She had her back turned to him, standing before the altar in silent contemplation. He watched her, picturing the curves beneath her robe, remembering her scent, her soft skin, the gentle moans in his ear, the expression of ecstasy on her face. He wondered now if any of it was real. He wanted to cry. He wanted to hurl the heavy gold statue that he held in his arms against the temple walls.
He wanted her.
She turned as if sensing a presence, and when she saw him, she smiled broadly. Then she noticed what he was carrying, and her face lit up in delight. Her hand went to her mouth, and she ran forward and threw her arms around him. He tensed, did not return the kiss.
She took the statue off him, lifted it reverently into the air with outstretched arms.
‘Thank you, Silus. Thank you so much, in the name of Isis.’
She walked straight to the sacrarium, unlocked it and entered. Silus followed as far as the doorway, and watched her kneel before the empty table where the statue had sat, and put it back in its rightful place. She bowed her head and intoned a lyrical and melodic prayer of thanksgiving. Then she sprang lightly to her feet and grabbed Silus around the waist, leaning forward to kiss him full on the lips. Her small wet tongue slid into his mouth, and for a moment he found he was losing himself in her once more.
He took hold of both her arms and moved her a step back. She didn’t object, just continued to smile happily.
‘How did you find it, Silus? Where was it? Who is responsible? Was it the Jews?’
‘No, priestess. It wasn’t the Jews.’
She frowned, and he noticed her face was less attractive with that expression. ‘Who then?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you. But be assured that the criminals have been dealt with and will not bother you again.’
Now she noticed the coldness of his words, his demeanour.
‘Silus, what is it? What’s wrong?’
Silus swallowed, and his mouth worked as he searched for the right words.
‘Is there anything you want to tell me?’
She cocked her head on one side, gave a confused half-smile.
‘About what?’
‘Please, Tekosis. Tell me what’s going on.’
‘Silus, you aren’t making sense.’
Silus sighed deeply. ‘Tekosis, I know that you are involved with the kidnapping of Avitus. I ask you again. Please, tell me everything you know. It will go much easier for you, if you do.’
Now her face twisted in anger. ‘I will tell you nothing, Roman. Isis curse you.’ She spat on the floor.
‘Then you will come with me to the prefect’s palace. I will hand you over to Governor Marcellus, and you will be put to torture.’
‘Silus,’ she gasped. ‘You wouldn’t.’
‘Come with me.’
Her hand struck out at him, bent, claws out like a lashing cat, aiming for his face, his eyes.
But he was quicker. He grabbed her wrist, twisted. She let out a small cry, and he felt a lurch in his stomach at the sound, so like her recent cries of passion. He put her arm up behind her back, and marched her from the temple, past stunned worshippers who interrupted their prayers to stare.
Outside, Atius was waiting with four legionaries. They put her wrists in manacles, and led her away.
Though he tried to hold them back, tears rolled down Silus’ cheeks. Unashamed, not caring who was watching, Atius stepped up to him and took him into a strong, brotherly embrace.
‘Torture her,’ said Marcellus angrily. ‘Whip her back off her. Or put her on the rack. I don’t care. Just find out where my son is, then execute her, publicly and slowly.’
The words chilled Silus. It was bad enough to hear them spoken about anyone, worse about a woman, but terrible when it was a woman that he had recently slept with and had maybe started to care for. But what could he say? And how would he feel in Marcellus’ position?
Of all those gathered in this small council of advisors to Marcellus, it was Soaemias that spoke up first.
‘You cannot torture and execute a priestess of Isis. Not in Alexandria. Certainly not in public.’
‘I can do as I please!’ declared Marcellus. ‘And I will. Silus, see to it at once.’
‘Governor,’ said Baebius Juncinus. ‘While your concern is understandable, as is your wish to find the truth as quickly as possible, may I respectfully remind you that though you are a most powerful and influential person, and beloved of the Emperor, Egypt is mine to govern, unless the Emperor himself decrees otherwise.’
‘I know that, prefect. But we are talking about my son!’
‘Yes, but if we do as you say, it will spark civil disturbance such as has not been seen in this city for years. And you will travel on to Numidia, hopefully with your son, while I am left with legionaries to try to restore peace to a city tearing itself apart.’
‘Fine, then we do it in secret.’
‘No, beloved,’ said Soaemias. ‘You cannot keep a thing like that secret. If you torture her and release her, it will become known. If you kill her and dispose of her body discretely, she will be missed soon. In either case, the end result would be as if you stripped her naked and flogged her in the agora.’
‘I have to agree with the Lady Soaemias,’ said Gannys deferentially. ‘Much as I want to be reunited with the young master as soon as possible.’
Marcellus leapt to his feet. ‘Then tell me, all of you who say what cannot be done. Tell me what we should do.’
‘You should consider releasing her, before it is noticed that she is gone,’ said Gannys.
‘Are you mad?’ shouted Marcellus.
‘I could talk to her,’ said Silus quietly.
‘I mean, as insane as a dog with the rage?’ ranted Marcellus at Gannys. ‘Why would I allow the only person we have yet found who might lead us to my son to go free?’
‘She might listen to me,’ said Silus.
‘Why don’t we just stop punishing criminals altogether? All the murderers and traitors, all those awaiting execution in the arena. Let’s just open the gaol and let them wander the streets.’
‘Sir,’ said Silus.
Marcellus whirled on Silus, panting hard. ‘What is it?’
‘Let me talk to her.’
Marcellus looked at him, red-faced, chest and shoulders heaving.
‘What good will that do?’
‘I have come to know her. A little. Maybe I can persuade her to tell me what she knows. By a combination of threats and bribery.’
‘Do you think you can do it?’
‘There is nothing lost by me trying.’
‘Nothing but time.’ He considered. ‘Very well.’
‘I should do it,’ interjected Soaemias.
‘What?’ asked Marcellus, confused.
‘It should be me that talks to her. Woman to woman. A mother’s appeal, for the sake of my suffering child.’
Marcellus hesitated. Silus frowned. He wanted to be the one to talk to Tekosis. He couldn’t help but look forward to spending time with her, even under these circumstances.
‘The Lady Soaemias makes a good point, but I don’t believe Tekosis would respond to it. She is not a mother, and she is quite dedicated to her cause. If she is genuinely involved in the disappearance of Avitus, then she has obviously already hardened her heart to your son’s distress.’
Marcellus thought for a moment, then nodded. ‘Go to her, Silus. Talk to her. But don’t take long. If you have not come back to me with information before the day is out, then I will take a whip to her myself, and I will not let anyone stop me. And if that doesn’t work, I will summon the legion and tear this city apart!’
Silus bowed, ignoring the glare from Soaemias, and hurried away.
The guard stood to attention when Silus approached the cell, and unlocked it, removing the hefty bar so it swung open. He stepped inside and Tekosis turned abruptly, a simple pottery cup of wine in her hand. She looked guilty, like she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t, but Silus couldn’t see anything in the cell that was forbidden. And when he looked closer, she had tears in the corner of her eyes, and her face was pale. She looked much smaller than he remembered, and her self-assurance had vanished. She looked more defeated than after the villagers had assaulted her in the temple.
She carefully laid the cup down on a table, making sure she spilled none of it, then turned to face Silus.
Instead of speaking, he looked around the cell. Besides the table with some basic food and drink on it, there was a low bed with a reed mattress, a bucket in a corner, and a three-legged stool. By the standards of other cells he had seen, it was distinctly luxurious. Despite his anger at her, he was glad she wasn’t being mistreated.
Yet her next words made his bowels clench.
‘The gaoler says they are going to torture me.’
He wanted to take her in his arms, to reassure her that everything would be fine, that she was in no danger. Yet paradoxically, that might endanger her more. If he could not persuade her to open up to him, then she might indeed be put to torture, regardless of the pleadings of Soaemias and Gannys. The hardening in Marcellus’ demeanour since Avitus’ disappearance, both towards Soaemias and generally, had been very noticeable to Silus.
‘What did he say?’
‘He seemed to enjoy it, telling me what they would do. He said they would strip me, and whip my body raw. And that if I did not tell them what they wanted to know then, that they would put me on a rack and rip my limbs from their sockets.’
Silus swallowed down the bile rising in his throat.
‘Then talk to me. Tell me who has Avitus. Tell me where to find him.’
She pressed her lips together and shook her head, keeping her eyes fixed on him.
‘Come on, Tekosis. Make me understand. Why are you involved? Why won’t you tell me what you know?’
‘Do you really not know me, after everything I’ve told you?’
‘Clearly not.’
‘Then you haven’t been listening. I told you, Isis and Egypt come before everything for me.’
‘I gathered that. But that doesn’t explain why you are involved in the abduction of the boy.’
‘I haven’t admitted that I am.’
Silus cocked his head on one side and raised his eyebrows.
‘Egypt and Isis,’ she said.
‘He is some sort of priest, of this god Elagabal. You fear his god as a threat to Isis?’
‘No, Silus. We have discussed this. Like Rome, Egypt does not fear to have another god join her pantheon. Look at Serapis, a Graeco-Egyptian god, taking on aspects of Osiris, Apis and Greek deities, who has in many eyes taken the place of Osiris as the consort of Isis. When you come to Alexandria for the first time, the most imposing building you will encounter is the Serapeum. Built by the Greek newcomers to help spread their culture and cement their power here.’
Silus shrugged, not seeing where this was going.
‘We all know that there is power in gods, but it goes way beyond their immortal and divine abilities. Their mere names inspire men to the heights.’
‘Which heights? What are you talking about?’
‘Why couldn’t his god Elagabal become the new husband of Isis? Imagine what message that would send to the world. A union of Syria and Egypt. It would be glorious. It would renew the pantheon, give it new life and energy, and help to fight off the threat from the Christians.’
‘So you are telling me all this – the kidnapping, the piracy, the attempted murder of Marcellus – it is just to install Avitus as a new priest? In Alexandria? Presumably as some sort of puppet. And you would of course be glorified as the priestess of Isis, his bride.’
‘I never got involved for my own glorification, Silus. I would like you to believe that.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s not enough. Why Avitus? There must be others in Syria that worship Elagabal that you could have brought to Alexandria to introduce the cult, and with much less risk than kidnapping the son of one of the most powerful people in the Empire.’
He turned to the table and picked up the cup of wine.
‘Silus,’ said Tekosis sharply. Her eyes were fixed on his hands.
‘Talk to me, Tekosis. Spare yourself the torture.’
Tekosis looked anguished. ‘Let me drink. I need to settle my nerves. Then I will talk.’
Silus gave a half-smile. ‘Is this wine really such a panacea?’ He passed her the cup. She took it gratefully in both hands then stared down into it. She was still for a moment.
‘I did like you, Silus. I didn’t take you to my bed for the glory of Isis or Egypt, or for the conspiracy. I did it because I wanted to.’
Silus didn’t know whether that mattered any more.
‘Don’t think less of me. I did what I thought was right.’
She put the wine to her lips and drank deeply, almost draining the cup. Then she replaced it on the table and said, ‘Isis, intercede for me with the Lord Osiris and guide me to the afterlife.’
A sudden sense of alarm flooded over Silus.
‘Tekosis. What have you done?’
‘I’m beyond your justice now, Silus. Beyond the reach of your torturers.’
He picked up the cup of wine and saw some crushed leaves in the bottom. He picked them out and sniffed. They smelt musty, like rat urine.
‘Hemlock,’ said Tekosis. ‘It won’t be long now.’
Silus threw the cup against the wall, where it shattered into shards.
‘Who gave you the poison?’
‘You think I would give up their name now? When I have just chosen death over betrayal of the cause?’
Silus grabbed her by both wrists, staring into her eyes.
‘Tekosis, listen to me. I know you are doing what you believe is right. But the consequences will be terrible. Marcellus will set the legions loose in the streets if he doesn’t find his son soon, and I have seen what happens when the soldiers are given their head in a city. The suffering will be incalculable. Fire, rape, robbery, murder. So many innocents dead.’
Doubt crept into Tekosis’ eyes.
‘He wouldn’t. Soaemias wouldn’t let him.’
‘Soaemias has some control over him, true, but I know Marcellus better than you. He has become the Emperor’s right-hand man by doing anything he needs to do to get what he wants.’
Tekosis’ pupils were wide, making it seem like her eyes had turned black, and she had a tremor in her hand. Was it doubt and fear, or the poison working already?
‘Tell me where the boy is. Do the right thing. Egypt can still be great. The boy could still bring Elagabal to Egypt and introduce his worship here. But he must be returned to his father, safe, soon.’
Tekosis sat down on the bed heavily.
‘I don’t know where they are keeping him,’ she said, and her voice carried the first traces of a slur.
‘Who else is involved?’ said Silus urgently.
Tekosis leaned forward, gripping her stomach, and let out a groan.
‘Oh. It burns. I didn’t expect… the pain.’
Silus knelt down in front of her and grasped her hands.
‘Tekosis. Trust me. I recovered your idol. I respect her, but I fear for her, and for this city. Tell me something, anything, so I can reunite the boy with his father and stop him bringing down the wrath of the legions on the people.’
‘The legions,’ said Tekosis, and her voice was becoming a whisper.
‘The legions,’ said Silus. ‘What about them?’
‘The legate. He is part of it.’
‘Gratidius? Why? In what way?’
‘Don’t know. Silus, I’m scared. I don’t know what is right.’ She gasped. ‘My heart. It races. Hold me, Silus.’
Silus put his arms around her, held her close. She whispered in his ear. ‘Did I do the right thing for Isis, for Egypt, by being a part of all this? Or am I doing the right thing by telling you about it now?’
‘You are doing the right thing now,’ he said with as much conviction as he could muster. From his point of view, it was right, saving a boy, preventing severe retribution on the city. From her point of view, with her different loyalty and perspective, maybe not. He had no idea. But he was going to give her as much reassurance as he could in her last moments. ‘The information you just gave me will save many lives. And will prevent a backlash that could threaten your city and the worship of your goddess.’
She looked up into his eyes, and tears rolled out of the corners. She tried to say something, but instead of words, a trickle of clear drool emerged and ran down her chin. Then her head went back in a vicious spasm. The veins and tendons in her rigid neck stood out like little serpents.
And the convulsions began. She collapsed onto her side on the bed, and her whole body shook violently. Her mouth foamed, and she let out guttural gasps and groans. He struggled to keep hold of her as she writhed and twitched. The seizure became more and more violent, until abruptly it stopped. She remained rigid in his arms for a long moment and Silus searched her eyes desperately for any sign of consciousness. For what seemed an eternity, her gaze appeared to lock on his.
Then she went limp, and the room filled with the acrid smell of faeces as her bowels voided.