Selene of Alexandria (29 page)

"We've enough of talk. We want action." Jesep's face hardened. He pointed to the Patriarch. "Stop him or there will be blood in the streets."

Cyril rose. "Be warned. If you harm any Christians, I will not be able to control my people. They are already incensed over the treatment of Teacher Hierex, which they attribute to false Jewish accusations."

Orestes stepped between the two men. "If the city guards find armed citizens on either side, they will be banished from the city. Do you both understand? I will tolerate this situation no longer. Disarm your people and return to your churches and temples."

"Understood, Lord Prefect, but we will not tolerate the loss of Jewish life or property. If you cannot control these people, we will." The Jews bowed and left.

Orestes turned to the young Patriarch. "I thought you agreed with the nobles of this city to keep the peace."

He reached for a paper on his desk and read. "'The Jews of this day are even worse than their fathers. Through their rejection of Christ, the Jews have shown themselves the most deranged of all men, senseless, blind, uncomprehending, demented, foolish God haters, killers of the Lord, unbelievers and irreligious…Their synagogue is a leprous house which perpetuates their monstrous impiety.'"

Orestes slammed the paper on his desk. "This festal letter hardly supports amicable relations between the Christian and Jewish communities."

"The nobles did urge me to less inflammatory remarks. I could not, in good conscience, oblige them. The Jews are an abomination and must be removed from our city."

"Jews are Roman citizens, protected by imperial edicts." Orestes held his voice even with difficulty. "Their religion and Patriarch in Jerusalem are recognized by the Emperor."

"Imperial edicts change monthly. A new one concerning the Jews – or the appointment of a new Prefect – could be speeding its way as we speak." Cyril gathered his papers. "I heard from friends at court that the Emperor's sister, the Lady Pulcheria, is to be declared Regent and Augusta. Have you heard any such rumor?"

Orestes turned a neutral face to the Bishop. "Indeed. The public announcement will be made shortly, when her commemorative statue arrives from Constantinople."

"Most interesting. She is young for the post of Regent – just fifteen, isn't she? But the church could not ask for a more passionate adherent. I look forward to her inaugural." Cyril packed his papers in a leather pouch and paused at the door. "Good day, Prefect."

"Yes. The nobles have failed in their efforts to sway Cyril. The Jews will stay armed as long as the parabolans roam the streets. The parabolans claim they are protecting Christians from Jewish attacks. Putting guards in the middle might calm things for a space, but the cause of violence and mistrust is obdurate leadership. Only an act of God will change either side, and I do not believe in political miracles."

Demetrius poured his master some wine. "The Lady Pulcheria's ascension to Augusta complicates things considerably."

Orestes took a sip. "My patron Anthemius is dismissed as Regent and Pulcheria will take the post herself. She's vowed to remain a virgin and dedicate her life to caring for her brother's empire. She surrounds herself with priests and seeks their advice on all matters." Orestes smiled. "I have heard the Patriarch of Constantinople does not see eye-to-eye with our own dear Bishop. In the long view, this shift in power might not be as much to Cyril's favor as he would like to believe." His smile deserted him. "But we might not have time for the long view."

"You could abandon the Jews and side with Cyril. At your command, they could be expelled from the city, peace restored."

"I've considered that course." Orestes ran his hand through his short-cropped hair. "The Jews hold positions of power in city government and mercantile interests, as well as provide skilled labor. They are a political balance to Cyril. Without the Jews, the Patriarch will run this city. I can't allow that."

"Surely, Augusta Pulcheria will not tolerate disruption due to riot and destruction to the flow of grain that feeds Constantinople?"

"I don't know." Orestes tucked his fist under his chin. "If Cyril is any example, she might be so blind as to starve her people for her faith. I only hope her transition to power takes long enough for me to bring order out of this chaos. Once the city is stabilized, I doubt Pulcheria will interfere directly." Orestes looked out the window at the bright sunshine. "I believe I'll get out of these stuffy rooms and see for myself the mood of the city."

"I'll get your cloak." Demetrius bowed. "Might I be so bold as to suggest a visit to Lady Hypatia? She might be of assistance in sorting out these difficulties."

"An excellent suggestion, Demetrius. Cancel my appointments for the afternoon. I will eat my evening meal out. I'm not sure when I'll be back."

"Should you take a larger escort, Master?"

"No more than my customary. The pot is only simmering. It needs a specific incident to start boiling over. Let's deploy the guards before that happens."

"How does your father, my child?" Mother Nut asked Selene as she ducked through the door.

"Much better, Mother. He sits up in the solarium, and feeds himself." Selene hung her shawl over the back of a sturdy wood chair and surveyed the tidy hut with satisfaction. One of the first things she and Rebecca did on returning was to thoroughly clean the place. If the Romans had contributed one good quality to civilization it was an appreciation, bordering on obsession, with hygiene – both public and private.

"Good!" the old woman lisped through sparse teeth. "In a few weeks he'll be walking. Don't let him do too much. Make him listen to his body. It will tell him when to rest."

"What have we today, Mother?" Selene enjoyed her thrice weekly visits with the old woman. Between nursing her father and continuing her studies at the Museum, she had had little time at first, but soon made more. Mother Nut's tutelage seemed every bit as valuable as, and imminently more practical, than her formal studies. Selene brought a skill in simple surgeries to Nut's patients, and in return learned far more about plants, minerals and midwifery than she thought possible. Most of the herbals at the Museum told only what sickness a plant could be used to treat. Mother Nut showed her which part of the plant to use, how to prepare it, and in what proportions to administer the remedy.

"I want to make up some medicine for the sweating sickness. The season is near and we must be ready. Then we will visit some families who have asked me to come by."

Selene perused a shelf with dozens of neatly labeled bottles and packets. It had taken her weeks to match Mother Nut's colloquial names with the Latin names of the herbs in Auxentius' books. "What will you need, Mother, and how much?"

"Manroot and treewort. Bring what you find on the shelf. You have them so well organized, I can't find anything."

Selene brought the ingredients to the table. Mother Nut frowned at the small quantities. "Well, there's nothing for it. We'll make up what we can and get more later. Grind these together, three portions to one." The old woman handed Selene a stone bowl and pestle. "Be sure to use only the best."

Selene carefully inspected and discarded any herbs with spots on the leaves or other sign of malformation, then ground the medicine. "How fine do you want the grind, Mother?"

"It must dissolve in wine or water without silting the bottom of the cup."

They worked in silence for several minutes until Selene had filled one third of a stone jar.

"Now divide the powder so." Mother Nut used a knife to separate a pile of powder the size of the end of her smallest finger out of the larger portion, scraped it onto a piece of paper, folded and twisted it into a single dose packet. She watched Selene deftly add to the growing pile of twisted packets and nodded. "Good. We'll need five times that for the season." She looked at Selene slyly. "Can you obtain more supplies, my child?"

Selene smiled to herself. Mother Nut did not demand gold for her tutelage, but she did not hesitate to have Selene supply herbs and minerals. "Yes, Mother. I'll buy some in the market tomorrow and bring it day after next."

Nut patted Selene's cheek with an arthritic claw. "Good girl. You will save many lives. May your Christian God bless you." The old woman looked over her pharmacopoeia then packed a small pouch with herbs and trinkets. "Come. Let's see how our patients are doing."

Selene shouldered a heavy bag of surgical instruments and took the older woman's arm to offer support. Half a block down they entered a tall dwelling and ascended to the top floor where the poorest families lived, frequently several to a room. The building smelled of rancid fat, unwashed bodies and urine.

Mother Nut pushed back a ragged blanket that served as a door. A woman, with a baby in a sling, bathed the face of a man moaning on a thin pallet in the corner. A crone tended a small brazier. Several children of various ages and stages of undress screeched as they chased one another around the room.

The woman with the baby looked up as the tenor of the children's screams changed in response to Selene and Mother Nut's presence. "Thank Isis you're here. Poimen is worse." She turned back to the moaning man. Selene noticed the sickly sweet smell of rotting flesh as they approached. The man seemed fairly young but his face and neck swelled grotesquely on the left side. He tossed and mumbled in delirium.

Both Mother Nut and Selene examined the man. Selene noted a blackened tooth, foul breath and swollen tissues around the tooth. Red and yellow streaks ran down the side of his neck.

"What do you recommend?" Mother Nut asked.

"Pull the tooth, drain the abscess and pack the wound with feverfew." Selene privately did not give Poimen much chance for recovery. Tooth wear and loss were common among the poor, due to the wretched quality of the bread distributed on the dole. Fine sand adulterated the flour during the grinding process which, over time, wore down teeth and allowed abscesses.

Mother Nut nodded in agreement. "He is far gone. You must do the pulling, child. I'll heat the needle to lance the abscess."

Selene turned to Poimen's wife. Though only a few years older than Selene, wrinkles creased her dark face and her sagging belly and breasts indicated repeated childbearing. Selene unpacked her instruments, selected a pair of pliers, and turned to the woman. "Hold him while I pull the tooth."

The woman shifted the baby sling to her back and leaned across Poimen, pinning his shoulders to the ground. Selene gripped the blackened tooth with her tool and pulled with all her might. It loosened, but did not come out. Poimen moaned and thrashed about. His wife muttered soothingly. Selene pulled again and this time rocked back on her heels with a grunt when the tooth came out. The man screamed and fainted. A terrible stench filled the immediate area as yellow pus and blood oozed from the wound. Selene put the rotten tooth aside, wiped her instrument with a soft cloth and packed it away.

Mother Nut approached, holding a needle that glowed red from the fire. "I see my needle is not necessary. The ill humor is already escaping. You," she told the wife, "get me hot water." The old woman cleaned the man's mouth with wads of wool. When the hot water arrived she soaked some herbs, dipped in fresh wads and packed them into the gaping hole.

"Change the wool in his mouth every day before you sleep. Get him to eat some broth with this in it." Nut gave the woman three packets of willow bark and poppy. "One packet per meal. It should ease his pain and fever. Put this under his pallet." Mother Nut gave the woman a fired clay trinket in the shape of a tooth. "And don't forget your prayers."

"Thank you, Mother Nut, but I have nothing. Since Poimen can't work and I have to nurse him, we have only what the older children beg or steal." Poimen's wife lowered her head and sobbed. The baby woke and started to mewl. The woman unselfconsciously bared a breast and put the child to suck what poor substance it could from the starving woman's breast.

Mother Nut patted the wife's shoulder. "When you have something extra, give it to someone in need in my name." She looked around the room at the children tumbling like puppies. "If you wish not to be with child in the future, come to me. I can help."

They attended several families that afternoon – a boy with a belly swollen from hunger, a woman with childbed fever, a quarry worker with the coughing sickness, young men with various wounds – one in a coma from a cracked head. A few gave the old woman a bronze coin or food. Most had nothing to give. Selene gave the poorer families a coin or two.

As shadows lengthened, the two women worked their way back to the hut. Mother Nut leaned harder on Selene than at the beginning of their afternoon. When they reached the hovel, Selene settled the old woman in a chair and laid out the fish and over-cooked vegetables she had bought her at a public kitchen. Selene sat, head in hands, listening to her mentor chew.

"What's going to happen to them, Mother?" Selene looked at the old woman. The ancient face, softened by the shadows, seemed more wise than weathered.

"To whom, my child?"

"Poimen's wife and children, the starving boy, the angry young men. What will happen to them?"

"They will die, as will we all. Some sooner than others. Some with more pain than others." Mother Nut soaked bread in the fish sauce and popped it into her mouth.