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At such an early hour, the dim hallways of the palace were very quiet. The chamberlain led us upstairs and into a large courtyard, where the Great Megabyzus and the Grand Magus and a troop of spear-bearers awaited me.

The Great Megabyzus stepped forward. “Well, young man, for better for worse, this is an important day for you. The goddess shall show favor to you, or she shall not. Either way, we will witness her divine will at work.”

Three litters appeared, carried by their bearers. Each was set upon blocks, and wooden steps were produced. The first litter, with a canopy of yellow silk festooned with yellow tassels, was for the Great Megabyzus. The compartment was so tall that he had no need to remove his towering headdress. The second litter had an even more elaborate canopy made of many colors. This was for the Grand Magus.

The third and by far plainest litter was much like the simple conveyance that had brought me to the palace the day before. The chamberlain drew back; apparently he was not to accompany me. As I mounted the steps, I turned back to take Bethesda’s hand. At this, the chamberlain stepped forward, shaking his head.

Bethesda looked at me, then at the chamberlain. “My master wishes for me to accompany him in the litter.”

“That would be most irregular,” said the chamberlain.

“My master is quite-insistent!” she said with a small gasp, for an instant later I was inside the litter, pulling her after me. The compartment was well padded with cushions, so that she tumbled next to me without mishap.

“Most irregular!” the chamberlain repeated, but too late, for the bearers, falling behind the other litters and eager to catch up, were already off at a trot.

Downhill we went, with a troop of spear-bearers leading the way, through the neighborhood of fine houses and gardens that clung to the hillside below the palace of Mithridates. The fresh morning air and the sensation of movement made me fully awake. On a sudden impulse I set about closing the curtains around us.

“But Master, we can’t see out,” said Bethesda, who was clearly enjoying the novelty of being carried aloft in a litter.

“Nor can anyone see in,” I said, and covered her mouth with a kiss.

How I had longed to be alone with her, ever since the moment we arrived in Ephesus. At last I was able to hold her and to touch her. I ran my fingers through her black hair, so straight and fine it had no need of a comb. When I buried my face in it, all I could see through barely open eyelids were bright spangles of crimson and purple and many other colors, captured by her lustrous hair where bits of filtered sunlight shone through the curtains.

I was ready and eager to couple with her, and I moved to do so.

“But your yellow tunic,” she whispered. “We mustn’t-”

I pulled it up to my shoulders, well out of the way, while she released me from the confining loincloth.

Our lovemaking was slow and sensual, not acrobatic. Constrained as it was, the telltale to-and-fro motion of two people joining as one must nonetheless have been sensed by the litter-bearers. I thought I heard snatches of laughter from outside, sounding distant and faint beyond the rush of Bethesda’s quickened breath in my ear and the pounding of my own heart. The laughter was without malice, light and carefree. The litter-bearers were also exhilarated by the fresh morning air.

The moment of bliss arrived. In the same instant, Bethesda stiffened in my arms. With one hand I held her tight. With the other I covered her mouth. I cried out myself, and felt her hand on my mouth. Then it was all I could do to keep from laughing and crying out at the same time, at the exquisite absurdity of two mortals attempting to stifle the sounds of their mutual ecstasy.

There followed a long moment when I seemed to be cut adrift from the world around me. Slanting sunlight shone vaguely through the curtains, illuminating motes of dust suspended in midair. The air itself seemed heavy, like a blanket pressing me down. My breathing slowed. My arms dropped away from Bethesda, and hers from me. It might have been the cherubs of Venus who set about rearranging my clothing and smoothing my hair, so strange to me were the motions of my own hands.

The sensation of forward movement abruptly ended. The litter hovered for a moment, then settled. From outside I heard the sighs of the bearers as they were relieved of their burden. Another moment passed, and then someone outside the compartment drew the curtains back. It was the Great Megabyzus, silhouetted by the rising sun but easily recognized by the shape of his headdress.

“By Artemis, did you fall asleep, young man? I should think you would be wide awake with excitement. You have an appointment with the goddess! Stir yourself, and step out of the litter. We shall walk the rest of the way.”

With shaky arms and wobbly legs I managed to lift myself and descend the short flight of steps. I helped Bethesda descend. Though her hair was a mess, her breathing was steady and her expression was composed, almost sphinxlike. I did my best to emulate her. Standing there like wooden statues, what a contrast we must have made to the grinning litter-bearers around us.

If the Great Megabyzus noticed anything improper, he did not show it. “Your slave shall walk at the end of the procession, behind the spear-bearers. You will walk at the head, between the Grand Magus and myself, with the spear-bearers following. Come, let’s get organized.”

We were on a very wide street just inside the high city wall, next to a massive gate, the doors of which were closed. I recognized the location, having passed this way on my previous visit to Ephesus, when Antipater and I took part in a holiday procession. The street was the Sacred Way, one of the grandest in Ephesus, lined with many fine buildings and shops of every sort. We had arrived at the very moment when the gates were to be opened, and as I watched, a group of soldiers set about unbarring the tall bronze doors and pushing them open. All around us, shops began to open and vendors set up their goods.

Suddenly, from the gate, I heard the sound of raised voices, and turned to see a scuffle. A man from outside pushed his way past the guards and ran directly before us, heading for the nearest shop, where the vendor started back at the sight of him. The man’s face was gaunt and haggard, his eyes haunted. The shopkeeper yelled and waved his arms, shooing the man away from the vegetables and fruits on display.

So powerful was the impression made on me by the man’s desperate face that it took me a moment to realize that he was wearing a toga-a filthy, ragged garment, but a toga nonetheless.

“But I have money!” he shouted, clutching a small bag in his fist.

“Your Roman coins are no good here,” said the shopkeeper. “Ephesus mints its own coins now.”

“Silver is silver,” said the man in the toga. “Take what I have left and give me some food!”

“Buy your goods from the shops outside the gates, like the rest of your lot,” said the shopkeeper.

“But those shops have nothing left,” pleaded the Roman. “I have a wife and child. They’re hungry. They must have food. I beg you!”

A small crowd began to gather. Most were women with baskets, out to do their early shopping.

“Get along with you, filthy Roman!” shouted a woman. “Can’t you see you’re not wanted here?”

A man stepped forward. “Go back outside the gate! We don’t want Roman scum inside the city!”

Others began to jeer and shake their fists. Something hurtled through the air and struck the Roman’s shoulder. He cried out and gripped the place where he had been struck. The object, a large onion, tumbled across the paving stones.

“You want food, do you?” shouted someone. “We’ll give you more of that, if you like!”

The crowd grew. Some of the onlookers had baskets already full of food. Others ran to nearby shops in search of projectiles. They began pelting the Roman with radishes and turnips. A plum was thrown so hard it exploded, spattering his toga with juice. Another plum struck his forehead and sent him staggering backward. He tried to wipe the pulp from his face, but only smeared it. It looked like gore from some terrible wound.