Selene of Alexandria (47 page)

"At first, I thought the Patriarch used me to get to my father. He led the opposition to Cyril in the council." Selene clasped her hands in front. "When he pressed me about Hypatia, I realized he cast his net much wider."

"It doesn't stop with Hypatia." Orestes suppressed a wince as he watched comprehension dawn on Selene's face. Disappointment warred with bitterness, robbing her of her innocence.

"I can't stay here." She spread her arms wide indicating her opulent surroundings; a blush crept up her neck to tint her face.

"I agree." Orestes would never shame Selene. He took a deep breath. "Cyril surely has informants among my serving staff. The longer you stay the more likely someone will discover you."

Selene's arms dropped to her sides and shoulders slumped. She looked so bereft; Orestes stepped close and gently tilted her head. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes. His breath caught.

"I have a plan of sorts. Listen carefully then decide." He escorted her back to one the couches and sat at her side, holding her hands in his. "You are not safe in Alexandria. I propose we smuggle you out of Cyril's jurisdiction; possibly to Constantinople. Or, if you wish, to one of the desert convents. They ask no questions."

Chapter 37

"Selene, there's no need..."

"I'll only appear to die." She jumped up and paced the room, excitement gripping her. "The guards can find some wreckage on the shore with my jewelry and scraps of my clothes. Cyril won't hound a dead woman. He'll soon forget about me and I can return to some semblance of a life close to my family."

"It'll take more than a bracelet and cape to convince Cyril."

Selene stopped pacing, her enthusiasm doused by Orestes' caviling.

"It might work if we find an appropriate unclaimed body and your brother identifies it as yours," Orestes mused. "The Patriarch deprived of his target would then move on to other plots. But, my dear, think on this carefully. You'll be dead not only to Cyril, but also to the whole city. You couldn't live at home or go back to classes at the Museum."

"But I could take over Mother Nut's practice, do some good, and see my brother occasionally."

"Possibly." Orestes shook his head. "But it is still dangerous. You will have to live a life of hiding. Cyril has agents everywhere. Even if he thought you dead, the arrival of a young woman of your description in Mother Nut's precincts would arouse his suspicion. You would be better off starting your life over in some other part of the Empire. Wars with Persia, Goths raiding Italy, all have created a tide of refugees in Constantinople. You can live more openly, study and practice medicine there."

The thought of leaving her birth city frightened Selene. Could she abandon her family and teachers; live a life in the shadows? Did she have a choice? Her shoulders slumped. "I'll go."

"Then I will arrange your 'death'."

"How soon?"

"I'll have my agents scour the mortuaries. It might take a few days." Orestes rubbed his jaw, looking her up and down. "In the meantime, you must stay confined to these rooms."

Her mouth twisted in a bitter smile. "At least this prison is more comfortable than the one I left. Can I send a note to Rebecca?"

"Nothing written." Orestes shook his head. "But you can send her a verbal message. I or Hypatia will deliver it." He rose and motioned to Demetrius. "I must go now, but will return this evening."

Demetrius preceded him with the tray. Orestes hesitated at the door and strode back into the room. He took her hands in his, raised them to his lips and said, in a voice rough with emotion, "I am truly sorry this happened, my dear. I would have given my right hand to spare you and your family this terrible sacrifice. "

Selene smiled up at him and said, in an unconscious echo of Demetrius, "It is my will as well as my duty. God will be the final judge of our wisdom or folly."

He bowed his head, kissed her fingertips, and rushed out of the room.

Selene stared after him in astonishment.

Cyril looked up from his stack of paperwork as Hierex entered. "Any word?"

"No. I've interviewed everyone in that wing last night. No one saw anything suspicious. Rumor has it that the girl cast a glamour over herself and escaped invisibly. Others say a demon whisked her away in a cloud of black smoke."

Cyril snorted. "Why would a demon bother tying up the mute?" He steepled his hands. "No, she has shown herself an intelligent, resourceful young woman. She likely tricked the matron into opening the door and overpowered her. We should have warned the women of her wiles. Selene's meek demeanor lulled me into thinking her more compliant."

"Might she have had human help?"

"It's possible. As I have eyes in his household, Orestes could have agents in mine." Cyril nodded. "Interrogate everyone again. See if the mute can write or communicate some other way. If Selene had help, I want to know who. Have all Calistus' servants followed. Talk with anyone they talk to."

"It will be done." Hierex bowed.

"Pity. A few more days and we might have weakened Hypatia's reputation. Evidence of sorcerery from one of the upper class would have shaken her friends in high places." Cyril shook three letters. "I've already received protests from the nearest Bishoprics. No doubt the pagan witch wrote to all her contacts."

"My alternative plan moves apace," Hierex said. "The parabolans speak against Hypatia in the taverns and gathering places of the poor. They accuse her of unholy influence with Orestes. That has the added effect of showing him a weak leader."

"Good. Keep the mobs roiled but do not let them boil over. I want the threat of violence, not the real thing, or we lose the support of the Imperial court. The new Praetorian Prefect, Aurelian, is a staunch supporter of the church. He recently stripped the Jewish Patriarch in Judea of his judicial powers."

"Excellent!" Hierex smiled. "That should allay any lingering criticism of your actions against the Jews."

"Yes. We have only to pry Hypatia from Orestes' side and this city will be ours and God's."

His secretary turned to leave, but Cyril stopped him with a final comment. "Hierex, when we catch that girl, I need her confession."

"Understood."

Selene sat, looking out at the garden, desperately wanting to walk among the flowers. It was dark; surely no one would see. She breathed the sweet scent of pomegranates mixed with the citrus tang of lemon through the open window. She rose, turning her back on temptation. She had removed the heavy embroidered tunic from this morning and walked about the room clad only in a thin linen shift.

She had spent the last several hours trying to regain the peace she thought she had attained the night before in her cell. One by one, she had taken out her hopes and desires and set them free on the breeze, like doves. She had examined all her loves, said goodbye in her heart, and buried the bright memories in her mind, like treasure. Orestes' confession came too late for any sanctioned relationship. Her tears washed away the bitterness and anger, except for a tiny kernel she harbored toward the Patriarch. Only a clean bright flame remained.

Possibilities.

Shorn of all entanglements, her own and others' expectations, she felt light and…free. This was a heady brew. Eventually she would take on new responsibilities – for her own livelihood, if not for others – but for now she was completely unencumbered. Dead, her life and soul were her own, to remake as she wished. Unfettered by class or position, the possibilities were endless.

Wildness born of freedom coursed through her veins. Dead, she wanted to taste life, to run across the desert. Her body vibrated with the need to move, to feel.

Selene danced.

She whirled, bare feet thudding on the marble floor to the rhythm in her blood, her head thrown back, hair whipping her shoulders. She danced a paean to passion, a hymn to hubris. Fire burned along her limbs and in her breath as she leaped and twirled. Barely keeping in mind the need for quiet, she stifled a wild ululation, letting out a low moan instead.

Selene lost all track of time.

As the wild flame burned higher, she spied Orestes staring open-mouthed from the doorway. She whirled to a stop in front of him, tossing back her hair in final flourish.

He grabbed her shoulders. "Selene, are you mad?"

All her feelings for Orestes crested. Selene wanted this tall, mysterious man. She wanted to burn away the failure that showed in his face whenever he looked at her. She wanted to feel his arms wrap around her body, his lips crush hers. She wanted to rekindle his confidence, make him a hero. Selene wanted him to quench the fire – the need – in her body.

She reached up, devouring his face with her eyes, and pulled his lips down to hers for a deep kiss. His arms tightened around her. He lifted her off her feet as his mouth explored hers with unexpected deftness.

He suddenly broke off the embrace, holding her at arms' length, heaving in ragged gasps. "You might not be mad, but I surely am."

"We are neither mad. I want you." Selene looked up with the soft glow of her passion. "Do you not want me?"

"Do I not want you?" He tightened his grip, hurting her shoulders, but she didn't wince. "I've marveled at your bravery, applauded your wits, and right now I want to gentle you as I would a wild mare, but I can't have what I want."

Selene loosened his hands, moving them to her waist as she stepped closer. "Why not?"

He looked into her eyes. "I can't have you, Selene, because I can't keep you." Bitterness edged his voice. "No one can. That way lays pain. I can't love you and see you go out into the world, lost to me."

"Selene is dead. She's a ghost, a memory." Her rising passion fed her fire. "Tonight, you can have me, a real live woman who wants to love you and feel you love her back." She pulled his head down next to hers and whispered, "Please."

He carried her to the bed and laid her down gently. After all her bravado, Selene was suddenly unsure of herself. She had never done this before; her body didn't have a rhythm, a map. What if Orestes found her wanting?

His mouth on hers banished all doubts. Selene again surrendered to her senses. Orestes eased her diaphanous gown over her shoulders, then her hips. He nibbled his way down her neck and gently sucked on her breasts. Her nipples, already hard, sent ripples of sensation down to her groin. Selene shuddered with pleasure and arched her back, asking for more.

Orestes sat up, pulled his tunic over his head, and tossed it aside. Selene reached for him, tracing his muscles with a light finger, skipping over the ridges of old scars. She glanced down at his erect penis and had a second failure of confidence.

Orestes leaned across her, captured both slender wrists in one hand and pulled them above her head. He covered her face with kisses. His other hand reached down where her legs fell open. He teased her to distraction with light touches then slowly inserted a finger, then two, rubbing an exquisite spot with his thumb. Selene writhed, moaning in sweet agony. He kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring every facet of her mouth, relaxing his grip on her wrists, hand moving from groin to breasts.

She freed her arms and wrapped them around his back, straining him to her. Orestes rolled onto his back, taking her with him, and gently guided her over his erect penis. "Go as slow as you want, my love," he said. "If it hurts, stop."

Selene settled her hips slowly, feeling him fill her up. As she slid over him, she gasped and contracted her belly muscles. She pulled away then slid down again, riding him as she would a horse. He rotated his hips to meet hers. They settled into a rhythm Selene felt her body knew from the beginning of time. Sensation coursed through her, peaked in a burst of sweet pain, ebbed and built again.

Orestes moaned and shuddered. He grew soft inside her, but she rode for a few more strokes, coaxing that last burst. Giving a final gasp of pleasure, she collapsed to his chest. He held her tight, breathing raggedly in her ear.

She moved and his flaccid penis slipped out. A thin trickle smeared her thighs. She slipped to his side, nestling under his arm. He stroked her hair and back as their breathing returned to normal.

Selene was stunned. Nothing in the hasty whisperings of girls or ribald remarks of boys had prepared her for the wild and satisfying act of making physical love.

She looked up at Orestes through half-closed lashes. He smiled gently. Selene's nerves still tingled. She felt every stroke of his hand, as if she had no skin. Gradually the fire banked and Selene relaxed into his arms. As Orestes' eyes drooped with sleep, Selene reached down to stroke his penis. It stirred and stiffened.

He laughed and nuzzled her ear, whispering, "Maybe Cyril is right. You do seem to have magical powers."

She pulled his face around for another deep kiss.

Chapter 38

Morning brought gray clouds, the threat of storm, and Demetrius with a breakfast tray. Disappointment, followed by embarrassment, washed through Selene as she reached across an empty bed. Orestes probably thought her no better than the women he regularly entertained in these rooms. Her body flushed with warmth. Maybe she wasn't.