Queen of the Night

Walls,' Theodore replied. 'If I could just visit her temple, it's in the Coelian quarter.'
    Claudia closed her eyes and groaned. The area of the Coelian Hill was even worse than the slums around the Flavian Gate, but at least it was still daylight.
    'I would like to go,' Theodore declared. 'I promise you, I won't be long: sprinkle some incense, make sacrifice.'
    Reluctantly Claudia agreed. They left the thoroughfare, threading their way along alleys and runnels into the Coelian Hill quarter. Here Murranus drew his sword. This was the haunt of tricksters, conjurors, sorcerers, warlocks and murderers. Every rogue in Rome thrived here. Claudia followed Theodore as he led her down an alleyway and into a square. On the far side stood a temple much decayed, its pillars crumbling, the steps chipped, the plaster tympanum above the main entrance weathered and decayed. Nevertheless, the number of pilgrims streaming in and out, many of them prosperous, showed how popular the cult was. Claudia recalled how Presbyter Sylvester regarded what he called 'Eastern religions' to be the greatest rival to his own faith.
    Theodore led them across, brushing aside the hawkers, traders and tinkers who tried to sell artefacts and objects related to the worship of Hathor, the Lady of Gleefulness. Claudia remembered how Hathor was an Egyptian goddess; in her acting troupe, both Hathor and the Lady Isis were highly popular, often the cause of much drunkenness and joy. They reached the bottom of the steps. Theodore wanted to go in by himself, but Claudia insisted that she and Murranus follow him. A beggar squatted beside the main door with his clacking dish, mouth whining for alms. Two muscular priests stood on guard at the temple door. Theodore whispered to them and they stood aside.
    Inside the temple was cool but smelled musty from mildew, age and decay; nevertheless, it possessed a certain grandeur. At the far end, at the top of some steps, stood an altar, a tabernacle or naos in the centre, its doors open to reveal the statue of the Lady Hathor surrounded by oil lamps. Before the altar ranged baskets of flowers and small dishes of burning incense. A priest came forward. He was tall, dressed in the Egyptian fashion, a white linen kilt around his waist, his bare chest and shoulders covered by a thin gauze veil. He had rings on his fingers, bracelets on his wrists, and a sharp, harsh face with pointed nose, pouting lips and piercing black eyes. His hair was not shaved in the Egyptian fashion but oiled and pulled back, fastened in a queue by a clasp at the back of his head. Theodore went up to him and bowed.
    'High Priest Sesothenes!'
    The man bowed in return.
    'These are my companions,' Theodore exclaimed, pointing to Claudia. 'She is a friend of the Empress, and this is Murranus, Champion, Victor of the Games.'
    Sesothenes stared at Claudia and then at Murranus. The look wasn't friendly. He licked thin dry lips.
    'What do you want, Theodore?' he said. 'Why are you here?'
    'I wish to pay sacrifice,' Theodore exclaimed. 'I want to thank the Lady for my escape from great danger.'
    'What danger?' Sesothenes asked. 'Oh, I'm sorry.' He turned to Claudia and made a mock bow. 'I am Sesothenes, formerly a member of the infantry in the Third Victrix based at Alexandria, now High Priest of the Lady Hathor. You know she has her main temple at Memphis in Egypt?'
    'Yes, yes.' Claudia gestured at Theodore. 'He insisted on visiting her here. He wants to pay sacrifice, give thanks. Can he do that?'
    'Of course.' Sesothenes scratched at a bead of sweat running down his smooth-shaven cheek. 'And it is free. Come, my friend.' He nodded at Murranus and Claudia and, one hand on Theodore's shoulder, led him down the temple towards the sanctuary and the opened naos.
    Claudia stared around. She'd seen such temples before: the paintings on the walls, the flower baskets, the smell of incense, the hum of conversation. She studied the pilgrims coming in and out. Men and women from all parts of the Empire, eager to pay devotion. She noticed there were no hesets or temple girls here; just four priests. They looked like their high priest. Former soldiers, hard-faced, tough and dressed in white gauffered robes, they moved easily amongst the pilgrims, taking coins and offerings, listening, nodding solemnly as they reassured votaries that sacrifice would be made or prayers offered. Claudia felt tired and impatient. She wanted to get back to the She Asses tavern. She was