“Anthea!” I whispered. “You know me. We met yesterday in your father’s house. I’m Gordianus—the Roman traveling with Antipater.”
Her panic was replaced by confusion. “What are you doing here? How did you come to be here?”
“Never mind that,” I said. “The question is: how can we get those pipes to play?” I gestured to the Pan pipes dangling above our heads.
“They really exist,” muttered Anthea. “When the hierodules explained the test to me, I didn’t know what to think—pipes that would play a tune by themselves if I were truly a virgin. But there they are! And I
Together we gazed up at the pipes. No divine wind blew through the cave—there was no wind of any sort. The pipes hung motionless, and produced no music.
“Perhaps
“What do you mean?”
“They say the pipes refuse to play in the presence of one who is not a virgin.”
“So?”
“Are
My face grew hot. “I’m not even sure the term ‘virgin’ can be applied to a male,” I said evasively.
“Nonsense! Are you sexually pure, or not? Have you known a woman?”
“That’s beside the point,” I said. “I’m here to save you, if I can.”
“And how will you do that, Roman?”
“By playing those pipes.”
“Do you even know how to play them?”
“Well…”
“And how on earth do you propose to reach them?”
“Perhaps you could play them, Anthea. If you were to stand on my shoulders—”
“I’m a dancer. I have no skill at music—and even if I did, standing on your shoulders wouldn’t raise me high enough to reach those pipes.”
“We could try.”
We did. Anthea had a fine sense of balance, not surprising in a dancer, and stood steadily on my shoulders.
“Try to grab the pipes and pull them free,” I said, grunting under her weight. She was heavier than she looked.
She groaned with frustration. “Impossible! I can’t reach them. Even if I could, the chain holding them looks very strong.”
From out of the dim shadows came a voice: “Perhaps
Recognizing the voice, Anthea cried out with joy and jumped from my shoulders. Amestris stepped from the shadows to embrace her mistress, and both wept with emotion.
I realized Amestris must have followed me to the cave, slipped inside while the door was still open, then concealed herself in the shadows. It was her breathing I had heard in the quiet darkness.
Amestris drew back. “Mistress, if you were to stand on the Roman’s shoulders, and I were to stand on yours —”
“I’m not sure I can hold both of you,” I said.
“Of course you can, you brawny Roman,” said Amestris. Her words made me blush, but they also gave me confidence. “And
From outside, after a long silence, the sound of lamenting had gradually resumed. Women wailed and shrieked. Hearing no music from the cave, the crowd assumed the worst.
Anthea put her hands on her hips and gazed up at the pipes, as if giving them one last chance to play by themselves. “I suppose it’s worth a try,” she finally said.
She climbed onto my shoulders. While I held fast to her ankles, she extended her arms to steady herself against the rock wall. Amestris climbed up after her. I thought my shoulders would surely collapse, but I gritted my teeth and said nothing. I rolled up my eyes, but I couldn’t lift my head enough to see what was going on above me.
Suddenly I heard a long, low note from the Pan pipes, followed by a higher note. There was a pause, and then, filling the cave, echoing from the walls, came one of the most haunting melodies I had ever heard.
The wailing from outside ceased, replaced by cries of wonderment—and did I hear the voice of Theotimus, uttering a howl of confusion and disbelief?
The strange, beautiful tune came to an end—and just in time, for I could not have supported them a moment longer. Amestris climbed down, and Anthea leaped to the ground. I staggered against the wall and rubbed my aching shoulders.
“What now?” whispered Anthea.
“Supposedly, the door should open of its own accord,” I said.
