annr.pandora-第14节
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ngs of the sistrum； which the Mother Herself held in her hand。 There were only fleeting recollections of that naked blood dance； that night of rising into the stars； of seeing the scope of life in its cycles； of accepting perfectly just for a little while that the moon would always be changing； and the sun would set as it always rose。 Embraces of other women。 Soft cheeks and kissing and bodies rocking in unison。 〃Life； death； rebirth； it's no series of miracles；〃 said the Priestess。 〃To understand it and accept it； that is the miracle。 Make the miracle within your own breast。〃
Surely we had not drunk blood！ And the bull … it was a sacrifice only for the initiation。 We did not bring helpless animals to her flower…laden altars； no； our Blessed Mother did not ask that of us。
Now； at sea； alone； I lay awake to avoid these blood dreams。
When exhaustion won out； a dream came with sleep as if it had been waiting for my eyes to close。
I lay in a gold chamber。 I was drinking blood； blood from the throat of a god； or so it seemed； and choruses were singing or chanting … it was a dull； repetitive sound not quite worthy of being called music； and when I had had my fill of blood； this god or whoever this was； this silken…skinned proud thing； lifted me and placed me on an altar。
Vividly； I could feel the cold marble beneath me。 I realized I wore no clothes。 I felt no modesty。
Somewhere far off echoing through these great halls； came the weeping of a woman。 I was full of blood。 Those who chanted approached with little clay oil lamps。 Faces around me were dark； dark enough to be from far faraway Ethiopia or India。 Or Egypt。 Look。 Painted eyes！ I looked at my hands and arms。 They were dark。 But I was this person who lay on the altar； and I say person now because it had e clear to me with no disturbance during the dream itself that I was a man lying there。 Pain tore at me。 The god said； 〃This is merely the passage。 You will now drink from each of us； only a little blood。〃
Only when I woke did the brief transition in the masculine gender leave me as puzzled as everything else。 I was drenched with a sense of Egyptian art； Egyptian mystery … as I'd seen it in golden statues for sale in the marketplace； or when the Egyptian dancers performed at a banquet； like walking sculptures with their black…lined eyes； and black plaited wigs； whispering in that mysterious tongue。 What had they thought of our Isis in Roman dress？
A mystery taunted me； something attacked my reason。 The very thing the Roman Emperors had so feared in Egyptian cults and Oriental cults swept over me： mystery and emotion which claim a superiority to reason and law。
My Isis had been a Roman goddess； really； a universal goddess； the Mother of us all； her worship spreading out in a Greek and Roman world long before it had e into Rome itself。 Our Priests were Greeks and Roman； poor men。 We the congregation were all Greeks and Romans。
Something scratched at the back of my mind。 It said； 〃Remember。〃 It was a tiny desperate voice within my own brain that urged me to 〃remember〃 for my own sake。
But remembering only led to confused and jumbled thoughts。 Suddenly a veil would fall between the reality of my cabin on the ship； and the tumbling of the sea … between that and some dim and frightening world； of Temples covered in words that made magic！ Long narrow beautifully bronzed faces。 A voice whispered； 〃Beware the Priests of Ra； they lie！〃
I shivered。 I closed my eyes。 The Queen Mother was bound and chained to her throne！ She wept！ It had been her crying。 Unspeakable。 〃But you see； she has forgotten how to rule。 Do as we say。〃
I shook myself awake。 I wanted to know and I did not want to know。 The Queen wept beneath her monstrous fetters。 I couldn't see her clearly。 It was all in progress。 It was busy。 〃The King is with Osiris； you see。 You see how he stares； each one whose blood you drink； you give to Osiris； each one bees Osiris。〃
〃But why did the Queen scream？〃 '
No； this was madness。 I couldn't let this confusion overe me。 I couldn't deliberately slip from reason into these fantasies or recollections supposing they had a true root。
They had to be nonsense； twisted images of grief and guilt； guilt that I had not rushed to the hearth and driven the dagger into my breast。
I tried to remember the calming voice of my Father； explaining once how the blood of the gladiators satisfied the thirst of the dead； the Manes；
〃Now； some say that the Dead drink blood；〃 spoke my Father from some long ago dinner talk。 〃That's why we are so fearful on all these unlucky days； when the Dead are supposed to be able to walk the Earth。 I personally think this is nonsense。 We should revere our ancestors。。。〃
〃Where are the Dead； Father？〃 my brother Lucius asked。
Who had piped up from the other side of the table； to quote Lucretius in a sad little female voice that nevertheless manded silence of all these men'？ Lydia：
Of earth return to earth； but any part
Sent down from heaven； must ascend again
Recalled to the high temples of the sky
And death does not destroy the elements
Of matter； only breaks the binations。
〃No；〃 my Father had replied to me quite gently。 〃Rather quote Ovid： 'The ghosts ask for but little； they value piety more than a costly gift。' 〃 He drank his wine。 〃The ghosts are in the Underworld where they can't harm us。〃
My eldest brother Antony had said； 〃The Dead are nowhere and are nothing。〃
My Father had raised his cup。 〃To Rome；〃 he said； and it was he this time who had quoted Lucretius： 〃 'Too many times； religion mothers crimes and wickedness。' 〃
Shrugs and sighs all around。 The Roman attitude。 Even the Priests and Priestesses of Isis would have joined Lucretius when he wrote：
Our terrors and our darknesses of mind
Mast be dispelled； then； not by sunshine's rays；
Not by those shining arrows of Light；
But by insight into nature； and a scheme
Of systematic contemplation。
Drunk？ Drugged？ Bull's blood？ Systematic？ Well； it all came down to the same thing。 Know！ Twist the poetry as you will。 And the phallus of Osiris lives forever in the Nile； and the water of the Nile inseminates the Mother Egypt eternally； death giving birth to life with the blessing of Mother Isis。 Merely a particular scheme and a sort of systematic form of contemplation。
The ship sailed on。
I languished some eight more days in this torment； often lying awake in the dark； and sleeping only in the day to avoid the dreams。
Suddenly； in the early morning； Jacob pounded my door。
We were midway up the Orontes to the city。
Twenty miles now from Antioch。 I did up my hair as best I could （I'd never done it without a slave） into a chignon on the back of my head； then covered my Roman gowns with a great black cloak and prepared to disembark … an Eastern woman； her face draped； protected by Hebrews。
When the city came into view … when the immense harbor greeted us and then embraced us with all its masts and racket and odors and cries； I ran to the deck of the ship and looked out at this city。 It was splendid。
〃You see；〃 Jacob said。
Taken from the ship by litter I found myself carried rapidly through vast waterfront markets； and then into a great open square； crowded with people。 I saw everywhere the Temples； porticoes； booksellers； even the high walls of an amphitheater … all that I could have expected in Rome。 No； this was no town。
The young men were crowded about the barbershops ready to have their obligatory shave and the inevitable fancy curls on their foreheads； which Tiberius with his own hairstyle had made fashionable。 There were wine shops all over。 The slave markets were jammed。 I glimpsed the entrances to the streets devoted to crafts … the street of the tentmakers； the street of the silversmiths。
And there in all its glory； in the very center of Antioch； stood the Temple of Isis！
My goddess； Isis； with her worshipers ing and going； undisturbed； and in huge numbers。 A few very proper…looking linen…clad Priests stood at the doors！ The Temple was aswarm。
I thought； I can run away from any husband in this place！
Gradually I realized a great motion had e upon the Forum； the center of the city。 I heard Jacob ordering the men to hurry out of the broad market street and into the back streets。 My bearers were running。 The curtains were brought shut by Jacob's hand so I couldn't see out。
News was being shouted out in Latin； in Greek； in Chaldean： Murder； Murder； Poison； Treachery。
I peeped out of the curtain。
People were weeping and cursing the Roman Gnaeus Calpurnius Piso； cursing him and his wife； Placina。 Why？ I didn't much like either one of them； but what was all this？
Jacob shouted again at my bearer to hurry。
We were rushed through the gates and into the vestibule of a sizable house no different in design or color than my own in Rome； only much smaller。 I could see the same refinements； the distant peristyle； clusters of weeping slaves。
The litter was promptly set down and I stepped out； deeply concerned that they had not stopped me at the doors to wash my feet； as was proper。 And my hair； it had all fallen down in waves。
But no one noticed me。 I turned round and round；
