Next to me, Ujeb began to blubber. “This has never happened before! There’s never been human sacrifice among us! Why now? Why now?”
“The curse!” Ismene cried. “All curses must be cast away! All must be purified!”
Artemon shook his head. “What curse, Metrodora? What are you talking about?”
“The curse of the ruby!” She thrust her fist in the air, then opened it to reveal the ruby I had given her, removed from its setting in the Nabataean’s necklace. At that instant the first ray of sunlight shot across the horizon and struck the jewel. It seemed that Ismene held a little ball of fire.
“What curse do you speak of?” Ujeb’s voice cracked. “Where did this ruby come from?”
“Stupid man!” shouted Ismene. “Your questions are pointless. All that matters is that the curse be cast away. Unless that’s done, this ship will never reach Alexandria.”
Men jabbered and dropped to their knees. Artemon looked taken aback. This, clearly, had not been a part of his plans.
“Who must die, Metrodora?” wailed Ujeb. “Is it me? Oh, please, gods, let it not be me!”
“Be quiet, you fool!” Ismene gave him a withering look. “No one has to die. But every man here must touch the ruby. The ruby already holds a curse. The ruby can take upon itself more curses-all the curses among us, large and small. For all to go well, the whole ship and everyone on it must be purified. All must hold the ruby!”
She approached Artemon, stared at him until he held out his hand, then pressed the ruby into his palm.
“Every man aboard the ship must touch it!” she cried.
Artemon descended to the deck. He passed the ruby to the first man he came to, Menkhep. Menkhep held the stone at arm’s length, then passed it to the next man.
From man to man the ruby was passed. Some gazed at it in awe. Some averted their eyes in fear. Some fondled it with a kind of lust before handing it over. Others trembled and squealed when they touched it, as if it burned their fingers.
When it came my turn to hold it, I took a good look at the jewel that had once been mine. Was it truly cursed? Its previous owner, the Nabataean, had certainly come to a bad end, as had Harkhebi and the others who chased after it. But my possession of the ruby had bought the respect of Artemon, and by giving it to Ismene I had gained the chance to see Bethesda.
“The boy, too, must hold it,” said Ismene, who had slowly made her way through the crowd until she stood before me.
I passed the ruby to Djet. He stared at it cross-eyed for a moment before he passed it on.
Ismene stepped closer. The others drew back. As all eyes followed the ruby, she stepped so close that when she whispered, only I could hear.
“There is another who touched the ruby, before I woke you.”
“Bethesda!” I breathed the name, barely moving my lips.
Ismene nodded.
“Let me see her!” I whispered.
“That is not possible,” whispered Ismene.
“But when-?”
“Follow Artemon today. Go on the raid. But do not return to the ship. Stay in Alexandria. Whatever happens, do not reboard the Medusa.”
“And Bethesda? How will she-?”
Ismene abruptly turned and walked away.
From hand to hand the ruby passed, until every man aboard had touched it. The last to hold it was Captain Mavrogenis, who peered at it with his good eye, turning it this way and that. At Ismene’s approach, he stiffened and handed it to her.
Ismene held up the ruby. It glittered in the light of the rising sun.
“Accursed thing!” she cried. “Thing of beauty that now holds within it every curse and particle of ill fortune from every mortal aboard this ship! Be off with you! Let Poseidon swallow you! Only all the waters of the sea can wash you clean!”
She drew back her arm and threw with all her might. A crimson streak hurtled through the air and disappeared amid the waves with a tiny splash.
Artemon looked aghast. Then, slowly, a smile lit his face. I think he anticipated the reaction of the men. For a moment they all stood dumbstruck, as shocked as Artemon, then some began to shiver and gasp, and some to weep. All their unspoken anxiety seemed to pour out of them in that moment. All night they had suppressed their fears, shunning words of ill omen, speaking only of success and glory. From what dark dreams had Ismene’s scream awoken them? Still half-asleep and befuddled, they had been drawn by her into a ritual that none expected, yet all longed for.
We had been cleansed-not by water or by prayer, but by magic. Gone was the detritus of every man’s offenses against gods and mortals. Gone was doubt.
We were ready for the day ahead.
As the anchor was hoisted and the Medusa set sail, Artemon announced who among us would go ashore and who would stay behind to guard the ship. I was in the first group.
Every man was issued a weapon. Those going on the raid were given shields and armor. Some of these items we had brought with us from the Cuckoo’s Nest, but the best pieces came from a cache on the ship. The style and craftsmanship of these objects resembled the armaments used by King Ptolemy’s soldiers. Where had so much equipment, of such high quality, come from? I wondered if Artemon’s confederates had raided a royal armory.
Artemon unrolled a large and highly detailed map of the city of Alexandria-one of the treasures he had chosen to bring with him from his library. Upon it was marked the wharf where the Medusa would dock, and the route we were to take to the Tomb of Alexander and back. All the men were encouraged to study the map and acquaint themselves with the landmarks. Thanks to the rigid grid laid out by Alexander for his city, even the dullest among us were able to grasp the layout of the map. When it came my turn to look, the names and markings evoked a flood of memories and a rush of excitement. In a matter of hours, I would be in Alexandria again.
Artemon explained his plan for the raid. Some of the men asked questions, which he answered at length. He seemed to have thought of every detail and anticipated every eventuality. Even the most hesitant were won over.
The men of the Cuckoo’s Gang sailed toward Alexandria in a buoyant mood. The weather was mild, the spume from the prow gave the air a salty tang, and the seagulls overhead seemed to beckon us onward.
Even by day, the beacon atop the Pharos Lighthouse shone brightly, thanks to huge mirrors that collected and cast back the sunlight. As we neared the city, the beacon grew larger and brighter.
The first time I had sailed into the harbor of Alexandria, some years before, I had been awed at the splendor of the city. I was awed anew. What visitor, no matter how familiar with the sight, could fail to be amazed at the world’s tallest building, the lighthouse, rising from the waves? Beyond the lighthouse lay the islands of the harbor, glittering with temples and palaces. Along the waterfront stretched the bustling port and the splendid balconies of the royal palace.
As we passed the lighthouse, I gazed ahead at the distant waterfront and saw the very spot where Bethesda and I had eaten with Melmak and the mime troupe on my birthday, where I had fallen asleep and then had awakened alone, with Bethesda gone. That fateful day seemed a lifetime ago.
Every ship that enters the harbor must first be given permission, and we were no exception. With the Pharos Lighthouse looming to our right, a small boat came out to meet us. It was rowed by slaves and carried a single official, who looked slightly absurd in his elaborate costume, which included a helmet too large for him and a great many leather straps and brass buckles that appeared to serve no practical purpose.
Had the official been bribed ahead of time? Were the documents shown to him by Captain Mavrogenis genuine, or a convincing forgery? I was not close enough to observe their conversation, but a few moments later the small boat rowed away and the Medusa proceeded toward the largest of the wharfs that projected into the water.