Shadow of Hope

  During the day Cimon studied scrolls on medicine and would offer his services in Antioch for a cheap rate. Cyrus had warned him not to be too obvious and to only heal the easiest cases, for fear of bringing attention to himself. But Cimon often found that edict restricting so he’d find a way to sneak just a little breath into the person during an examination, and then tell the patient that he didn’t have the skill to help. He admitted to Shelpa that he did this and she’d also warned him to be careful, but had kept his secret.

  One afternoon Cimon was studying some old medical scrolls when Cyrus entered the study and interrupted him.

  “Alexandria has the best library for that, you know,” he said to Cimon as he sat down on a chair beside the table.

  “I know, but this library’s good as well. But maybe when we move on I’ll persuade Shelpa to visit home,” Cimon replied sitting back in the chair and watching Cyrus, who’d obviously come for a reason.

  “She’s always looking for an excuse to go back. They have the most elaborate rituals there, which she adores. You can’t beat the Egyptians for ceremonies.” Cimon smiled; he knew that given the chance Shelpa would be out every night visiting different temples if she could get away with it.

  “Look, Cimon, that’s not why I’m here. Today I spoke with a client of mine and he told me about this young Greek doctor who could cure someone just by looking at them. A miracle worker, he called him. He claimed that a simple examination was enough for this man to cure all manner of ills. They’re saying that Asclepius has left his temple and come to walk amongst men again. But we both know that’s not the case, don’t we?”

  He looked directly at Cimon, who held his gaze for a moment then bowed his head, admitting his guilt.

  “Cimon, I have no problem with you wanting to help people, in fact I applaud it, but it’s not safe. You’re attracting attention to yourself. Wielders will get wind of this. They know it’s not Asclepius. And quite honestly, I don’t want anybody taking risks, especially not after what happened in Rome two years ago; we still don’t know anything about who those men were.

  “I’m sorry but it’s got to stop. I have to think about Shelpa, she does enough to attract attention anyway, without you adding to it. When you’re older, you’ll be better able to take care of yourself. I’m sorry but it has to be this way, for the time being at least.”

  Cimon nodded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise so many people were taking notice. I told them that I couldn’t help, but often managed to administer just a little essence. I didn’t realise it would do so much for them.”

  “Unfortunately, healing is a skill even for us. You have to direct it. Left to its own devices the life force will try and cure everything. If you want to heal, you have to do what you’re doing now, but also learn some skill and do most of it in the traditional way, allowing only the occasional use of essence. Don’t try for miracles, concentrate on small victories, they’ll be marvellous enough for the people you treat.”

  Cimon looked down to avoid meeting Cyrus’s gaze. He was silent for a moment, then he answered quietly, lifting his head to meet the older Rabisu’s gaze, “I’m sorry, Cyrus, but I can’t do that.”

  Cyrus frowned, clearly surprised at Cimon’s audacity. He probably expected such defiance from Shelpa, but Cimon had always been respectful and obedient around him.

  Strangely he didn’t seem to be angry, instead he leant forward placing his elbows on to the desk and rested his chin on the arch made by his hands so he could stare at Cimon.

  “Tell me why,” he ordered.

  Cimon thought for a minute then took a deep breath.

  “I need redemption. I tried to kill my wife, somehow I stopped myself, but thanks to me she died anyway. Our wise woman saw that I still had some semblance of humanity inside me and spared my life. She told me that a Rabisu could be set free if they found someone who would love and forgive them, but that this person would then have to kill them. This act would break the meld, allowing both souls to separate to continue on their own personal journey no longer tied together and both would be forgiven. So that’s what I’m trying to do.”

  Cimon finished and stared at the older Rabisu daring him to say something. Cyrus sat back on the chair digesting what he’d just heard. Eventually Cyrus spoke. “Well, Cimon, you’re full of surprises. I don’t quite know what to say.”

  “Is it true though?” Cimon asked, watching for any hint or clue.

  Cyrus regarded him thoughtfully, then he finally gave him an answer. “I don’t know for sure. But I believe so, yes.” Cimon’s eye’s widened at that.

  “Let me explain. We Rabisu grow in a similar way to mortals. We’re like children when we’re merging, like you are at the moment. Then we have this period of youth, or wildness, when we go off by ourselves. Agis is at that stage. That’s the most dangerous stage when we feel we’re invincible and get into all sorts of scrapes.

  “After this we have a mature stage when we calm down, but the world is still full of pleasure and fascinating things. This is where Shelpa is now. This time is followed by a middle age, we still have pleasure in life, but we’re often cynical and life is a little tarnished. I think we can assume that Mardonius has reached this point in his life.

  “If, by some miracle you’ve lived as long as I have, then many of us feel that it’s our responsibility to look after the younger ones. This keeps us going, because by now we’re beginning to see the same old patterns.

  “And finally we have the last phase, when life has lost its shine. It’s become a chore. Nothing’s new, all the wars are the same; the names might change but not the causes. Nothing can surprise us any more. Life has become tedious. By then we’ve gone to find peace and solitude and cut ourselves off from the world. My maker, Enhil is like that and so is Tep, Mardonius’s maker. They were companions in life and now they’re united in disillusionment. I haven’t seen them for years, but I do receive communications from them occasionally.

  Cimon looked puzzled. “How does this show we can be saved?”

  Cyrus smiled patiently. “Before they left, Tep passed a story on to me that his maker Malek had told him. It was about an ancient Rabisu who’d become a healer, then married and settled down with a wife who loved him despite what he was. Apparently they lived a long and happy life together, until inevitably, the wife began to age. Tep said that Malek had been summoned to their house to witness the wife sever her husband’s meld in an attempt to free his souls. Malek had been doubtful and hadn’t believed that it was possible, but before his eyes he saw the old Rabisu’s body become full of light and instead of a single body on the bed he clearly saw two. He’d described to Tep how the light from the body filled the room until everything was obscured, then when they could see again, a single body remained but the old Rabisu was smiling.”

  Cimon was about to say something but Cyrus held up his hand. “I haven’t finished. Malek stayed with the widow for support but a few days later she decided to join her husband. Malek told Tep that he sat with her as she took a poison, but after a while, he claims that he saw a golden light appear in the room and in the centre of it was his old friend, the recently severed Rabisu. Malek said that the spirit lifted his arm out to the old lady on the bed, and to his astonishment, she sat up and walked towards her husband. He said that she was a shade completely lacking in colour until she took his hand, then she too was filled with the golden light. A heartbeat later they were gone, and Malek was alone as he knew that the old lady’s spirit had left with her husband.

  “It’s only a story, Cimon, but Tep was convinced that his maker was telling the truth and so I believe it. So, yes, maybe we can find redemption; even if we’re terrible and don’t always live up to our best potential, I honestly believe that if we try, we can find love and attain salvation.”

  Cimon stared wide-eyed at the older Rabisu. He could almost see the scene; it was so similar to his moment with Callie years ago that it had to be true. This meant that, final
ly, after all this time, he had some real hope to cling to, something almost tangible which had been witnessed by others of his kind. He bit his lip; for the first time he felt the urge to tell someone his secret.

  “I saw my wife when she died. Uma had somehow linked us before I’d left and I could feel her heart beating inside me. Her spirit came to me the night I realised that I didn’t have to be a monster.” He paused remembering the revelations. “My life changed that night, because I found some semblance of hope, but after I saw her, the heartbeat stopped and I knew that she’d died and I was alone.” He stopped searching Cyrus’s eyes for his reaction. Satisfied he was being believed, Cimon continued. “Uma said that it might happen like that, and if it did, then I’d have to wait for her rebirth and I’d know when that happened because I’d hear the heartbeat and then once again I should try and seek my redemption through her.”

  Cyrus looked surprised but didn’t say anything. Then he frowned and spoke. “You haven’t told Shelpa this, have you?” Cimon shook his head and pulled a face. “Good, I can’t imagine she’d be happy with the idea that you’ll seek your wife and leave her as soon as you can.” He paused. “But I can understand why you would. You obviously both loved each other a lot and your life was stolen from you.” He was quiet then he smiled. “I remember Shelpa telling me that you hated her in the beginning and hit her when you first went to her. Now I understand why. I don’t blame you at all.

  “But, Cimon, in my experience a soul can take anything from two or three years to between two or three hundred years to come back and in that time I would advise you to enjoy yourself and live as you now are. Fighting your own nature isn’t advisable, it leads to suppression and that in turn gets nasty and messy. People get hurt. Of course I’m not saying behave irresponsibly, keep discriminating, but be true to your nature as well.” Cyrus paused, then smiled softly.

  “And don’t forget, when you hear her come back, you’ll have a lifetime together to seek redemption. Don’t rush to do anything unless you have to.”

  “But still no healing until I leave to go off on my own?” Cimon asked

  Cyrus nodded. “Staying alive must be your priority, you’ve a lot resting on it. Don’t risk it for people who might not appreciate it. Eternity is a long time. Don’t you agree?”

  Cimon nodded. “I’ve got some hope now.” He smiled shyly. “Thank you for not thinking I’m crazy.”

  Cyrus stood up. “Thank you for believing. Mardonius dismisses it as nonsense. Shelpa, well,” he smiled, “I don’t even bother.” Cimon grinned at that. “But maybe one day she’ll understand, if she makes it that far.”

  Chapter Ten

  The family were sitting down to eat when the youngest boy flung open the door of the hut and shouted that the men were coming. Antinious stood and went to look for himself. Sure enough, coming up in the road, but still some distance away, were a group of armed men. His luck had run out and they’d finally found him. Quietly he closed the door, thinking fast.

  The family were still sitting at the table, with the boy standing by his mother. It was a shame, if they had only been a day later he could’ve let the kind family live, but now, just in case they spoke he’d no choice but to kill them.

  The father realised his intention and stood up as if to stop him. Antinious pulled out his sword and the man fell forward on to his table. The mother screamed loudly and clutched her son, he strode over and pulled back her head and slit her throat, which stopped the noise. The child was too stunned to do anything, so he made it quick for the boy who’d warned him in the first place. The he grabbed some food and left the house quickly, scrambling down the cliff to the shale beach.

  For several minutes he walked in the low tide along the beach until he came to the place where a cave was obscured by the other more prominent outcrops of rock. Tying the food into a knot around his waist he scaled the cliff face until he found the entrance and threw himself in. Two days later when the tide was at its highest, he threw a small coracle from the cave into the water. He jumped down after it and clambered in, then began to paddle around the coast hugging the cliffs until he came to the narrowest point between the islands. Once he’d crossed the strait he continued on around the coast until he found a friendly port where he could find someone willing to take him back to the mainland.

  ***

  Cyrus sat in the study of his opulent villa in Rome contemplating the scroll in his hand. It was a request from his maker Enhil for him and Mardonius to join him and Tep in their solitude near the Indus River. Cyrus hadn’t seen Enhil for over three hundred years and only once every few years or so did he get any communication from him. Oddly, this request had come only a year after his last scroll and Enhil didn’t even say where he was, only that once they were at Antioch, they should write to the usual address in Estakhr in Persia and he’d write back with further instructions. Something didn’t seem right. And he wondered if Enhil was planning on leaving the world and this was his final summons.

  He was waiting to see Cimon. If he and Mardonius were leaving Rome, then Cimon would be in charge. The boy was prepared for it. He’d have to stop calling him a boy as the Greek was fully merged now, and had been for several years. He was now at an age when Rabisu had the urge to leave and explore the world on their own. This was when a lot of them took too many chances and too many risks, believing that they were demigods in a world of mortals.

  He doubted Cimon would make that mistake; he was cautious and careful by nature. Still Shelpa’s greatest mistake, as she loved to call him, he’d somehow managed to maintain the morals and mildness of his shepherding past with the ruthlessness and determination of the other soul.

  Since he’d taken over the commercial side of Cyrus’s Roman estates, they’d made a huge profit. Cimon was an opportunist, if he could make money he would, and people learnt that he was fair, loyal and drove a hard bargain. But he was ruthlessly deadly if crossed, and they’d soon learnt not to antagonise or provoke him.

  There was a knock at the door, which broke Cyrus from his reverie. As expected it was Cimon and by the looks of things, whilst he’d been running a few errands in town, he’d taken advantage and fed. The glow was a clear indication of that.

  Despite whatever Shelpa had said about him at first, he could now be considered a handsome young man, with the build of a Greek hoplite soldier. His dark expressive eyes softened a rather strong and characterful face and they were looking at Cyrus now wondering why he’d been summoned to a private meeting.

  “Enhil wrote to me,” he told Cimon as he sat down. The young Rabisu looked surprised.

  “Didn’t he write last year?”

  Cyrus nodded. “He wants Mardonius and me to visit him in the Indus valley. I have no idea why.”

  Cimon looked amused. “Are you going?” he asked.

  Cyrus looked at him and raised his eyebrows. “He’s my maker; even old ones like me have to answer our creator’s summons.”

  “When are you going?” Cimon asked, conceding the point.

  “As soon as we can. I’ve told Mardonius and he’s getting ready. Shelpa doesn’t know yet. I wanted to tell you first. I don’t know how long we’ll be.”

  Cimon read between the lines. “You want me to look after her?”

  “Yes and no,” Cyrus replied. “You’re of an age when you could up and go at any minute, eager to be on your own and find out things for yourself.”

  Cimon shook his head, smiling. “I’m in no hurry to go. I haven’t exactly had a conventional upbringing, have I?” he replied.

  Cyrus nodded in agreement. “But Cimon, this urge can come out of the blue. If it does, and Shelpa stays, get the estates manager to run things and pass all legal matters to Julia. If instead she chooses to leave, close down the house and set the usual dormancy policies into place. And tell Julia, she’ll handle all the legal work.”

  Cimon studied him carefully. “You’re planning to be gone that long?”

  “I don’t know h
ow long we’ll be away. And no healing when Shelpa’s with you,” Cyrus added for good measure.

  Cimon scowled in annoyed acknowledgment.

  ***

  Mardonius lay on the table and enjoyed the sensation of the oil being massaged into his body.

  “I’ll miss Rome,” he told Cimon who lay on the table next to him. “Are you asleep, little brother?”

  Cimon was lying face down on his folded arms, so his reply was muffled, but it was clear that his friend was still awake.

  “You know, I haven’t seen Tep for maybe two or three…”

  “Shush,” Cimon warned him, looking up and pulling a face to indicate the slave girls administering the oil into their backs.

  “I was going to say days, what did you think I was going to say?” Mardonius asked innocently. Cimon glared and put his head back again.

  “I quite like the idea of retracing Alexander’s footsteps. I’m from the east, you know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I know that,” Cimon answered before Mardonius could say something thoughtless. “But from what Cyrus said today, you won’t be living there for any great period of time.”

  “That will depend on what Enhil wants. Cyrus does what he says. Ah, thank you, a little more there please,” he told the girl who smilingly obliged.

  “What’s he like?” Cimon asked.

  “Well, let’s just say he was an accountant for the city’s grain stores and leave it at that. Perfect, thank you,” he added to the girl.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Cimon asked. “I looked after sheep for my village, what does that say about me?”

  “You are tetchy today, aren’t you? Well….” Mardonius considered for a moment. “He’s quite cold and has no sense of humour. A dry old stick, as they say here in Rome.”

  “And Tep?”

  “He’s a gentle soul. A poet in his day, but highly superstitious. Which I never really understood. But there you go.”