Raiders of the Nile

XX

I followed Menkhep and Artemon through the little village of huts and across the clearing with the roasting pit. A narrow, winding trail led down to the water’s edge and then through thick brush along the riverbank. At last, ahead of us, through the greenery I caught glimpses of a lone hut, situated far away from the others.

Menkhep had dropped a little ways behind Artemon. I touched his arm and spoke in his ear.

“This woman-who is she, Menkhep? What is she called?”

Despite the fact that I kept my voice low, Artemon overheard. He stopped and turned, allowing us to catch up with him.

“Her name is Metrodora,” he said.

My heart sank. I had been hoping to hear him speak the name Axiothea, or perhaps even Bethesda. I tried to hide my disappointment. “Metrodora? A Greek name.”

“Yes. She’s not Egyptian. She comes from Delphi. When she was a girl, she trained to become the Pythia. Do you know who the Pythia is, Pecunius?”

“Of course. The priestess of Delphi, who utters the prophecies inspired by Apollo. Even in Rome, everyone has heard of the Oracle of Delphi.”

“So I thought.”

“Are you telling me a priestess of Delphi is living here, in the Delta?” The idea was absurd.

He smiled. “Stranger things have happened. But in fact, Metrodora never became a priestess. The journey of her life took a different course. She’s lived in many places, done many things. But as with the men who come here, we don’t press her with too many questions.”

“I thought you allowed no women among you,” I said.

“Metrodora is different. She possesses special gifts. I don’t know what we’d do without her.”

“When you said you had a soothsayer among you, you were speaking of Metrodora?”

“Yes.”

“She sees the future?”

“Sometimes. And sometimes she sees far-off events, as they happen. She heals the sick. She casts spells for good luck, and puts curses on our enemies.”

“She’s a witch?”

He shook his head. “That’s too simple a word to describe Metrodora. When we reach her hut, you’ll wait outside. Enter only if I call for you.” Artemon turned and walked on.

The secluded structure sat in a small clearing beside the water. It was twice the size of the other huts I had seen, and appeared to be made of two huts built back to back and joined by a connecting room or passageway. Artemon stood before the cloth that covered the nearest doorway and called the soothsayer’s name.

When she called for him to come inside, I gave a start. The woman’s voice stirred a distant memory, tantalizing but too faint to grasp. One thing was certain: it was not the voice of Bethesda.

Artemon stepped inside the hut. The rest of us waited. Menkhep sat on the stump of a tree nearby and closed his eyes. Djet amused himself by studying a frog at the water’s edge. As the sun sank behind the trees, casting sidelong rays, the wind began to rise, carrying the scent of rain. The sky to the north grew darker. The dense greenery around us was suffused by a peculiar twilight.

At last Artemon emerged from the hut. He gave me a quizzical look. “She wants to speak to you, Gordianus.”

I nodded and stepped to the doorway. It was only as I let the cloth hanging drop behind me that I realized he had called me by my real name.

The circular room was dimly lit by a single lamp hung from the ceiling. A woman sat cross-legged on a small rug. A hood obscured her face.

I looked at the clutter around me. By the faint light I saw the gleam of gold, silver, and jewels. Precious objects crowded the room. Were these the offering left by the bandits for her services? I also saw various implements of sorcery-lamps and incense burners, vials of liquids and powders, bits of bone, lead tablets for scrawling curses. Behind the woman I saw a curtained doorway that I presumed must lead to the adjoining hut.

The woman spoke. “You look perplexed, young Roman.”

“How did Artemon know-”

“Your true name? Gordianus is your name, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” I saw no point in denying it. But how could she have known?

“Don’t worry. Artemon won’t hold it against you that you gave him a false name. Most of the men who come here do so. He’ll continue to call you Pecunius, if that is your wish.”

“And you?” I peered at her hooded face, but saw only shadows. “Is Metrodora your true name?”

She laughed. Like her voice, her laughter was naggingly familiar. “You’ve come through many dangers to arrive here, Gordianus.”

“Yes.”

“Did you think you were finally out of danger, now that you’ve reached the Cuckoo’s Nest? Your greatest peril is just beginning!”

Despite the dank warmth of the room, I felt a chill. “How do you know my name? How could you know anything about me?”

“I know you came here seeking the thing dearest to you in all the world.”

I gasped, for she seemed to have penetrated my deepest thoughts. Or had she? Might she simply be guessing, using the tricks known to every street-corner soothsayer in Alexandria? Didn’t every man arrive in this place seeking his heart’s desire, whether that desire was freedom, or adventure, or a new life?

“Will I find the thing I seek?”

“The thing you seek is very near.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Very near,” she said again.

“How near?”

The woman gestured to the doorway behind her. “Just beyond this curtain. Only a few steps away-and yet, still very far from you.”

What did she mean? Was Bethesda in the next room? My heart gave such a lurch that I thought my chest would burst. My head felt light. My breath grew short.

I stepped toward the curtain. The woman remained on the floor, but waved me back with a hiss.

“If you go to her now, Gordianus, you will surely die!”

I trembled with frustration. “Is Bethesda here or not?” I said through gritted teeth. “Why can’t I see her?”

She held a finger to her lips. “Lower your voice, or else they might hear you.”

“Who might hear?” I whispered. “Why are you tormenting me?”

She peered up at me, holding her head in such a way that for an instant the lamplight clearly illuminated her face.

“Ismene!”

There could be no doubt. The woman who sat before me was the witch of Corinth.

In my travels to see the Seven Wonders, I had taken several side trips. One of the most memorable had been a visit to the ruins of Corinth. When I first met Ismene, she seemed to be nothing more than a serving woman at a tavern, but subsequent events revealed her to be a practitioner of witchcraft. Many men died at that tavern during our stay, by the hand of a culprit other than Ismene; nonetheless, her sorcery seemed to have played a role in the murders, and when last I saw her, she was fleeing from Corinth, weighted down by a great deal of treasure scavenged from the ruins.

We had gone our separate ways, and I had whispered a prayer that I might never encounter the witch of Corinth again. By some strange twist of fate, our paths had converged in the Egyptian Delta.

“That was you I saw when I first arrived-the woman who stood behind the crowd,” I said, keeping my voice low.

She nodded.

“You must have seen me too-and more clearly than I saw you, for it seems that you recognized me. How else could you have given my name to Artemon?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure I would have known you, Roman, after all this time. But the arrival of the Roman named Gordianus was not entirely unexpected.”

“You foresaw my arrival? How? By sorcery?”

“That’s what Artemon thinks. He’s quite impressed that I was able to tell him your true name.”

I nodded, finally glimpsing the truth. “But in fact, you know who I am, and you expected me to come, because of…” I caught my breath, sudden unable to speak her name.

“Yes, because of her. Yes, Gordianus, Bethesda is here.”

I felt such a flood of emotion that I couldn’t speak. Ismene pulled the hood back from her face. She extended both hands, indicating that I should help her stand. She was a short, unremarkable-looking woman, no longer young but not yet old, neither ugly nor pretty, but her features were burned in my memory by the extraordinary events that surrounded our first encounter. Her manner was gruff, and her powers frightening-if they truly existed-but as far as I knew, she had never deceived me or done me any harm.

“On the day Bethesda arrived, Artemon put her under my care. He called her by another name: Axiothea. He told me that she was his prisoner, but that she was very precious, very valuable. He asked me to look after her, and to see that no harm came to her.”

“And have you done so? Is she unharmed? Untouched?”

Ismene raised an eyebrow. “What do you think, Roman? The men in this place are all scared to death of me and my curses. Not one of them would dare to come into this hut uninvited. No one has so much as touched a hair on the girl’s head. From the hour she arrived, your slave has been treated like a princess.”

I felt another surge of emotion, this time of relief. “Bethesda!” I whispered.

“You must never call her by that name, not if others might overhear. The men who brought her here thought she was a woman called Axiothea, and that’s who Artemon believes her to be. That is the name she called herself when she arrived, and she maintained her pretense even with me, until she saw there was no point in trying to hide anything from Metrodora the Soothsayer, and told me the truth. Eventually, she also confided to me that she was a slave, and her master was a man named Gordianus. The name was familiar. I questioned her further, and soon enough it was evident that the young Roman who purchased her in an Alexandrian slave market was the very same young Roman who passed through the Peloponnesus a few years ago, the traveler named Gordianus whom I last saw in the ruins of Corinth. Bethesda was certain that you would eventually come for her-and so you have. When I saw you step out of the boat and walk up the pier today, I thought I recognized you. When Artemon confirmed that the man who had joined us was a young Roman, I knew it must be you.”

“And just now, you told him my true name as a sort of trick, to dazzle him with your skills as a soothsayer?”

She smiled. “Does it matter how a soothsayer comes by her knowledge, as long as she speaks the truth?”

I considered all she had told me. “You know that Axiothea is really Bethesda, but does she know that Metrodora is really Ismene?”

She laughed. “Of all the people in Egypt, only you know that I was ever called Ismene. And what makes you think that’s my true name? What do you actually know about me, Gordianus? Do you think I was always a serving woman at a tavern near Corinth?”

“But what are you doing here? What strange path brought the witch of Corinth to such a place?”

“Has my path been any stranger than yours, Gordianus? We have arrived at the same spot, in the same moment.”

“Artemon says that once upon a time you trained to become the Pythia at the Temple of Apollo in Delphi.”

“Do you find that hard to believe?”

“A bit.”

Her face lost all trace of humor. “Where I came from, and how I came to be here, is none of your business. You know nothing for certain about me, Roman, and I suggest that you say nothing about me, if you know what’s good for you. Here I am not Ismene, but Metrodora. Remember that.”

I nodded. “Bethesda,” I said. “Is she truly beyond that curtain? Why can I not see her?”

“Oh, you can see her, Roman. But you mustn’t speak to her, not yet.”

“Why not?”

“That will become evident when you see her.”

Again I stepped toward the curtain, but Ismene gripped my arm to stop me.

“There is a price to pay.”

“What do you want from me, witch?”

“Lower your voice!” she hissed. “Surely no price would be too great, to lay eyes on Bethesda again. Give me the most valuable thing you possess.”

I looked at her blankly, then understood. I reached into the pouch at my waist and pulled out the ruby necklace.

“If I give this to you, what can I use to pay Artemon as a ransom?”

“I hear the jingling of coins in that pouch.”

“They won’t be enough.”

“Nonetheless, if you want to see Bethesda, you must give me the ruby. Now!” She held out her hand.

I looked from Ismene’s stern face to the curtained doorway and back again. I felt an impulse to return the ruby to the pouch, push her aside, open the curtain, and step through. But I remembered the deadly magic Ismene had wielded at Corinth, and also that she had never used it, thus far, to harm me. I would be a fool to make an enemy of her now. And was the sight of Bethesda, after all this time, not worth the cost?

I pressed the ruby necklace into Ismene’s open palm. She held the jewel up to the hanging lamp. Red spangles of light played across her face.

“There’s a curse on this jewel, just as Artemon suspected, but I’ll find a way to remove it. Your payment is sufficient, Roman. You may step through the curtain. Tread softly and say nothing. I’ll be right behind you.”