Phoenicia Two

Athens, Phoenicia

The storm had been building for days. The dark billowing clouds that threatened to douse the white stone of Athens had followed the metallic automated messenger-bird, bringing secret news from Crete to the Emperor. Now they broke, sending citizens running to their homes, cloaks covering their heads. Five minutes after the first drops, the city appeared completely deserted. But thought the empty streets two figures walked at a leisurely pace, apparently unhindered by the now pouring rain. Their names were Eleazar, and Androcles.

Eleazar was the son of Caedmon Severin, the Foremost Citizen of Athens, the representative of the Athenian populace to the Emperor. The only person of more importance in the city was the Emperor Himself.

Eleazar’s companion was the son of a baker. And he could make a fine pastry.

They were going to the library of Athens. only the nobles were allowed inside, so it was usually empty. Only a few archivist and scholars could be found there on a good day, let alone a rainy one. But inside the mausoleum was a good place not to be seen.

The tall bookcases held thousands of scrolls, book and other ancient documents. Literature from a time long ago. Hardly anyone used them anymore, but Baltzar had and affinity for antiquities. He enjoyed the reminder of the past, Caedmon had told his son. So the books stayed.

Outside the building two stone griffins flanked the huge wooden doors, guarding the entrance from some unknown enemy. The two youths paused before the threshold, protected from the rain. “Why are we here, even?” Eleazar asked. Androcles lowered the hood of his cloak, revealing lanky dark hair and a pointed, pockmarked face. Eleazar hadn’t worn a cloak or hood, and stood dripping.

“You should dry off before we go in,” Androcles said. “It will be colder in there, I think.” His face twitched, like he was holding back a smile.

“It figures, when it finally rains I forget to dress accordingly.” Eleazar snatched Androcles’ cloak from him, and toweled off his hair and tunic. “Why are you even here?” he asked.

“I wanted to look something up,” he said. “And you better smarten up. You don’t look your station!” Androcles smiled, sardonically.

“What did you want to look up?” Eleazar said again.

“Just hurry up. I want to get this done.”

The library was empty, as usual. Every sound they made echoed through the building. In the atrium, to their left was a deserted desk. Usually some preoccupied clerk or scribe was there. But now there was no one. “Strange,” Eleazar said. “There‘s always someone around here…and you shouldn’t even be here. I‘ve got a bad feeling about this already. Let‘s hurry up.”

They walked through the halls of books, Androcles searching for something, Eleazar trailing behind him.

“How did you even learn to read?” He asked.

“Father taught me. He learned from his father. Et cetera, et cetera. We’re getting closer.”

“Closer to what, again?” As they progressed further and further into the bowels of the library, Eleazar was growing uneasy.

“Something from a dream…”

“No. From a dream? You‘re kidding me, right? Or have your completely lost your mind?”

“This dream was different, Eleazar. It didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like . . . I don’t know . . . ” His voice trailed away. “It felt like a vision, or something”

Eleazar rolled his eyes. “Oh, it felt like a vision, did it? And experience are you using as a basis for comparison?”

Androcles paused. “Here it is.” He pulled a giant tome off of a shelf.. The title read “A Compendium of Architectural Wonders and a Dictionary of Architecture.”

“Architecture. You are crazy.”

“You: be quiet.” Androcles opened the book and flipped through the dusty pages until he found what he was looking for. “Here it is.”

He read from the book: “During the reign of King Minos of Crete, Daedelus constructed a maze of tunnels and passages hidden in the caverns beneath the city of Knossus. The king had commissioned it to be built so that his secret children might be housed, kept away from the rest of the world. No one was to know of his hideous progeny. After years of work, the Labyrinth was completed. To maintain it’s secret, Minos confined Daedelus to the depths of the Labyrinth. He didn’t trust his servant anymore. Icarus, Daedelus’ son, escaped incarceration and sent a message to his friend, Theseus, the son of King Aegeus of Tyre. The prince hurried to aid his friend, but it was too late. The architect had died, and his son fled all his father’s secrets to the southeast, never to be seen again. To this day the Labyrinth remains hidden. The caves under the city were empty. Minos’ beastly children: vanished.”

Androcles looked up from the book. Eleazar raised his eyebrows. “And?”

Androcles began pacing. “This is from my dream! I dreamed about this Labyrinth, this underground maze. I knew I‘d heard the story about it before . . . And I don‘t know when the book was written. It makes it sound like it was recent history. But now, the Labyrint, Minos, these monsters . . . Even Crete itself, are all sort of legendary. No one really thinks about it anymore.”

“But what does this have to do with your dream. I mean, why does it matter? It was just a dream!”

“I told you,” Androcles said. “It didn’t feel like a dream!”

“You‘re insane!” Eleazar threw his arms up in the air in defeat. “That‘s all there is to it.”

“Shut up!”

“You shut up,” Eleazar began, but Androcles shushed him.

Androcles whispered. “I heard something!”

“Yeah, it was me-”

“No, it was something else . . . This way.” Androcles crept down the aisle, and across two rows. Eleazar followed him. In a section of the library that appeared to hold books about mathematics, Androcles stopped. From the aisle next to them, hushed voices could be heard.

“And did he find it?”

“He couldn’t have said, whether he did or not. If our enemies intercepted the carrier, the discover would be useless, you know that.”

“But do you think he found it?”

“I would have to postulate . . . Yes.”

There was a gasp.

“But this means-!”

“It means nothing yet.”

“The Saturnalia is so soon. Will there be time?”

“Well, I don‘t know about any time. The Saturnalia is just a proposed date. It would make the message stronger. But any other time would do just as well, ultimately.”

“Has he informed the Emperor?”

“I have no idea. The Lord‘s relationship with the Baltzaar is . . . A mystery, to those who actually look at it.”

“The Emperor is unsympathetic, though? He must be, otherwise, why all the secrecy?”

“Secrecy is a tradition, Joachim. It has been, since the first days of our persecution. You wouldn‘t know, you have only just been initiated. Now, we are mostly forgotten. No on remembers Balor anymore. But that will change.”

“We should leave now, perhaps? I do have some other things to attend to.”

“Of course, Joachim, you may go. We shall meet here again, twelve days from now.”

Androcles and Eleazar watched as the man called Joachim hurried down the long row of shelves, toward the entrance of the library. His companion, it seemed, had elected to stay cloistered amoung his books, and the two eavesdroppers were forced to take a very round-about route, to avoid meeting the man who preceded, out of the library. And when they walked out into the rain-soaked streets, he was gone.

End Phoenicia Two