Free Selene of Alexandria by Faith L. Justice Page A

black eyes.
    Once he started reading, the exodus stopped and some even returned to their spots. Selene found Cyril a superb rhetorician. His voice seemed too deep to come from his skinny chest. He cast his fervor over the crowd like a net, drawing them closer, entangling them in his passion for the words he read.
    A palpable restlessness rippled through the crowd when Cyril finished. The people wanted more. Instead the presbyter took the chair and railed against the latest heresy from Antioch on the nature of Christ and the divinity of Mary. Some Antiochines evidently refused to call Mary "Mother of God," substituting "Mother of Jesus" in their sermons.
    Selene stretched her aching back and stifled a moan. She compared the presbyter's admonitions to the thought problems her math tutor set her – interesting intellectual exercises but of little value in the real world. Her indifference made her feel vaguely guilty because Selene knew people such as her father thrived on intellectual disputation. She could understand nursing people, providing food for the hungry and shelter for those without, but she failed to see the importance of how people referred to the Virgin Mary. Deeds not words were the essence of Selene's faith.
    The presbyter rose from the Bishop's chair to lead the congregation in prayer. "Thank the Lord," Selene muttered. She lifted her arms, palms facing out, head bowed in an imitation of Christ on the cross. The rest of the worshipers did likewise then broke into a beautiful rhythmic chant. Selene could feel her spirit lift to the sound of the psalm set to music. The beauty of the words and intricacy of the rhythms made her body ache to express the sound in passionate motion, not stand in static obeisance.
    After the presbyter delivered his final blessing, the congregation stirred. Selene spotted her friend Honoria with her mother and sisters. They resembled a flock of peahens – short, plump and twittery – heads bobbed and hands shaped the air as they conversed. It was well that Honoria's father was one of the richest men in the city. Honoria was the oldest of seven daughters for whom he must provide dowries.
    Selene turned to her father. "May I walk with Honoria a while?"
    Calistus surveyed the crowd flowing toward the door of the church and spotted a small knot of church elders congregating in a corner. "Yes, go ahead, child. Nicaeus can escort you and your friend home."
    Selene caught the sour look on her brother's face, but he did not dare protest.
    Calistus took her other brother's arm. "Phillip, come with me. I want to introduce you to some people you should know. Maybe we can talk the deacons into providing a few benches for the older members, eh? My bones aren't what they used to be." He clapped his son on the shoulder and guided him toward the men, who seemed in deep debate.
    Nicaeus trailed behind as Selene approached her friend's family. The tallest of the round sisters bounced over to her. "Selene! I was hoping we would meet!" Honoria rose on tiptoe to kiss Selene's cheek then tucked her arm under her own. "What a lovely gown. That shade of green suits you. Did you find the material at the Syrian's booth in the market? He has the loveliest things..."
    Selene listened to her friend chatter about her clothes, last night's heavenly dessert and her youngest sister's annoying habit of leaving sticky hand prints all over anyone who picked her up. As they left the dark coolness of the church for the reflected brightness of the colonnades, Selene looked over her shoulder at Nicaeus and motioned him closer. "You needn't stay with us all the way home. We'll be perfectly safe."
    "But Father said…"
    "I won't tell if you won't." Selene motioned to a group of three young men hovering by the steps. Antonius smiled at her and she waved back. "Go with your friends."
    "You could invite Antonius to join us on the walk home." Honoria smiled up a Nicaeus and fluttered her eyelashes.
    "I'm sure Antonius would be