Free Pilate's Wife: A Novel of the Roman Empire by Antoinette May

transformed our modest atrium. Athenian lute players entertained while an Ethiopian Venus performed with panthers that cavorted like kittens. Everyone marveled at the feats of Mithradites, a magician said to be the cleverest in a city of wizards; but Mother and I privately decided that Rachel was the true wizard. She'd accomplished the event for a fraction of the amount originally budgeted.

     

    F OR DAYS BANQUET PREPARATIONS HAD ABSORBED R ACHEL'S LIFE. All the while I'd thought of little but the great goddess Isis and her handmaiden, Cleopatra--exotic, intriguing, and forbidden. Returning to my room after the festivities, I sighed in anticipation. Let my parents keep their secrets, I knew exactly where to turn.
    The lamps had been dimmed. A pink shift lay draped across the couch. Rachel rose to greet me. "Would you like a massage?" she asked, unfastening my tunic.
    "Yes," I answered, stepping out of my garments. "A massage and some information. Tell me about Cleopatra. Tata called her a bitch. Was she evil?"
    Rachel carefully removed a vial of sandalwood oil from the small collection near the couch. "She was worshiped as a goddess. Alexandrians still mourn her. Cleopatra was the last of the Ptolemies, Alexander's dynasty."
    "I know that!" I exclaimed impatiently. "When we conquered Egypt, Augustus installed a governor. One has ruled ever since. But what about Cleopatra? Was she very beautiful?"
    Rachel's hands kneaded my back. "Her statues show a shapely body dressed splendidly in the Egyptian manner."
    "Egyptian styles leave little to the imagination. What about her face?"
    Rachel's experienced fingers moved impersonally over my buttocks. "Her nose was large and her jaw pronounced."
    "But Antonius and, I'm told, Julius Caesar before him--"
    "It couldn't have been her face," Rachel remarked with certainty. "The old ones say she had a beautiful voice and everyone thought she was awfully smart." Rachel paused. "Then there's the other thing."
    "Other thing?"
    "You're very young."
    "I'm fourteen! Another year and my parents will be searching for a husband. Tell me!"
    "Cleopatra was heady wine. She thought that marriage, first to Caesar and then to Antonius, would unite the world in one bed--"
    "Her own," I finished. "But that was all so long ago. Tata never saw Cleopatra, yet he hates her. There must be something else..." I sat up, raising my arms as Rachel slipped the shift over my shoulders. Yawning, I lay back on the couch. My eyes felt heavy. "I don't suppose even Tata knows why he hates Cleopatra," I murmured sleepily, "but it's that power he fears--the power of Isis."

     

    I DREAMED THAT NIGHT OF I SIS . A PLEASANT DREAM, FOR ONCE, BUT not surprising. I'd been thinking of her, after all. What did surprise me was Rachel's reaction. "It's an omen," the slave insisted excitedly. "The true beloved of Isis are always dreamers."
    "How do you know so much about Isis?" I asked, looking up from my breakfast figs.
    "I go to her temple whenever I can."
    " You go there? A slave?"
    Rachel smiled at my surprise. "Isis welcomes everyone."
    "How remarkable." I reached absently for a pot of honey. "Your bill of sale said you are Judean. I've heard that your people have only one god. He must be strong. Why have you left him?"
    Rachel hesitated. "Yahweh punishes people. He turned one woman into a pillar of salt--just for looking back. A goddess would be more forgiving."
    "Some of them," I conceded. "Diana turns men into stags if they take liberties, like spying on women bathing. She loves animals, though. When a chariot hit Hecate, no one thought she would live. Tata wanted to get another cat, but Diana heard my prayers. Hecate's leg mended. She doesn't even limp."
    "A miracle, I'm sure, but tell me please, what of your dream?"
    "There's little to tell," I answered, surprised again by Rachel's intensity. "It was mostly her face, so beautiful, full of love and...compassion. Isis wouldn't turn anyone into anything. She called me to a