Текст книги "The Divining"

Автор книги: Barbara Wood

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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

     He kissed her, sweetly and lingeringly, and then he said, "Tell me about Persia."

     Ulrika recounted her experience in Shalamandar, the meditation that had revealed the crystal pools, the visit from Gaia, while Sebastianus listened in interest. "I think now that I was never meant to reach my father's people in time to warn them of Vatinius's attack, for I see now the futility of such a plan. My journey to the Rhineland was the Goddess's way of setting me free. I had felt bound by invisible ties to a land that was not part of my destiny."

     She stroked his stubble-covered jaw. "Gaia also told me that it is my destiny to find the Venerable Ones. But I have been searching for five years and have yet to even know who they are."

     Sebastianus laid a hand on her cheek. "I must depart as soon as possible for Rome. Can you search for them there?"

     "I will search the world if I must."

     He smiled. "Then I will help you, for I too am destined to travel the world."

     Sebastianus cradled her in his arms then, drawing her to his warmth, while Ulrika relished the feel of his skin against hers, marveling at the power of the masculine body that held her and made her feel safe. As she listened to the reassuring beating of his heart, she listened to an amazing story of brave men crossing deserts and mountains, fighting for their lives, meeting a whole new race for the first time. He filled her mind with beautiful images as she tried to imagine Chinese women, whom she thought must be like butterflies.

     "My dream to open a safe route to China route was indeed a success," he murmured as his fingers explored her curved back and delicate shoulder blades. "In Rome I will start planning the next phases of the Gallus caravan trade, sign contracts with importers and exporters, and expand the family business. I will make the name of Gallus known to the far-flung ends of the earth." He paused to kiss her hair, and inhale its fragrance. And then he said, "And you will be at my side. Together we will find Gaia's Venerable Ones."

     "Will you not go home to your beloved Galicia, to your sisters and their families?"

     "Perhaps, but my success in reaching China has only made me hunger for more. My heart is divided, Ulrika, except when I am with you, for never have I felt so complete as I do now."

     When she trembled in his arms, from excitement, he knew, and desire, he recalled a ceramic he had found in China, manufactured only there. The clay was fired at extremely high temperatures, creating the formation of glass and other shiny minerals. Sebastianus could not pronounce the Chinese name, so he called it porcellana, as it resembled the translucent surface of cowrie shell. And he thought now: it is like Ulrika—strong, shining, beautiful.

     She lifted her face and said softly, "And what about the astrologers in China?"

     He stroked her hair, her neck, ran his hand down her bare arm, and drew her more tightly to himself. Ulrika was strong and confident, yet she seemed so vulnerable in his arms. He shook with desire. "I met with them and learned from them. Ulrika, there are many gods and spirits in China, every pond, every tree, even every kitchen has its own god. I cannot begin to name even a few. But the one thing that is the same from Rome to Luoyang is the cosmos. The same stars that shine down on the Tiber River, that shine here over the Euphrates, glitter upon the surface of the Luo. This brought me great comfort while I was in a strange land. And because they are the same everywhere, they are the one constant in the universe, I believe more than ever that the stars guide our lives. They advise us and warn us. They bring us good fortune and keep us from harm. The stars hold messages from the gods. Never have I had such faith in the heavens as I do now.

     "Chinese astrologers are men of keen intelligence and insight. I spent many hours conferring with them, and I have brought back charts, instruments, devices for observation and calculation, ancient and arcane equations. I am going to take it all to the observatory in Alexandria, where the greatest astronomers in the world study the heavens, and I know they can put it all together and uncover the secrets to the meaning of life."

     Night had fallen but Sebastianus did not light more lamps. There was food in the tent—dates and nuts, pomegranates and rice wine—but the lovers were not hungry. Sebastianus cradled Ulrika in his arms as they lay beneath silken sheets. If the ordinary world outside continued to exist, if Babylon was still there, they neither knew nor cared. Sebastianus placed his hand on her breast, felt her heart beating beneath the silken skin. "Ulrika, you are my horizon in the morning, my oasis at sunset. You are the moon glow that lights my way, the sweet dawn that ends my troubled sleep."

     They reached for each other again, and this time the embrace went beyond physical. It was the entwining of two souls. Ulrika held tightly to Sebastianus and felt his spirit engulf her in perfection and joy. She inhaled his masculine scent, buried her face in the hard muscles of his shoulder and neck, delivered herself into his power and wanted to stay there forever. He could not have held her more tightly. She could hardly breathe except to whisper "Sebastianus," with a sigh that came from her heart.

     Sebastianus nearly wept with happiness when he heard his name whispered on her warm breath. He tightened his embrace, fearful he might break her, but he felt her strong muscles and bones, as strong as her indomitable spirit. She wrapped her thighs around him as he penetrated deeper, wishing he could send his entire body into her, to be held safely and in love by this astonishing woman.

     "I love you," they murmured to each other, inadequate words barely expressing the depth of their mutual devotion.

     Finally they slept, intertwined in each other's arms, comforted by the warmth and feel of each other's nakedness.

     "WHERE IS SEBASTIANUS GALLUS?" Quintus Publius barked when Primo came into the atrium. The hour was late. Publius had just sent off the last of his dinner guests.

     Primo did not want to face this man with a thunderous expression on his face, his white toga with a purple border a reminder of his power. Publius was the Roman ambassador to the Persian province of Babylon, and a personal friend of Nero Caesar. Primo had put off reporting to Publius in the hope that Sebastianus would come to his senses and pay a visit to the ambassador at his villa west of the city.

     But Sebastianus had returned to the caravan with the girl in tow, they had gone into his tent and now, hours later, had yet to emerge.

     This was Primo's second summons to the ambassador's residence this week. Primo knew it was about a special dispatch Publius had received by imperial courier directly from Nero himself, demanding a report on the progress of the much-awaited caravan from China.

     Primo mustered a civil attitude as he said, "My master was detained in the city on urgent business, sire, and he should be—"

     "Never mind that!" Quintus Publius barked, his face red with fury. "I gave him specific orders to leave Babylon three weeks ago! Why is he still here?"

     Primo thought quickly and came up with a plausible lie. "There was sickness among the women," he said, referring to a group of Chinese concubines in the caravan, a gift from Emperor Ming of Han to the emperor of Rome. They were as pretty as a garden filled with flowers, their faces white with rice powder. Primo wondered what Nero would think of them.

     It was well known that Nero Caesar needed the financial capital to keep his empire going. Primo had heard tales from travelers of unrest cropping up in the many provinces. Judea, for example, where restless young Israelites were said to be fomenting revolution to gain back their autonomy. In response, Caesar was sending more legions. The Jews called it oppression, the Romans called it restoring order. But Primo had also heard that Nero's extravagant spending was not only on the army but on new buildings in the city of Rome, fabulous homes and palaces and fountains and avenues, all unnecessary and all very costly to build. Nero was bankrupting the Imperial Treasury, it was rumored, and he was desperate for sources of revenue.

     What could Caesar create, Primo thought, with Sebastianus's fabulous treasure from China?

     Primo knew that once Nero received Quintus Publius's report on Sebastianus Gallus's unbelievably rich caravan, the emperor would demand to see it at once, and confiscate it, as was his right as patron of the mission to China.

     Primo wished the expedition had been a miserable failure. That way, his master could languish in Babylon for eternity, for all Nero would care. Because now Primo was presented with a dilemma: Obey his emperor and betray his master, or serve his master and disobey the emperor. The first would result in his master's execution, the second, his own. Primo's mouth filled with a bitter taste. He did not like this spy business. Even though he had nothing negative to report on Sebastianus, he still felt like a traitor.

     "My master made many new alliances for Rome with foreign kingdoms," Primo reminded him, hoping to placate the bilious ambassador, and thinking of the report Quintus was going to dispatch to Nero by swift imperial courier. "Many of those backward tribes are so primitive, all one has to do is eat their bread, or in the farther east, share their rice, and the friendship is sealed." He did not add: the poor fools pressed their greasy thumbs to whatever document Sebastianus placed before them, and grinned with self-satisfaction to think of themselves as the equal of the greatest ruler on earth. They do not yet know of the pompous emissaries who will soon be paying visits, informing them of their duty to pay to Rome a ten percent levy on all goods that pass through their customs houses.

     Primo rubbed his scarred nose. It was one of many cicatrices that decorated his soldier's body, each a memento from a long-ago battle. Primo knew he was an oddity himself, like the Chinese concubines, for it was unusual that a veteran of foreign campaigns should live to such an age. But although he was now sixty and had lost most of his hair, he still had all his teeth and was robust.

     "Where did you say your master was?" Publius barked.

     "On business in the city," Primo said.

     Although the word treason had not been spoken, it hung in the air all the same. Everyone knew about Nero's marriage, two years prior, to a scheming spider named Poppaea Sabina, a greedy and ambitious woman with an insatiable appetite for amusements. It could be no coincidence that shortly after, Nero revived the ancient laws governing treason in order to fill the Great Circus with entertaining executions. Men were being arrested on the flimsiest of invented crimes, and thrown to lions in the arena.

     Could his master's delay in Babylon be considered treasonous? After all, Sebastianus carried goods that were the personal property of Emperor Nero. He was duty-bound to get that property to Rome as quickly as possible. And yet he had tarried in Babylon. Because of a woman!

     "Is there anything you wish me to report to my master?" Primo asked.

     "Your master is not the only reason I sent for you," Quintus said as he reached inside the folds of his toga. He paused to study Primo's disfigured face. "Are you a loyal citizen, Primo Fidus?"

     Primo was taken aback to hear his real name spoken out loud. How had Quintus found it out? And his use of it now gave Primo a strange chill. "I am a loyal citizen and a loyal soldier. I place my honor before my life."

     Quintus produced a scroll bearing the clay seal of Caesar himself. "These are your new orders. They are secret. Keep that in mind."

     Primo looked warily at the scroll. "New orders?" he said.

     "This document grants you the authority, Primo Fidus, to take charge of the caravan, to arrest Sebastianus Gallus, hold him in military custody, and bring him to Rome for trial."

     "Arrest him! On what charges?" Primo asked, already knowing, and dreading the answer.

     "Treason," Quintus said crisply. "All goods contained in the Gallus caravan are the property of the emperor of Rome. By withholding those goods from Caesar, your master is in effect stealing, which is a crime of treason." He slapped the scroll against Primo's broad chest. "If you do not convince your master to depart Babylon at once, then pray that his execution is a swift one."

     Primo looked at the scroll as if it were a scorpion.

     Arrest Sebastianus! By Mithras, how was he going to do that?

     Cold sweat sprouted between his shoulder blades. Since arriving in Babylon, Primo had heard strange, dark rumors about Emperor Nero, his impulsiveness, his suspected insanity. Especially his ruthlessness. That he killed messengers bearing bad news. But what would happen if Primo did not report his master's disloyalty and Nero found out? Primo shuddered to think. Even a hardened old soldier like himself grew faint at the thought of the grisly ways some men were put to death in the Great Circus. And what of Sebastianus? Would Primo's report result in so drastic an action as execution?

     Primo decided he must prepare a response should the emperor demand to know why Gallus had tarried so long in Babylon. Primo would declare: "Oh mighty Caesar, my master was engaged in complex commerce in order to bind Babylon more closely to Rome, and to show those unworthy foreigners the advantage of being financially and economically bound to Rome—in fact, glorious Caesar, to demonstrate the lowly Babylonians' great luck to have Caesar look favorably upon them!"

     It was a long speech for an old soldier, but Primo would practice it from here to the imperial audience chamber and make himself sound as convincing as possible.

     He scratched his chest and felt, beneath his white tunic, the lucky arrowhead he had put on a string to wear beneath his clothes. The German arrowhead that had missed his heart by a hair. And Primo was struck by inspiration. "Perhaps the noble Publius would honor my master by receiving one of the Chinese treasures as a gift?"

     The Roman wrinkled his nose. "You wouldn't be attempting to bribe me would you, Primo Fidus? I could have you skinned alive. Find your master! Tell him he is under imperial orders to get his caravan to Rome in the quickest order. I must travel to Magna today and meet with the queen. I will return in a month's time. I expect to see no sign of Sebastianus Gallus and his caravan here in Babylon!"

35

I ONLY HAVE A FEW things to collect," Ulrika said as she led Sebastianus down a narrow, winding alley in the city, toward the house she shared with a seamstress. "I have learned to travel light."

     They entered a wider street, where a marketplace stood in the shadow of the massive Hall of Justice—a towering ziggurat that rose in terraces splendidly landscaped with trees and shrubs and cascading vines. Here vendors hawked garlic and leeks, onions and beans. Sellers of bread and cheese called out their prices, while merchants shouted the merits of their various wines.

     Suddenly they heard trumpets blare at the end of the street. A voice called, "Make way! Make way in the name of the great god Marduk!"

     Ulrika and Sebastianus saw a contingent of priests appear around the corner, and behind them, temple guards leading five men in chains. Pedestrians immediately fell back, with donkeys and horses pulled aside. People came out of doorways to watch the curious parade.

     As a crowd quickly gathered, Sebastianus drew Ulrika into the protection of a recessed doorway.

     Among the white-robed priests, one stood out. The High Priest's head was shaved smooth like a polished stone. He wore no adornment over his long white robe. This singled him out of all men in Babylon, who strove to outdo each other in fringed clothes and tall cone hats, walking staffs and shoes with curled toes. When the High Priest walked down a street, people stopped and bowed and then looked away, afraid of his magnificence and power. Ulrika had heard that his authority was greater even than that of the provincial governor from Persia and the puppet prince who sat on Babylon's ancient throne.

     Bringing the small procession to a halt in the square, the High Priest struck his staff on the paving stones and called out in a ringing voice: "Babylon has been infested with false prophets, wonder-workers, healers, and charlatans who seduce citizens away from the true faith. We arrested these swindlers and brought them to the Plaza of the Seven Virgins, where they stood trial for their crimes. Having been found guilty, they will be strung up by their ankles and left here to die as an example to others. In addition, their bodies will not be returned to their families for proper burial but will suffer the additional fate of being burned on a common pyre and their worthless ashes poured into the river.

     "Know then their crimes," he declared as he pointed to each man with his staff. "Alexamos the Greek, guilty of selling blemished doves and lambs for sacrifice to Ishtar! Judah the Israelite, guilty of offenses against the gods of Babylon by calling them false, and making unfounded accusations against the priests of Marduk! Kosh the Egyptian, guilty of selling goat's milk and claiming it to be from the breasts of Ishtar! Myron of Crete, guilty of murdering a sacred prostitute of Ishtar! Simon of Caesarea, guilty of professing to speak to the dead."

     He struck his staff again and the guards prodded the wretches forward, so that Ulrika could now see the horrible treatment they had suffered. Trial was not enough. The five had been tortured and branded.

     Her heart went out to them. And then in the next instant her heart stopped in her chest. Rabbi Judah!

     And then she saw, behind the guards, a group of men and women wailing and holding onto one another. Miriam and her family.

     When Ulrika first returned from Persia, she had paid a visit to Miriam to thank the prophetess for setting her on the right path—Ulrika had indeed found a prince who led her to Shalamandar, as Miriam had prophesied. In the time since, Ulrika had not returned to the house of Rabbi Judah, nor had she heard him preach, but she knew of his growing reputation as a faith healer and a man who worked miracles.

     "Sebastianus," Ulrika said as the five men were unchained and lined up in front of the wall. At the top, guards were lowering ropes. "We have to stop this! I know that man. He helped me once."

     Sebastianus eyed the guards—the shields and spears and daggers. Then he stepped forward, saying, "Wait—"

     But one of the guards was immediately blocking his path, spear lowered, lethal tip leveled at Sebastianus's chest.

     Ulrika watched in horror as the condemned men's clothes were removed. She wondered if they were drugged, for they appeared dazed and not aware of what was happening to them.

     But then she realized that Rabbi Judah had received no such humane treatment, for he stood tall and proud as the soldiers stripped him naked and then cut off his long curls and hacked away at his beard. Those in the crowd who had never seen a circumcised man gawked and pointed, some laughed and shouted insults.

     The women in Judah's family screamed and covered their eyes. One of them fainted and fell into the arms of two male relatives. Judah remained impassive, his eyes above the crowd as the soldiers made quick work of his clothes.

     When a soldier prepared to sever the leather straps from Judah's arm and forehead, the High Priest stayed him, saying, "Leave his precious religious symbols in place, so that the people will see his offense against Marduk. And also so that his god can see him and perhaps rescue him."

     Ulrika went numb as she watched the guards tie ropes around the men's ankles. Without ceremony, their feet were pulled out from under them. They fell to the ground. Two hit their heads and were mercifully knocked unconscious. Another two began to shriek and beg for mercy and promised to worship Marduk for the rest of their lives.

     Sebastianus put his arm around Ulrika and tried to shield her from the horrifying spectacle, but she needed to watch.

     Judah remained silent as he fell to his knees, as he was then dragged like a doll to the wall, as his feet were slowly hoisted and up the wall he went, upside down, his arms dropping down. Ulrika saw his lips moving. She knew he was praying.

     His family pressed forward, crying out and begging for mercy. The guards pushed them back and the High Priest, striking his staff once more, warned the onlookers that such a fate awaited anyone who did not obey the laws of Marduk and Babylon.

     Then he turned and moved on, his back to five groaning men hanging from the wall, their cries ignored, their families and friends pleading for mercy. A few guards stayed, to make sure no one tried to cut them down. Ulrika knew they would stand watch until all five were dead and then bring the corpses to the garbage dump on the outskirts of the city, there to be burned along with the corpses of dogs and cats, and the filth and refuse of a city's population.

     Ulrika went to the family, but Miriam said, "Ulrika, please do not look upon my husband's nakedness. Please do not witness his shame. Go home, Ulrika, and pray for him."

     "But there must be something we can do! We cannot just leave him there!" She pressed her fingers to her mouth. She felt sick.

     And then she felt a strong hand on her arm, and heard a deep voice say, "Come away. You should not watch this."

     "Sebastianus, we must do something!"

     Miriam persuaded Ulrika to leave, asking her to pray for Judah, until Sebastianus took her back to the caravan, where he held her in his arms, tenderly kissing and caressing her, brushing away her tears, holding her as she wept, until she fell asleep.

     When Ulrika woke it was late afternoon, and Sebastianus was not in the tent. Her head ached and her throat was parched. Refreshing herself with water, she washed her hands and then she sat among Sebastianus's silken cushions and statues of Chinese gods, crossing her legs and clasping the scallop shell. With passion, Ulrika prayed to the Goddess to show mercy to the poor executed men.

     When Sebastianus returned, night had fallen. "I tried to intercede on your friend's behalf," he said wearily. "I went to my rich and powerful friends in the city, I even went to the governor, but they all said they had no power to match that of the priests of Marduk. I then went to the temple and offered to fill their coffers if they would release the condemned men. But no amount of riches could move the High Priest. I am sorry, Ulrika."

     She slipped into the comforting embrace of his strong arms and, closing her eyes, held tightly to Sebastianus as if he were an island in a stormy sea.

     ULRIKA FOUND HERSELF IN A STRANGE PLACE.

     She was not in Sebastianus's tent, but in wilderness. It was night, the moon nearly full, casting the desert in a silver landscape. "Sebastianus?" she called, as she turned in a slow circle. She saw that she stood in front of ruins, moonlit and ghostly, out in the middle of the dunes, with the lights of Babylon far in the distance. She recognized it as a place called Daniel's Castle, which lay some ten miles from Babylon. Legend told of a prophet named Daniel who had lived in Babylon long ago, and it was said that he was buried here. The "castle" stood against frosty stars, cold, deserted. It felt otherworldly, as if Ulrika had stepped through an invisible portal and were now in the realm of the supernatural. She turned her face to the wind and thought: This place is ancient beyond measure. Long before the prophet Daniel read mysterious words written on a wall, this ground was hallowed.

     Spirits dwelled here.

     It was a queer monument. Even though crumbling and falling down, its original shape and intention could still be seen: a massive square block with a smaller square block on top, with no apparent entrance or openings. And it seemed much older than a mere few centuries. There was none of the surviving detail Ulrika had seen at Persepolis. These limestone walls appeared to have been sandblasted by winds over a thousand years or more. Was the prophet Daniel buried here? Were perhaps many people buried here, laid to rest by loved ones down through the ages in the hope that proximity to a sacred site would guarantee the deceased's entry into paradise?

     When a man came from around the side, Ulrika jumped. "You startled me," she said. And then she saw that it was Rabbi Judah, dressed in the familiar robes and fringed shawl of his religious calling. "You are alive!" she said, and took a step toward him.

     "Do not approach me, Ulrika," he said. "You cannot come near me. I have come with a plea. Do not let them burn me."

     "What do you mean?"

     "My body must be preserved. Save me from the fire. Tell my family to bring me to this place and bury me here. Tell them to remember me."

     The dream-vision ended and Ulrika awoke, her face damp with tears. Sebastianus was still asleep. She began to cry and he opened his eyes. "What is it, my love?" he whispered.

     "Rabbi Judah is dead."

     Sebastianus did not ask how she knew this. He looked at her for a long moment, in the darkness of the night, and then he sat up. "It is a blessing," he said.

     Ulrika pulled away from him, hating to do so, and slipped out of bed. "I must go," she said, reaching for her clothes. "We cannot let the priests burn his body."

     "Ulrika, it is too dangerous."

     "I must do it," she said, slipping into her dress.

     "Very well, but you stay here," Sebastianus said, reaching for his clothes. "This is dangerous business. There is a man in the governor's office who owes me a favor. And in case he has forgotten, he will certainly not have forgotten what gold coins are."

     "You tried. You said not even your connections could help. But perhaps I—"

     "It is one thing to save a condemned man, another to save his body. This is something I can do."

     She said in a tight voice, "I cannot ask you to risk your life for a man you never knew."

     "I do not do this for the rabbi, my love, I do it for you." He bent his head and kissed her, his lips lingering on hers while Ulrika wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his.

     "Sebastianus," she said, "if you are successful, can you take Rabbi Judah to Daniel's Castle, which lies south of here?"

     He frowned. "I am familiar with the ruins."

     "I will let the family know. They will meet you there. Be careful, my love."

     Ulrika stood outside the tent and watched him steal softly through the sleeping camp and vanish into the night. When she turned her face to the east and saw that dawn was not far off, she went back inside to fetch her own cloak, then she too left the camp.

     THE TWO-STORY HOUSE in the Jewish Quarter had been built against the city's western wall and was embraced on either side by other houses. An outside stairway led to bedrooms above, while the business of daily life took place in the large, central room downstairs, furnished with chairs and a table, pedestals for lamps, tapestries on the windowless walls. Here the rabbi's widow sat in a high-backed chair as she received visitors who had come to pay respects.

     "It was kind of you to come," Miriam said to Ulrika. The rabbi's widow was dressed all in black, with dark shadows under her eyes. Her sons, whom Ulrika recognized, stood at her side.

     Ulrika glanced around at the others in the room, and those out in the garden, people from various walks of life, she saw, for not all were of the Jewish faith, nor were they all Babylonian. Apparently Rabbi Judah had reached many people with his sermons of peace and faith, and with his ability to cure illness and make the lame walk, simply by laying on his hands. Ulrika lowered her voice so that no one else could hear: "I came, honored mother, to tell you that your husband's body will not be put on the fire with the other executed men."

     Miriam listened in astonishment to Ulrika's message about a Spaniard named Gallus, who had friends and connections, and the rescue of Judah's remains. Tears filled her eyes, and when Ulrika was done, Miriam broke down and wept. Immediately her sons drew close. Ulrika recognized the eldest, Samuel. He was a tall, lean young man with olive skin and jet-black hair that hung in ringlets on either side of his face. He wore a fringed prayer shawl and displayed the same leather phylacteries his devout father had worn. His dark features, Ulrika saw, were etched with pain and fury. Her heart went out to him. He had witnessed what no son should.

     "I am all right," Miriam said in a tremulous voice, putting a hand on Samuel's arm. "This dear daughter has brought good news." To Ulrika she said, "God will prepare places for you and your husband in Heaven. The consuming fire would have robbed my husband of the resurrection."

     "Resurrection?" Ulrika said.

     "We will live again when the Master returns and the faithful are restored to their physical bodies, just as the Master was."

     "Forgive my astonishment, honored mother, but this is an extraordinary coincidence, for this the second time I have heard of this rebirth among Jews. The other was in Judea when I stayed awhile with a woman named Rachel. She was guarding her husband's grave against desecration by his enemies. His name was Jacob."

     Miriam gave her a startled look. "But I used to know a Rachel and Jacob in Judea! Jacob was executed in Jerusalem by Herod Agrippa. We never knew what became of his wife."