Текст книги "The Divining"
Автор книги: Barbara Wood
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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 27 страниц)
38
TO MY ESTEEMED QUINTUS PUBLIUS. In the name of the Senate and People of Rome, I greet you. Herewith is a report on the latest activities of my master, Sebastianus Gallus, in regards to his caravan and the goods he transports for Caesar."
Primo was dictating in the privacy of his spartan military tent that had been hastily erected near Daniel's Castle. He paused to allow the secretary to write the words, dipping his pen in the ink and applying it to the papyrus. Although Primo had become proficient in several languages, he was dictating in Latin, for that was the language he shared with the ambassador from Rome.
He continued: "We are still in Babylon, honored Quintus, but there is a very good reason. Please read this report before you consider arresting my master for treason."
He had spent days worrying over what to tell Quintus Publius about Sebastianus's continued lingering in Babylon, but now he had a solution.
Primo had once been a soldier with limited imagination, who had seen the world in black and white, unskilled at fabricating lies. Yet since their return from China, Primo had found that he was more adept at lying—diplomacy, Sebastianus would call it—than he had ever thought possible. For now he must think of a clever way of covering up the fact that they were still in Babylon because his master was in love.
In his new way of thinking, going outside black and white, into areas of gray and brown and even red or green, Primo decided that the best move in this instance would be to dish the ambassador a fiction so outrageous that Publius would have no choice but to believe it!
As Primo weighed his next words, he watched the finely shaped hand move across the papyrus, jotting perfect letters. The secretary wrote almost as quickly as Primo dictated. One of the best in Babylon, Primo had been told. He wondered what the man was going to think of his next words, how he was going to react. But surely the secretary had heard hundreds of strange confessions and declarations, perhaps some even more bizarre than what Primo was about to say. If the man was truly as professional as he comported himself, and if it was true what they said about the code of ethics that governed secretaries and lawyers, the man should not react at all.
Primo knew that professional secretaries, licensed by the government and ruled by strong ethics—for otherwise they would have no clients—were paid not so much for their letter writing skills as for their silence. Whatever passed between client and secretary, whatever went into the correspondence and messages, remained there. Breaking such a confidence was punishable by death because, like lawyers, secretaries recited sworn oaths before receiving their medallions to practice—as was reflected in the title of their profession: from the Latin, secretus, which meant "secret."
Primo resumed dictating, "Sebastianus Gallus is under a witch's spell," and the finely shaped hand kept writing with not the slightest hesitation. Mithras, Primo thought. I might be dictating a list of vegetables for all this man reacts! He continued: "She is a sorceress who claims, among many tricks, to communicate with the dead. She holds my master in thrall by professing to communicate with supernatural beings and therefore to foretell the future. You can imagine, my esteemed Quintus, what power she has over my highly superstitious master. It is this woman, named Ulrika—and take note that she is from the same tribe that has caused the Roman Empire, and more specifically General Vatinius, much grief in recent years—who has cast the evil spell over Sebastianus Gallus, making him stay in Babylon, holding back Caesar's treasure for her own selfish interests."
Primo prayed that the story of bewitchment would divert Quintus from the charge of treason. Otherwise, the ambassador would have Sebastianus arrested, seize the caravan and, under Primo's leadership, send it off to Rome. And for a man of Sebastianus's standing in the field of merchant trading to have his caravan taken from him and his rights and privileges stripped, his family name sullied, would be the worst disgrace—not to mention what horrible fate awaited him in the arena.
Primo wondered if he could tell Sebastianus about this untenable situation. The emperor himself had sworn Primo to secrecy, and Primo had always been a man true to his oath. But, of late, he had found his loyalties shifting. He had witnessed his master's bravery in China, had observed Sebastianus's integrity and honor at work. And hadn't Sebastianus himself managed to obtain their release from the emperor's "hospitality"?
Primo scowled. He was used to wrestling men, not moral dilemmas.
"Send for me at your convenience, esteemed Quintus," Primo concluded, "and I shall give you a more detailed report in person, at which time I am sure you will agree that my master is more a victim than a traitor. I am confident you will encourage Caesar to be lenient with him. Your servant, Primo." He thought for a moment and then, deciding that a touch of humility would not hurt, added, "Fidus."
And the secretary smirked.
ULRIKA GLANCED IN THE direction of Primo's tent, glowing against the night with lantern light. She knew he was entertaining a visitor from the city, a man of some importance judging by the heavily fringed robes he had arrived in, the tall cone-shaped hat, and the wooden box he carried, resembling those carried by lawyers. She wondered what business Sebastianus's steward had with a civilian.
Then she looked past the tent and out into the dark desert, to see a red glow on the horizon: Babylon. A city that never slept.
Ulrika was filled with an ominous feeling. The back of her neck prickled. The sort of sensation one experienced just before a lightning storm, or a dust storm that had its unseen beginnings in faraway deserts where mythical jinni were said to stir up the wind to torment humankind.
Where was Sebastianus? He should have returned by now. He had left that morning for an urgent meeting with the High Priest and now he was overdue.
They had spent the past days trying to convince people to go away from this place. Instead, more had come. The crowd grew so large that Sebastianus had given Primo orders to set up a small camp and arrange for a manned guard around the perimeter.
There had been no miracles since the little girl was cured of paralysis. But that one demonstration of the magical properties of this place had been enough to generate and sustain faith. This time, there was no pushing, no protesting. Miriam and her family, Timonides, and Primo's men saw to the orderly conduct of visitors at what everyone was calling "Judah's shrine."
But they could not stay any longer. It was time for everyone to leave.
Ulrika looked out at the dark desert and felt gooseflesh rise on her arms. Something was out there, coming this way ...
THE RIDER GALLOPED ACROSS the desert at breakneck speed, moonlight guiding his way, his cloak flying behind him as his steed kicked up clouds of sand. Sebastianus had used his powerful and influential connections, plus generous monetary donations, to keep the priests of Marduk placated. But it had come to an end. He had to warn Ulrika and the others.
They were out of time. The temple guards were coming.
AS SHE WAITED ANXIOUSLY for sign of Sebastianus, Ulrika looked at the quiet, faithful mob, regretful that she had given them this sacred place, only to have brought them into danger.
Was it Judah who had cured the little girl? Ulrika knew that, in the vast world, there were many different beliefs, and miracles were possible.
As the desert wind blew against her face, it reminded her of another desert, another wind—on the shore of the Sea of Salt. And suddenly she was remembering the place where Rachel and Almah had found her—on a grave. Ulrika had thought Rachel had buried her husband in sacred ground. But now, as people prayed to Venerable Judah, Ulrika wondered if it had been the other way around. Had Jacob made that ground sacred?
Remembering, too, that Jacob and Judah had been "brothers" under their master in Galilee, Ulrika wondered now if Jacob was also a Venerable One.
IN PRIMO'S TENT, THE secretary was packing his writing equipment and saying, "I will see that your letter is delivered safely to the house of Ambassador Publius first thing in the morning." After reading the dictation back to Primo, making corrections, and then copying it out again more neatly, the secretary had rolled it up, dripped wax onto it, and allowed Primo to seal the scroll with his ring.
"A job well done," Primo said, but as he reached into his money pouch for coins, he heard horse's hooves approaching at a gallop. Looking out, he saw Sebastianus flying into the camp.
"Wait," he said to the Babylonian. "There might be more."
SEBASTIANUS JUMPED DOWN FROM his horse and ran to Ulrika. "I was unable to confer with the High Priest," he said breathlessly. "He would not see me. I went to the governor, but it is beyond his control. Ulrika, not even my friend Hasheem, the powerful money-changer, could help. I have given orders to my slaves to prepare the caravan to move out. They will be ready to depart at dawn."
He looked at the frightened crowd—mothers with infants, men with useless legs, the blind and the sick—and then he lowered his voice. "The High Priest is on his way here. I was told he is bringing guards. Ulrika, I believe I can talk reasonably to the man, but we must not have a panic. If we get these people to remain peaceful and orderly, and to show no disrespect to the priests and to Marduk, I believe they will allow us to return to the city unmolested."
"Sebastianus," Ulrika said, placing a hand on his arm. "I must go to Judea."
He stared at her. "Judea! Why?"
"I believe Rachel's husband is a Venerable One and that I am meant to go there and protect him as I did Rabbi Judah. But also, Rachel saved my life, and she was one of my teachers. I owe her a great debt."
Sebastianus thought about it. "Rome has sent more legions to Judea. The unrest among the Jewish rebels grows."
"Jacob is too precious to let fall into the hands of the Romans, who were his enemies. I must go to Judea and get him and Rachel to safety."
"Where would that be?"
"I do not know, but he must be remembered as Judah is remembered. I shall do it differently. I will not be so irresponsible with Jacob. I will give it a great deal of thought."
Primo came up. "Master, is everything all right?"
Sebastianus turned to his steward. "The High Priest is coming with an armed escort. I want no provocation. We will settle this peacefully. All they want is for these people to disperse and return to the city. That is exactly what we will do. Tomorrow, I want you to see that all my goods and people get safely to Rome. I am putting you in charge of the caravan."
Primo's ugly face twisted in a scowl. "Where will you be, master?"
"I am going to Judea with Ulrika."
"Master! To leave the caravan?" The old soldier was nearly speechless with shock. Truly his master was under a witch's spell.
"You have your orders."
"Let me accompany you to Judea," Primo said, thinking quickly. What had he just overheard the girl say? They were going to rescue something precious? And two Jews named Rachel and Jacob? An act of treason without a doubt! Suddenly Primo was gripped with an intense desire to defend his master against Caesar's retribution. Even if it meant committing treason himself.
"You will need protection, master. Revolution is fomenting in the province of Judea, and the Roman army has increased its presence there. It will behoove you to have a veteran of the legions in your party, and I am not without connections still."
"I need a man I can trust to accompany the caravan."
Timonides stepped forward and said, "I will take the caravan to Rome, master. It is the least I can do for the pain and grief I have caused you."
Sebastianus thought for a moment, then said, "Very well. We must make haste now, for the High Priest will soon be here. Primo, ready your soldiers. There will be no fight, but we must be prepared. Timonides, as soon as this business is done, I want you to take my horse and ride to the caravan. See to the final preparations for departure. We have no time to lose."
Ulrika went to Miriam and said, "Men are coming from the temple of Marduk, but do not be afraid. Sebastianus will have a few words with the High Priest and then we have to send all these people home."
She paused to look into Miriam's plump face, no longer filled with despair but at peace. "I do not presume, honored mother, to tell you how to conduct your faith. But when I sent you here, I did not foresee the consequences of my actions. In the privacy of your home, spread word about Venerable Judah to friends and family, and always remember him, for that is what he asked of me."
AFTER GIVING ORDERS TO his second in command, Primo hurried back to his tent, where the secretary had been waiting impatiently. "I suggest you leave at once," Primo said. "The temple guard is coming and they might mistake you for one of those out there."
The Babylonian raised his big nose and said, "You saw the armed guards who accompany me everywhere I go. A necessary precaution in my line of work, as I carry important documents, and sometimes money. They will ride ahead of me and identify me to the priests. I am known to all of them, as I enjoy a wide reputation in the city. They will let me pass unmolested. Have you anything to add to your missive before I take my leave?"
Ignoring the man's disdain, Primo dictated an addendum to his report: "A new development, esteemed Quintus. So severely is my master held in thrall by the witch that we depart at once for Judea to rescue a treasure belonging to the enemies of Rome. This is not treason, my lord, for my master is hypnotized by the witch and knows not his own actions."
The Roman communications network was a swift and efficient system, with riders speeding along roads for which Roman engineers were so famous. The riders took fast, strong horses and galloped from outpost to outpost, in a vast relay race, bearing news, dispatches, and letters for important citizens from the emperor on down. Primo knew his report would reach Nero long before Sebastianus did. The emperor and his guards would be waiting for him and, with great luck and the power of Mithras, arrest the girl instead of his master.
As for Primo himself, he had one last important mission to carry out. In a final effort to rescue his master from committing treason, Primo would see to it that he found the insurgents Rachel and Jacob first, and kill them before Sebastianus could reach them.
"MASTER!" CAME A SHOUT IN THE NIGHT. Sebastianus and Ulrika turned to see Timonides running toward them, his white robes ghostly in the moonlight. He flung an arm behind himself. "Master! The priests and guards are coming. Oh master, there are hundreds of them!"
Sebastianus climbed onto the highest pile of blocks that had fallen from Daniel's Castle long ago, and from this vantage point saw an astonishing sight: a line of blazing torches winding along the highway, like a river of molten lava. Hundreds of guards indeed, Sebastianus thought in alarm. All on horseback. All carrying javelins and spears.
They come for a slaughter.
Returning to Ulrika and Timonides, he said quietly, "I underestimated the High Priest. I believe he is coming not to negotiate but to make an example of these people for the citizens of Babylon. We have to keep everyone calm. Keep them back here behind the ruins. Primo and I will stand and fight. Perhaps the High Priest will be satisfied with a few."
Ulrika took her place at Sebastianus's side as they watched the river of fire advance upon the ruins. Behind her, she heard the murmured prayers of hundreds of terrified people. Primo stood at the ready with his soldiers, weapons drawn. The wind whistled across the desert.
So many lives at stake! There had to be a way to save all these people.
Ulrika turned her face into the wind, closed her eyes, and drew in a slow breath. Reaching out, she placed her hand on the cold stone wall of the "castle" and she thought: If there is indeed a tomb under these ruins, is it large enough to hold all these people? If not all, then at least the children, the sick. And if it is a tomb, then perhaps it would be taboo for the temple guards to walk here, like the shaman's cave in the Rhineland which the German warriors avoided.
Drawing in a purifying breath, Ulrika closed her eyes and envisioned her inner soul flame. Spirit of this place, she silently prayed, I beseech thee for thy help.
She waited for a vision. When none came, she increased her concentration, focusing on the quivering soul flame, and with her free hand took hold of the scallop shell on her breast. Once again, she sent out her prayer.
But nothing happened, and panic began to steal over her. Her mouth ran dry and her palms grew moist. She had used the meditation successfully to the benefit of others—but only for individuals. Now that there were hundreds of souls in danger, would she have the power to use her gift? Or did it only work for one person at a time?
Realizing that her heart was racing—and that the temple guards were drawing closer—she redoubled her efforts. If this truly was the burial place of the Prophet Daniel, then it was sacred ground. This was her calling. This was what she was born to do. She must not panic. She must not let fear overcome her inner powers.
One by one she closed down her senses—turning deaf to the desperate prayers of hundreds of people, turning blind to the glowing torches coming up from the desert, turning numb to the feel of the wind and the cold on her skin, until all she was aware of was the rock beneath her fingers.
Again she opened herself, set her soul free, and begged the sacred being of this place to give her a sign.
Finally her spirit moved—through the solid rock and ancient dust, and across the timeless years—until she felt it touch something.
Ulrika frowned. Something was there, just in front of her and yet, unlike with previous visions, she saw only darkness. Why was her inner sight being blocked?
No, not blocked. The darkness itself is the vision.
Now she smelled a stale mustiness, felt rubble and gravel beneath her sandals, saw long corridors with dim lights at the end, heard the clanking of armor and the tramping of feet. And knowledge flooded her mind ...
"Sebastianus!" she cried suddenly. "Before this was a tomb, it was a military outpost!"
He turned to her. "What?"
"This citadel was built hundreds of years ago as a primary defense against invaders from the south," she said, as knowledge filled her head. "The king sent his soldiers here to stage surprise attacks. Sebastianus, there are tunnels beneath us, and they lead to an oasis a mile from here, to the north! If I can just find—"Placing her other hand on the rough stones, she felt along the cold walls of the ruins. Her hand slipped inside a crevice. "Here!"
Sebastianus called for Primo and several strong men with spears. Working in torchlight, while lookouts kept an eye on the approaching guards from the city, they rammed the shafts into the crevice and, pulling back with all their might, levered one of the stone blocks so that it slipped away.
A rush of stale air blew in their faces. Taking a torch, Sebastianus slipped it in and looked around. Stone steps, dusty and littered with pebbles, descended into darkness.
"It can be done," he said, "but we must hurry. If they catch us at this, they will pursue. Primo, you will go down first and light the way."
"But you send us into a tomb, master!"
"Ulrika says the tunnel is clear."
Primo scowled. He would rather stand and fight like a man than die like a rat trapped in a sewer. But he would obey.
"The children and the elderly and the lame are to be carried," Sebastianus said. "Anyone who will hinder our escape. Primo, take several torches and place them along the way as you go, for those behind you."
Primo and a few soldiers led the way, moving obstructions, setting torches, escorting those who came behind. The rest went down in a hasty but orderly fashion, with men carrying children, strong women supporting the elders. Sebastianus sent soldiers down at intervals, with more torches. Nobody spoke. But Ulrika saw the terror on their faces as they looked into the abyss. "Do not fear," she said, "but hurry. And do not look back. Follow the person in front of you."
Down they went, one by one, the strong assisting the weak, lowering stretchers and litters into the ground, helping those on crutches and leading the blind. They carried torches and oil lamps. They found the ceiling high enough for them to stand upright and still have room above their heads—clearance enough, Ulrika thought, for the helmets of the king's soldiers long ago.
Timonides kept watch on the highway. The priests and mounted guards were coming dangerously near. "No more torches," he murmured to Sebastianus, "or they will see."
When a child began to wail, his mother covered its mouth with her hand and plunged down the stone steps.
"They are nearly upon us," Timonides said, joining Ulrika and Sebastianus at the tunnel's entrance. "We must hurry."
Two men bearing a child on a stretcher slipped and dropped the litter. Sebastianus quickly retrieved the child and handed him to one of the men, saying, "Hurry! You must run now!"
Finally, they were all down, but the palm trees glowed with light from the arriving guards. War horses nickered, armor and weaponry clanked menacingly. "Go down, old friend," Sebastianus whispered to Timonides. "Hurry! They are here!"
Timonides descended into the tunnel.
"Now you, Ulrika. Watch for those who have fallen behind. Help them move along."
She went in and then turned to find Sebastianus, not descending the steps behind her but outside, shifting the stone into place.
"Sebastianus!" she cried, reaching for him.
"There is no other way to seal this entrance. I will meet you at the caravan. Do not worry. I will be all right. I love you, Ulrika."
"Sebastianus!"
