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Authors: Faith L. Justice
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seen fit to appoint his own from time to time," added Phillip.
"Theophilus served in all levels of the church first," Calistus protested and waving his hand dismissively at Phillip, "and the imperial appointments – disasters, one and all!"
Selene noticed her brother's mouth tighten at his father's correction.
"I assure you this Emperor will take no hand in the succession," Orestes said.
"And let us not forget Cyril. Theophilus is grooming his nephew for the Bishopric. No," Timothy shook his head. "My succession is much less than assured."
"In ten years, Cyril might be ready. A Bishopric is not an empire or business to be handed down from father to son or uncle to nephew." Calistus reached over to pat his friend on the arm. "The clergy would never propose and the people would never affirm a Patriarch so young and inexperienced."
"Let us pray this discussion is premature." The Archdeacon raised his goblet in a toast. "To the Patriarch's health!"
Orestes finished the last of his drink and Selene motioned for a servant to refill his goblet. Orestes put his hand over the mouth of the cup. "No more. This is excellent wine, but I fear I must leave. Tomorrow I have much work to do and I have no wish to make decisions with a sore stuffed head."
The company rose, rearranging robes and making small talk on the way to the vestibule. Selene accompanied her brother Phillip, clinging tightly to his arm. Calistus held Orestes' elbow as they walked. "Who else are you calling on in these early days?"
"Other city councilors, the Patriarch when he is well and, of course, Lady Hypatia."
"A wise choice. Any man of substance who visits our city should wait on Hypatia. She is much respected by the city fathers as well as her fellow philosophers."
A slave held out Orestes' short military style cape. He shrugged into it, addressing Archdeacon Timothy. "And how fares the Lady Philosopher with the church elders?"
"Theophilus has only the highest praise for Hypatia's intelligence, wit and good will for this city. Although a pagan, she has remained above the fray." Timothy chuckled. "Indeed, the good Patriarch's only complaint is that he has been unable to convert her. She remains stubbornly convinced that philosophy transcends all religions. And Hypatia, when arguing philosophy, is a most formidable lady. If not for my faith, she could almost convince me."
Orestes and Phillip clasped forearms in a farewell grip. "Thank you for inviting me to your father's home, my friend." He bowed to Selene and took her hand for a kiss. "And you, gracious Selene. Thank you for accommodating us on such short notice. I hope to see you soon."
"Thank you for the good company, sir. I most enjoyed your stories." Selene raised shining eyes to his. "I should like to see your island of mists and fierce women warriors."
Orestes shivered slightly and the light in his eyes turned inward before he dropped her hand. "I believe you will, my dear."
Timothy captured Orestes' arm. "Well, my good sir, let me accompany you to your quarters. My home is but a bit farther and I would be glad of the companionship."
Orestes' small escort joined the Prefect and Archdeacon from the anteroom, where they had lounged during the dinner. The company parted murmuring polite good-byes and fond wishes.
After the company had left, Selene excused herself to oversee the cleanup while the men readied themselves for bed. When she finally made it to her own mattress, Selene collapsed, bone tired. Her earlier euphoria over the flawless evening soured to a black mood. She fell asleep comparing her closely proscribed life to that of the British women Orestes spoke of – leading armies, making decisions, driving chariots – and found her life wanting.
In her dreams, a tall red-haired woman with tragic green eyes lashed four black horses across a battlefield littered with the dead of her clan. By the time the warrior woman reached the end of the field she became Hypatia, resplendent in
"Theophilus served in all levels of the church first," Calistus protested and waving his hand dismissively at Phillip, "and the imperial appointments – disasters, one and all!"
Selene noticed her brother's mouth tighten at his father's correction.
"I assure you this Emperor will take no hand in the succession," Orestes said.
"And let us not forget Cyril. Theophilus is grooming his nephew for the Bishopric. No," Timothy shook his head. "My succession is much less than assured."
"In ten years, Cyril might be ready. A Bishopric is not an empire or business to be handed down from father to son or uncle to nephew." Calistus reached over to pat his friend on the arm. "The clergy would never propose and the people would never affirm a Patriarch so young and inexperienced."
"Let us pray this discussion is premature." The Archdeacon raised his goblet in a toast. "To the Patriarch's health!"
Orestes finished the last of his drink and Selene motioned for a servant to refill his goblet. Orestes put his hand over the mouth of the cup. "No more. This is excellent wine, but I fear I must leave. Tomorrow I have much work to do and I have no wish to make decisions with a sore stuffed head."
The company rose, rearranging robes and making small talk on the way to the vestibule. Selene accompanied her brother Phillip, clinging tightly to his arm. Calistus held Orestes' elbow as they walked. "Who else are you calling on in these early days?"
"Other city councilors, the Patriarch when he is well and, of course, Lady Hypatia."
"A wise choice. Any man of substance who visits our city should wait on Hypatia. She is much respected by the city fathers as well as her fellow philosophers."
A slave held out Orestes' short military style cape. He shrugged into it, addressing Archdeacon Timothy. "And how fares the Lady Philosopher with the church elders?"
"Theophilus has only the highest praise for Hypatia's intelligence, wit and good will for this city. Although a pagan, she has remained above the fray." Timothy chuckled. "Indeed, the good Patriarch's only complaint is that he has been unable to convert her. She remains stubbornly convinced that philosophy transcends all religions. And Hypatia, when arguing philosophy, is a most formidable lady. If not for my faith, she could almost convince me."
Orestes and Phillip clasped forearms in a farewell grip. "Thank you for inviting me to your father's home, my friend." He bowed to Selene and took her hand for a kiss. "And you, gracious Selene. Thank you for accommodating us on such short notice. I hope to see you soon."
"Thank you for the good company, sir. I most enjoyed your stories." Selene raised shining eyes to his. "I should like to see your island of mists and fierce women warriors."
Orestes shivered slightly and the light in his eyes turned inward before he dropped her hand. "I believe you will, my dear."
Timothy captured Orestes' arm. "Well, my good sir, let me accompany you to your quarters. My home is but a bit farther and I would be glad of the companionship."
Orestes' small escort joined the Prefect and Archdeacon from the anteroom, where they had lounged during the dinner. The company parted murmuring polite good-byes and fond wishes.
After the company had left, Selene excused herself to oversee the cleanup while the men readied themselves for bed. When she finally made it to her own mattress, Selene collapsed, bone tired. Her earlier euphoria over the flawless evening soured to a black mood. She fell asleep comparing her closely proscribed life to that of the British women Orestes spoke of – leading armies, making decisions, driving chariots – and found her life wanting.
In her dreams, a tall red-haired woman with tragic green eyes lashed four black horses across a battlefield littered with the dead of her clan. By the time the warrior woman reached the end of the field she became Hypatia, resplendent in
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