The two main libraries were still here, exactly as I remembered. Their symmetrical limestone facades towered into the sky. Torches flared at regular intervals along the passageways, and philosophers had gathered on the front steps overlooking the forum, posing for the masses to see them engaged in debate, as they always did. I recalled having to bustle past them whenever I needed to study. The graffiti here was more satisfying – full of electoral slogans and statements of support from wealthy businessmen. Hardly a phallus in sight.
Loathed by many, loved by others, the street theatres were doing a roaring trade. There were several different performances on today, makeshift stages and melodramatic actors with exaggerated expressions. Further along the street, the taverns were full with all manner of clients, all the chatter here in the Detratan tongue. I tried to recall the haunts of my younger days, of conversations in the morning sunlight, of minted teas shared with a young lady on a good day, or with a dull legal scholar on an average one. They were discussions that people could lose themselves in, and which could be forgotten about soon after. It wasn’t so much about what was said, but the energy, the sparring, the craft of carving out one’s sense of being.
Much of my understanding of the world had developed in those establishments. In fact, I’d spent many an hour there with the one woman – though she was then a girl – the only significant romance I’d ever had. Her name was Titiana, and I wondered vaguely what became of her.
Now, looking back at the taverns, oil lamps stood on tables, shining their mellow light on new faces, none of which I recognized, even though I somehow hoped I might: the stories shared here were no longer for my ears.
People moved on, I had moved on, and that was life.
The Temple of Polla dominated the street that bordered the city districts of Polyum and Regallum. Two immense torches burned within iron cressets, framing a staircase of twenty steps. Polla’s slender face set within a blazing sun was carved into the centrepiece of the facade and from her lofty position she gazed down on all those who entered.
Already I felt calm in her presence. The noises of the city fell away and from beyond the double doors came scents of incense. A serene priestess dressed in white silk greeted me in the entrance way; she asked if I could wait inside until the pontiff was prepared to see me, so I thanked her and went in.
The marble floor glittered under candlelight as people drifted past in whispered conversation. Crimson drapes hung on the walls and within small alcoves bronze statues of Polla’s other-world husbands stood. Incense, flowers or small blood offerings lay at their feet. On the side I could see a resplendent edition of the Book of Wisdom, a large text that contained details on how best to explore and interact with the world, as well as speculation on the movement of the stars and of plants and creatures that had not yet made it to Vispasia.
The senior pontiff arrived, a slender, aged man with sunken cheekbones, a minor hunch and garbed in a red robe. I returned his gracious greeting. He regarded me with a pity I didn’t feel was strictly necessary.
‘We did not expect you so soon,’ he announced.
‘I took a ship rather than coming across land.’
‘Would you like to see your father now?’
‘Please.’
‘Come, Polla has preserved him well. The rituals are nearly over. His ashes will be ready for burial in four days.’
Together we descended to the subterranean levels beneath the temple, and entered a small chamber halfway down a dark and cold corridor that, even though it probably had little public traffic, was every bit as ornate as the temple above. Inside, the pontiff lit several candles and there in front of me, wrapped in layers of thin, resin-covered cloth, was my father’s body.
I had seen many corpses in my lifetime including, as a young boy, that of my own mother. I did not know what to feel. I became strangely numb, void of thought. I simply stared, trying to connect my knowledge of my father to the body before me.
‘When was he brought here?’ I asked.
‘About twenty days ago,’ the pontiff replied.
They had done a good job of halting the decay and bad odour. ‘And where was he found?’
‘In his offices, not too far from here. A member of the cohorts stopped by and found him slumped over his desk – he raised the alarm initially, and our physician arrived first.’
‘What was his name – the man in the cohort?’
‘Brellus, I believe, but he died three days later trying to evacuate a building that was on fire.’
I glanced at the priest, saddened for the loss of life, but frustrated that I couldn’t talk with this Brellus.
‘Was there anything suspicious about the scene in my father’s office?’
‘The matter has been looked into—’
‘By the cohorts?’
‘Yes, and our physician. No signs of a disturbance, no markings on the body. Our physician suggests this was an unfortunate occurrence and concludes that it was his heart that failed him.’
My father’s face appeared far older than I remembered – his time-worn lines, saggy skin and white hair. Decay will do that to a body, of course. I placed my hand to his ice-cold cheek and withdrew it as if it had burned me. Here lay the great man of the Court of the Sun Chamber, a man whose name travelled further than mine could ever hope to. Suddenly it didn’t seem to matter so much. What precisely was the point in competing with the dead?
‘Your brother, Marius, visited us,’ the pontiff whispered.
‘Did he?’ I grunted. ‘I didn’t even know he was in Tryum.’
‘He is not. After a few months living here, he decided he’d had enough. He came here, very briefly, to pay his respects. But he’s since left the city.’
‘I’m sure he has.’
‘He had hoped to still be in your father’s will, but there were only a few trinkets for him.’
‘What can he expect?’ I grunted. ‘They hated each other.’
The priest’s sad expression almost made me feel sorry for Marius. The man’s sense of pity was beginning to become too much.
‘They tried to heal things, so I understand. People change. Meanwhile,’ he continued, ‘you received the property in full. Your brother also said for us to wait for you to return before your father’s full burial.’
‘That was… kind of him.’ I glanced over the shape of the body, then beneath the cloth. Though it wasn’t always easy to tell after twenty days of death, there was no obviously large gut, nothing to suggest he had succumbed to the finer things in life such as overeating.
‘Your people say it was definitely his heart?’
‘You find this hard to believe?’
‘He always kept in good shape, exercised regularly and ate well – he’d been like that all his life.’
‘Who knows why the gods decide to take us,’ the pontiff replied. ‘His funeral will be in a few days, once we continue the rituals here to see his soul is at peace. The necessary arrangements and notifications have already been made.’
‘Oh…’ I fumbled around for a purse of money. ‘How much should the donations be?’
The pontiff waved for me to relax. ‘It has all been paid for by the administration of the Sun Chamber. You will be notified before his body is to be burned. We are reading the stars each evening, waiting for an auspicious alignment.’
‘And then?’
‘After that, once we allow his ashes to be collected, it will be another day or so before you may have them to place within the family mausoleum.’
‘Thank you,’ I replied. ‘I’m staying at his – my – house, should you need to find me.’