Aries Fire (34 page)

The Emperor kissed her cheek.

“Aelia, I cannot afford to lose you, so I must afford you your indulgences to keep you by my side,” he said with resolve and a pat on her hand.

Eudocia kept silent. Her husband did not know how far her sympathies for the Jews took her actions.

“But I fear for your safety, my dear. The Deacon is a fearless man. He has the power…”

“He assumes a zealous, arrogant right in the name of God. His power is useless here,” she seethed with anger.

“Eudocia,” he said.

His voice exercised imperial authority.  She held her head up and lowered her voice.

“Please forgive me,” she said.

“Eudocia be the reasonable woman I married. We cannot distract the Deacon while the Huns,” he stopped himself.

“While the Huns breathe in our house, we will be safe. I can feel it,” she assured him.

Eudocia prayed that her scheme to free Seira and Alexander would not place her husband in harm or somehow undermine his delicate position with the Huns.  Even that thought did not stop her from her aims.

“Talk with me now about the Huns. Share with me the opinion of a liberated mind,” he smiled at her.

 The remainder of the night slipped into silent drama.  Each member of the household held their secrets: some with anticipation, some with trepidation, and some tolerant of fate.

The Emperor and Empress slept quietly, assured of their individual agendas, with the promise of mutual support. Storm clouds gathered on the eastern front without tumult leaving the Palace occupants unconsciously aware of orderly chaos.

Ruga’s army lay in waiting over the Scutari range.  A round of burning arrows from a ballista would give the signal for attack. The Hun guards aboard their vessel who lay drugged were incapable of warning Bleda of the rainstorm that approached and were powerless to fire the ballista if it were necessary.

Attila lay beside Seira in the first deep sleep of his life.  Seira rested peacefully with her decision to lie with Attila and to escape with Alexander.

Bleda lay unconscious after his scheming and after a night of drink, smoke from the narghile, and lascivious acts with two Nubian slave girls the Emperor generously provided to quell his violent temperament. 

Cyril allowed himself the comfort of a royal suite and slept soundly.  Aetius sat awake in his room.  Thoughts of tactical maneuvers surged through his sharp mind should the Huns lay siege to the Palace walls.

Alexander slept somewhat comfortably in Paulinus’ room, turning in fits and starts, waking, assessing safety, finally sleeping confined to patience. Reuniting with Seira rekindled a passion for things he once pushed aside; love, family, solid ground on which to plant his legacy and to raise a child. He let himself drift into a dream about Seira to pass the time until he would touch her once again.

Deacon Leo sat silent in his bed, staring out at the night masked by clouds. He was disturbed. A feeling deep within him searched for atonement. For all his righteous deeds an empty pit lay inside his belly, like an emotional tumor feeding upon guilt.

His purpose was clear; it was divine, yet he wavered with memories of an inconsistent sensitivity.  Sporadic heart palpitations kept him from being relaxed, as if an unsavory past chased him.  He tapped his fingers against the bed linens.

 No, I’ll not allow it.

Remorse for things past served no purpose in a man who would be pope.

Dawn would soon come and God would show him the way to proceed. For this he prayed. Of this he was certain.

Leo closed his eyes and sank back into the soft embrace of the mattress and pillows. Such are the struggles of holy ambition and the rightful claim to a holy career.  He convinced himself that he could overcome mortal weaknesses to claim his god given right of succession. Yet, his heart refused to beat serenely, sensing something altogether different. Leo closed his eyes and called upon God for forgiveness and strength.

Ruga sat propped up by numerous pillows. Strangely, his fermented body stiffened but did not smell of death.  Surprised wonder in his eyes conveyed a look of sudden, yet natural demise.

The only evidence of sunrise was a hollow overcast light in the sky. Dark grey mist covered the land and spread over the sea.  An eerie, murky green ocean ebbed and flowed with force. The hour reached late morning. Quiet movements of the Palace servants produced a current that seeped into everyone’s rooms.

A light rapping on Seira’s door and she awoke with a start. She turned back to warn Attila but he was gone. Another tap accompanied a soft, unfamiliar voice.

“Mistress? May I enter? I am sent by the Empress.”

Seira slid from the bed. The pillow she hugged in sleep fell to the floor. She lifted the top sheet from the bed and wrapped it around her body, leaving her shoulders bare.

“Yes,” she said with gravel in her throat.

Seira coughed and walked to the door and felt the chill of the day. She reached for the lock and realized she had forgotten to lock the door. A silly giggle escaped her lips at how unnecessary it would have been to lock the door with Attila by her side.

“Good day,” said the maidservant meekly.

Seira opened the door wide enough for the woman to enter and peered into the hallway.

“Thank you,” said Seira.

The maid kept her head lowered as she entered with a tray in her hands and a pile of fabric over her arm.

Seira grinned with a distinct memory of her childhood servant, Marina, as she quickly shut the door.

“Here, let me help you,” she said.

The maid, taken aback, moved the tray from Seira’s reach.

“It’s nothing Ma’am. I can…”

“Let me,” Seira insisted.

She took the tray and laid it on the bed.

“Mm, pears, dates, and what’s this?”

Seira sniffed the jar.

“Oh, rose water?”

“Yes, Mistress. A favorite flower drink of the Empress.  It is mixed with violet water as well and honey.”

“Is it tasty?” Seira asked.

“I,” she began shyly. “I do not know, Ma’am.”

“Here,” she said, pouring the maid a drink. “Then you must try it for yourself and see if you like it.”

“Oh, no, Mistress,” she said.

Nervous pale blue eyes glanced at the door, almost waiting for a guard to burst in to shackle her.

Seira held up the cup.

“Take it. Please,” she said.

The girl put the bundle of cloth on the edge of the bed and took the cup. She sipped it cautiously and then took another sip.  The girl was pleased.

“I’ve never had anything of its kind. Thank you,” she said.

Seira smiled and pointed to the fabric, “What’s this?”

“Oh, from the Empress Ma’am. I’m to take you to the bath,” she said.

“What is your name?” Seira asked her.

“Mm…my name?”

Seira waited patiently for the girl to relax.

“Nissa,” said the girl.

“What a beautiful name. I’ve never met anyone with that name.”

The girl curtsied awkwardly. Seira placed a hand on her shoulder.

“How old are you, Nissa?”

“I am just seventeen, Mistress,” she said.

“Are you happy?” Seira asked.

Nissa looked up at Seira to answer but no words came forth. She was perplexed by the question.

“Happy? Mm. I,” she paused. “I am well treated by the Empress. Is that what you mean?”

Seira slouched on the bed and felt helpless.

“No. That’s not what I meant.”

Seira’s fire, to right all wrongs ever enacted by humanity, burned suddenly hotter. Intimacy with Attila gave her back a power she forgot she had. And now, she needed to use it somehow.

Seira’s blanket tucked neatly around her waist fell. She lifted it to cover herself then impatiently dropped it to grab a robe Nissa brought. It was made of Oriental silk. Large, delicate birds were sewn to the arms.  Merely slipping it on permitted her to act as the woman of the house. Seira reached out and grabbed Nissa’s arms. The girl cowered.

“Come. Sit. I’m not going to hurt you. Promise.”

Seira led her to the divan from where Attila kept watch the night before.

“Here. Have a date.”

Seira handed the girl a bowl. Nissa took it and sat.

“You look so terribly uncomfortable. Am I doing that to you?” Seira asked.

NIssa nodded cautiously.

“You don’t have to sit if you prefer not and of course you don’t have to eat a date if you would rather not,” Seira said.

“I would like a date, Ma’am. If that’s all right,” she said softly.

Seira laughed.

“Nissa. I don’t know you and yet I feel compelled to help you to find happiness,” she said.

“Oh,” said the girl.

“You are a Jewess, are you not?”

Nissa nodded.

Seira lifted Nissa’s chin with one finger and looked deeply into her eyes.

“Never apologize for who you are,” was the most she could say.

Seira rose from the divan and sifted through the fabrics on the bed. There, crumpled in a ball inside another white robe was a blue tunic; the same as Nissa and Paulinus wore. She felt sober now. The robe would hide her in plain sight. Turning to Nissa she held up the tunic and it unfurled toward her feet.

“I am going to dress like a Jewess to escape the Romans and the Huns,” she said.

The night ended and along with it a hushed, sweet secret she would keep with her until she no longer had any thoughts at all. By nightfall she would be free of the Huns, from Cyril, from anything that stood in the way of Alexander. This was real now.

Nissa stood and put the bowl of dates back on the tray. Seira knew she had no power to help Nissa to do anything. Passion overcame her purpose. She felt foolish.

“I think I’ve spoken too much already,” Seira mumbled.

“Mistress the way you can help me to be happy,” she paused and bit her lip, “…is to let me help you.”

She took the tunic and rolled it carefully back into a ball and placed it neatly inside a thick plush towel.

“I will escort you to the bath, Ma’am,” Nissa said.

They walked into the hall. Seira turned once more to look at the bed and the memory of lust and love all in one space. 

Nissa led her through a door at the end of the hallway and down a set of stone steps to an outdoor courtyard.  Seira shivered and pulled the robe closer to her chest and walked past the apsidal on the left.  Looking upward she paused; gloomy clouds rolled into the mist. Anxiousness cramped her belly. She stepped into a large room with a tremendous, rectangular bath.

“But the floor is warm!” Seira said.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Nissa giggled.

The girl leaned over the pool of water and dipped two fingers in, testing the temperature.

“It is ready,” she said.

Seira dropped the robe onto the wooden stool and stared at her toes, still astonished by the warm tiled floor, she stepped into the bath. Steam rose all around her.

“By the stars,” she groaned.

Seira’s shivering body relaxed in the warmed, oiled water, perfumed with fruity and flowery scents. Seira slid in further and floated and tilted her head back to soak her hair. She willingly washed away Attila’s musky scent.

Seira stayed like this for a long time. Soon, she looked up and about and saw the room from a different perspective.

A translucent white fabric draped over a gilded ceiling pole and separated the room into two. She imagined another bath lay on the opposite side. Ornate, brass oil lamps hung from the columns.  Rolling onto her stomach she floated to the smooth, tiled edge of the pool and leaned on her arms; fascinated by a mural affixed to the wall.

The tiny array of colorful tiles adorned the wall forming a pattern she remembered from a dream.  A golden eagle in flight soared above a trail of stars. From the eagles’ perspective a miniscule garden with small orange birds ate the fruit of a mulberry tree.  In the beak of the eagle’s mouth was draped a looped ribbon that united two triangles.  Behind each of the respective triangles sat a woman on a planet and a man holding yet another sphere.

Seira stayed transfixed by the mosaic. Her memory of it had been fragmented in so many visions before now. Broken pieces of her mind were stirred leaving her unusually alarmed as she stared at the whole picture trying to make sense of it.

“Good day to you my dear,” Eudocia’s voice echoed.

Seira turned, looking dazed.

“Does the mosaic intrigue you or disturb you?” She said and laughed after seeing Seira’s face.

Seira turned to look at it once again and decided to leave the water. She stepped out slowly and Nissa handed her a long, fuzzy towel that smelled of nutmeg.

Eudocia looked regal in an iridescent gold and brown shimmering fabric. Beads dangled from the bodice embroidered with bronze threads.  Golden earrings hung from her ears and jingled when she turned her head.

The Empress walked to the mosaic that encompassed the entire wall.

“It’s the sign of freedom.  Each triangle representing both male and female, the ribbon uniting them to years of a common heavenly destiny,” said Eudocia.

Seira sat on a marble bench and Nissa gave her salted almonds and papaya nectar. As Seira crunched, she realized she was hungry. Two minutes later she remembered that she hated the taste of salted almonds, made a face and gulped the nectar.

“It is the seal of Hazret-i Suleyman,” continued the Empress as she walked to Seira and sat with her on the bench. She leaned over and kissed her on each cheek. Lifting her right hand gracefully, she indicated once again to the mosaic.

“Of Kings Solomon and David. You see? When the triangles unite, they create a star as depicted in the symbol above the planets. It’s a beautiful star made of two triangles. I had the mosaic tiled when we…” Eudocia stopped.  “After our second child died,” she said.

“I’m so sorry, Eudocia.”

“No, no,” Eudocia waved her hand to politely silence Seira. She cared not to think about her children. The emptiness was neatly tucked away for now.

“I was… mm, beguiled by the mosaic,” Seira finally said, helping Eudocia to change the subject.

“Why, Seira of Alexandria! You glow with something I did not see in you last evening,” the Empress said.