Chapter Three

One week later, we sailed into the harbour in Carthage. I got my first glimpse of the fabled city at noon. The sun flashed on the wonderful mosaics and glittered off the billions of scintillating tiles covering the pillars and houses. The mosaics and tiles were amazing, with deep hues of turquoise, blues and greens, pepper-hot reds, oranges, and all the golds and yellows of the sun. The effect was glorious.

The harbour was deep and very grand, as Carthage was a seaport. At her back was the endless desert, in front, her arms curled around the water like a mother holding a child. Some caravans did come from the arid wasteland, bringing gold and strange spices and skins to trade, but most everyone came to Carthage by the sea.

Boats of all shapes and sizes bobbed in the harbour. In front of the Imperial Palace, protected by a jetty that cut the harbour in two, was the Imperial Fleet of triremes, low, sleek warships, all with sharp prows, triple levels of rowers, beautifully weighted keels, able to change direction forwards or backwards, instantly. They were guarded by armed soldiers and ready to leave at a moment’s notice, day or night. The Imperial Palace took up a good part of the peninsula reaching out on the left side of the bay as you looked at Carthage, your back to the sea. On the right were the customs buildings, the trading docks, the unloading and loading piers, and the fish markets.

In the harbour, was a small island girdled by a sandy beach. A temple was built upon it. A humped stone bridge led to the island from the centre of the waterfront. There were no docks on the island. Just a wide, golden beach surrounded by jumbled boulders. An arched stone gate with an iron door stood on the island side of the bridge. The door was closed. The temple was deserted. We couldn’t even sail close to the island. Sharp rocks sticking out of the water guarded it.

The wind was brisk, so we manoeuvred the boat carefully. A dragon boat attracted attention, and a customs boat had come out to intercept us before we even entered the harbour. Once he saw we were traders, he escorted us to our mooring.

Phaleria immediately set about unloading the goods she wanted to sell while Alexander, Axiom, Plexis, Yovanix, Paul, and I set out to explore the city.

The city rose steeply above the bay, with many streets turning into wide staircases. The houses were large, airy, and terraced. Date palms and fruit trees grew in parks and lined the streets. Fountains were everywhere, sparkling and splashing in every garden and square.

Yovanix walked surely, one hand resting lightly on Paul’s shoulder, the other holding the new leash Plexis had woven for Perilous. The dog was growing fast, and his training was coming along well. Docile now, and obedient, he trotted just ahead of Yovanix, slowing whenever an obstacle presented itself. An obstacle could be a large pothole, a curb, stairs, or whatever else risked making Yovanix lose his balance and fall.

Plexis walked next to the dog and corrected him when he did something wrong, and Paul was there to steady Yovanix, in case the puppy forgot himself and leapt after a cat. But the puppy was behaving beautifully, and Paul could concentrate instead on describing what we were seeing as we walked from the docks into the city.

‘We’re following a wide avenue that leads slightly uphill and curves around to the left, hugging the shore. On our right are houses and shops, and on our left is a wall, about shoulder level, beyond which is the sea.’

‘I can hear the waves breaking against the seawall,’ said Yovanix, ‘and we’ve just passed a fishmonger. I could smell his weekly special.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘I don’t think I’d want to eat it.’

Paul grinned. ‘Now we’re in front of the harbour. Ahead of us are the Imperial Palace gates, about a hundred metres away, I’d say. To our right is a huge arch, and through it is a bridge leading to the temple on the island.’

‘I can feel the wind coming through the arch,’ said Yovanix, turning his banded eyes towards it. The breeze blew his light brown hair off his high forehead, showing the white skin. He smiled, tilting his head. ‘I can hear the difference between the waves hitting the rocks and the waves washing up on the sandy beach.’

‘There is no one on the island,’ I said, ‘Why?’

‘Only the priests go when they perform their ceremonies,’ said Axiom. He looked at the sky. ‘I believe it’s going to rain.’

‘It won’t rain for a while yet,’ said Alexander, glancing at the heavy clouds on the horizon.

‘To our right is a wide street. It’s at right angles to the waterfront and it cuts the city in half. It seems to be the main street, with many other smaller ones leading off from it.’ Paul said to Yovanix.

‘We can take the main street and see if we can find lodgings.’ Alexander took my arm. ‘Shall we?’

‘We shall,’ I said.

Paul continued his guided tour for Yovanix. ‘The houses are made of stone and wood, with mosaics covering every available space. The streets are paved with flat flagstones – watch your step there; that stone is broken. The houses here are not very grand. Up on the top of the hill are bigger residences, and I can see two or three behind formidable walls. I can only catch a glimpse of their rooftops, but they look to be quite huge. They must be the palaces and the wealthy quarters.’

Yovanix turned his head, listening to Paul and trying to sense where he was going. The street sloped gently upwards. Sometimes there would be a shallow step in the road. The puppy was learning to stop at these to give Yovanix time to ‘see’ it with his foot.

‘There’s a public garden on our left, and up ahead the street widens and circles a fountain, probably a sacred spring. There is a small temple built over it, and bouquets of flowers have been deposited all around it.’

‘I smell the flowers,’ said Yovanix. He spoke evenly, with no sign of the strain he must be feeling. His hand on Paul’s shoulder was firm but gentle. ‘And on our left there is a bakery. The bread has just come out of the oven.’

‘That’s right! Can we buy some, Father? I’m starving.’ Paul looked at Alexander pleadingly and Alexander flipped his wrist and took a coin out of his purse.

‘Get some sweet buns for all of us,’ he said. ‘You’re not the only starving voyager here.’

We sat on a tiled bench in the public garden and ate our buns. They were warm, fragrant with honey, and covered with toasted sesame seeds. We ate the buns, licked our fingers, and did some people-watching.

‘There goes a woman riding a donkey. She’s wearing a red robe and a yellow shawl fringed with glass beads; that’s making the clicking noise you hear. She looks like she’s in a hurry – she probably has an appointment at the beauty parlour and she’s late.’ Paul leaned forwards and said, ‘I see three men carrying a long, rolled-up rug. It looks heavy. I bet it’s for one of the houses on the hill. The men are wearing identical blue loincloths. They must be slaves, working in the same household. Now I see a young girl with long black hair reaching down to her knees. She has a gold circlet on her head. She is escorted by two eunuchs. They are wearing long robes, and, oh! One just billowed in the breeze and I saw a huge, curved sword at his waist.’

‘That’s called a scimitar, and it’s quite deadly, I assure you.’ said Plexis.

Paul whistled. ‘It looks deadly! There are at least fifty women shopping in this street. They are carrying most of their goods in baskets made of woven grass. The baskets have large handles that loop over their shoulders.’

‘Shall we go to find some place to shelter?’ asked Alexander. ‘I think it’s going to rain.’

A fat raindrop fell with a loud plop, landing in the soft dust at our feet. Axiom and I looked up at the clouds. ‘I thought you said it wouldn’t rain until later,’ I said to Alexander.

Axiom grinned. ‘I think I see an inn over there, see? Where the third street on the left connects to the main street.’

We hurried to the shelter of the inn, arriving just as the heavens opened and a deluge suddenly obscured the harbour from our view. The innkeeper rented us two small but clean rooms overlooking the bay. Our room had an oil lamp made of pale blue glass hanging from the ceiling. The breeze made it swing. The shadows around us reared and subsided as the lamp moved back and forth. Outside, the night was full of noise. The city never slept. Restaurants were crowded with people, and the streets were busy. In the cool of the evening, the city started to bustle.

We ate early and retired to our rooms. The fatigue of the journey made our movements torpid. I lay on my back on the bed and watched the lamp, melancholy washing through me.

‘Are you thinking of the tent?’ asked Alexander, stretching out by my side.

‘I suppose so. We’re almost home, aren’t we? Just two more stops, and then home at last.’

He sighed deeply. ‘It seems as if we’ve been travelling for ten years, instead of just one. The memories of Orce are already confused with those of Britain and Gaul. Sometimes I dream of the old woman who leaned over the pit where I was kept prisoner. I see a wizened crone, and then her face changes and she becomes Olympias. And sometimes I forget how you lost your hand. I look at your arm, and I get confused.’ He was silent, thinking.

‘I hardly remember that either,’ I said. It was true, the memory was diffused by shock. I could only recall the smell of my flesh being cauterized, and Demos’s voice crooning in my ear. The rest was a blur. Mostly I tried not to think about the accident that cost me my left hand. Ithad been an accident, after all. My son hadn’t meant to hurt me. It was my fault; I’d tried to grab a razor-sharp sword.

The lamp swung back and forth in front of my vision, its flame flickering and dimming. The room darkened. Outside, a rush of wind clattered the shutters, rustled the palm fronds, and drowned out the murmur of voices coming from downstairs. My heart beat irregularly. Sometimes it did that when I was too tired or stressed. Other times my nose bled. Not tonight, though. No sharp tickle warned me of a nosebleed, so I closed my eyes and breathed slowly.

Beside me, Alexander stirred. ‘Babylon seems so far away,’ he said softly. ‘That’s another thing I keep forgetting – my own death there. It was such a lovely city, though tinged with sorrow. I wonder why, with all the beauty, I can only remember the tears?’

‘“How many miles to Babylon? Three score miles and ten. Can I get there by candlelight? Yes, and back again”,’ I quoted in a murmur. I didn’t open my eyes. Visions of the city overwhelmed me. I saw the gate of Ishtar, its blue enamelled tiles glowing in the sun. The great ziggurat that rose above the city like a fantastic, pink spaceship. The temples and courtyards, the central marketplace with its striped awnings, fountains, and white camels. An amber river flowed through the city, cutting the palace in two, irrigating the hanging gardens with its precious water. I envisioned the palace with its echoing brick hallways and huge, arched passages. The biggest rooms had been built below the ground in the cool entrails of the earth. My room had overlooked a small courtyard where an emerald pool sparkled in the middle of towering palm trees. Lined with deep green tiles, the pool was always cool and inviting. Each evening, I’d swum in it, feeling the water like silk caressing me. Or maybe it was Alexander’s hand.

‘You’re crying,’ he said, bending over to kiss my tears away. ‘Why? What did that poem mean?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘It was already older than dust when I learned it.’

‘Why aren’t you sleeping?’

‘I’m having a hard time falling asleep,’ I admitted. ‘Perhaps that’s why I’m crying. I’m just exhausted, and I can’t sleep.’

‘Time, what a strange thing,’ he said meditatively. ‘It flows by like water, never stopping, never looking back. Yet you defied it, breasted the current, and returned upstream to a time not your own. The people of your day have no idea what they’re really doing, do they? I used to think of them as time gods. Now I only pity them.’

I opened my eyes. He was leaning over me, his face hidden in darkness. Only his eyes glittered.

‘Why?’ I asked.

‘Because I have you, they do not. Don’t be sad, Ashley of the Sacred Sandals. You are here, and wherever or whenever that is, it’s enough to have you with me.’

I smiled then. Sleep was nudging me, but so was something else. Something near my hip. My throat tightened suddenly. My flesh contracted with a shiver of delight, and Alexander laughed softly.

‘It’s enough for me too,’ I said, ‘and it always has been.’ I sighed. ‘Mmm, that feels good.’

‘I think I know of a good way to help you sleep,’ he said. The lamplight was blotted out as he moved on top of me, and I closed my eyes and let his body sing me to sleep.