The God’s Guardian (The Pharaoh’s Promise #3)

Chapter Four

Before he could recover, another unkempt young man appeared, snatching at the bag slung over his shoulder. Bhaskar immediately grabbed the strap, hanging on for all he was worth, but a knife made quick work of the straps and the two thieves disappeared into the crowd.

Infuriated, Bhaskar yelled after them, “Stop! Thief! Thief!”

The cry rose up from around him, but he knew it was too late. The two youths were small, fast, and already indistinguishable from dozens of other young boys he had passed on the street.

“Do you want to call the guard?” A merchant from one of the shops reached out a hand to help him up. “These kids, they get worse every year.”

“Will it do any good?”

“They should know about the attack. Maybe they will increase the number of patrols if they see what a problem this is.”

No good, then. Bhaskar thanked the man and assured the other bystanders that he was unhurt, then continued home and made his way to his room where he sank thankfully onto a bench by one of the windows.

In truth, he was not unhurt. He was shaken and aching. The pain in his ribs from the night before had returned and now his hip also hurt from the new fall. The few coins in his bag were not a great loss but the thieves had taken two valuable scrolls from his own collection. He only prayed the Great Library would have copies or similar works. And his papyrus! He would have to copy it again from scratch instead of continuing where he left off, and he would need to ask Callius to help him recreate the translation they had started.

At least he had his dinner with Anu to look forward to. Then he looked down at himself. His beautiful uttariya and dhoti were stained with mud and worse from the street. He looked out the window, doing another quick calculation of the time, then looked down at the filth clinging to him. There was nothing for it, he would have to bathe.

He called for the servants to fill the bath. The oikonomos shook his head in disbelief when told not to waste time on heating the water. Bhas didn’t wait for the basin to be more than half full before he stepped in, then rushed through the cold bath. At least the water here was nothing like the mountain springs of Badrinath in the winter. Despite his growing panic over the hour, he took a few moments to rub a cooling oil into his skin. He chose one scented with khus, for tranquility after his troubled day, then dabbed jasmine on his wrists, remembering the fragrance heavy in the air around Anu as they walked home the night before.

He wanted to trim his beard. Anu’s facial hair looked so precise. Bhas did not think the thin, stylized strip would suit him, but his own beard was very full right now. Would Anu think he didn’t care for it properly? Another glance out the window told him a trim was out of the question, so he settled for more oil to make it soft and gleaming.

Then he turned to his wardrobe. The outfit he had chosen so carefully was out of the question. Back home, he had thought himself prepared for the climate. He had brought only his lightest clothing with him, but if his dreams had not prepared him for the Great Library nothing could have prepared him for the heat.

He rifled through his clothing looking for anything both appropriate, cool, and…more importantly…clean after his long journey. There was one possibility, but…

Bhaskar pulled the items out of his trunk and draped them on the bench by the window to consider. He had purchased the chiton and himation on a particularly hot day during his trip on the Nile. The Greeks wore them, after all. He would be a scholar of the Great Library in Alexandria. The clothing would be appropriate.

So far, he had not dared wear them.

He fingered the light fabric. It would be so comfortable.

With great daring he draped the chiton over his body. The merchant had sold him a bronze fibula intricately engraved with geometric patterns for the shoulder and a braided cord made of dyed wool which he used to belt the chiton at the waist. The style left one shoulder and a great deal of his chest completely bare, but the himation would take care of that. He fingered the cloak, which had been an extravagance—a beautiful soft burgundy. His mother had a saree in a similar color which looked very well on her. He had dared hope the color might complement his own coloring as well.

He spent a few minutes draping, tucking, and pinning everything. The Greeks made the style look effortless and sophisticated, but his fingers fumbled with the unfamiliar knots. The himation was bulkier than expected and added warmth he didn’t want but coverage he absolutely did. The chiton, conversely, felt scandalously loose and short. Could he really go in public like this? Finally, he felt he had everything in place. The himation was draped to cover more of his chest than most Greeks preferred, but he still felt very exposed. The now-familiar feel of the linen pagri restored some of his equilibrium and he kept his rudraksha beads even though they would be lost in the folds of the himation. Finally, he added gold studs to his ears, copper bracelets, and the ring his grandmother had given him on his twelfth birthday when he first recited the sacred verses of the Vedas by heart.

Then he fished out his bronze mirror and held it at different angles, trying to see how he looked. Like a sophisticated Greek scholar? He hoped?

Just then a knock came at the door and the servant announced a guest to see him. Too late now to back out.

As he turned to go, the sundial sitting on his desk caught his eye. He hesitated, then picked it up, wrapped it carefully in a silk kerchief and stored it in the bottom of a trunk. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to hide it away. There was no reason not to leave it on his desk or even stored at the top of the trunk where it would be at hand. But after two encounters with thieves, he could not bring himself to leave it anywhere easily accessible.

Then, with a last glance in the mirror, he hurried down the stairs.

Anu was waiting in the courtyard, beautiful and perfect in another linen shenti. In addition to the pendant at his neck, tonight he wore bronze armbands which gleamed against his skin and drew Bhaskar’s eyes to his biceps. His chest was still bare. Bhas forced his eyes upward. Anu had kohled his eyes in the Egyptian style. The bold, almond-shaped outline emphasized the deep, almost black, color of his eyes and the startling white of his pupils. Bhas froze, caught in Anu’s gaze like a sparrow in front of a falcon.

He forced himself to move. As he stepped forward a breeze swept through the courtyard stirring the leaves of the plants in the courtyard and caressing his calves below the chiton.

His. Naked. Calves.

He stopped, suddenly very aware of the breeze even higher on his legs, his bare calves and how much of his upper body would be exposed if the himation shifted. He must look ridiculous. Or as though he were trying to draw Anu’s attention to his body. What if Anu laughed? Or took offense?

Then Anu’s gaze travelled over him, his eyes grew even darker and a slow, appreciative smile spread over his face. “Bhaskar. I am glad you continue to adapt to our heat.”

“I…if I am going to live here, I should wear the local fashions.” He wanted to sound confident and dignified. His father and brothers would never show such hesitation. But Anu’s eyes were still on him and it took all Bhaskar’s concentration to keep his body from trembling without the added worry of putting words together. “You look,” he swallowed, “very well tonight.”

“Perhaps you will adopt the shenti next?”

Bhas felt faint at the idea. “It will need to get a lot hotter.”

Anu laughed. “Just as well. It would not suit your dignity, I think. You will fit in well at the Mouseion. They will be all over you, the new astronomer all the way from India.”

“I did not think I would stand out. It is said the Mouseion hosts as many scholars from other lands as Greeks.”

“True, but not so many from as far as India. They will all want to meet you and hear your thoughts.”

“I will try to be worthy of their regard.”

Maybe sensing his discomfort at the idea, Anu changed the subject.

“Did you have in mind what you want to eat?”

“I am new in town,” Bhas reminded him. “I would welcome your suggestion.”

“Let us see what we can find, then.” Anu escorted him out into the street where he continued his questions. “Do you want more Greek food, or would you like to try something new? The city has much to offer if your palate is as adventurous as you are.”

“I’m a scholar—hardly an adventurer.”

“You just arrived from India,” Anu reminded him. “You cannot tell me the journey was without peril. Many would not have attempted it.”

“It was not so bad,” Bhas protested. “Although I am glad to have private lodging that will not change for some time.” And he was secretly pleased at Anu’s description.

This time, he was able to enjoy his stroll down Canopic Street. The sun had set completely, the street lamps had all been lit, and light from various establishments spilled out onto the street. The smell of spices and cooking food filled the air along with the sound of music and laughter. Bhas tensed at the sight of some young men loitering at a nearby cooking stall, but then realized they were paying him no mind. They were laughing amongst themselves, one of them tossing a small coin up and catching it, while another gestured animatedly as he spoke. Clearly not a threat. Anyway, no one would dare attack him with the imposing figure of Anu at his side.

Anu pointed out many landmarks as they walked the street, as well as favored shops and merchants he should patronize while in town. Finally, they turned into a side street where a small tavern nestled just off the main thoroughfare. “How adventurous do you feel?”

Bhas threw him a wary look, remembering the talk of dancing girls from Alexandros and the others.

“The proprietor is from Kush,” Anu said. “This is my favorite place to eat, but if you prefer Greek we can find someplace else.”

Now he was intrigued. “As long as they have dishes without meat, I will trust your judgment.”

“They will have several options,” Anu promised. He didn’t sound surprised or shocked at the request but pushed aside the large reed mat that had been hung over the entrance so Bhaskar could enter.

After the grandeur of the Great Library and the cosmopolitan bustle of Canopic Street, the room they entered felt warm and intimate. The walls were decorated with tapestries dyed deep reds and browns. More reed mats covered the floor, many featuring intricate geometric patterns. In one corner, a small shrine had been erected with offerings of flowers and fruit, although Bhas did not recognize the goddess.

Before they had taken more than two steps, a tall, dark woman in a brightly patterned robe greeted them. “Anu! Where have you been? We never see you anymore.”

“Ankh udja seneb, Meroe.” Anu smiled warmly and touched her shoulder in greeting. “This is Bhaskar the Astronomer. He has just arrived from India to study at the Mouseion. Bhas, meet Meroe, who makes the best Kushite food outside of Napata.”

“Ankh udja seneb, Meroe.” Bhas repeated the Egyptian greeting—life, prosperity, and health—carefully as he pressed his hands together in Anjali Mudra and bowed with deep respect. Inside he glowed, Bhaskar the Astronomer!

“India! You are a long way from home, indeed. Come, be seated. Let us welcome you to Alexandria with a good meal. I hear horror stories from travelers about the foods they are forced to endure. Anu has brought you to the right place.”

They were interrupted by her husband, Kharaka, who clasped arms with Anu and asked Bhaskar about his route from India, how long it had taken, and if they had encountered storms at sea or bandits along the Eastern Desert.

Finally, they were seated on stools at a low wooden table. Kharaka brought them spiced almonds and clay cups of beer while Meroe discussed the menu. When informed that Bhaskar did not take meat, she simply asked, “Will it bother you if Anu indulges in fish?”

“He can eat as he pleases. I will not be offended.”

“We would never see him but for my fish,” she lamented. “As for you, your journey was doubtless arduous. We will put some flesh back on your bones.”

When they were alone, Bhaskar gazed helplessly at Anu. “They did not ask which dishes we want.”

Anu laughed. “I’m sorry. They know what I like and Meroe will bring out her best dishes for the astronomer all the way from India. Do you want to choose instead? I can call them back.”

“No! I wouldn’t know what to order. It was just unexpected.” He took a sip of his beer, which was strong and slightly bitter with an earthy, pungent undertone. This was the second time Anu had pointed out that he was unusual, even in the melting pot of Alexandria. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being conspicuous. It would be nice if the other scholars were anxious to include him, but he wanted their interest to stem from his work, not his place of birth.

“Was the food really so bad on your journey?” Anu interrupted his thoughts.

“The ship was the worst. Most of the stores were dried meat, which I do not eat. There was plenty of barley, but it became infested with weevils. Most of the passengers continued to eat it, but I considered the weevils flesh so…” He shrugged. Anu did not need to hear the worst of it. “During the last week I subsisted on the last few moldy lentils.” The lentils had started to turn, with an earthy odor that made him gag as he forced them down. He had been too weak to disembark at the next port, so Sudhu had gone in search of fresh food for him. “My uncle Sudha went ashore at the next port and bought food from the first vendor he saw. It turned out to be undercooked chickpea dumplings and some kind of fermented paste which was not… appetizing… even after starving. So you see, I am not afraid of Kushite food.”

As expected, Anu smiled at the story, but then he frowned. “You were hungry. Is it so important that you not eat even a bug?”

No , Bhaskar thought. Or he had never thought it so before. But before he had never been tempted. He had never been so far from home. He had not known anyone on the ship except Sudhu, who did not follow the same strictures. For one of the few times on his journey, he had questioned his decision to leave home. He had felt a distance from his family that could not be measured in mere yojanas.

Anu was still waiting, and Bhas still didn’t have an answer except he would not partake of flesh. He finally settled on, “It is the way of my family.”

After that, Anu asked about the research that had brought him to the Mouseion. Bhaskar told him about his correspondence with Andros and their shared interest in calculating the movements of the celestial bodies—Andros for the challenge of the mathematics and Bhaskar for secrets it unlocked about the natural world itself. As they talked, Meroe brought out their food. Anu had spiced fish and millet wrapped in a palm leaf. For Bhakar there was a savory stew made of chickpeas and seasoned with cumin and coriander. They shared pieces of flatbread and a garlic-spiced dip.

Anu continued to show a flattering interest in getting to know Bhas. As he had the night before, he asked many questions about Bhaskar’s home and journey. Bhas told him about Badrinath and the shrine, but turned away more personal questions about his family. Anu wanted more stories of the route they had taken and the people he had met along the way.

Bhas wondered if perhaps Anu had not travelled much outside the city and tried to make his descriptions of the people and places engaging, hoping the other man would continue to watch him with the same sharp interest.

Bhaskar had resolved not speak of his research but instead find a topic Anu might find more enjoyable. He was not sure how the conversation had turned back to astronomy, but between bites he found himself explaining retrograde motion of Mars. To his surprise, Anu asked several thoughtful questions about how the movement of Mars and the phases of Venus aligned, pressing for more details in a way that made Bhaskar realize he was listening more intently than expected.

They were savoring little cakes of date and honey after their meal when he was knocked back to earth. “And that is when I realized that the earth and heavens move around the sun,” he exclaimed excitedly, caught up in reliving the discovery.

Across the table, Anu shook his head. “That’s a very interesting theory, but astronomers agree the heavens revolve around the earth. We are here”—he held up a fist, then placed his curved open hand a few inches above it—“the gods reside in the heavens above, watching over us and guiding our fates. Below us lies the Duat, the underworld, where souls journey after death. The earth stands at the center of it all, held in balance by the divine order.”

Bhaskar’s lips firmed. Throw in Mount Meru and he could be arguing with his father. He had not traveled halfway across the known world to concede this point. “The math,” he insisted stubbornly, “does not lie.”

Across from him, Anu shrugged. With supreme confidence he said, “You’re the expert. I’m sure your calculations are correct. If you continue your research, an explanation for the seeming discrepancy will present itself.”

Bhaskar opened his mouth to protest, then stopped himself. Men like Anu, he remembered, did not like these kinds of intellectual discussions which might challenge traditional thinking. At least he had not laughed or said the calculations were incorrect. One promising liaison back home had ended with the man telling Bhas that chord functions were made-up gibberish and numbers were only good for keeping track of inventory or money.

Bhaskar took a deep breath. In the corner by the little shrine, a small band had set up. The sound of their lyre filled the air accompanied by the deep, resonate beat of a large drum and the lighter rattle of sistrums. The candle oil at their table had been sprinkled with fragrant herbs. Across from him, even the kohl could not compete with the lush curl of lashes ringing Anu’s eyes. He did not want to end the evening with an argument.

He should ask Anu about something he enjoyed. He had tried to prepare some topics and even asked Callius whether there had been any recent stadion races, which seemed exciting, but all the sport enthusiasts were obsessed with pankration at the moment. With an inward sigh, he offered, “I hear the recent pankration tournaments have been quite exciting.”

“There is a popular new champion.”

“Have you attended many of the matches?”

“I have not had the opportunity.”

The conversation was not going as well as Bhaskar had hoped. Sport fans were typically more than happy to expound on their favorite team or player.

Anu gave him a strange look. “Are you a fan of pankration?”

“The sport is not played in India,” Bhaskar prevaricated.

“You will not like it. If you want some excitement, I will take you to the stadion races next month or to a wrestling match.”

“How do you know I will not like pankration? Everyone is talking about it. I am not that different.”

“The sport is brutal. Are you really eager to watch men battle to near death? You would not eat an insect that had already lost its life so others could dine. Is only the life of beasts you cherish?”

“You like it.”

“What makes you think so?” Anu sounded genuinely shocked.

“The men at your table last night were discussing a recent tournament. You are”—he gestured at Anu helplessly—“athletic. I thought you might be a champion yourself.”

“I have observed the play and I have the skills,” Anu admitted, “but I am fortunate not to have to use them to compete in tournaments. Believe me when I say you will like the races better. There will still be fierce competition, and the runners are in peak physical condition.”

Observed the play . What did that mean if he did not attend the tournaments as a fan or participant?

Bhaskar took another one of the little cakes while he turned the Egyptian words over in his mind to see if he had the meanings right. Meroe and Kharaka interrupted his musings by returning to the table for a few more words with Anu. Bhaskar tried to settle their bill, but the couple smilingly declined. “Anu is always our guest. Please, make sure he brings you again. He is always too busy and needs to relax more with his friends.”

Bhaskar promised to do so, and the couple left the table to see to their other patrons.

“I should get you home,” Anu said. “You are doubtless still tired from your journey.”

Bhaskar agreed, but as he stood he sucked in an audible breath at the pain in his hip. Sitting at the table with the beer and good company to relax him had made him forget his injuries.

“Is it your ribs?” Anu was next to him instantly. “I should have asked earlier how you were feeling.”

“The ribs are not so bad, but I had a fall and bruised my hip as well.” He recounted the attack in the street, ending with, “I came all the way across the Eastern Desert with no mishaps. I did not expect Alexandria to be so dangerous.”

“It is not,” Anu said slowly. “Especially not Canopic Street where the guard patrols regularly. Are you sure the thieves weren’t after anything specific?”

“What could it be? There were plenty of wealthier people in the street if they were looking for money and they couldn’t have known about the scrolls in my bag. Anyway, they weren’t particularly rare. Only another scholar would be interested in acquiring them and I would have happily loaned them to another astronomer.”

Anu continued to look thoughtful as they walked back along Canopic Street. Bhas, safe next to his larger companion, saw no need for them both to worry. He allowed the beer, the meal, and the company to continue to relax him. As it had the night before, Anu’s enticing and puzzling scent, frankincense and sandalwood, teased his senses. After they turned off of Canopic into the quieter, shaded lanes of the residential streets, the scent of jasmine was joined by rose, myrtle, and other fragrant plants from nearby gardens. He even caught a whiff of lotus blossom. The sacred scent reminded him of home. Though the plant did not thrive in the cold mountains of Badrinath, pilgrims would bring carefully preserved petals to his father for sacred rituals. Now, here in this distant land, the scent brought him an unexpected sense of peace and hope.

When they reached his door, with Anu still lost in thought, he realized with a jolt that tonight, Anu might not have a reason to invite himself in as he had before. Bhas hesitated, suddenly very aware he was a foreigner in this land and many of their customs were still a mystery to him. His heart raced as he gathered all his courage.

“Would you like to come in?”