Selene of Alexandria (37 page)

"On the contrary, I have requested the populace to pray for your soul and personally ask for divine guidance in helping you lead this city." Cyril bowed slightly. "And I would be more than pleased to oversee your religious instruction myself. It would give us the opportunity to be in daily contact. You might find my advice useful in your decisions concerning the health and welfare of our fair city."

Orestes felt his battle heat rising. Cyril offered no apology, only more interference. If Orestes accepted the Patriarch's offer, he gave Cyril and his minions admittance to his administration and tacit approval of past and future actions. If he refused, the Patriarch could accuse him of obstinacy and sit back in righteous innocence as the city fathers pressured Orestes for an accommodation. He could live with only one choice. "Patriarch, thank you for your more than generous offer. As I have told you, I completed my catechism in Constantinople and was baptized there."

Cyril smiled gently, speaking as if to an errant child. "You've claimed that in the past, but your actions and attitude toward the pagans and Jews belies that teaching."

Smiling just as sweetly, Orestes shot back, "The Bible teaches us that God created the earth, the plants and all the animals, does it not, Patriarch?"

"Indeed."

"It also teaches us God made man in his image."

Cyril answered more slowly this time. "Those are the earliest teachings. It is clear you have some knowledge of the Bible."

"I believe the God who made us did not intend for us to loathe his creations. And I believe the Emperor does not intend for his loyal citizens to be hounded from their homes, their businesses ruined and their families destroyed."

Cyril met Orestes' eyes. "A pretty speech. Do those beliefs truly come from your heart, or from your thwarted ambition and desire for personal acclaim?"

The corners of Orestes' mouth twitched. The Patriarch's verbal arrows hit close to the mark. The riots reflected on his ability to govern, and touched his pride. He sympathized with anyone in pain or unjustly treated, but, in war, the innocent were often hurt.

Orestes tried one last ploy. "There remains Jesus' admonition to render unto God what is God's and unto Caesar what is Caesar's."

"When Our Dear Lord spoke those words, Caesar was a pagan." Cyril fairly beamed benevolence. "Our Most Esteemed Emperor and his sister Augusta Pulcheria have pledged to establish God's kingdom on earth. What was Caesar's is now God's. Acknowledge that fact publicly and let us work together for this city's future."

Orestes cleared his throat, "I most humbly beg to differ with your understanding of that passage. My patrons in the Imperial Court gave me a clear mandate for administering Egypt, and put the resources of the city at my disposal." In a low voice, directed only to Cyril, "I suggest, Patriarch that you retire to your Bishop's chair. If you persist in making it difficult for me to fulfill my duties, I will recommend the Emperor remove you from your See."

The blood drained from Cyril's face, then flushed back, bright red. "Even the Emperor has a Patriarch at his right hand, advising him in all matters. You might do well to emulate him."

Orestes leaned forward. "The Emperor is a boy of fourteen; his sister, the Regent, a girl of sixteen. In their youth, they need many kinds of advice. I don't."

Cyril straightened his shoulders and spoke to his contingent. "It is obvious our services are not wanted here, and our mission at reconciliation failed."

They filed out the door. Hierex' lips twitched, as if trying to suppress a smile.

The Patriarch turned as the last official left the room. "You aren't the only one with influence at court, Prefect."

As the door shut, Orestes collapsed into his chair, head in hands. He foresaw another round of written recriminations on his and Cyril's part, another smirch on his reputation.

Demetrius brought him wine. He drank, gagging on the sweet honeyed taste, then pushed it away, longing for the harsh vinegary stuff they served to the troops. After a moment's reflection, he realized what he truly longed for were those simpler times when he could fight his enemy directly, not through others' wiles and machinations.

"Could you not have feigned interest? If the Patriarch felt his voice heard, he might be more flexible. By keeping him close, you would have more knowledge of his actions and intentions. It would be easier to understand and counter him."

"You are a wise man, Demetrius." Orestes sighed. "But I cannot have him here. To do so would say to all that I found him right in his actions."

"I understand, Master." But the stiffness of Demetrius' demeanor expressed his disappointment.

Orestes left, slamming the door.

Cyril reverently replaced the New Testament on its stand in his chapel. "That was not the outcome I had hoped for."

"But not an unexpected one." Hierex spoke soothingly. "The Prefect will see the error in his judgment. We have sheared away his support, piece by piece. The masses are desperate for someone on whom to blame their misery. It will take little to turn them against Orestes."

"We cannot move directly against the Prefect." Cyril stared at a flickering lamp. "The Augusta Pulcheria has made her position clear. She is sympathetic, but will not abide disruption in the flow of grain. If our actions endanger her position as Regent, we lose her support."

"The legacy of Rome – bread and circuses." Hierex snorted. "The Lord Jesus might return to us any day and what will he find? Sodom and Gomorra."

"Not in Alexandria. We will have a fully Christian city." Cyril clapped Hierex' shoulder. "But we must work quietly for a while – redouble our efforts among the poor, distribute gifts to councilors who suffered losses in the riots, allow the city to recover. As he realizes his isolation, Orestes will be more reasonable."

"What if he asks Abundantius to support him with troops?"

"That action would prove his ineffectualness." Cyril stroked his beard. "My fear is that Hypatia wields enough influence with the city fathers, to win them back for the Prefect."

"The Lady Philosopher has little influence with the lower orders."

"As you discovered, that is her weakness." Cyril smiled. "We must think on that."

Chapter 29

"Mistress, wake up!"

Selene groaned and rolled away from the finger poking her in the shoulder.

Over the past three months, she had recovered from her illness and attacked her apprenticeship with a vengeance, trying to make up for lost time. Between that and her household responsibilities, it seemed she never got a full night's sleep.

The finger kept poking and the voice took on a decided whine. "Please, Mistress Selene. The Lady Honoria sent a servant to fetch you. She's in labor."

"Go away!" Selene mumbled into her covers.

"What should I tell him, Mistress?" The voice turned pitiful.

"Tell who, what, you silly goose?" Muzziness lifted from Selene's brain. She sat up. Anicia bobbed from foot to foot. Selene rubbed her eyes and glared at the girl, then sighed. "I'm awake now. What needs my attention?"

"The Lady Honoria sent a litter, Mistress. She's in labor and wishes your attendance."

"The baby's coming? Why didn't you say so?" Selene threw the covers off her bed, pulled her night tunic over her head and rummaged in her trunk for a serviceable robe. She chose one of her student garments, already besmirched with stains. "Don't just stand there, Anicia, tell the Lady Honoria's servant I will be down shortly."

The girl bowed and ran down the hall.

Selene washed her face and pulled on her clothes. She was hastily combing and braiding her hair when Rebecca entered with a tray. "You always know what I need without my asking! How's Anicia? Did I scare her silly?"

"That would take little effort. The girl has goose feathers in her head. Let me finish that." Rebecca set the tray on Selene's cosmetics table so she could eat while Rebecca finished braiding and pinning her hair. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Selene slowly chewed a chunk of warm bread with melted cheese and mumbled, "I don't think so. If there is one thing I've learned from Mother Nut, it's that first labors are usually long."

She stiffened. "Oh! I was supposed to visit Mother Nut today. Could you take some food and these medicines I bought for her?" Selene reached for a pouch on the floor beside her table and handed it to Rebecca. "Give her my regrets. I'll send word if I need anything else."

Selene rose, shaking crumbs off her garment onto the floor. She rummaged for her surgical bag, slung it over her shoulder, and left Rebecca with a wave.

Honoria's servant lounged in the vestibule. He frowned at her well-worn clothes. Selene followed him out and reluctantly entered the stuffy litter. She would rather have walked the short distance to her friend's house in the fresh air, but the sky was still that deep purple just before the gray dawn. She didn't wish to scandalize Ision's servants more than they already were.

Minutes later, the litter lurched to a stop and settled to the ground. Selene steeled herself to see Antonius. She had consciously avoided him since the riots, visiting Honoria only when she knew he worked. Antonius had ended his studies and reluctantly thrown himself into the mercantile life.

The servant parted the curtain and offered a hand to pull Selene up from her seat.

In the entrance hall, one of Honoria's sisters waited to escort her to the women's quarters. The horde of women in attendance impressed Selene with their quiet but purposeful air. Servants bustled back and forth with hot water, clean cloths, and food for the guests. Several older women quietly prayed at a household shrine.

Selene entered a small room, lit only by two stone lamps. The air smelled sour with vomit and sweat. Honoria sat on a bed, supported by cushions, while servants washed her face and changed her soiled clothes. Her face contorted and she leaned forward to retch in a copper bowl held by another servant.

Honoria's mother Arete approached Selene with raised eyebrows, eyeing her clothing. "My dear, would you care to join the ladies' prayers?"

Taken aback, Selene said, "I will gladly pray for Honoria's safe delivery, but I thought she wished me to attend her. I've assisted many births in my apprenticeship."

"I'm sure you have, child, but we have a skilled midwife and no need of your, uh, services." Arete smiled thinly. "All is progressing normally. Come greet Honoria. Your presence will cheer her." She led the way to the small crowd surrounding the laboring woman. Selene followed, covering her embarrassment over the misunderstanding with the knowledge that no one here would pay any attention to her. All focused on Honoria, who leaned back on the cushions, enjoying a brief respite from the pain.

Selene approached, took her friend's hand and spoke in low tones. "How does it go?"

"As the church fathers told us, women are cursed to bring forth young with pain and tears. I did not know I also had to give up my dinner." Honoria smiled wanly.

"It sometimes happens. I have some herbs which might settle your stomach. Shall I make a decoction?"

"Please! I am so thirsty. The wretched midwife will not allow me to drink anything, because I keep bringing it back up."

A middle-aged woman, with the short hair and dark robes of a Christian penitent, frowned at Selene. "Who might you be, girl?"

"Selene. I'm a friend of Honoria's. I've been studying medicine at the Museum and apprenticing with an Egyptian medica. And you, Lady?"

The older woman took in Selene's serviceable clothing and youth and smiled. "Melania." She had no need to state her credentials, given her reputation as midwife to the wives and daughters of the elite. Honoria was indeed in good hands.

"May I stay, Midwife? I'm sure I could learn much from you." Selene did not want to be relegated to the prayer circle when she could observe a respected colleague.

Melania nodded. "I can always use a pair of skilled hands. Just do what I say, when I say it."

"If you two are through chatting, do you think you might help me?" Honoria interrupted petulantly. "I feel another pain coming on." Her grip tightened on Selene's hand and her face contorted.

"Don't hold your breath, child. Breathe swiftly, like a panting dog. Ride the pain, don't let it ride you." Melania chanted in a low soothing tone, "Relax. Don't fight the pain. Let it roll through your body." She massaged Honoria's neck and shoulders.

"How long has she been in labor?" Selene asked.

"The hard pains started shortly after midnight. God willing, we should have a baby by noon."

Melania and Selene spent the next several hours taking turns helping Honoria through her pains and taking brief rests on a hard bench outside the room. By sundown, Melania confided her concerns to Selene. "Honoria is bleeding. She's getting weaker, and the baby's breach. I've tried to turn it through massage, but it stubbornly insists on being born backwards. I may have to ask Urbib to attend."

Selene nodded. Urbib had resurfaced to take up his old practice. As a physician he could perform an embryotomy, the dissection in utero of a fetus which cannot be delivered. The mother frequently died during this rare and dangerous procedure. Without it, the mother always died. Midwives were not allowed to perform such surgery.

"Surely we needn't resort to that yet."

"We'll see how she does in the next hour." Melania sighed. "I can't let her go beyond that or we lose both mother and child. I'll have Arete send word to Urbib now. Why don't you go in to comfort her?"

Selene returned to the birthing room. It seemed more stifling than before. Honoria lay moaning weakly, her huge belly rippling with contractions visible through her soaked linen gown. Selene dipped a cloth in cool water and wiped the sweat from her friend's face.