“It has all been arranged. I am to be recalled to Rome soon, cleared of all charges, restored to the Senate with all my estates and other property returned, and given the eastern command. I will raise, equip, and pay the legions and auxilia myself, so I haven’t been idle here.”
Mallius’s ears seemed to have grown to twice their usual size. “This sounds like, ah, privileged information.”
“So it is,” Gabinius agreed. “A wise man might well prosper mightily being privy to such affairs.”
“I was not entirely satisfied. It was awfully convenient for him that Marcinus, Nobilior, and Alpheus were all dead. And there were those two men who had attacked me in front of the Temple of Poseidon who had died mysteriously. But I had nothing solid against him. If he was guilty of something, all our other politician-generals were guilty of far, far worse.
“Now,” Milo said, “if this is all over, why don’t we get to work cleaning up Marcinus’s fleet? I’m in the mood for a little fun. It’s going to be too easy though without him in command.”
I rose, then remembered something. “Aulus Gabinius, Manius Mallius, if you would, I have a little ceremony to conduct here tomorrow morning that requires three citizens as witness. Could you join me and Titus Milo just after sunrise.”
“Certainly,” Mallius said. Gabinius nodded.
“And Manius Mallius, just forget all those awful things I said about Aulus Gabinius.”
He looked at me a moment, then shrugged. Politics.
THE AFTERNOON WAS AS BEAUTIFUL AS they had all been since I had arrived on Cyprus. Julia and I took our privileged position in the forefront of the crowd at the Temple of Aphrodite.
Next to us stood Hermes, looking decidedly uncomfortable in his new toga and Phrygian bonnet. That morning, with Gabinius, Mallius, and Milo as witnesses, I had given him his freedom, conferred upon him full rights of citizenship, and given him his freedman’s name: Decius Caecilius Metellus. He would always be Hermes to me though.
My recent experience had reminded me how fleeting life can be and that I might not have a chance to conduct the ceremony myself should I wait too long.
Cleopatra stood nearby, surrounded by her entourage. She caught my eye and nodded, smiling. I was unutterably relieved that she had not been involved in the sordid business on Cyprus. At least, not in any way I could prove. If she was involved, she’d showed more circumspection than she displayed later in her life.
Then the chorus began to sing the hymn composed by the late Alpheus, whom I was going to miss. He’d had his faults, but he had been excellent company. Then the priestesses came out of the temple, draped in the golden nets and nothing else. Last of all came lone. In procession they passed us while the people bowed their heads.
When she came near us, lone paused. Timidly, Julia stepped forward, reached out a hand, and touched Ione’s flesh through the net. Then the procession went on, and we fell in behind. Other women came from the crowd and touched the lesser priestesses, but no other was allowed to touch lone.
When the procession reached the seashore near the temple, the crowd lined the beach and carpeted the hillsides and bluffs nearby. The priestesses paused for a moment at the water’s edge, then slowly walked out into the water. First to their knees, then to their waists, then to their shoulders. Then, just as the chorus swelled to the last notes of the hymn, their heads disappeared beneath the water. There was silence for the space of ten heartbeats.
Then the priestesses emerged smiling from the waters, and the people raised a truly ancient Greek hymn of praise in which we visitors joined. The nets were gone. Dressed only in the sea-foam the priestesses returned to their island renewed, reborn.
These things happened on the island of Cyprus in the year 703 of the City of Rome, the consulship of Servius Sulpicius Rufus and Marcus Claudius Marcellus.