"You have chosen wisely," Norbanus told the old man. "And I am perfectly within my rights to kill you all, and to sack your town and leave the bulk of the population with nothing but their lives." He paused as if in deep thought. "However, it is also within my power to grant clemency, and in this case, since there has been no fighting and no Roman lives have been lost, I choose to be clement. The lives, houses and treasures of Massilia shall not be harmed. Your young men will now serve with my army and your harbor will shelter my fleet."
Socrates and the rest of the councillors looked stunned. "This is most generous."
"I am generous and just. But you must swear an oath."
"That of course is understood."
"You will swear eternal friendship with Rome. And you will swear yourselves, your city and your descendants to be my clients, and the clients of my family and descendants. You are familiar with the Roman system of clientage?"
"It is similar to that observed by many civilized peoples, is it not? As your clients we vow to support and aid you in all your endeavors. You become our protector in all our dealings with Rome. Massilia and the House of Norbanus will henceforth enjoy a special relationship, beyond that which we will have with Rome."
"That is the case. How do you choose?"
Socrates looked toward his peers, and one by one, in order of rank, they nodded. He turned to Norbanus and bowed. "Most merciful general, let the sacrifices be made. Upon our altars and upon yours, we will take your oath, to bind us everlastingly in the eyes of the gods."
That evening, while a great feast was prepared to celebrate the new relationship between Massilia, Rome and the glorious Titus Norbanus, the two Greeks met with Roxana and Glaphyra. They spoke in the open, within plain view of all, so that the proprieties should be observed. A space of ground near the general's tent had been carpeted and set with chairs and with a broad table to hold the charts and instruments of the women's craft. Slaves stood discreetly by to attend to their needs.
To the cosmopolitan eyes of the Greeks, the women were not particularly exotic. In deference to their master they had adopted Roman dress, which for women was about as modest as their native Judean. They wore far heavier cosmetics than any respectable Roman woman would, but nothing out of the ordinary by Alexandrian standards. But they were twins, always a strange circumstance, and they had a singular attitude that put both men ill at ease. They were like one creature with two bodies, and that creature was not quite human. Something about their speech and movements was not quite right, and both men wondered whether this might be the result of nature or of calculation.
The women told them of the zodiac, and of the nature of birth signs and of the calculation of fortunes therefrom. They learned of the influence of the planets and of the significance of kometes, those "bearded stars" that appeared in the heavens from time to time, marking the advent of momentous events, the death of kings and the coming of great conquerors. Some of this they already knew, for astrologers abounded in Egypt and in other lands as well, but these women truly seemed to possess a far deeper knowledge of the subject than others and claimed access to certain Babylonian texts long thought to be lost.
The men in their turn entertained them with tales of the lands they had visited, of the wonders they had seen, of volcanoes and whales and lands where frankincense was traded by the shipload, where feathers of the giant rukh came in bales, and chests filled with the aphrodisiac horn of the unicorn. Slowly, they steered the conversation toward their city of residence.
"You have come all the way from Alexandria," Glaphyra said. "We have heard so much of Alexandria, and have longed to see it."
"The great palace of the Ptolemys," Roxana said, "the Museum and Library, the Paneum and the Sarapeion and the tomb of Alexander! It must be a place of wonders."
"Jerusalem is such a backwater," Glaphyra said, pouring wine for all of them. "Yet to hear the priests sing of it, it is the wonder of the world."
"Is it not the holiest of your cities, and the residing place of your god?" Zeno asked.
The women shrugged in unison. "Our god is a god of the mountain and desert," Roxana said. "Cities do not seem to be of great concern to him. The prophets of old railed against the wickedness of cities."
"Our faith has a long and unfortunate tradition of unwashed holy men from the wilderness," Glaphyra added. "Thus the values of ragged desert dwellers are exalted as the shining ideal of the cosmos. Anything sophisticated or beautiful, anything pleasurable or artistic-all are condemned as ungodly."
"I quite agree," Izates told them. "I, too, was born in your faith, in the Jewish Quarter of Alexandria. In our quarter there were many reactionary rabbis who condemned the Gentile world as you describe. Fortunately for me, there were also many enlightened, Hellenized Jews, open to the wonders of learning and philosophy. They understood that clinging to the ancient world of our ancestors is futile. At an early age I took up lectures and studies in the Museum and understood the narrowness of our old ways."
"How fortunate you were," said Roxana. "Our mother was Babylonian, and she taught us much of the wisdom of her homeland, but women, even royal women, have never been permitted a true education in Judea."
"Many women study and even teach at the Museum and the other schools in Alexandria," Izates said. "Our city does not share the prejudice of the rest of the Greek world. I have known women of Alexandria who are distinguished mathematicians, philosophers and astronomers."
"Really?" said both sisters, seeming truly astonished for the first time.
"Very much so. And with the Princess Selene as de facto queen, the position of women in Alexandrian society has seldom been higher."
"It sounds like a vision of Paradise." Glaphyra sighed. "But I fear that our lord, the great General Norbanus, would never permit us to travel there."
"He desires to keep us close always," Roxana concurred.
"You are favored far beyond the lot of common women," Zeno said. "You must be the envy of the princesses of the earth. And yet-"
" 'And yet?" said both women in their disconcerting way.
"Nothing," Zeno said, with a dismissive gesture.
"No, tell us," Glaphyra insisted. "You were about to say that our happiness is not without flaw, weren't you?"
"He was," Roxana said.
"My ladies are most acute," Izates said. "I believe that what my friend was too delicate to say-I am a Cynic, and not nearly so delicate-was that all favors of men are untrustworthy and easily withdrawn. Men are changeable, and rulers the most fickle of all. Their unreliability is literally Proverbial, for does not our own holy book advise: 'Put not thy trust in princes'?"
"And how might such a fortune befall us?" Glaphyra asked. She said it coolly, as if it were an idle remark, but Izates could tell that she had given the matter much thought.
"In many ways, Olympus forbid that any of them befall. I would never suggest that you would give him a prediction that might prove to be wrong, but a ruler may easily be displeased with one that proves to be all too accurate."
"Such things have happened to other seers," Roxana murmured.
"And, forgive me, ladies, but the philosophy of Cynics is very hard on the vanity of the world, as hard as the prophets, but even such radiant beauty as yours must fade with time. A new mistress or wife can bring about a catastrophic downfall." He said it with great sadness.
"On the other hand," Zeno said, "wisdom and learning such as your own will last a lifetime, in the right setting."
Both women nodded. "The court of Alexandria being such a setting?" Glaphyra said.