The Temple of Asklepius, Below Pergamon
Tarsus, priest of the temple and initiate of the mysteries of Apollo and his mortal son, Asklepius, drank deep from a curved red cup. Wine spilled at the edge of his mouth and dribbled through his beard. The liquid stained his tunic, but he was past caring. He set the kylix down on the common table.
"…and then he was gone." Tarsus wiped his mouth. "Leaving my cell filled with writhing life and this… girl… behind."
The priest motioned to the still, silent figure of the young woman that stood against the wall of the common room. She breathed, her chest rising and falling. She could hear, for she obeyed commands that were addressed to her. She seemed, to all examination, to be in perfect health. But her rich, dark brown eyes stared straight ahead, acknowledging nothing.
"It is not a living girl," rumbled the eldest of those seated around the table. Demetrios was a veritable bear of a man with a carefully clipped white beard and massive shoulders. "It has no spirit, no ka, to give it life."
The other priests nodded solemnly. This sad matter had occurred many times before in the annals of their order. It was lamentable, but the ancients were clear on what must be done.
"Yes, it must be destroyed before a malign spirit enters the body." Demetrios put aside his own cup, signaling to the others that it was time to discuss hard business. Tarsus nodded as well, though he was loath to give up the sweet grape. His nerves were still frayed. The depth to which his old student had fallen embarrassed and frightened him.
"Tarsus, you did well in this. Had you angered him, or incited his wrath, we might all be dead. From the words you report, there is madness in the boy. He has trespassed into forbidden knowledge and become consumed by it."
The other priests murmured in assent. Tarsus could see the depth of the shock and horror on their faces as he had related the Prince's words. It had taken some time, for chills and uncontrollable trembling had seized him when he relived those moments in his cell.
"Master," ventured Tarsus, though he wondered if such things should be spoken aloud, "can it be true, what he said about the Conqueror and the first Caesar?"
Demetrios' eyebrows bunched and a grave look stole over him. Thinking, he cracked his knuckles. "Such a thing has never occurred before… the matter of the death of a man is well known. The girl's state shows well what happens if the body is revived. But without the ka? No. If what he says is true, something more must have transpired."
Tarsus licked his lips, for there was a horrible fear building in his heart. "What… what if the boy could bring their spirits back from beyond the Black River?"
The other priests hissed in surprise and not a few turned pale. "Impossible!"
Demetrios turned, glaring at the priest who had spoken out of turn. "Nothing is impossible, Epicharmus. But Hades does not yield his harvest lightly. Only gods have dared such a thing and succeeded, as the old tales tell." Demetrios turned back to Tarsus.
"Is the boy a god?"
Tarsus shook his head. He did not know. "He was tired, master, and giddy with exhaustion. He did not seem a god! The young man that I trained, here in these very precincts, was no god. He bled when cut, he slept, he shit…"
Demetrios frowned again, his forehead dark like a thunderstorm. "It is said that some men, heroes, have gone into the underworld and stolen back souls from Hades' cold domain. The gods guided those men. Such a thing has not happened in millennia… Would we not feel it, if the gods walked among men once more?"
The eldest priest rose and turned, bowing before the figure of Apollo that stood in a niche at the end of the dining hall. The cold marble stared back at him with shining abalone eyes, one hand raised. The stone did not speak, and the other priests rose, white robes rustling, and bowed as well. Then Demetrios sat again, his huge hands on the tabletop.
"Something has happened which we do not understand," said the eldest in a pedantic, lecturing voice. "This is puzzling, yet it may be explained if we discover more of the matter. We do know, however, that a member of our order has become a danger to every living being in the Empire. We must send a messenger immediately to Constantinople to warn the Emperor and our brothers there of what has transpired."
Tarsus felt his stomach heave. This would reflect very badly on the order. Demetrios had thought of that too.
"He will not be pleased with us." The high priest's voice was leaden. "There have been rumors-some of which you have doubtless heard-that the Emperor is sick. This is true. It is also true that our brothers in the capital, despite great efforts, have failed to cure him of this malady. We have been banned from the Imperial presence. It may transpire, if our enemies among the other priesthoods take advantage of our position, that we will be banned from the capital."
Some of the priests in the room had not heard this news and cried out in dismay. Demetrios silenced them with a black glare. He pointed at two of the younger acolytes with a blunt finger.
"Take this body away and prepare it for cremation. When the sun rises, it will go back to the gods on a pillar of fire and smoke. Tarsus, you must prepare yourself for a journey. The Western Emperor must also know of this, and hear our apology from reliable lips. Emperor Galen knows you, has broken bread with you in his very house. You will take ship to Rome as soon as a ship can be hired. I will compose a letter to carry to him."
Demetrios rose and the other priests followed. The two acolytes took the girl by her hands and led her out of the dining hall. Tarsus, despite the admonition, tarried, watching the high priest with a sick look on his face. When the others were gone, Demetrios raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"
"Master… what if the boy can bring the dead back to life, but not with their original spirit? What if he can make something like the ka from whole cloth? We do not know what the ka is, or how it manifests itself in a newborn child, but what if this stripling has divined that secret?"
Demetrios shook his head sharply. "Impossible. That is the realm of the gods alone. Some things are beyond the reach of man."
Then the high priest went out, the slap of his sandals very loud in the quiet room. Tarsus followed, heart heavy and his mind a chaos of horrible thoughts.
– |The smell of resin and oil filled the yard, making the girl's nostrils flare. She stood quietly beside a pyre of pine logs, watching the two acolytes drag the last bough into place. They were sweating, not used to such heavy work. Distantly, a bell was ringing, summoning them to supper.
"You stay here," said the eldest of the boys. The girl did not react. The sound of their feet receded down the passageway.
Night filled the courtyard and then the stars emerged from the black firmament. They twinkled in the thick air, obscured by a thin haze of cooking smoke rising from the city. The girl remained motionless, though her legs began to tremble with fatigue. The moon idled up in the east.
After a time, there was the patter of small, soft feet on the rectangular red tiles. A tiny dark shape padded up to the girl. In the moonlight, yellow eyes winked and a small red mouth opened in a yawn.
"Mrrrow!" the little black cat said imperiously.
Without looking back, the little cat darted down the porch and into the darkness. The girl stirred and followed, her bare feet silent on the tile.
Beyond the temple, the girl climbed a grassy hillside in the moonlight, heading north.