“This is madness,” I muttered, waving goodnight to those who left in pairs or trios. I forced smiles and kind words.
I glared at the distant figure of Lucius, who now slouched at the end of the portico in front of doors closed for the night. His very posture was furtive and cowardly.
Quite suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I brushed it off immediately, wishing to lay down limits to such familiarity, and then I realized a man was whispering in my ear:
“The Priest at the Temple begs for you to come back, Madam. He needs to talk with you. He did not mean for you to leave without talking.”
I turned to see a Priest there beside me, in full Egyptian headdress and impeccable white linen and wearing a medallion of the goddess around his neck.
Oh, thank Heaven.
But before I could recover myself or answer, another man had stepped up boldly, heaving forward his ivory leg and foot. Two torchbearers accompanied him. We were embraced by a warm light.
“Does my Mistress wish to talk to this Priest?” he asked.
It was Flavius. He had followed my commands. He was wonderfully dressed as a Roman gentleman in the long tunic and a loose cloak. As a slave, he couldn’t wear a toga. His hair was neat and trimmed and looked as impressive as any free man’s. He was shirting clean and appeared completely confident.
Marcellus, the Philosopher-Teacher, lingered. “Lady Pandora, you are most gracious, and let me assure you that the tavern these boys frequent may give rise to another Aristotle or Plato but it is not a fit place for you.”
“I know that,” I said. “Don’t worry.”
The Teacher looked warily at the Priest and at the handsome Flavius. I slipped my arm about Flavius’s waist. “This is my steward, who will welcome you the night you come to me. Thank you for letting me disrupt your teaching. You’re a kind man.”
The Teacher’s face stiffened. Then he leaned closer. “There’s a man under the portico; don’t look at him now, but you need more slaves to protect you. This city is divided, dangerous.”
“Yes, so you see him too,” I said. “And his glorious toga, the mark of his genteel birth!”
“It’s getting dark,” Flavius said. “I’ll hire more torchbearers now and a litter. Right over there.”
He thanked the Teacher, who reluctantly slipped away.
The Priest. He was still waiting. Flavius gestured for two more torchbearers and they came trotting to join us. We now had a plenitude of light.
I turned to the Priest “I will come to the Temple directly, but I must first talk with that man over there! The man in the shadows?” I pointed quite visibly. I stood in a flood of light. I might as well have been on a stage.
I saw the distant figure cringe and try to fade into the wall.
“Why?” Flavius asked with about as much humility as a Roman Senator. “Something is very wrong about that man. He’s hovering. The Teacher was right.”
“I know,” I answered. I heard the dim, echoing laughter of a woman! Yea gods, I had to stay sane long enough to get home! I looked at Flavius. He had not heard the laughter.
There was one sure way to do this. “You torch-bearers, all of you, come with me,” I said to the four of them. “Flavius, you stand here with the Priest and watch as I greet this man. I know him. Come only if I call.”
“Oh, I don’t like it,” said Flavius.
“Neither do I,” said the Priest. “They want you in the Temple, Madam, and we have many guards to escort you home.”
“I won’t disappoint you,” I said, but I walked straight towards the toga-clad figure, crossing yard after yard of paved squares, the torches flaring around me.
The toga-clad man gave a violent start, with his whole body, and then he took a few steps away from the wall.
I stopped, still out in the square.
He had to come closer. I wasn’t going to move. The four torches gasped and blew in the breeze. Anybody anywhere near could see us. We were the brightest thing in the Forum.
The man approached. He walked slow, then fast. The light struck his face. He was consumed with rage.
“Lucius,” I whispered. “I see you, but I can’t believe what I see.”
“Nor can I,” he said. “What the hell are you doing here?” he said to me.
“What?” I was too baffled to answer.
“Our family is in disgrace in Rome and you’re making a spectacle of yourself in the middle of Antioch! Look at you! Painted and perfumed and your hair full of ointment! You are a whore.”
“Lucius!” I cried. “What in the name of the gods are you thinking? Our Father is dead! Your own brothers may be dead. How did you escape? Why aren’t you glad to see me? Why don’t you take me to your house?”
“Glad to see you!” he hissed. “We are in hiding here, you bitch!”
“How many of you? Who? What about Antony? What happened to Flora?”
He sneered with exasperation.
“They are murdered, Lydia, and if you do not get yourself to some safe corner where no roaming citizen of Rome can find you, you are dead too. Oh, that you would turn up here, spouting philosophy! Everybody in the taverns was talking about you! And that slave with the leg made of ivory! I saw you at noon, you wretched and infernal nuisance. Damn you, Lydia!”
This was pure unadulterated hate.
Again, came that distinct echoing laughter. Of course he did not hear it. Only I could hear it.
“Your wife, where is she. I want to see her! You will take me in!”
“I will not.”
“Lucius, I am your sister. I want to see your wife. You’re right. I’ve been foolish. I didn’t think things through very well. There are so many miles of sea between here and Rome. It never occurred to me—”
“That’s just it, Lydia, you never really think of anything sensible or practical. You never did. You’re an uncompromising dreamer, and stupid on top of it.”
“Lucius, what can I do?”
He turned from right to left, sizing up the torchbearers.
He narrowed his eyes. I could feel his hatred. Oh, Father, do not see this from Heaven or the Underworld. My brother wants me dead!
“Yes,” I said, “four torchbearers and we are in the middle of the Forum. And don’t forget about the man with the ivory leg over there and the Priest,” I said softly. “And do regard the soldiers outside the Emperor’s Temple. Take note. How goes it with your wife? I must see her. I’ll come in secret. She’ll be happy that I am alive, surely, for I love her like a sister. I will never connect myself with you in public. I’ve made a grievous error.”
“Oh, knock it off,” he said. “Sisters! She’s dead!” He looked from right to left again. “They were all massacred. Don’t you understand? Get away from me.” He took a few steps back but I moved forward, drawing the light around him again.
“But who is with you, then? Who escaped with you? Who else is alive?”
“Priscilla,” he said, “and we were damned lucky to get away when we did.”
“What? Your mistress? You came here with your mistress? The children, they are all dead?”
“Yes, of course, they must be. How could they have escaped? Look, Lydia, I give you one night to get out of this city and away from me. I am lodged here comfortably and will not tolerate you. Get out of Antioch. Go by sea or land, I don’t care, but go!”
“You left your wife and children to die? And came here with Priscilla?”
“How the hell did you get away, you stinking bitch in heat, answer me that! Of course you had no children, the great famous barren womb of our family!” He looked at the torchbearers. “Get away from here!” he shouted.
“Stay right where you are.”
I put my hand on my dagger. I moved the mantle so that he could see the flash of the metal.
He looked genuinely surprised and then gave a ghastly false smile. Oh, revolting!
“Lydia, I wouldn’t hurt you for the world!” he said as if insulted. “I am only worried f
or us all. Word came from the house. Everyone had been killed. What was I to do, go back and die for nothing?”
“You’re lying. And don’t you call me a bitch in heat again unless you want to become a gelding. I know you lie. Somebody tipped you off, and you got out! Or it was you who betrayed us all.”
Ah, how sad for him that he was not more clever, more quick. He did not take umbrage at these loathsome charges as he should have. He just tilted his head and said:
“No, that’s not true. Look, come with me now. Send these men away, get rid of that slave, and I will help you. Priscilla adores you.”
“She’s a liar and slut! And how calm you have become in the face of my suspicions. Nothing as steamed as when you saw me! I just accused you of betraying our family to the Delatores. I accused you of abandoning your wife and children to the Praetorian Guard. Can you hear these words?”
“It’s utter stupidity, I would never do such a thing.”
“You reek of guilt. Look at you. I should kill you now!”
He backed up. “Get out of Antioch!” he said. “I don’t care how you judge me or what I had to do to save myself and Priscilla. Get out of Antioch!”
There were no words for my judgment. It was harsher than my soul could hold.
He backed away, and then walked fast into the darkness, disappearing before he reached the portico. I listened to his steps as they echoed down the street.
“Dear Heaven!” I whispered. I was about to cry. My hand was still on the dagger, however.
I turned around. The Priest and Flavius stood much closer than ordered. I was frankly utterly baffled, stopped.
I didn’t know what to do.
“Come to the Temple at once,” said the Priest.
“All right,” I said. “Flavius, you come with me, stand watch with the four torchmen, I want you right by the Temple guards, and keep an eye out for that man.”
“Who is he, Madam,” Flavius whispered as I strode towards the Temple, leading them both.
How regal he looked. He had the presence of a free man. And his tunic was beautiful thin wool, striped in gold, belted in gold, well fitted across his chest. Even his ivory leg had been polished. I was more than pleased. But was he armed?
Beneath his quiet demeanor, he was deeply protective of me.
In my misery, I couldn’t form words to answer him.
Several litters were now crisscrossing the square, carried on the shoulders of hurrying slaves, and other slaves carried the torches beside them. A kind of soft glow rose from the commotion. People were on their way to dinners or private ceremonies. Something was happening in the Temple.
I turned to the Priest. “You will guard my slave and my torchbearers?”
“Yes, Madam,” he said.
It was full night. The breeze was sweet. A few lanterns had been lighted under the long porticoes. We drew near to the braziers of the goddess.
“Now I must leave you,” I said. “You have my permission to protect my property, as you so eloquently put it earlier, unto death. Don’t move from these doors. I won’t leave here without you. I won’t stay long. I don’t want to. But have you a knife?”
“Yes, Madam, but it’s untried. It was among your possessions, and when you did not come home and it grew dark . . . ”
“Don’t recount the history of the world,” I said. “You did the right thing. You probably will always do the right thing.”
I turned my back to the square and said, “Let me see it. I’ll know if it’s decorative or sharp.”
When he drew it from the forearm sling, I touched it with my finger and blood came from the cut. I returned it. This had belonged to my Father. So my Father had filled my trunk with his weapons as well as his wealth, so that I might live!
Flavius and I exchanged one last slow glance.
The Priest grew very anxious. “Madam, please come inside,” he said.
I found myself ushered right through the tall doors into the Temple, and with the Priestesses and the Priest of earlier that afternoon.
“You want something of me?” I asked. I was out of breath. I was faint. “I have much on my mind, things that must be done. Can this wait?”
“No, Lady, it cannot!” said the Priest.
I felt a shudder in my limbs as if I were being watched by someone. The tall shadows of the Temples were too concealing.
“All right,” I said. “It’s about those awful dreams, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said the Priest. “And more man that.”
6
E WERE taken into another chamber, and this one had only one dim light. I couldn’t see well in the flickering of the flame and I realized I could not make out the faces of the other Priest and Priestess. An Oriental screen, a screen of worked ebony, partitioned off the end of this room, and I felt certain someone was behind it.
But I felt nothing but gentleness emanating from all of these gathered here. I looked around. I was so miserable over my brother, and so impatient that I couldn’t find polite words.
“Please, you must forgive me,” I said. “A dire matter requires me to hurry.” I was becoming afraid for Flavius’s safety. “Do send guards to flank my slave outside, now.”
“Done, Lady,” said the Priest, the one I knew. “I beg you to stay and recount your story again.”
“Who is there!” I pointed. “Behind that screen. Why is this person concealed?” This was very rude and irreverent, but I was in a full state of alarm.
“That is one of our most devoted supporters,” said the Priest who had escorted me to the shrine of Isis earlier. “This one often comes by night to pray at the shrine and has given much money to the Temple. He only wants to hear what we have to say.”
“Well, I’m not so sure of that. Tell him to come out!” I said. “Besides, what is it we’re supposed to say?”
I was infuriated suddenly that they might have betrayed my confidences. I hadn’t told them my true Roman name, only of my tragedy, but the Temple was sacred.
They became all flustered in their gentleness.
The figure, draped in the toga, much taller than my brother, in fact, remarkably tall, stepped out from behind the screen. The toga was dark, but nevertheless the classical garment. His face was hidden by the toga. I could only see his lips.
He whispered:
“Don’t be afraid. You told the Priest and Priestesses this afternoon of blood dreams.”
“This was in confidence!” I said indignantly. I was completely suspicious, for I had told a good deal mote than blood dreams to these people.
I tried better to see the figure. There was something distinctly familiar about the figure—the voice, even in a whisper . . . something else.
“Lady Pandora,” said the Priestess who had so consoled me earlier. “You talked to me of an old legendary worship, worship which we oppose and condemn. A worship of our Beloved Mother which once involved human sacrifice. I told you that we abhor such things. And we do.”
“However,” said the Priest, “there is someone afoot in the city of Antioch who does drink blood from humans, draining them until they are dead. Then he flings the bodies before dawn on our steps. The very steps of our Temple.” He sighed. “Lady Pandora, I am entrusting you with a powerful confidence.”
All thought of my evil brother left me. The hound of the dreams bore down upon me with its evil breath. I tried to gather my wits. I thought again of the voice I’d heard in my head: It is I who summoned you. The feminine laughter.
“No, it was a woman’s laughter,” I murmured.
“Lady Pandora?”
“You tell me there is someone afoot in Antioch who drinks blood.”
“By night. He cannot walk in the day,” said the Priest.
I saw the dream, the rising sun, knowing I the blood drinker would die in the rays of the sun.
“You’re telling me that these blood drinkers I saw in my dream exist?” I asked. “That one of them is here.”
“So
meone wants us to believe this,” said the Priest, “that the old legends have truth, but we don’t know who it is. And we are leery of the Roman authorities. You know what happened in Rome. You came speaking of dreams in which the sun killed you, in which you were a blood drinker. Lady, I’m not betraying your confidences here. This one—” He gestured to the tall man. “This is the one who reads the ancient writing. He’s read the legends. Your dreams echo the legends.”
“I am sick,” I said. “I need a chair. I have enemies to worry about.”
“I’ll protect you from your enemies,” said the mysterious tall man in the toga.
“How can you? You don’t even know who they are.”
There came a silent voice from the tall man in the toga:
Your brother Lucius betrayed the entire family. He did it out of jealousy of your brother Antony. He sold out everybody to the Delatores for a guaranteed one-third of the family’s wealth and left before the killing began. He had the cooperation of Sejanus of the Praetorian Guard. He wants to kill you.
I was shocked but also not about to let this person overwhelm me.
You speak just like the woman, I said silently. You speak right to my thoughts. You speak like the woman who said to me in my head, “It is I who summoned you.”
I could feel his shock at this. But I too slumped as if dealt a mortal blow. So this creature knew all about my brothers, and Lucius had betrayed us. And this creature knew.
What are you? I fired off to the mind speaker, the tall one. Are you a magician?
No answer.
The Priest and Priestess, unable to hear this silent exchange, pursued their course.
“This blood drinker, Lady Pandora, he leaves human victims on the steps of the Temple before dawn. He writes an old name in Egyptian on his victims with their blood. Should the government discover this, our Temple might be held accountable. This is not our worship.
“Will you recount again for us—for our friend here—your dreams? We must protect the worship of Isis. We did not believe in these old legends . . . until this creature appeared and began his killing, then comes out of the sea a beautiful Roman woman who speaks of similar beings who are in her dreams.”