The Divining

by Wood, Barbara

  But instead, a wild countryside of rolling green hills and barren rocks coalesced in her mind's eye, trees twisted by constant winds filled her inner vision, and she saw the scallop-shell altar, the beautiful woman in flowing white robes.

  It was Gaia, again, the distant ancestress of Sebastianus Gallus.

  Ulrika formed a question in her mind and sent it forth. "Can you help me, Honored One?"

  "You are arrogant, daughter," Gaia said. "You do not come to this sacred place with a humble heart, but rather seeking ecstasy and joy. And you are impatient and impulsive. Remember the recklessness in the Rhineland, when you left the caravan and endangered your companions."

  "I am sorry for that," Ulrika said, surprised that she was being chastised, and then accepting that she deserved it. "But I wish to understand my gift. What is the Divining? What am I to do with it? And where is Shalamandar?"

  "So many questions in your arrogance. You wish all things to come to you without any effort on your part. Overcome your flaws, daughter. Turn your weaknesses into strengths, and your spiritual power will grow."

  "But how do I do that?"

  "You must be taught, you must learn."

  "But I have learned. I am doing everything right."

  "You are not yet ready. You have not yet learned all you need to know."

  "But from whom do I learn?" Ulrika cried silently. "It makes no sense, the student teaching herself!"

  The Galician countryside shimmered and grew unfocused. Ulrika now saw palm trees and stars. Once again, she saw Sebastianus walking toward her. "Gaia!" she called out. "Please come back."

  Now Ulrika found herself in the warm tavern in Antioch, and then it too grew distorted until she was back in the shaman's cave in the Rhineland.

  I cannot control my visions ...

  She summoned the inner flame again, struggled with her respirations, attempted the repetitious chant once more, but the visions faded, the soul flame dimmed, and when Ulrika finally took her hands away from her face, she saw that the sun was near the western horizon, and that she was lying on her side in the sand.

  She had fallen asleep!

  Gaia was right, she thought in disappointment. I came here with an arrogant heart, thinking I had mastered my thoughts, thinking I had perfected Rachel's meditation. I still have no control. My gift is still in its infancy.

  But as Ulrika lifted herself to her feet, steadying herself on the walking staff, she realized that although she had not made better progress in gaining answers, she was excited nonetheless about a new development: the vision of Gaia had not come to her unbidden. Ulrika had been the one to command a vision—she had chosen the time and the place.

  It was the first step, she knew, toward controlling her gift. From now on, she was confident, her power would grow.

  18

  U

  LRIKA'S ANKLE HEALED OVER the course of the weeks she spent with the two women, and eventually the day came to say goodbye. A small wine caravan had rested at the oasis, and the owner was willing to take Ulrika as far as Petra in the south, which was located at a major trade crossroads and where she would find a caravan to take her eastward to Babylon.

  Rachel and Almah accompanied her to the oasis, where Almah wept and embraced Ulrika as a daughter.

  Then Ulrika turned to Rachel, her new friend whom she would never forget. "I have a gift for you," she said.

  During one of her first nights in the camp, Ulrika had asked, "You have sacrificed so much. What do you miss the most?" And Rachel, after a moment, had replied, "Perfume."

  Ulrika now opened her medicine kit and brought out a small glass vial stoppered with wax. An Egyptian hieroglyphic identified the precious contents. Pressing this into Rachel's hands, she said, "This is oil of lilies. It soothes the troubled heart."

  In return, Rachel placed a talisman around Ulrika's neck, to join the scallop shell and Cross of Odin. It was small and carved from cedar, and hung at the end of a slender hemp thread. "It is called the mogan david," she said, "which means the Shield of David." Ulrika saw that the talisman was made of two triangles united around a central point, making it resemble a six-pointed star. "Between here and Babylon," Rachel said, "you will enter into Jewish communities, and when they see this star, they will take you in as one of their own."

  "Tell your stories at the oasis, Rachel, as you told them to me."

  "I will," Rachel said. And then she took Ulrika's hands into her own and said, "'For you shall go out with joy and be led out with peace; the mountains and the hills shall break forth into singing before you.'" She squeezed Ulrika's hand. "That is from the prophet Isaiah. Peace unto you, Ulrika. And God's blessings. I pray you find what you are searching for."

  BOOK FIVE

  BABYLON

  19

  T

  HEY WERE SIX SISTERS in search of husbands, and they had come to Babylon to find them.

  Ulrika was not sure the young women, ranging from thirteen years old to twenty-four, had been given accurate information, but they were hopeful and full of cheer, and had livened the journey from the oasis at Bir Abbas, where they had joined the flax caravan and told their remarkable tale. Their father, a widower, had had to sell his house, his sheep, and himself into slavery to cover gambling debts. And so he had been forced to send his daughters out into the world in the hope of finding a better life.

  They rode on the back of a flat dray drawn by mules, seven young women, two grandmothers, and one elderly carpenter, swaying with the vehicle as they watched the towers and smoke fires of Babylon draw near. Ulrika had joined the caravan in the town of Petra, where a Babylonian flax trader had brought massive sacks of fibers, seed, and flowers to sell to makers of linens, medicines, and dyes. To fill his empty drays for the return trip, he took paying passengers who joined or left at various settlements and farms along the way. Now he was reaching the terminus of his biannual journey, and his passengers looked forward to food and lodgings and a steady ground beneath their feet.

  Ulrika's excitement grew. After weeks of desert travel, camping at oases, walking, riding, constantly on the move, she felt the fresh breeze from the Euphrates River whisper against her face. The desert gradually gave over to lush green farms, dense groves of date palms, fields of wheat and barley. Marshes and ponds appeared now, from which lively waterfowl flew up in rainbows of color. Beyond, a ribbon of blue lazily wound its way between banks thick with poplars and tamarisks, to disappear under city walls—Babylon straddled the Euphrates—and emerge on the other side, bringing water to thirsty sheep and goats.

  As Ulrika's small caravan neared the Adad Gate, a major entry in the western wall, through which heavy traffic was passing to and fro, she recited a silent prayer of thanks to the All Mother. She had come through the long trek unscathed, and now would soon be reunited with the man she loved—her love growing with every dawn as she held the handsome Sebastianus in her heart and mind, picturing his bronze-colored hair in the sunshine, hearing his deep authoritative voice, seeing his dimpled smile. Although many in Ulrika's group would leave the caravan here and enter the city on foot, Ulrika would stay on the road and follow it to the southern tip of the walled city, where she had been told the caravans to the East were launched. She knew she would find Sebastianus there.

  Whenever the leaders of caravans met along the many trade routes of the Roman empire, they exchanged gossip as well as goods. And during their last camp, at an oasis called Bir Abbas, the flax merchant had shared his fire with a wine trader traveling west, and from him had heard of a great caravan being prepared for a diplomatic trip to China, a Spaniard traveling under the auspices of the Roman emperor himself.

  Ulrika knew it was Sebastianus of whom they had spoken, and she knew he was still in Babylon because the summer solstice had yet to be marked, and he had said he would leave after that.

  The flax caravan wound its way through congested settlements of people who had come to the city to find work. Ulrika had heard of the power and might of Marduk,
called by his followers as the most powerful deity in the universe. I will consult with his priests, she thought now. Perhaps Marduk can tell me where to find Shalamandar.

  The flax trader brought his line of animals and wagons to a slow crawl, and those with whom Ulrika shared the dray gathered their bundles and prepared to head into the city on foot. Ulrika said farewell to the six sisters, wishing them luck.

  As the dray neared the road that led past the Adad Gate—a massive archway in the city walls with guards in towers and colorful pennants snapping in the wind—they heard the sudden garish blare of trumpets. In the next moment, riders on horseback came galloping through the gate, hooves thundering across the moat bridge. The riders were shouting, "Make way! Make way! Fall on your faces in honor of the Divine God Marduk!"

  The flax trader brought his dray to a halt, as all other traffic and pedestrians came to a stop on the highway and surrounding lanes. The thunder of drums came next and Ulrika watched as, immediately behind the horses, drummers marched, banging their instruments in unison, creating a formidable sound.

  "What is it?" she asked of the flax merchant.

  "They are parading the Great God," he said. "They say that getting a glimpse of Marduk brings luck. Keep your eye open."

  As she waited for the procession to pass, Ulrika turned her face to the east, toward the feathery palms and blue sky that embraced the caravan staging area.

  Tonight, she thought with racing pulse, I will be with Sebastianus ...

  "MY FRIEND, IT HAS been a pleasure doing business with you. I promise you, my fine wines will open doors and gateways to you, they will make men want to give you their virgin daughters. I say in all modesty that my grapes are the envy of Marduk himself!"

  Sebastianus smiled at the loquacious Babylonian as he conducted a final check of his animals and their packs. Recently added to his caravan was wine stored in silver jars, the way the Phoenicians had done for centuries, as the silver prevented spoilage. And mules were draped with bags of fresh milk strapped to their sides. Fermentation would take place in the bags, causing the milk to curdle. The constant motion of the animals would then break up the resulting cheese into curds while the remaining liquid, the whey, would provide a potable drink in case no water was found.

  Sebastianus's caravan was nearly ready to depart. All he had to do was wait until after the solstice celebrations.

  At which time, he prayed, Ulrika would appear and he could persuade her to join him for the journey eastward.

  Was it a foolish prayer, he wondered? Surely Syphax had delivered her safely to her mother in Jerusalem, where Ulrika would have learned the location of Shalamandar. And now she would be on her way to join him. Perhaps she was nearby already, and the same wind that blew gently on Sebastianus's face caressed Ulrika's.

  "I thank you for your help, Jerash," he said, seizing the Babylonian's wrist and giving it a manly squeeze. Jerash, garbed in a colorful fringed robe with a cone-shaped hat on his head, was the cousin of a man whom Sebastianus had befriended in Antioch, and now Jerash had given him the names of relatives who lived in settlements eastward along the trade route. "You have but to mention my name, noble Gallus," the Babylonian said as he reached into a deep, embroidered pocket and brought out clay tablets, "and give these letters of introduction to my uncles and cousins, and they will offer you all the help you need! Your mission to China will be like riding on a breeze, my friend! The gods will carry you on their shoulders and you will fly like a dove!"

  Nearby, sitting at the campsite with his pie-faced son Nestor, who was stirring a stew of lamb and vegetables, Timonides watched the exchange between Sebastianus and the Babylonian with a jaundiced eye. He alone knew that Sebastianus's caravan to China was going to be no dove's flight because it lay upon a route plagued by pitfalls, traps, treachery, and setbacks. Not that any of this was apparent to ordinary men, or could be seen with the naked eye. Only Timonides knew of the great dangers that lay ahead, because only he had read his master's stars and had seen the calamities that awaited him.

  And it was all the fault of Timonides the astrologer! He could not stop falsifying his horoscopes, but must keep lying, must keep Sebastianus moving eastward in order to save Nestor from certain execution. The hue and cry from Antioch had not yet reached Babylon, but the royal mail routes along the Euphrates River were swift and efficient. A word from one magistrate to another, and the guards of the city would be knocking upon every door, looking under every rug, overturning every man-sized jar in search of the assassin of the beloved Bessas the holy man.

  It made Timonides almost too sick to eat.

  The stars did not lie. Sebastianus was supposed to be, at that moment, somewhere south of Antioch, perhaps as far south as Petra. Anywhere but here! Yet Timonides, interpreter of the will of the gods, urged his master ever eastward, uttering blasphemy upon blasphemy, at the sacrifice of his own immortal soul. For surely he was going to Hell for his sacrilege. Worse, by bringing Nestor along on his caravan he made Sebastianus an unwitting participant in a capital crime. Sebastianus was giving aid to a fugitive, which meant certain execution for him as well, should they be caught.

  If only they would leave! Timonides had gently suggested that they start for the East today, this minute, not waste a precious moment, but Sebastianus, he knew, was thinking of that girl! Ulrika. She was like an insidious disease, itching just below Sebastianus's skin. Timonides saw how his master looked westward every evening, pausing in his work to gaze wistfully over the miles and horizon, picturing the fair-haired girl who had bewitched him. Timonides had been tempted to falsify a horoscope and insist they leave, but it would just be one sin too many. Wherever he could be honest, he would be so. Besides, why put his master to the test? What if he told Sebastianus that the gods insist they leave at once, and Sebastianus, waiting for Ulrika, said no?

  To make matters worse, Sebastianus was considering altering the first leg of their journey to accommodate that girl. He had asked around for information on the whereabouts of Shalamandar, but no one had heard of it. She had said the place was in Persia, and so Sebastianus had declared his intention of going north at first, to accompany her to her own destination before getting on to the business of China!

  With a sigh, and thinking that the philosophers were right when they said it was impossible to love and be wise, Timonides returned to his charts and instruments for the noon horoscope, and as he re-calculated his master's stars, taking into account the comet that had appeared in Sebastianus's moon-house, and the unexpected falling star that had streaked past Mars—

  Timonides froze, and his breakfast of eggplant and garlic rose to the back of his throat.

  Not again ...

  He wanted to cry out against the injustice of life. Destined forever to read the stars for other people, Timonides the astrologer, who had been abandoned on a trash heap as an infant, had hoped that someday the gods would reveal to their humble servant the stars of his own birth. To this end Timonides had tried to keep his astrological practice pure.

  But the gods were perverse. They toyed with him, tormented him. Gave him glimmers of hope only to dash them.

  The girl was in Babylon.

  There was no doubt about it. Sebastianus's horoscope had changed. The two lovers were about to cross paths again.

  And so once more, despite oaths to the contrary, Timonides must falsify another reading. He could not allow Ulrika to join the caravan. Nestor had behaved himself during the journey from Antioch and during their stay in Babylon. But with Ulrika in his company once again, the boy would certainly commit another crime to please her.

  Even if it meant sending his own immortal soul to Hell, Timonides had to protect his son.

  "Master," he called, rising from his table. "I have found her at last. The stars have revealed Ulrika's location."

  Sebastianus turned such a hopeful smile to him that Timonides feared the eggplant was going to come all the way up. Swallowing back his bile, he said, "She is in Jerusalem. She
is with her mother and family."

  The smile turned to a frown. "Are you sure?"

  "The stars do not lie, master. Even if the girl were to leave Jerusalem today, she would not reach Babylon for weeks. But master, a journey does not lie in her future. She is staying in Jerusalem."

  It pierced the old man's heart to see such disappointment on Sebastianus's face. He loved young Gallus almost as much as he loved Nestor. Cursing his life, cursing the parents who had abandoned him on a trash heap, cursing Babylon and the gods and even the stars, Timonides said, "There is something else. The comet last night, and the falling star against Mars, indicate that we must leave at once. We cannot stay another day in this city. It is crucial, master."

  "But the Summer Solstice is days away!"

  "Master, the worst calamity will befall this caravan if we delay. Today is the most propitious day for departure. The gods have made themselves clear."

  With a scowl, Sebastianus weighed his decision.

  He had spent his time in Babylon collecting as much information as he could about China. Precious little was to be had. Goods from that distant land never came directly to this part of the world, but passed through a series of middlemen. A bolt of Chinese silk might cross the hands of twenty traders before it reached the Babylonian market. It was the same with information. Place names, in particular, did not travel well, and so each man he spoke to, every map he consulted, had different names for cities and geographical features.

  One, however, seemed more consistent. The city where China's emperor was throned. Sebastianus had a name at last, an identifiable goal to set before himself each dawn and sunset, keeping it in his mind like a fixed star.

  "Very well," he said reluctantly. "Where is Primo? Timonides, send someone into the city to find him."

  "Yes yes, master," Timonides said with relief. Later, in the next city or valley or mountain, when they were far enough away from the threat of Ulrika's presence, he would make sacrifice to as many gods as he could, offer penance and self-denial, dedicate himself to fasting and celibacy if he must—Timonides would do everything in his power to get himself back into the good graces of the Divine.