Chapter Text
Basked in the Egyptian morning sun, the Serapeum shone in its usual glory, serene yet majestic. The temple had not yet awakened, but the slaves were already up and about, preparing this sacred place of learning and knowledge, ready to make another great day of discovery.
Morning was Davus' second favourite time of the Serapeum. His master still in bed, Davus was free to meander in its labyrinthine corridors and shelves, take in the smell of papyrus, and watch the dust dance around the statues of Serapis, Horus, Iris, and all the other immortal gods in the morning beam of sunlight. Sometimes, if he felt adventurous enough, he could climb to the highest point of the temple that overlooked the entire city and catch a glimpse of the ocean. David had always liked the ocean. It reminded him of home, far far away.
“Is everything all right Davus?” a calm voice shook Davus out of his reverie. Gabrius, the slave of the Grand Master, Cholius, director of Serapeum, smiled kindly at Davus.
Davus returned the older man’s smile, “I’m fine Gabi. Is the Master up yet?”
“Well, you know him,” chuckled Gabi, “The big day is only in a week’s time. We have scholars and disciples from all over Rome. Master has been up since two hours ago, preparing for his lecture. How is your master? He’s supposed to be by Master’s side on that day.”
Davus' response was interrupted by the approaching talks and laughter of three young men. The one leading the way, Antonius, was a young man with big light blue eyes and a dazzling smile. David had always liked Antonius. He might be one of the youngest and brightest disciples and certainly one of Cholius’ favourites. But he was never arrogant nor complacent about it. On the contrary, Antonius was always polite and cheerful. The one next to Antonius, Niguestes, was a tall and strong young man with square jaws and bright eyes the colour of steel. He might be the youngest of the group, but always the most fierce and brave, never afraid to speak up his mind. At the moment, Niguestes was talking animatedly to Antonius while gesturing wildly. Trailing slightly behind the pair, was Merodius. He was about the same height as Antonius, but significantly stronger. His jet black eyes matched his hair perfectly. He might not be as handsome as Antonius or as tall as Niguestes, but his face was kind and his smile genuine. In any other circumstances, Merodius would not attract any unwanted attention. But here in the Serapeum, he stood out like a red rose in the middle of the Egyptian desert, all because of the little cross hanging in front of his disciple robes. Merodius was, so common outside the Serapeum yet still rare inside, a Christian. Sometime Davus wondered if that was why, despite his gift, Merodius was always the quiet one. Or maybe he was simply born that way, just as Davus was born a slave.
“Good day Davus, Gabrius,” Merodius was the first to notice them, as Antonius and Niguestes were too engrossed in their discussion, “Where may we find your masters? Has Director Cholius not arisen yet?”
“Indeed he has, Master Merodius,” replied Gabi, bowing his head respectfully, “Master Cholius was awoken, upon his request, just an hour shy of daybreak. He has been working on his lecture since then and has requested your presence as soon as you are available, Master Merodius.”
“Please,” said Merodius earnestly, “I have told you not to address me as Master Merodius. You have been with the director longer than anyone and I hold the deepest respect for you Gabrius. Please, call me Merodius.”
“Forgive me Master Merodius,” said Gabi, bowing his head even lower, “Your kindness is without bound. But I cannot trespass upon that. I know my place and I will always address you, with my greatest respect, as Master Merodius. Now, if you will excuse me, I must go and attend to my master.” With a final deep bow, Gabi turned on his heels and left hurriedly.
Davus could see the look of pain and hurt in Merodius’s black eyes. Before he could say anything, Merodius burst out quite uncharacteristically, “Why must this be so? We are all born equal, sons of the merciful Lord. We shall be brothers, not masters and slaves, or worse, enemies, simply for sharing different faiths. Has our Lord not taught us to be forgiving and loving? Why can we not live in harmony like brothers?”
Davus remained silent during Merodius’s outburst, for frankly, he did not know how to respond. Part of him felt what Merodius said was right, but the other part of him, the part that had been so deeply ingrained in him since his birth, told him that what Merodius said was unthinkable. It was against the natural order of things and should not ever be uttered or even thought of again. Maybe that was why everyone liked Merodius but very few loved him. On one hand, he was one of the kindest and most loyal men anyone would ever meet, which made it virtually impossible to not like him. On the other, he was a Christian, yet he did not seek to fight with the pagans for his faith, which made him friendless among both pagans and Christians. The only ones who accepted him were Cholius, Antonius, and Niguestes, Cholius for his talent, Antonius for his company, and Niguestes simply for who he was.
Seeing that Merodius had shown no sign of dismissing him, Davus shifted uneasily and said, “Master Merodius, do forgive me. But I fear my master might have awoken and might need me. If you will be so kind, I beg you to allow me to take my leave.”
Merodius looked at Davus with those sad eyes and sighed, “Of course Davus. It is not my wish to get you into any sort of trouble. Do send my regards to Guajulius. I hope to see him in the Director’s chamber very soon.”
Davus nodded and left without a word. As he was heading to his master’s chamber, he heard the faint conversation between Merodius and Niguestes, with the latter asking in a concerned tone if Merodius was fine.
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As Davus stepped into Guajulius’ chamber, he softened his footsteps and held his breath automatically. He was not sure if Guajulius was awake and, having no wish to disturb his master, he tried to make as little noise as possible.
Guajulius, as it turned out, was still asleep in his bed. Davus let out a soft sigh of relief. He did not particularly enjoy the prospect of waking Guajulius while he was asleep or facing Guajulius when he realised that Davus was not there when he woke up.
It was not that Guajulius was a cruel man. On the contrary, he was a man of fine character, who bought Davus when he was a child and practically raised him since then. But Guajulius did have a violent temperament and was prone to outbursts of anger. Most of them were directed towards Guajulius himself, especially at times when his research had failed him and Davus had long learned not to fear Guajulius. Guajulius without enough repose in the morning, however, was not to be trifled with.
The bedchamber of Guajulius was rather spacious. The decoration, however, was not elaborated, unlike that of some of his colleagues in the Separeum. A small golden statue of Serapis overlooked the room above Guajulius’ desk, which was strewn with papyrus and reed pens. Although Davus could not read, he could tell from the frantic writing on the papyrus that Guajulius was not happy with his thoughts. Sighing slightly, Davus proceeded to collect the papyrus.
“Davus?” the muffled voice of Guajulius made Davus smile. Despite his hot temper and sometimes rather foul mouth, Guajulius always sounded so soft and, Davus did not how to describe it, human, in the early morning hours between dream and reality. Sometimes, when Davus woke up early and could no longer fall asleep, he would spend hours simply looking at Guajulius’ sleeping form, tracing every bit of it with his own eyes.
“Yes master,” said Davus with an easy smile on his face, “Did you have a good night’s sleep?”
“Hmpf,” grunted Guajulius, who slowly rose from the bed as Davus stepped forward to dress him, “Not the best but I’ll live. I would like to get more sleep but Cholius will probably murder me in my sleep if I do not rise in time to help him prepare for his lecture! Has he called for me yet?”
“No master. But he did request the presence of Master Antonius, Master Niguestes, and Master Merodius,” said Davus, while tying the laces in Guajulius’ robe.
“Galloping Chimaeras!” exclaimed Guajulius, “All of them and not me! What does Cholius mean by that! They are just children, the oldest of them mere four and twenty years of age. How could he request their presence but not mine!”
“Master,” pleaded Davus, “I’m sure Master Cholius has his reasons.”
But Guajulius was not paying attention. He yanked the lace off Davus' hand and tied it haphazardly around his waist. “Quickly Davus, fetch my documents. We have no time to lose and we must see Cholius now.”
Davus sighed. He would very much like to persuade his master to at least attempt some breakfast. Yet he knew from experience that it was not to be done and simply resigned himself to collecting all the papyrus scrolls he could gather before following Guajulius out of the room.
It did not take them long to reach Cholius’ chamber, for Guajulius was practically charging like a stampeding bull. The result was a slightly dishevelled and heavily panting Guajulius, who almost crashed into the room, which was already rather occupied.
The man in the centre of the room was Cholius. Tall, strong, and austere, he was known as the most brilliant scholar of Alexandria, and arguably of the entire Roman empire. A man from a rather questionable origin, Cholius had not the luxury of a privileged upbringing like his esteemed colleagues. He achieved everything through hard work and dedication, which he took great pride in. He was never an easy teacher, yet he encouraged thoughts and ideas from his students, as he was a firm believer in the Socratic method. Once he had discovered a true talent, he would tolerate all its eccentricities and do his best to nurture it, like he did with Antonius, Niguestes, Merodius, and long ago, with Guajulius and the famous Torrestes, the brilliant young scholar now a member of the inner circle of the emperor himself.
“Good day to you, Guajulius,” said Cholius, looking slightly amused, “I trust that you have rested and prayed and are now ready to work.”
“Forget about rest and pray,” snapped Guajulius, “My mind still functions without the former and the mighty Serapis will surely overlook the latter. Let’s talk business. Do you still insist on giving the lecture same time this coming week? Have you made further progress?”
“My dear friend,” said Cholius calmly, “I assure you I have not changed my mind. It is true that I have not time to find definitive proof for my hypothesis. Nonetheless, I am certain that it is correct.”
“That might be so,” said Guajulius in a fake calm tone, which plainly indicated that he was trying to conceal his exasperation, “Yet you simply cannot go and tell people that the earth is moving! People will not believe it! Remember Aristarchus? He could not explain how the earth was moving yet we cannot feel it! Hipparchus gave up his work because he could not reconcile the fact that if the wanderers and earth orbit around the sun, the wanderers shall not wander to us. How can you prove your theory?”
“As I have told you,” replied Cholius patiently, “the orbits of the wanderers are not circular. They are…”
“Elliptical?” asked Guajulius in exasperation, “But think Cholius! The cosmos is perfect. Everybody knows that. To think that such impure shape exists in the cosmos is unthought of.”
“Yet what if it is correct?” asked Cholius, still unperturbed by Guajulius’ growing frustration, “What if we have been blinded, bounded by the preconception of the purity of the shape that we cannot see anything beyond it, that we cannot see the truth.”
“All right,” sighed Guajulius, “Let us just suppose, for argument’s sake, that such impure shape does exist and the wanderers and the earth follow it around the sun. But it still does not explain why nobody can feel the movement of the earth. If the earth does move, why shall we not lose our ways as we travel? Why shall anything stay stationary?”
“Guajulius,” interrupted Antonius, “forgive me for the interruption. But what if there is a force from the earth, pulling everything towards it?”
“A force from earth?” asked Niguestes curiously, “What kind of force? Why would no one feel it then? How could the birds fly if such force is pulling them towards earth?”
“But we do feel it!” began Antonius enthusiastically, “We feel it every day! Imagine, if we do nothing, if we do not exert ourselves at all, what would happen? We fall to the ground. The same with the birds! They do not fly because they float in the sky! They fly because they have wings. Without the wings, they fall to the ground like any other creatures on this earth.”
“But our Lord does not,” said Merodius serenely, “How can you explain that?”
Antonius opened his mouth and then closed it. It was clear to Davus that Antonius held his tongue not because he was short for words, but because he did not want to hurt his friends’ feelings. Guajulius, however, had no such concern.
“That carpenter god of yours?” he almost snorted, “Forgive me but I fail to see any of the miracles everyone claims he has performed. So maybe he does.”
Merodius’s normally kind face was now a dark shade of red. Before he could retort back though, Niguestes held Merodius’s hand with his own, which made Merodius stop. Niguestes shook his head almost imperceptibly. Biting his lips and still looking highly affronted, Merodius dropped the subject, however.
“Anyway,” said Antonius quickly, trying to diffuse the tension, “if we accept that such a force exists, it would explain why the earth moves without us knowing! Think, when you are on a boat and drop a sack, it falls not to some distances away. It falls directly below where it started, despite the movement of the boat. Why would this not apply to the earth?”
“And the proof of this?” asked Guajulius, “all of these are just your hypothesis. We have not the evidence to prove it, and certainly not in front of all the brilliant minds of Rome!”
“That was why I have written to Torrestes,” said Cholius, who had watched in silence the exchange of his disciples without interruption but with proud, “I have explained mine and Antonius’ theories in our letters, to get his opinion. He is in Rome and surrounded by brilliant scholars. I would welcome their opinion too.”
“But,” Guajulius looked thoroughly confused now, “but when Torrestes last corresponded with me not two days ago, he did not seem to have received your letter at all. Have you heard back from him?”
“What do you mean?” asked Cholius sharply, his face slightly pale, “I have not heard from him but I assumed it was because he was discussing it with the other scholars. Are you quite sure that he has not received my letter?”
“Davus”, Guajulius simply nodded to Davus, who obediently retrieved the letter from among the many papyrus scrolls he was holding and read out loud.
“Dear Guajulius,
Thank you for your letter and your regards for the family. Olaya is expecting our second child and I do admit I feel a little guilty about leaving Rome for Alexandria at this crucial juncture. Yet she assured me that she will be well looked after and I cannot miss a lecture of this importance. I must say that I am secretly relieved, for I cannot wait to hear what Cholius has to say about his new discovery. It has been quite the talk of the town here ever since he announced it. Everyone, myself included, has been speculating what it might be. Knowing our dearest director though, it will probably be something so completely unheard of yet brilliant that I shall not fault myself for not guessing it right. But do tell Guajulius, if you know anything about it (I am sure you do!). A little secret like this to an old friend cannot hurt, to be sure. If not, then I will see you shortly. In the meantime, I will try to find a way to entertain my mind while I anxiously awaits our next meeting.
Do take care Guajulius. Olaya sends her love.
Your most faithful friend,
Torrestes”
Once he had finished reading, Davus looked up and could tell that the atmosphere in the room had changed. Both Cholius and Guajulius looked extremely grave, while the three young scholars looked puzzled. Gabi, who was standing in the shadow, had the same expression as his master, which never boded well for Davus. Before he could catch Guajulius’ eyes for any confirmation, Cholius spoke up in a calm voice that may not convey all the emotions going through his heart at the moment, “My dear friend and disciples, I believe we have excited ourselves enough for one morning. I do apologise for keeping you so long. Please, enjoy your breakfast, and we shall reconvene this afternoon to run through some more calculations of our theories. Gabrius shall go fetch you when the time comes.”
The three young disciples exchanged a quick look before leaving Cholius’ chamber, Antonius rather reluctantly. Guajulius beckoned Davus forward and they left without a word either. Once they were outside Cholius’ chamber, Guajulius paused and thought for a moment before turning to Davus, “Give me those scrolls.”
“But master…”
“I need you to go to the library and fetch me anything you can find on Aristarchus and Hipparchus. I want to go through them again.”
Davus hesitated for a moment but gave in eventually. He wanted very much to ask Guajulius the meaning of Torrestes’ letter but he knew now was not the right moment. So he simply nodded, passed his scrolls to Guajulius and left to do his master’s bidding.