne of Numidia after the fall of Alexandria in 30 BCE, and around the year 25 BCE he was married to Cleopatra Selene. Some time later he was given the throne of Mauretania. Juba was a lifelong scholar who wrote several books before he died in 23 CE.
Julius Caesar. Born in 100 BCE to a noble Roman family of comparatively little significance, Julius Caesar achieved a position of unparalleled power within the Roman state and thereby laid the stage for the end of the Republic under his adopted son Octavian. A well-regarded orator and savvy politician, Caesar rose to prominence first as a military leader in the field, whose reputation won him election, in 63 BCE, as the religious leader of the Roman Republic. Returning to the military sphere in subsequent years, his extraordinary abilities were proved in successful campaigns in Hispania, Gaul, and Britain. His power and popular appeal eventually led to the Great Roman Civil War when he crossed the Rubicon with an armed legion in 49. Victorious in the civil war, Caesar voyaged to Alexandria, where a civil war had broken out between Cleopatra VII and her brother-husband Ptolemy XIII. Caesar supported Cleopatra, defeating Ptolemy and making her sole pharaoh of Egypt, and she, in turn, became Caesar’s lover, bearing him his only known biological son: Caesarion. Returning to Rome, Caesar took solitary control of the state as a popularly supported dictator, effectively ending the Roman Republic. From this position of authority he instituted significant reforms to the Roman calendar, the workings of its government, and the architecture of its capital. Caesar was assassinated in 44 by a group of at least sixty Roman senators, who reportedly stabbed him 23 times before he died. His popularity among the common people at the time of his death was so great that two years after the assassination he was officially deified. Though his murder had been intended to restore the Roman Republic to order, it served only to set off another series of civil wars. These conflicts culminated in the struggle between his adopted son Octavian, to whom Caesar had bequeathed the whole of his state and his powerful name, and his popular former general, Mark Antony, who had taken residence in Alexandria with Caesar’s former lover, Cleopatra VII.
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