what had so infuriated Mael. It was not that he thought I had ignored him. He knew better. It was jealousy. He thought that I was trying to woo away from him his friend.
As soon as Mael had taken his chair again, Avicus looked to me almost warmly.
"The world is marvelous, Marius," he said placidly. "I come to it as a blind man after a miracle. I remember nothing of my mortal life except that it was in Egypt. And that I was not myself from Egypt. I am afraid now to go there. I am afraid old gods linger there. We travel the cities of the Empire, except for the cities of Egypt. And there is much for us to see."
Mael was still suspicious. He drew his ragged and filthy cloak up around him as though he might at any moment take his leave.
As for Avicus he looked more than ever comfortable, though he was barefoot and as dirty as Mael. "Whenever we have come upon blood drinkers," said Avicus, "which isn't often, I have feared them, that they would know me for a renegade god."
He said this with considerable strength and confidence so it surprised me.
"But this is never the case," he continued. "And sometimes they speak of the Good Mother and the old worship when the gods would drink the blood of the Evil Doer, but they know less of it than me." "What do you know, Avicus?" I asked boldly. He considered as if he weren't quite sure that he wanted to answer me with truth. Then he spoke.
"I think I was brought before her," he said, his dark eyes rather open and honest.
Mael turned to him sharply, as if he meant to strike him for his frankness, but Avicus went on.
"She was very beautiful. But my gaze was lowered. I couldn't really see her. And they were saying words, and the chanting was frightening to me. I was a grown man, that much I know, and they humiliated me. They spoke of honors that were curses. I may have dreamt the rest."
"We've been here long enough," said Mael suddenly. "I want to go."
He rose to his feet and quite reluctantly Avicus followed. There passed between us, Avicus and me, something silent and secretive, which Mael could not interrupt. Mael knew it, I think, and he was in a sustained fury, but he couldn't prevent it. It was done.
"Thank you for your hospitality," said Avicus, reaching out to take my hand. He looked almost cheerful for a moment. "Sometimes I remember little mortal customs. I remember touching hands in this way."
Mael was in a pale rage.
Of course there was much I wanted to say to Avicus but I knew now that such was very simply impossible.
"Remember," I said to both of them, "I live as a mortal man lives, with the same comforts. And I have my studies always, my books here, you see. Eventually I will travel the Empire, but for now Rome, the city of my birth, is my home. What I learn is what matters to me. What I see with these eyes."
I looked from one to the other of them.
"You can live in this way if you like," I said. "Surely you must take fresh garments from me now. I can so easily provide them. And fine sandals for your feet. If you would have a house, a fine dwelling in which to enjoy your leisure hours, I can assist you in obtaining it. Please take this from me."
Mael's eyes were blazing with hatred.
"Oh, yes," he whispered at me, too angry for a full voice. "And why not offer us a villa on the Bay of Naples, with marble balustrades overlooking the blue sea!"
Avicus looked directly at me. He appeared quiet in his heart and genuinely moved by my words.
But what was the use? I said no more.
My proud calm was suddenly broken. The anger returned along with its weakness. I remembered the hymns of the grove, and I wanted to move against Mael, for all the ugliness of it, to quite literally tear him limb from limb.
Would Avicus move to save him? It was likely. But what if he did not? And what if I proved stronger than both of them, I who had drunk from the Queen?
I looked at Mael. He wasn't afraid of me, which I found interesting.
And my pride returned. I could not stoop to a common physical battle, especially one which might become hideously awkward and ugly,