Selene of Alexandria (30 page)

"Don't blame the gods for man's foolishness. If men could live in peace, there'd be plenty for all. Come, my child, don't fret over this. You can help only one person at a time. Do your best with that person and you will fulfill your destiny." Mother Nut squinted at the shadows gathering at her door. "Time you went home. It's almost dark."

Selene looked up in alarm. She pulled her shawl over her hair and kissed Mother Nut on the cheek. "Good night, Mother. I'll be back day after next with the herbs."

"Good night, my child. May the gods deliver you safe to your home."

Selene ducked out the doorway and continued down the alley toward the better-lit street, passing several burned buildings from the riots of months past. Although her height, bearing and healthy good looks marked her in a neighborhood of undernourished people, Selene had felt no animosity since her first visit. The people had become used to seeing her with Mother Nut. The word spread about her medical work, allowing Selene to feel safe in a quarter known for its violence. Still, when she noticed the lengthening shadows, Selene picked up her pace. She didn't want to worry her father.

As Selene passed a darkened alley, a man jerked her off her feet, clamped a dirty hand over her mouth and hissed, "Be quiet, Christos lady, and you won't be hurt."

Chapter 23

Selene went limp as she gathered her wits. The grimy man pushed her against the wall, fumbling with the cord around her waist. She nearly gagged from the stench of his breath as he clamped his mouth over hers – a mixture of cheap beer and shallots. Selene jerked her head away and pushed against his chest.

He pinned his forearm across her throat, slowly cutting off her breath. "What's the matter, Christos lady? You too good for the likes of me?" Her attacker ground his hips into hers, ripping at her tunic with his free hand. He hissed into her ear through broken teeth. "Your men come here all the time and take what they want. This time, I do the takin'!"

Before her gaze completely darkened, and with her last strength, Selene jabbed a sharp knee into his groin. The man howled and doubled over. She gasped for breath then hit him over the head with her bag of instruments.

Her attacker fell to his knees, gagging, but grabbed Selene's ankle as she turned to run. She landed on the stones like a felled tree, sharp pain flashing through her left hip and elbow. Instruments scattered from her bag.

Still hissing with pain, the man pulled her toward him by the leg. Selene kicked her free foot at his face. The man blocked her, grabbed both legs, and sat on her ankles. Hitching his way up her legs, he pinned her hips beneath his weight. Her attacker reached down, grabbed her tunic, pulled her body to a sitting position and slapped her hard across the face. "Try another trick and I'll kill you, bitch."

Selene sagged from the blow. No one had ever struck her in anger. Pain and shock warred with rage.

He leered, showing stained broken teeth. "That's better. Lay quiet and pray like a good little Christos girl." He began working her tunic up around her hips.

A glint of iron caught the corner of her eye. Selene slid her right hand toward her bag of instruments.

The man was intent on pulling up his own ragged tunic.

Her fingertips grazed cool metal. She strained a bit and grasped a pair of forceps. Light weight and dull of end, they would have to do.

She froze at the feel of his flesh against hers then screamed, "No!", striking at his eyes with the forceps and bucking her hips.

The man rolled off her body, but not before she scratched across the left side of his face.

"My eye!" he howled, covering it with both hands. "Christos bitch, you'll die for that!" Blinded by the blood pouring down his face, he lunged toward her on his knees.

Selene scrambled to her feet, kicked him in the head, and fled down the alley, scooping up her bag, leaving a few scattered instruments.

She stumbled from the alley, blood pounding in her ears, bag clutched with white-knuckled fists. People on the street, instead of starved and pathetic, looked feral and cruel – promising more danger than succor. She ran as she hadn't run in months. Faces turned to her in a blur as she fled. A pain lanced up her side. Her breathing grew ragged.

Near the market she slowed down, found a quiet corner and doubled over. Shudders racked her body and nausea twisted her stomach. She vomited against a wall, shakily wiped her mouth, and looked around for the thin bearded face she knew would haunt her waking and asleep. People politely ignored her. She straightened, went to the nearest public fountain and rinsed her mouth.

Her father, Phillip, Antonius – they had been right. It wasn't safe out here for a woman alone. She put her hands to her head and squeezed as if the physical pressure would push out the jumbled scenes of the attack her mind insisted on reliving over and over.

A shift in the mood of the crowd cut through her panic. She looked up to see Hypatia with Orestes in her chariot, cutting through the throng.

Selene collapsed trembling against him, grateful for his strength. The horses pushed onward while Selene caught her breath and steadied her nerves. She pulled away from Orestes. Why, whenever she met him, did she look like something a cat dragged in? She rearranged her shawl to cover her dirty robes.

"I'm sorry. I was tending the sick in Rhakotis when..." She stopped; suddenly unsure she wanted to admit what had happened.

"When what, my child?" Hypatia looked over her shoulder.

"When I...uh...noticed it getting dark and realized I wouldn't make it home in time to oversee dinner." Selene brushed at the stains on her clothes. "I ran and stupidly fell. Could you possibly take me to my father's house and spare me the humiliation of being late again?"

Hypatia arched an elegant eyebrow. Selene blushed at being caught in her lie, but defiantly lifted her chin, daring the older woman to contradict her. Her teacher's face settled into a neutral mask, but a final sharp look promised a more private discussion later.

Orestes seemed oblivious. "Of course, we can take you home, can't we, Hypatia? I haven't offered my regards to your father since his illness. How does he, Selene? Is he receiving visitors?"

Selene pushed her lingering fear and panic to a dark corner of her mind, chatting innocuously till they reached her father's house. After showing her visitors in, she escaped to the bath to scrub the stain from her body.

After a near sleepless night, Selene sought Phillip. She had some vague notion of asking him to accompany her on her visits, but that would be a tremendous burden on his time. She wasn't sure what she wanted from him, but she knew she didn't want to be alone.

She found her brother looking over reports in her father's study, his face creased in a worried frown. She hesitated. Maybe this was not a good time to approach him.

"Come in, Selene." He smiled, wearily. "Since when has my little sister been afraid to say her piece? Believe me, you are a welcome distraction." She came forward and kissed his cheek. "Oh, ho! You have a favor to ask of me."

"I do not!" Selene flung herself onto a bench, looked at Phillip and grinned. "Well, I do. But cannot a sister give her brother a kiss without him thinking it a bribe?"

"Of course." He waited expectantly.

Selene rubbed her fingertips over the embroidery on her robe, took a deep breath and plunged in. "Since Nicaeus left for the army, I've had no real escort when I visit Mother Nut. The streets are beginning to feel dangerous."

"You've been going there alone?" Phillip eyed her sharply. "I thought you took servants."

"Sometimes Rebecca accompanies me, but I am gone so much, she runs the household in my stead and I..."

Phillip blanched then turned brick red. "You have both been wandering the streets without a male escort? How could you be so foolish? The parabolans are targeting Jews. There are reports of Jews attacking Christians." He pounded the table. "I forbid either of you to go anywhere near that part of town!"

Selene's intemperate retort was stayed by the memory of her attacker's rancid breath, the flood of fear that paralyzed her limbs, the angry voice. What was she thinking, wandering dangerous neighborhoods without a care? She trembled, tears spilling over her cheeks.

Phillip rushed to her side and hugged her close. "Selene, my dear, what's wrong? I didn't mean to be so harsh, but surely you see the wisdom in my commands? It would kill Father if anything happened to you. Give up this foolishness of becoming a physician. Stay home where you are safe and I can take care of you."

Hearing her own thoughts echoed by her brother, Selene stiffened, but the tears still came. Give up her calling? She considered life as a wife – the constant round of household duties and childbearing. No. She had chosen her path two years ago and would stay the course.

But she couldn't go back to Rhakotis. Not yet.

She blinked the tears from her eyes and hugged Phillip back. "I do see the wisdom in your words, dear brother, but cannot give up my chosen work. I don't know what to do."

He patted her back. "When things have settled, maybe you can resume your apprenticeship. We'll see."

Selene was content to let Phillip make decisions for her – for now.

As the sun lowered the next day, Selene relaxed in the solarium, reading a medical text. Rebecca entered looking wildly about. "Where is Phillip? I have news that must get to the Prefect."

"My people." Rebecca wrung her hands. "My oldest brother sent word to stay inside tonight, that there would be an attack. The Prefect must send guards or there will surely be many deaths."

"Of course." Selene dropped her grip, fighting down her own panic. "We must send word to the Prefect as well. I'll write a note. Get one of the slaves to take it directly to Orestes or the captain of his guard. Come, we must be quick."

The shadows of dusk crept out of dark corners to claim more territory. Selene pulled her courage together and strode down the dim street. Rebecca huffed to keep up. Outside Ision's home, Selene stopped so abruptly Rebecca nearly collided with her.

She marched to the entrance and rapped on the door. A servant promptly inquired as to her needs. "Tell Master Antonius that Mistress Selene begs his assistance on a matter most urgent. We will wait here for his answer."

Within moments, both Antonius and Honoria, rounder than normal with her first pregnancy, came to the foyer. Honoria waddled forward. "Why, Selene, I hope all is well with your father?"

"My father is recovering quite well, thank you, Honoria. However, we have reason to believe Phillip is in danger. I wish Antonius to accompany us while we seek him out."

"Of course Antonius will help, won't you, dear?" Honoria turned to her husband with a timorous smile.

His grim face belied his words. "Nothing would give me more pleasure." He pointed to a servant lurking in the background. "Get my cloak and short sword."

Honoria's eyes rounded. "Surely you will not need your sword?"

"If there is danger, it is better that I have it. Don't worry. I'll take care of myself as well as these ladies." Antonius leaned down to his plump wife and said quietly, "You should rest. Don't wait up for me."

"Of course." She rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Selene, don't let him do anything rash." Honoria waved to them from the doorway as if they were going on a long journey.

Selene told Antonius what she knew about the situation as they hurried down the street.

"Selene, how could you even contemplate going there alone?"

Growing impatient with the constant reminder she frequently acted without caution, Selene snapped back, "That's why we asked your help."

Antonius stopped and grabbed Selene by the arm. "I should send you both back and continue on myself."

She snorted. "How would you know we had gone home? We could as easily continue after you had turned your back. We do this together, Antonius." She shook off his hand and met his eyes. "Are you coming?"

He said in a voice pitched to her ears only, "I love you, Selene, but those very qualities I love make my heart most sore. Please go back."

She desperately wanted to do as he asked, but if she returned home, she might never leave again. "I can't. I must do this for myself as well as Phillip."

Antonius nodded in defeat, took her arm and hurried her on, Rebecca trailing.

Small knots of people crossed their path, some armed, others not. Everyone converged on the neighborhood between the forum and Rhakotis.

"Fire! Fire at St. Alexander's!"