The man’s head was shaved, but his barber had neglected to trim his bushy black eyebrows, which bristled like the legs of a tarantula. Despite this striking feature, he was not a bad-looking man; nor was he as old as I had expected, though he still looked old enough to be Axiothea’s father. He was dressed in an elaborately embroidered linen gown and elegant leather sandals, wearing a bejeweled ring on every finger and many necklaces of silver and gold. In all my travels I had never met a man as ostentatious as Tafhapy.
A scribe with writing tools sat cross-legged on the mosaic floor beside him-a beautiful young man wearing nothing but a loincloth, I noticed. At least two bodyguards watched us from the shaded recesses of the garden. Facing Tafhapy were two vacant ebony chairs, not quite as grand as the one in which he sat.
My host gave me an appraising look, then turned his gaze to Djet. “That was quick,” he said. “Too quick. You can’t possibly have gone all the way to Rhakotis and back in the time since I dispatched you.”
“It was a sign from the gods, Master,” said Djet. “I ran into the very man you wanted, only a few blocks from the house.”
“Did you indeed?” Tafhapy raised a bristling eyebrow, then looked at me sidelong. “My doorkeeper tells me a Roman came calling earlier today. I suppose that was you, Gordianus-if you are Gordianus?”
“Yes, Tafhapy. That was me who called on you. And I am Gordianus.”
“How curious. You desire to see me, and I to see you. Perhaps the gods indeed intend for us to meet.”
“The will of the gods is manifest in all that transpires,” I said, having learned in my travels that this sort of comment was appropriate for almost any occasion, and usually appreciated by those to whom the gods had shown special favor.
Tafhapy merely nodded. He told Djet to go sit in the shade of a lemon tree at the far side of the garden, and indicated with a gesture that I should sit in one of the vacant chairs. Though the afternoon was warm, he offered me no refreshment. For a long time he merely looked at me. Unlike Djet, he was skilled at banishing all expression from his face. I had no idea what he was thinking.
At last, without taking his gaze from me, he extended one hand toward the scribe. The young man placed a rolled-up piece of papyrus in his hand.
“Do you read Greek?” said Tafhapy.
“Even better than I speak it.”
Tafhapy snorted derisively but held out the papyrus, indicating that I should take it.
“Read it aloud,” he said.
I cleared my throat. “‘To the esteemed Tafhapy, blessed many times over by Serapis, greetings. We have taken into our care the girl called…’” I drew a sharp breath but strove to keep all emotion from my voice. “‘… called Axiothea. She will not be harmed. But you will not see her again until we receive from you a gift commensurate with the greatness of your affection for her. Leave a black pebble in the fountain of the seven baboons to show that you have received this message. Then we shall send further instructions.’”
I looked up. “The message is unsigned.”
“What do you make of it?” said Tafhapy.
What indeed? If it was Axiothea who had been kidnapped, was it Bethesda who had been seen going off with the little boy? And was the boy who had been seen in fact Djet, and if so-was Bethesda here in the house of Tafhapy? My heart pounded in my chest.
Until I knew more, I was not yet ready to reveal to Tafhapy my reason for coming, or my acquaintance with Axiothea. To play for time, I held up the letter and examined it more closely. I took a deep breath. “The papyrus and the ink are of low quality. The Greek letters are competently made, but not elegant; this wasn’t written by a scribe, taking dictation. But the writer is an educated man, as can be deduced by the fact that the message contains no grammatical errors or misspellings, or at least none that I can see. Indeed, the style of address is rather elevated.”
Tafhapy smiled faintly. “You are an observant young man. Observe this as well.” He took a second piece of papyrus from the scribe and handed it to me.
This specimen was smaller, and the message shorter. I read aloud: “‘No black stone in the fountain. Did you not receive our previous message? Axiothea misses you. Place a black stone in the fountain if you wish to see her again.’”
Tafhapy nodded. “What do you make of these two messages, Gordianus?”
“The girl Axiothea was kidnapped. She’s being held for ransom. And yet…”
“Go on.”
“They asked for a sign, which you haven’t given them. Do you intend to pay them, or not?”
“Why should I pay them?”
I shrugged. “It’s not my place, Tafhapy, to say what this woman is worth to you-”
“You misunderstand, Gordianus. Why should I pay ransom for a woman who…”
Tafhapy’s voice trailed away. From his resting place beneath the lemon tree at the far corner of the garden, Djet had risen to his feet to greet someone-a woman, to judge by her general outline. So deep was the shade in that part of the garden that I could not see her face at all, only her silhouette. The woman turned away from Djet and walked toward us, keeping to the shade of a leafy bower. As she drew near, a bit of sunlight penetrated the leaves to strike her face, and I saw that it was-
“Bethesda!” I whispered, my heart skipping a beat. I dropped the papyrus and rose from my chair.
But as the woman moved from the shadows into the light, I saw that I was mistaken. My heart turned to lead.
“As I was saying,” Tafhapy continued, “why should I pay ransom for a woman who was never kidnapped?”
Rising from his chair, he took Axiothea’s hands in his and gave her a kiss on the forehead. They smiled at each other for a long moment, then Axiothea sat in the chair next to mine.
“Sit, Gordianus,” said Tafhapy.
I did so, gripping the armrests to steady myself.
“Did you not come to my house earlier today, asking to see Axiothea? Here she is.”
I glanced at her, but had to look away. Her resemblance to Bethesda had amused me when I first met her, and delighted me in my dreams. Now it brought me pain to look at her. Yet my eyes were drawn to look at her again, and then I could not look away.
By what magic of the gods does a certain human face, that face and no other, become so important to us, the focus of our deepest longings, the answer to all questions? To gaze upon that face, and no other, is to find stillness in the midst of chaos, contentment in the midst of despair, pleasure in the midst of whatever pain and confusion life may throw at us. Axiothea’s face was very nearly that face-almost, but not quite. Looking at her, I felt many things at once, and my thoughts became a jumble.
Axiothea leaned toward me and put her hand on my arm. I looked at Tafhapy, thinking he might be displeased by her show of affection, however mild, but his demeanor remained aloof. If anything, he seemed to approve of Axiothea’s compassionate gesture.
“Why did you send Djet to fetch me?” I whispered.
“Answer my question first. Why did you want to see Axiothea? Did you have a question for her?”
“Yes.”
“Ask it now.”
I looked into her eyes. Curiously, they were the part of her that least resembled Bethesda; never could I have mistaken the eyes of one for the other. Looking into Axiothea’s eyes, I was able to maintain my composure.
“When did you last see Bethesda? How did you come to be parted? Do you know what’s become of her?”