Keeper of the Flame Read online

  Sosigenes propped himself on his bony elbows. “All of us, Sophia. The whole Council. All twelve.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Where else would we go?”

  Ares appeared smiling at her elbow, but she felt more inclined to slap him than kiss him. “What am I supposed to do with them?”

  Sosigenes peered over her shoulder, toward the bustling village. “For now, I should think you would get us out of this wagon, and somewhere unseen.”

  Sophia snorted and yanked the canvas to cover again its ludicrous cargo. “Circle it to the lighthouse entrance,” she said to Ares. “And be quick about it!”

  Within a few minutes, the twelve top scholars in all of Greece stood in the front hall of the Base.

  “You have more than enough room here, Sophia,” Sosigenes said. “We can continue our studies—”

  “You cannot stay here!” Sophia laughed, but the older man did not appear amused. “It is impossible. I live here alone, except for the servants. That is how it must remain. Besides, Caesar would certainly come here to find you first, when he learns that I am your biggest patron.”

  The other men murmured together at the side of the corridor. It was clear that none of them wished Caesar to know their whereabouts.

  “Sophia”—Sosigenes gripped her arm—“I must speak with you.”

  Finally. “Yes. Ares, take the Council to the kitchen, find them something to eat. Bring the noon meal to my chambers for Sosigenes and myself.”

  Sosigenes followed her through the courtyard to the lighthouse, then up the ramp to her private chambers. He was huffing by the time they reached her door, and she remembered his weak lungs.

  “You can rest here awhile, Sosigenes. Ares will bring food and wine, and you can tell me of this important news that you spoke of with such urgency.”

  She led the older man in and settled him on one of her couches. He was as lean as the day she had met him, but the effort of the climb seemed to show itself in the creases of his face. He stretched his long legs over the couch, reclined against a sandcolored cushion and sighed.

  Sophia patted his arm and waited. Sosigenes loved to present his ideas dramatically. He would need to catch his breath first.

  A lock of his white hair fell down across his eye, and Sophia pushed it aside.

  The old scholar had been her husband’s mentor, all those years ago, when she had been young and in love and thought the world would always treat her gently. Sosigenes had stood at Kallias’s side, marveling over the younger man’s calculations, cheering him as he developed the most extraordinary mechanism the world had yet seen. It had all been done in secrecy, with the knowledge that there were some who would go to great lengths to obtain his findings. Even Sophia, when she would bring Kallias his lunch of bread and cheese in the Museum, would have to stand on her toes and peer over Kallias’s shoulder to get a glimpse of his work.

  Then came the day when Kallias rushed home, swept her off her feet, and twirled her in circles, shouting, “It works! It truly works, my love!”

  Sophia closed her eyes, tasting the memory of that day. It had been the beginning of the end, but she had not known it then.

  Sosigenes gripped her arm and she opened her eyes.

  “I have rebuilt it.” His eyes held steady on hers.

  She shook her head. “Don’t speak to me in riddles, Sosigenes.”

  “I speak plainly. I have rebuilt it. Kallias’s mechanism. The Proginosko.”

  “Impossible!”

  He laughed. “Kallias had a brilliant mind, Sophia. But did you think he was the only one in all the world capable of such a feat?”

  She stood, unwilling to remain still. “Perhaps not, but you—”

  He smiled up at her. “You forget I was there, for the years that he worked on it.”

  “But you always said that you never could have built it. And when we lost him—”

  “We lost everything. It is true. But always, all these years, I have worked on the idea when there was time. Hopeful that someday I would find the key . . .”

  Sophia was pacing now. “And you have?”

  “Almost. I was almost finished when those barbarians rounded us up and chased us from the Museum. The next thing I knew, I was in a cell simply because I refused to concoct a better way for them to attack us.”

  “And the Proginosko? Where is it?”

  He laughed. “Your concern for my well-being is touching, Sophia.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Sosigenes. Who do you think paid to break you out of there?”

  He lowered his eyes. “My apologies.”

  Sophia bent to the couch and squeezed his hand. “No, no. I am sorry. It is just—I cannot believe—”

  “It is well-hidden, Sophia. Kallias’s legacy.” He laughed. “Unless the Romans develop a deep appreciation of Lucretius’s lesser works buried in the Library. No one will find it.”

  “You said that it was almost finished?”

  “It is still in need of testing and perhaps some small adjusting. But in essence, it is complete.”

  “How much longer?”

  “Two months. I must get enough readings from the various moon phases to be sure.”

  Ares’s knuckle-beating on the door caused Sophia to jump. He didn’t wait to be invited but pushed the door open and entered with a tray overflowing with meats and cheeses. “Those old men can eat!” he said, shaking his head. “It was all I could do to tear this much away for the two of you.”

  Sosigenes laughed and lifted his head. “Much sustenance is needed to fuel the mind, my boy.”

  Sophia took the tray from Ares and set it on her desk. She waved him out of the room with a flick of her hand and crossed to close the door behind him. She turned and leaned her back against it and frowned at Sosigenes. “It is too long.”

  “Since I have eaten?” He pulled himself to his feet. “I would agree.”

  “Two months. Too long for you to stay in Alexandria. Not with Caesar looking for you.”

  Sosigenes went to the food on her desk. “The One God has long had His hand on me, Sophia. He will protect me still.”

  Sophia snorted. “You talk of your ‘One God’ as though he cares for people personally.”

  Sosigenes lifted his eyebrows. “Yes, and He even cares for you, Sophia.” He tore a piece of bread from a small loaf. “But the Roman cares only about warfare, I am afraid. I doubt he would even see the value of the Proginosko.”

  “We must get you out of Alexandria. Today. Before he thinks to look for you here.”

  “How?” The scholar popped a grilled chestnut into his mouth and chewed it slowly.

  Sophia went to the wall of windows and studied the harbor. “You must sail to Athens.”

  “And what of my colleagues? Shall I leave them behind to be conscripted into building siege works that violate every bit of conscience they have?”

  Sophia pressed her forehead against the blurry glass. “No. You must all go.” She turned to him. “I will pay for passage for all of you. Do not worry.” She crossed to the door, yanked it open and yelled for Ares, who was still on the ramp.

  “You must give Ares instructions on how to find the Proginosko, Sosigenes. He can retrieve it and bring it here. Meanwhile, I will secure passage to Athens for you.”

  The man nodded, and Ares showed up at the door. “Take Sosigenes to the others,” she told him. “Then do as he says. I will be back.”

  Ares’s mouth dropped open slightly. “You are going out? Again?”

  She scowled. “You make me sound like some kind of mad recluse, Ares.” He said nothing. Sophia kissed Sosigenes on the cheek, grabbed a pouch, and hurried to the ramp. On the way down, she tied the pouch under her tunic.

  At the bottom of the lighthouse, she found one of the servants charged with keeping the light functioning and told him to fetch a horse and cart for her. His eyebrows lifted in the same manner as Ares’s.

  Yes, I know. Twice in two days I have entered
the city.

  “Go!” She thrust her arm toward the stable.

  She waited, using the time to run through possibilities. It would need to be a larger ship, already bound for Athens, to avoid suspicion. A captain who was unsavory enough to ask no questions about his new cargo, but trustworthy enough to place twelve invaluable men and the Proginosko in his care.

  A twinge of panic grabbed at her heart at the thought of placing the Proginosko on a ship. The last time she had done that . . .

  But she would not think of that. Athens was the only place safe for their secret.

  The servant brought the horse and cart and offered to drive her, but she took the whip from his hand and climbed onto the two-wheeled black and gold vehicle alone.

  It took only minutes to cross the white heptastadion. Besides providing access to the island, the causeway also carried water to the Pharos through the aqueduct that ran from the Nile canal to the hundreds of vaulted underground cisterns through the city. Another marvelous feat of engineering. Sophia entered the colorful chaos of the city and kept her eyes trained straight ahead, refusing to be panicked again by the press of people so unlike her lonely perch in the lighthouse.

  She wheeled along the edge of the quay, the smell of rotted fish and seaweed in her nostrils and the variable breeze, so particular to the sea, blowing against her. In the mighty harbor, ships docked and sailed away, their white masts snapping in the wind. The dock warehouses bustled with activity. She eyed one long building, a special facility for the Ptolemies’ questionable practice of seizing all the books that sailed into the city for mandatory copying. It was often the copies that were returned to the ships, with the originals bolstering the Library’s ever-increasing collection.

  There were people everywhere, more numerous than the ships. Sophia pushed away that same oppressive feeling she had felt in the riot yesterday.

  A double line of Roman soldiers marched along the quay, and their feet slammed a beat on the stones that sounded like the drumbeat of battle. Sophia’s hands tightened on the reins until her fingernails dug into her palms.

  She circled half the harbor before she found what she sought. A mid-size ship, clearly preparing to set off, and flying the blue flag of Athens. She pulled in the horse, found a young boy whom she paid an obol to watch the chariot, and hurried to the ship.

  Two slaves carried crates of supplies aboard. She asked for the captain and received only a vague arm waving.

  The ship’s heavy ropes still clung to the iron cleat on the dock, but she would have to jump to make it across. She measured the distance with her eye, looked both ways, then leaped across the water and landed with a jarring thump on the deck. Several pairs of slave eyes glanced her way.

  A bulky man in a himation that had long ago gone from white to tan hailed her from the top of steps. “No more need of sailors, today, man.”

  She drew herself up. His face reddened.

  “Pardon me. We do not often have the female sex aboard. I am unaccustomed—”

  “You are sailing for Athens soon?”

  “Aye. Fully loaded with Alexandrian glass we are, and ready to share the wealth with the rich folks of Athens.”

  “I have another bit of cargo for you. A delivery. And I will pay.”

  His left eye twitched, as though it sensed a mystery, and a profitable one. “Something you would rather not hand over to Roman swine, I take it?”

  She half-smiled. “They would not have the capacity to appreciate it, I am afraid.”

  He extended a hand to the steps. “Come. Let us talk below.” Sophia gladly left the bright hustle of the harbor for the inviting darkness of the hull.

  A short time later the deal was struck. Erebos, the ship’s captain, gripped her arm in farewell, and she disembarked, confident that the scholars and their valuable secret would be safe with him.

  The Roman presence in the harbor district seemed to have doubled while she had been below deck. Sophia worried that she would have trouble getting the men to the boat. She cracked the whip over the back of the horse and took to the streets with speed.

  Back at the lighthouse, Ares had returned safely with the Proginosko, and Sosigenes had wrapped the piece in cotton, secured it with rope, and placed it into a wooden crate that Ares had given him. The twelve men were assembled in the front hall, speaking in low tones. A general mood of adventure pervaded the group, and Sophia hoped that nothing would happen to sour it.

  She and Ares loaded the men back into the wagon, and this time Sophia climbed aboard the front, alongside Ares. He turned to her with a grin and opened his mouth to speak. She put up a hand. “Keep it to yourself. Just drive.”

  Again, when they reached the harbor, Sophia had the sense that the Roman soldiers were spreading through the area like a plague. What was happening?

  It took some time to navigate to the halfway point of the huge harbor. The heat was oppressive, and Sophia worried about the old men crammed under the canvas.

  Finally they reached the boat, and Erebos’s sailors jumped from the deck to help.

  In the press of the crowd, few seemed to notice that the canvas pulled back from the wagon revealed men and not crates of wares for trade. The men slipped out one by one and were helped across to the prow of the ship. Sophia and Ares kept watch for Romans. Boats bobbed on the water up and down the quay, but the odd presence of the Roman legion hung over the harbor. Though the everyday shipping activity belied the violence of yesterday, Sophia felt the threat of war in the air, like an unfamiliar storm cloud building out at sea. She urged the scholars along.

  And then there was only Sosigenes on the dock, the wooden crate in his arms. A sailor took it from him and jumped to the boat. Sosigenes wrapped his arms around Sophia. She returned his embrace stiffly.

  “I don’t like to think of you alone in that lighthouse, in this city, Sophia.”

  She smiled. “I have my books.”

  “ ‘It is not good for man to be alone,’ the Torah says. The Holy One gives us each what we long for—purpose and relationship. You will never be at peace until you accept both.”

  Sophia pushed him gently toward the boat. “Your One God is a mystery to me, Sosigenes. But now is not the time to explain him. You must go.”

  He hugged her again. “I will send word as soon as it is complete.”

  “Two months. I will be watching the moon.” She pressed a bulging pouch into his hands. “The captain has been paid. Do not let him convince you that any more is owed. This is for the twelve of you, to keep you well in Athens.”

  He kissed her cheek. “You are like one of the Muses, my Sophia. May the One God bless you for your contribution to the world.”

  Sophia blinked away the tears of farewell and pushed Sosigenes toward the boat. “You must go.”

  He smiled a last time, then let a sailor hold his arm as he crossed to the ship.

  When he was safely below deck, Sophia turned back to the wagon—and slammed into the chest of a Roman soldier.

  No, not a soldier. The Pilus Prior of the Sixth Cohort.

  “Bellus!” she said, unthinking.

  He lifted an eyebrow—and the corner of his mouth—at her mention of his name. “The reports I hear of your reclusive habits seem to be exaggerated. You are the most visible woman in Alexandria, I believe.”

  Sophia bristled. “These are dangerous days, and I am simply a concerned citizen.” She nodded in the direction of his doubleline of soldiers. “We must do what we can to keep ignorance from overrunning our city.”

  His face darkened. “It seems to me the city’s greatest ignorance lies in those who speak without knowledge of their subject.”

  His eyes were steady on her, but she refused to look away. Sophia felt the muscles between her shoulders tighten. Something about this man truly infuriated her. “I can only assume that a legion unable to control a boy and his eunuch does not act out of sound strategy or informed thought.” She wondered if the boat behind her had cast off yet. Stay below,
Sosigenes.

  Bellus scratched at his stubbled chin. “It is you who are uninformed. We have the situation in hand.”

  “Oh? And where is Pothinus?”

  Bellus’s eyes strayed to Erebos’s ship.

  Sophia shifted her position in front of him. “Was it your task to keep him from leaving the city?”

  He scowled. “Who told you that?”

  Sophia smiled. “I assumed. What was that title you said you carried? Pilus—something?”

  “Pilus Prior.”

  “Yes. Strange, I thought my Latin was quite good, but that does not seem to be the phrase for ‘incompetent failure.’ ”

  Bellus inhaled deeply. She watched his chest expand under the chain mail, and it seemed to her that the fingers of his right hand twitched at his side.

  “I do not need lessons in leadership skills from a woman who spends her days locked in a lighthouse.”

  “Better alone in a lighthouse than leading men into disaster.”

  “Do you have some task in the harbor, woman? Because you had best get to it. Before long the harbor will not be a place to wander aimlessly.”

  Sophia glanced to the ship, its ropes still tied to the cleat. “Will you trample the harbor as you have already done to the Museum and the Library?”

  “My men have orders to secure the harbor. We will see that no ships come or go without my knowledge and approval.”

  Sophia’s stomach fluttered. “And when will this feat be accomplished?”

  Bellus extended a hand across the harbor. Sophia followed his hand and could see now that the spreading stain of Roman military was an organized action throughout the harbor, and that Roman ships sailed toward the entrance, where the reefs narrowed the exit.

  “Your men seem willing to follow you. That is at least a small credit to your leadership.” She turned to face him. “Perhaps, in time, you will develop into an able commander.”

  Bellus clamped his generous lips together. Why did she continue to anger him when she much preferred to see him smile?

  She indicated the harbor entrance with her chin. “Your ships, what are they doing out there?”

  “They will drop anchor at the narrowest point. Every ship that attempts to enter or exit will need to be inspected and approved.”