I have learned, in such moments of despair, to purposely turn my mind to some thought that gives me comfort. Of late only one such thought provides a respite, and that is the fact that I parted ways with young Gordianus back in Alexandria. I can at least be thankful that he is far away from this dangerous place. Alas, almost certainly I will never see him again. But at least I will not see him put to death before my eyes.
[Here ends this fragment from the secret diary of Antipater of Sidon.]
X
The Phoenix rounded a bend in the Cayster River, and there ahead of us lay the city of Ephesus, glittering in the lowering sunlight like a many-faceted jewel set into the scooped-out hillside. Crowning Mount Pion, the city’s highest point, and dominating the skyline was the massive semicircular theater, one of the grandest in the world. Antipater had called Ephesus the most cosmopolitan of all Greek cities, the pride of Asia, the jewel of the East.
Above us, to the right, loomed wooded bluffs. Somewhere up there was the sacred Grove of Ortygia, where-on my previous visit to Ephesus-in the dark recesses of a cave I had matched wits with the Great Megabyzus himself, and saved the young daughter of my Ephesian host from a fate worse than death.
I had not rescued the beautiful Anthea by myself. I was helped in that endeavor by Anthea’s slave, the equally beautiful Amestris. She was not quite as young as her mistress, and was more darkly complexioned, with skin like burnished bronze and hair the color of a midnight sky in summer-yes, very much like the night sky, for even in darkness her lustrous black hair had seemed to glitter with starlike points of light. Our mission to rescue her mistress had been successful, but had placed us in terrible danger. The joy and relief we both felt afterward, back at the house of Eutropius, had only been fully realized when she came to me that night, and for the first time in my life I knew a woman.
That night had been four years ago, but it lingered vividly in my memory. Such exquisite moments; such sublime sensations! As I turned my distracted gaze from the bluffs back to the glittering city ahead of us, I seemed to see the smiling face of Amestris before me.…
With a start, I realized that I was gazing not at a phantom from the past, but at a female very much present in the flesh.
“Why are looking at me in such a strange way, Master?” Bethesda titled her head to one side and cocked an eyebrow. Passing close by me, she whispered in my ear, “I suppose I can only wonder what you’re thinking, since it’s not possible for you to speak.”
She was right. Although we appeared to be out of anyone’s earshot, no one is ever really alone on board a ship, where any spoken word might be heard by an unseen listener.
For once, I was glad to have assumed the pretense of muteness. I had never told Bethesda about Amestris. I had no desire to tell her now.
Besides, with our arrival in Ephesus imminent, I had plenty of other things to think about. My first challenge would be to gain entry into the city. I had my story-stricken mute, come to seek a cure from the city’s patron goddess-and I had my counterfeit papers, thanks to the two eunuchs. I should have no problem-unless, of course, something went wrong.
What could go wrong?
I was on a secret mission. Samson was on a secret mission. Who else on board was not what he pretended to be, but was instead a smuggler, or an assassin-or a spy for Mithridates? And what if this person had already spotted my deceit, and planned to expose me the moment I stepped through the city gates? What sort of punishments would King Mithridates inflict on a young Roman who pretended not to be Roman and who tried to sneak past his guards? These Eastern kings were said to have devised tortures so intricate and horrific that a Roman could hardly imagine them. If I were exposed, I would not need to use my imagination-
“What must you be thinking now?” whispered Bethesda with a frown.
I blinked and tried to make my face a blank. I endeavored to think more positive thoughts. We would gain entry to Ephesus with no problem and no delay. Before sundown I would be in one of the world’s most sophisticated cities, teeming with taverns and temples and everything between. What then?
I knew, in a general way, what I had come to achieve. I wanted to see with my own eyes that Antipater was alive, and well; and if he was in danger, I would try to help him.
Besides my original agenda, I now had another, imposed on me by Gaius Cassius. As the standing Roman governor of the province of Asia, Cassius had every right to impose it on me, since I was after all a citizen of Rome, entitled to all the privileges-and liable to add the obligations-adhering thereto.
There were four main points to this agenda.
First, I was to discover the fate of Rome’s stalwart ally, Chaeremon of Nysa, believed by his sons to be in Ephesus. If he was still alive, and if I was able to contact him, I was to render whatever assistance he might require of me.
Second, I was to discover, if I could do so discreetly, the fate of the Roman commander Quintus Oppius, who had last been seen in headlong flight from Mithridates, but who had failed to rendezvous with Gaius Cassius in Rhodes. Was Oppius still a fugitive? Was he being held captive by Mithridates? Had he been horribly executed, as had been reported about Manius Aquillius?
Third, I was to discover, if I could, the whereabouts and circumstances of a certain prince of the Egyptian royal family, the son of the recently deposed King Ptolemy. This young man, about seventeen years of age, had been kidnapped by Mithridates from his dwelling place at Cos, at the same time Mithridates seized the treasuries on the island. At that time, he had been heir to the throne of Egypt. Now that his uncle had seized the throne, young Ptolemy’s position, and his value as a hostage, was more uncertain. Nevertheless, any information about him might be useful to Roman strategists, since Egypt, thus far neutral in the conflict, might not remain so much longer. How Mithridates treated the young prince, and what conditions he placed on his release, might yet play a role in the king’s future relations with Egypt, and Egypt’s relations with Rome. The multiple diplomatic variables at play (as explained to me by Cassius) were too complicated for me to remember; my only concern would be to gather any information regarding the kidnapped Prince Ptolemy.
Fourth, I was to inquire, again discreetly, about a Roman named Publius Rutilius Rufus, a hero of the long-ago Numantine War who had served a term as consul eighteen years ago. More recently, Rutilius had been a legate in Asia, serving under the Roman governor. Apparently, not long after I left Rome on my travels, this Rutilius had been called on to defend himself against charges of malfeasance in Asia. The trial had created a sensation in Rome. Rutilius had been found guilty and was made a pauper by the fines imposed on him, whereupon he fled back to Asia. “Where he now sponges a living off Greek-speaking royalty,” Gaius Cassius had explained in a sarcastic tone that left no doubt that he detested Rutilius.
Posidonius had been more measured. “It may be that Rutilius has been captured by Mithridates and is being held against his will; a Roman of consular rank would make a fine prize. Or it may be that the situation is … more complicated.”
“What does that mean?” I had asked.
“It means that we don’t wish to prejudice you one way or the other,” Cassius shot back. “Assess the situation with your own eyes and ears and make of it what you will.”
I took this to mean that Rutilius might have “gone Greek,” as the saying goes, taking up the cause of Mithridates and his mostly Greek-speaking allies against Rome. Even if that were so, of what use to the king was a penniless septuagenarian? Then it occurred to me that Antipater was even older than Rutilius, but had managed to cause a great deal of mischief despite his creaking bones.