"Honored mother," Ulrika said quickly, praying that Sebastianus was having success with his contact in the governor's office, "I told you once that I am blessed with visions, as I know you are. I had a dream. Judah spoke to me. He wishes to be buried at Daniel's Castle, for that is sacred ground. Sebastianus will take him there. You must send someone to meet him. But be careful. It is very dangerous."
As Miriam rose from her chair, Ulrika added, "There is one more thing. In the dream-visitation, Rabbi Judah said, 'Tell them to remember me.'"
36
ULRIKA PLACED HER TRAVEL packs in front of the tent and turned her eyes to the city's eastern wall and the Enlil Gate, through which heavy traffic endlessly flowed. Sebastianus had left that morning to inform the custom's agents of their departure, and to pay the tax. Now it was late afternoon. He should be here any moment. And tomorrow they would start for Rome!
Around her, in the spring sunshine, the caravan camp was bustling with industry as slaves prepared the many animals for the journey, and the treasure-filled tents were being taken down, folded, their precious contents secured in sealed boxes. Ulrika had not been able to eat her lunch—soft warm bread, sharp goat's cheese, and spicy olives soaked in vinegar and oil. She was too excited. And she was in love and ached to feel her husband's touch again.
She would never cease to marvel at the man she had married, his kindness to strangers at risk to himself. Sebastianus had been successful in secretly obtaining Rabbi Judah's body. He had taken it to Daniel's Castle where, out in the wilderness, far from traffic and passersby, Miriam and the family had buried him.
When she saw Timonides stumble through the camp and slip inside his tent, Ulrika's thoughts shifted to the astrologer. She had tried to talk to him, comfort him. Timonides's usual zest was absent from his speech, there was no life in his body and his eyes. She knew it was due to the manner of Nestor's death. Because his head had been trampled beneath horses' hooves, no eyes had been left upon which to lay the coins for Charon the ferryman. There was no way to pay for passage across the River Styx. Where had Nestor's soul gone? Timonides had asked. Was the poor boy destined to roam the underworld for eternity?
Ulrika wished she could use her gift to comfort him, wished Nestor's spirit would appear to her, as Rabbi Judah's had. She had meditated upon it with no success. Why did some spirits visit her and others did not?
A strangled cry suddenly tore the air.
Ulrika turned to see Timonides's small tent sway as if it had been struck. She went to the entrance and called his name. From within she heard gagging sounds. Ulrika went inside. Her eyes flew open.
Timonides was hanging from the main support, a rope around his neck, his legs kicking.
Ulrika rushed to him. Seeing the wooden boxes he had kicked away, she quickly stacked them, climbed up, and threw her arms around his legs. Lifting him up so that the strain on the noose eased, she said, "Timonides, remove the rope! I cannot hold you for long!" The boxes beneath her wobbled precariously.
"Let me die ..."
"Help!" Ulrika shouted. "Someone help us!"
Two slaves came running in, big men with broad backs who reached up and drew the frail old man down and out of the noose. "Find your master," Ulrika said as they laid him on the floor. "Find Sebastianus!"
She knelt next to Timonides and slipped an arm under his shoulders, shocked at the feel of skin and bone beneath his clothes. His face was white, his eyes closed, lavender lids fluttering. "Why, Timonides?" she said.
He parted his gray lips and words came croaking out: "Nestor is in Hell ... I cannot leave him there alone ... I go to join him ..."
"What nonsense," Ulrika said, tears rising in her eyes. "Your son was innocent and the gods know this."
But Timonides rolled his head from side to side. "Let me go to him. Nestor needs me ..."
Ulrika rocked him gently, her tears spilling on the face that was the color of cobwebs. What had happened that would make him think Nestor was in Hell? Mother of All, please help this man.
As she listened to the camp outside, waiting for the sound of Sebastianus's arrival, she stared at Timonides's thin neck and saw his pulse flutter like a moth, weak and irregular. She feared that he might die from sheer will of not wanting to live.
"Let me go ..." Timonides whispered.
She looked down to see him staring at her with forlorn eyes. "I spoke with philosophers in China," he said. "I met with priests and learned men. I visited temples and prayed to the most powerful gods on earth, but no one can tell me where Nestor is."
"He is with the gods," Ulrika said gently, "enjoying the next world."
"No ... he is in Hell and he needs me."
The tent flaps flew open and Sebastianus came running in, bringing daylight and slaves with him. Dropping to his knees, he said, "What happened?"
"He tried to kill himself."
"He needs a physician."
"It is not a sickness of the flesh that afflicts him, but one of the soul."
Sebastianus thought of men he knew in the city, physicians of sterling reputation. But today marked the beginning of the spring celebrations and, for Babylon, the New Year as well. Where would he find these men?
"I have to go back into the city. Will you stay with him? I'll bring a doctor back with me."
Ulrika sat with Timonides, making him comfortable, placing poultices on his bruised neck, coaxing cool water down his throat. But when she offered food, he turned his head.
Sebastianus returned at dusk, having been unable, in the city celebrations and parades, to find a medical man who would come. "I will stay with him," Ulrika said. "His neck and throat will mend, but I fear he will make another attempt on his life."
Sebastianus stayed as well. They dined in Timonides's tent, persuading him to drink a little wine and to talk about the fears that troubled his soul. But he would not talk much. He was able to sit up after a while, and stare morosely at the carpeted floor. They heard him mutter and saw him shake his head. Devils plagued the old Greek's soul.
The next morning, Timonides told Sebastianus that he was not going to do his usual daily reading. "I will never cast another horoscope again. For the rest of my days, I will look at the stars no more."
Sebastianus became alarmed. There had been times in the past when he had had to resort to a hired astrologer—when Timonides was ill—but he had never thought Timonides would cease reading the stars altogether. Out of the old man's hearing, he said to Ulrika, "I will find a star-reader in Babylon, who will do for now, but I cannot be certain that I can find one who is willing to travel to Rome! Especially an astrologer of excellent reputation. I cannot rely on someone who is second-rate. What can we do to bring Timonides around? I dare not move this caravan without consulting the stars."
"I will talk to him."
After Sebastianus left, Ulrika said to Timonides, "Come and sit in the sunshine with me, dear friend. The daylight will make you feel better."
"Nothing will make me feel better," he said, but he joined her on a stool in front of his tent. Eyes that used to focus on the stars stared moodily at the ground. Ulrika poured him a cup of wine and placed it before him, but he did not touch it.