Selene of Alexandria (6 page)

"Should I arrange a suitable gift for Isidore, as well, Master?"

"What?" Orestes looked up. He thought for a moment then smiled. "Would I be mistaken if I thought Isidore has been helping himself to 'gifts' from the estate for years?"

"That is not for me to say, Master. I know only that he purchased a large villa in the outlying precincts last year. He has many business interests, all profitable. The last Prefect seemed satisfied with his service."

Orestes smile turned sour. "My predecessor was satisfied with a great many things that I am not. That is why I am here – to rectify his mistakes. I see no need to enrich Isidore further and I want you to point out the excesses in his accounts."

Orestes lowered his lanky body onto a green leather chair sitting behind the table. Four smaller matching chairs sat along the wall. Fresh sheets of papyrus, quill pens, bottles of ink and wax for seals sat at the ready on a side table, along with initial reports on the city. "Well, Demetrius, let's begin."

The next day, Orestes, accompanied by Demetrius, journeyed to the Prefecture where he had another set of offices. The cavernous seat of provincial business was located next to the city council building. In an endless round of introductions reminiscent of his first day, Orestes met dozens of civil servants, both permanent and temporarily elected to preside over the vast and intricate bureaucracy of the city and province.

Unlike his servants, these men seemed confident in their roles. Prefects came and went, but civil servants held their positions through connections with powerful city patrons. Many of those patrons paid handsomely to have a son, nephew or client installed in an office that collected taxes or regulated trade and workshops or engaged in public works. Orestes found it prudent to maintain good relations with the nobility by allowing them some profit from such lucrative appointments if it wasn't too excessive.

The lowering sun found Orestes with his entourage of city officials and their assistants on the bank of Lake Mareotis. Mud brick buildings sprawled along the shore behind them and stone docks thrust into the lake. The harbormaster, a bluff man with graying beard, barrel chest, and the bandy legs of a sailor, greeted them with a bow. "Lord Prefect, welcome! All is ready for your inspection."

Orestes looked around curiously. Trade was the lifeblood of Alexandria. All the goods to and from the Egyptian hinterland went through this city. Dock workers swarmed like ants to discharge the cargo: amphorae of wine and oil, barrels of fruits and vegetables, bales of wool and linen, stone from the quarries, pottery from the kilns. This bustling freshwater harbor saw as many boats and more barges than the seaward harbors. Orestes marveled at the sheer volume, as well as the variety of goods that moved through this port, but his primary responsibility lay with one particular export.

"I should like to see the granaries first."

The harbormaster bobbed and waved a hand to the east. "This way, Your Excellency. This month of July the Mother Nile begins to rise, bringing life to the land. Last year's harvest is arriving from the central granaries established along the river. We are in the middle of our busiest season." He waved toward the lake. "See, even as we speak, barges arrive from the south."

Orestes squinted at a small fleet of nine barges crawling across the horizon toward the grain docks. The flat-bottom boats wallowed with their heavy loads. Bargemen strained at their oars. The last barge straggled some distance from its fellows.

Orestes and his entourage continued down the docks toward the towering stone granaries. The harbormaster explained the intricacies of wheat inspection to insure its quality was "unadulterated, with no admixture of earth or barley."

As they approached the docks in front of the granaries, a shout went up.

"There, Master." Demetrius pointed to the incoming barges.

A dozen men in small round boats attacked the straggling barge with spears and slings. The other eight raced for shore, leaving their companion to its fate. One bargeman was in the water. Two others fended off the coracles with their oars, but there were too many. A pirate climbed over an undefended side, clubbing one bargeman, before the others tipped the marauder into the water.

"You!" the harbormaster shouted at several lounging sailors, "take The Egret and go to their aid." He pointed to a trim little sailing vessel tied to the dock.

One of the sailors stood up and spat something dark on the ground before putting his hands on his hips and cocking his head. "'It's too late. By the time I get'er under sail, the pirates will be back in the reeds."

The harbormaster's face turned red. "There might be survivors, man!"

The sailor spat again, this time marking a stone bollard.

Orestes stepped forward and flipped a silver coin at the sailor's feet. "Another one for every live man you bring back. I'll make it gold for a live pirate."

The sailor picked up the silver coin and tucked it into a pouch. "Yessir." He turned to his crew and cuffed the nearest one on the head. "You heard the man. Git!" They raced to the end of the dock and jumped aboard, loosening the lines from the bollards and raising sail. The crowd watched helplessly, as The Egret sped away.

The pirates grappled the barge, pulling it toward tall reeds screening the bank.

"If the pirates make it to the reeds, they will disappear into the hidden by-ways. The barge will be lost, its cargo disappearing into the villages on the shores," the harbormaster explained. "My apologies, Augustal Prefect. I've asked for shore patrols, but the council has yet to hear my petition."

"Do you lose many ships?"

"More as the season waxes. Mother Nile was not generous last year and the harvest thin. There is hunger in the hinterland. Desperate men do desperate deeds." He bowed his head as if expecting a blow for his honesty.

"I see." Orestes gazed out at the concluding drama. The pirates made the reeds just ahead of The Egret. The crew tacked back and forth sending the odd arrow into the waving reeds, but to no avail. They stopped their useless pursuit to pull bodies from the water.

Orestes detached a pouch from his belt and handed it to the harbormaster. "See that this purse goes to the families of the lost men. I'll take up your petition with the council."

"Thank you, Excellency. Your help and generosity is much appreciated."

"We will postpone our tour of your fine facilities." Orestes nodded toward the returning ship. "You have other duties to attend to." He spoke briefly to Demetrius who departed with some haste. Orestes then made his roundabout way home via the agora dropping off members of his entourage as he went.

Demetrius and Phillip waited for Orestes in his private sitting room. Phillip's bearded face split into a dazzling smile at the sight of his traveling companion, and he rose. They clasped shoulders, thumping each other on the back. "Well met, my friend! How go your first days?"

Orestes motioned him to sit and took a comfortable couch next to a cold brazier. "It is much as I expected – too many people to remember and too few I can trust. Thank you for coming at my summons, Phillip."

"It is my pleasure to serve." His friend shrugged. "How can I be of assistance?"

Demetrius left, presumably to fetch refreshments. Orestes suddenly became aware of the emptiness of his stomach. It had been a long day, with little sustenance.

"I saw something disturbing at Mareotis harbor today." Orestes described the pirating incident. By the end of his tale, Demetrius returned with servants bearing platters of steamed fish wrapped in grape leaves, grains and vegetables cooked with a rare yellow spice from India, fresh breads of a light delicate brown sprinkled with sesame seeds, and a generous flagon of strong red wine.

"Join me, Phillip. The cook will be most disappointed if I return this savory food barely eaten."

"My pleasure." Phillip's eyes sparkled at the delicious smells emanating from the various platters.

Demetrius sent the others away and served the food. Orestes raised a spoonful of grains and vegetables; the spicy scent tickled his nose. He hoped the cook had not put too much yellow powder in the dish. The last time he had tasted this spice, the food left a fiery taste that no amount of water seemed to quench. He tasted the grains and chewed with satisfaction.

"I asked the cook for simple fare." Orestes admitted, "I'm glad he ignored me. Try the grains, they are quite good."

Phillip tucked into his food. After many compliments, he returned to their previous topic. "I've also seen disturbing things."

"Such as?"

"On the trip home, people clogged the road. Not merchants or pilgrims, but whole families with bundles on their backs, heading for the cities. I've traveled these roads to visit my father's estates. I have never seen such sights. There must be famine in the land." Phillip paused, thinking. "And the brigands we encountered! The countryside used to be safe for unarmed pilgrims. Now all must go armed or escorted."

Phillip stared into his cup, swirling the wine into a miniature whirlpool. "My friends tell me the mood in the inns is sour and black, as if an evil spirit sucked all joy from life. Old women on the street cry doom, young women and men openly sell their bodies. I'm afraid your predecessor did little to keep such sights confined to the poorer neighborhoods."

"I've found little to impress me about my predecessor's practices. He seems to have let the church keep the peace and used the money allocated for that function for his own comfort. One of my first tasks is to build up the guards. I will call on General Abundantius for military troops till that is accomplished. How do you think the city nobles will react?"

"To troops on the streets? As long as they can do business as usual, they will care little." Phillip finished his wine and set the empty cup on a low table. "They will probably welcome the additional security."

"And the council? I will need their support."

They're a pricklier bunch." Phillip scratched at his bearded jaw. "I don't know. My father would be a better judge of that."

"I would like to meet your father and talk with him at greater length. Do you think you might return the favor of this meal and invite me to your home?"

"Consider it done." Phillip smiled. "Selene will be very pleased."

"Your sister?" Orestes was startled.

"You made quite an impression on Selene at the reception. She'll be mooning about you for weeks, along with every other eligible maiden in Alexandria. You may have to arrange a marriage to escape constant pursuit."

"I shall never marry." A shadow of pain flitted across Orestes' face. "I enjoy the company of women from time to time, but have little patience for their intrigues and wiles. The court in Constantinople overflows with the plots of women, priests and eunuchs. The Emperor's sister Pulcheria is chief among them."

"She's a year younger than Selene! What plots could a girl concoct?"

"Children grow up fast in the royal palace or they sometimes do not grow up at all." Phillip looked thoughtful as Demetrius poured him a second cup of wine. Orestes commented, "Selene did not strike me as the type to plot. She seemed altogether too straightforward and innocent."

"Selene was always headstrong, but never devious." Phillip shrugged. "But I've been away three years. Much has changed – in my family and in the city." He sipped his wine pensively. "I fear we have troubled times ahead and would do all in my power to avert it. How may I be of service, other than arranging dinners?"

"My immediate needs are for information. I need people who can walk in all parts of the city and report to me what they hear and see. Can you do this?"

"It seems a noble cause, and more intriguing than running my father's estates."

"This assignment is not without its dangers, my friend. Think carefully before you decide. I have no wish to impose on our friendship in this way."

Chapter 5

Selene hurried down the broad avenue from Honoria's house. She had stayed far too long, but they had had little time together of late and there was much to speak of. Rebecca had finally sent Nicaeus to fetch her saying she was urgently needed at home. Nicaeus seemed annoyed at his task and answered her questions with grunts leaving her to speculate on the nature of the urgency. He at least told her no one was ill or dying.

She tossed her outer robe to a servant waiting in the vestibule and immediately headed for the kitchen at the back of the house. She entered the room to the sound of people shouting and pottery shattering. Slaves and free servants rushed from one room to the next carrying pots of water, baskets of vegetables and live fowl. The savory smell of baking bread conflicted with that of briny fish. A corpulent cook turned suddenly from a table where she was cutting cubes of meat and collided with a skinny servant carrying a basket of eels. The eels cascaded across the tiled floor to Selene's feet. One had the temerity to snap at her dusty toes. At least they were fresh.

The cook and the servant started shouting at one another.

The burdens of being the lady of the house settled heavily on Selene's shoulders. She longed for the freedom of her runs on the beach, but this was her responsibility. She picked up a wooden spoon, banged it on a copper cauldron sending a hollow boom throughout the room that stunned the panicked servants to silence.

"You, Cook," she pointed the spoon at the red-faced servant, "tell me what is happening."