“To the Temple of Artemis,” he said. “With all that’s happening, we decided that would be the only safe place for us all.”
“So the massacre has been called off?”
His face darkened. “The thing we hoped for … was not accomplished.”
“But why? What went wrong?”
“Come with me now. Hurry! We’ll have plenty of time to talk about it when we reach the temple.”
“But surely that’s the last place we want to be.”
“Trust me, Gordianus.”
“Where is Bethesda?”
“She’s already there, waiting for us. Follow me.”
On shaky legs, I followed Samson out of the Grove of the Furies. It was first necessary to climb over the fallen tree, and then to duck through the tunnel-like entrance surrounded by foliage. Once we stepped beyond the stone wall that marked the sacred precinct of the Grove, I had no idea where we were, and saw no landmarks by which to orient myself. The land around us was a mixture of woodland and meadows, misty in the early light.
By what route we made our way to the Temple of Artemis I cannot remember. Perhaps the vividness with which I remember what came later that day somehow blurred my memories of what came before. I know that we didn’t go through the city. At some point I saw the temple ahead of us, and the thousands of Romans who crowded the temple grounds.
“Samson!” I hissed, taking his arm. “If this is the day, and the thing is to happen, we have to warn them.”
At that moment the captain of a troop of armed men took notice of us. The soldiers were patrolling the perimeter of the sacred precinct.
“Who are you and what’s your business here?” asked the captain.
“We’re pilgrims, come to worship at the temple,” said Samson.
The captain scrutinized him. “What sort of accent is that?”
“Alexandrian Greek,” said Samson. “The purest form, handed down from Alexander himself.”
The captain laughed. “You Alexandrians, always full of yourselves! But if you wish to worship Artemis of Ephesus, you might want to wear something nicer than that.” He indicated the faded old cloak that Samson insisted on wearing. “Anyway, this is not a good day to visit the temple. Come back tomorrow.”
“But I have an appointment with the Grand Megabyzus.”
“I’m sure you do!” the captain scoffed.
Samson produced a rolled-up piece of parchment, undid the yellow ribbon tied around it, and showed it to the captain. The man examined it for a moment, then handed it back.
“The Grand Megabyzus himself! Well then, I suggest you get inside the temple and find him, quickly. In fact, my company will escort you, to make sure these Roman scum don’t give you any trouble.”
“That’s not necessary-”
“I insist.”
The troop formed a cordon around us. As we strode toward the temple I looked at all the people around me, longing to cry out to them, to warn them of what was about to happen. But I said nothing.
As we approached the temple, I saw a strange thing. The round window in the pediment through which one could see the statue of Artemis was black, as if some sort of curtain or screen had been drawn across it from inside.
The temple steps were covered with refugees, many of them still asleep. They stirred and scrambled out of the way to let us pass. The troop came to a halt at the temple entrance.
“Stay here, men,” said the captain. “I’ll be back shortly.”
He handed his sword to his second-in-command and then escorted Samson, Freny, and me into the temple, hailing the first of the Megabyzoi he saw and telling the priest to fetch the Great Megabyzus. When the man balked, the captain told Samson to produce the document. The priest raised his eyebrows as he read it, then quickly went off to find the Great Megabyzus.
The interior of the temple was dimly lit. Only a few lamps were burning, and the weak morning light from the doorway did little to dispel the shadows. While we waited, I looked around us, at all the unsuspecting refugees lying huddled in sleep or milling about. Again, I longed to warn them, and again I said nothing.
A few moments later, Kysanias appeared, dressed in his yellow robes and towering headdress. He surmised the situation at once.
“Thank you, Captain, for escorting this party into the temple.”
“My pleasure, Your Eminence,” said the captain, who then looked sidelong at Samson. “So the letter was genuine! If it had been a fake, I was going to cut the heads off of all three of you.” He turned about and went to rejoin his men outside.
I spoke in a whisper. “Your Eminence, we have to warn-”
“Say nothing!” Kysanias said through gritted teeth. “All of you, be silent and follow me.”
I did as he said. I was beginning to feel light-headed from hunger and queasy from dread. He took us to the hidden stairway that led to the upper room, locking the door behind us. Up, up we trudged. My legs were like lead.
When we stepped into the room inside the pediment, Freny gave a cry of joy and rushed into the arms of her sister.
“Amestris!” I said, then saw that Anthea was there as well. “But how did the two of you come to be here?”
“Do you forget, Gordianus, that I’m in training to become a hierodule, a lifelong servant of the goddess?” said Anthea. “And of course Amestris goes wherever I go.”
“Yellow becomes you both,” I said, for they were dressed much like the Megabyzoi, but without the headdresses.
I was staring at Amestris and Freny, and beginning to feel a bit jealous of their long, loving embrace, when someone behind me produced a polite cough. I turned about and saw-
“Bethesda!”
The next moment she was in my arms, never mind that Romans and their slaves do not display mutual affection in public.
“Samson told me you’d be here,” I said.
“He brought me here from the palace while it was still dark.”
“What a busy night he’s had,” I said, and laughed at the pure joy of holding her-and then started back and gaped, slack-jawed, as the statue of Artemis dominating the room slowly began to turn. It was as if she heard us speaking and was turning around to look at us.
“But how-?”
Kysanias saw my wonder. He looked a bit chagrined. “That’s Zeuxidemus, in the chamber below us, turning the crank. It’s merely mechanical, Gordianus, not miraculous. Even though we’ve covered the round window so that the goddess will not have to witness the thing about to happen, I thought it proper that she should turn her back upon the proceedings, as well.”
Kysanias walked past the pedestal of the statue, to the sheer black curtain that covered the window. Bethesda and I followed him. From outside, the curtain would appear solid black, but from the relative darkness of the room we were able to see through it, as if through a thin veil of smoke. Outside, the Roman refugees were beginning to wake up.
“Samson says we failed,” I said. “He says the massacre will take place, in spite of all we did.”
“That’s right,” said Kysanias with a sigh.
“But how can that be? What did we do wrong?”
“Once you were inside the altar, you couldn’t hear what was said?”
“Not a word. Only murmurs.”
“Then you didn’t hear the argument between myself and the Grand Magus and His Majesty?”
“No.”
Kysanias stiffened his jaw. “There was a great deal of bluster and bravado from the king-exactly what you might expect from a famously fearless man who’s been badly frightened. I told him that the sacrifice had failed and the portents were against him. But the Grand Magus had a different explanation. According to him, since the sacrificial victim had vanished, that meant the Furies had taken her-that they had accepted the offering, indeed were so very pleased with her that they wished to take her whole and unharmed. I protested and pointed out the apparitions in the trees. The Grand Magus agreed that we had seen the Furies unleashed, but against the Romans, not the king. Their appearance proved that they were eager to oversee the massacres today. When I continued to object, the king silenced me. The Grand Magus told him what he wanted to hear, you see. The king accepted every word the Grand Magus said and refused to listen to me.”