Beyond Hogwarts -Chapter Four

-=Beyond Hogwarts; Chapter Four=-

Around three in the afternoon, the basket hanging from Lily’s arm not only held incense, candles, and their wizarding clothing, but an anklet, several golden bracelets, and a chain with paste jewels that passed over Lily’s forehead, letting a jade piece dangle at the end of a chain just between her eyes. Lily only wore a pair of earrings, and James couldn’t have been prouder of her as they sat cross-legged on the edge of a dust-streaked, large basin in the centre of the agora; they had spent a few coins on two loaves of bread and something Lily was extremely hesitant to touch at first; it was fried dormouse.
   James had only bought it because he’d smelled something good, and when he’d heard the man at the stands say as he handed them their meal, “Enjoy the pests!” he was confused till a lady standing next to him explained, tossing her head affectedly.
   “He means dormouse.”
   “Dormouse?” James had asked, somewhat disgusted.
   The lady pointed to what was in his hand. “Yes. Fried dormouse.”
   James had seen Lily slip over next to him out of the corner of his eye, so he thanked the lady and withdrew, handing Lily a loaf of bread.
   “Guten Appetit.”
   Lily wrinkled her nose. “What was she saying to you?”
   “Oh, are you jealous?”
   “Of course I’m jealous,” Lily smiled. “She was very pretty.” Then her expression changed. “You were planning to feed me fried dormouse?”
   James’ hopeful grin dropped. “I didn’t know what it was!”
   “Fried dormouse,” Lily repeated, disgusted. “You eat it, I’ll eat it. You’d better do it with a straight face, too.”
   James sighed. “I didn’t do anything!”
   Lily just looked at him.
   “Okay, okay. I’ll eat.” He pulled one loaf out of his grasp and handed it to her, then looked at his own apprehensively. “At least it smells good.”
   “Think of all the diseases it’s carrying,” Lily grinned innocently. “Mice carry lots of them, you know.”
   ”I know,” James grimaced. “That’s why I like asps so much. Well, here goes.”
   He pushed a corner of it into his mouth gingerly, and he almost smiled at Lily, though it was rather hard to do so with a lump of bread poking out of his lips. “Tmmh immh.”
   “Huh?”
   James swallowed and grinned. “Try it.”
   Lily sighed, hesitated a bit, then finally bit off of her own lunch. She swallowed gingerly.
   “Well?” James grinned.
   “Not bad,” Lily had to admit. “In fact, quite good!”
   “It is, isn’t it?” the lady from beforehand butted in. Lily had time to notice that she had dark brown skin and long, black hair; her clothes were those of a middle-class merchant’s daughter.
   “Children come here in the mornings,” the lady informed him. ‘Him’, because she was almost fixedly ignoring Lily.
   Lily almost snorted with impatience. Taking James’ arm, she pulled him off of the fountain, letting several crumbled bits of incense land on the lady’s white dress. “James, my husband, I fully intended to look for lodgings today.”
   “Oh,” James frowned. “Okay—hang on—“
   “Oh, I could help!” the lady gasped, catching up with them. “My father knows someone that owns a building where the ambassadors may stay! I am sure you would be welcomed there. Come, let me lead you!”
   “I don’t think,” Lily gritted her teeth, “that we are ambassadors.”
   Nothing did any good; she was swept around the edge of the bustling marketplace into a courtyard surrounded by two-story buildings, rimmed with tall columns. The lady waved an oldish, plump man over.
   “These are visitors to our country. My father requests you make them welcome.”
   Twenty minutes later, Lily was sitting disconsolately on a rather hard bed in a room with only one window. She was almost glaring at James.
   “What in the name of a cat’s favorite litterbox made you run off with her! I’m still tied to you, remember that!”
   “I know that!” James sighed. “Look, it wasn’t as if I really had a choice. I couldn’t have left her standing, could I?”
   Lily just looked at him.
   “Okay, so maybe I could have. But what do you want us to do now—jump out the window and slither down a bedsheet we’ve ripped into pieces or something?”
   His bride smiled disconcertingly. “You know, for a Quidditch player, you’ve got incredibly good ideas sometimes. By the way, I passed a litter being carried by on the streets, and there was talk of someone from Rome appearing at the royal court. It might be someone we know from our history books—won’t that be exciting?” Her eyes gleamed.
   “Lily,” James frowned, “we can’t go in there, as I’m assuming this is going to be held in the palace.”
   “Oh, it is,” Lily said nonchalantly. “Of course it is. I wouldn’t settle for less.”
   Her husband groaned. “At least let me pick a way of disappearing from here that won’t cause them to have to replace extremely expensive bedsheets. Something more creative.”
   “Like whistling a flying monkey to the window that we could fly off on?” Lily scoffed.
   “No. We could say we’re going to market or something. And then we don’t come back. Our stuff’s on our boat anyway—we only have the things we bought at the market in here. And we can’t leave here with all our possessions. They’ll know.”
   “I see. You don’t want to disappoint that girl, do you? Be careful, or I’ll seek out an incredibly handsome, lean, bronzed man who loves me dearly and run off with him. I suggest we find a back way out.”
   There was a back way out of the hotel-like building, and they made it out without getting seen, a feat that left them in high hilarity; Lily was laughing almost uncontrollably, leaning on James’ arm.
   “Won’t she have a fit when she finds we’re gone? I expect she wanted to see you daily with the excuse of washing your sandals or something of that sort.”
   James grinned. “Lay off, will you?”
   He swerved around, his glance landing on one of the small, dirty shops. “Lily, did you say something about getting me a sword?”
   “Yes, why?” Lily asked.
   “There’s a nice place over there that doesn’t look too scorpion-infested. If we’re going to that royal thing tonight—though heaven knows how—we’d better look our parts!”
   “Scorpion-infested?” Lily eyed him warily.
   He laughed and swung her into his arms swiftly. “Well, you never know!”
   “Why doesn’t that comfort me?” she asked underneath her breath.
   James pulled her into the sword-seller’s shop, and he had to withstand several urges to strangle the man that was selling the swords as he caught the glances the pudgy man kept flashing at Lily, who didn’t notice them at all. Her mind was riveted on several sheaths and their weapons, and by the time James blatantly pointed out that Lily was, if not his wife, at least extremely close to him by draping both arms around her, she had decided that this shop wasn’t worth anything. Pulling James outside, she sighed.
   “I haven’t seen any daggers for ladies around here, and I desperately need one. I’ve been pinched several times, rudely, in the streets.”
   “You have?” James glanced down at a small, dirty child in disbelief. “Want me to hire a litter?”
   ”You know,” Lily mused, “I wouldn’t mind that.”
   A half hour later, both of them were sitting inside a litter rimmed with pale green silk curtains they had pulled back; so far above the streets, they could see much more of Alexandria. The men carrying their litter set them down in a harbor; a ship was unloading its cargoes, and quite a few noblewomen could be seen looking at caskets of goods. Two children were running around with pieces of silk flying out behind them, pretending they had wings.
   Lily approached a chest that had two Roman women kneeling in front of it; they were pulling out bottles of oil and uncorking them, sprinkling spices in the air, and looking at jars of potpourri. Lily fingered a bottle of the balm of Gilead, then, making up her mind, handed the sailor in charge of the goods a few coins and placed the bottle carefully inside her chiton. James moved off to stare at clothing and shields, and Lily slipped her arm through his, carefully sifting through daggers. She smiled when she unearthed a slight golden slip of a knife, so small as to almost be mistaken for a coil of wire. Snatching her finger with the end of it, she watched her finger release a drop of blood with satisfaction.
   “I like this one.”
   James smiled at her. “I thought you would. It’s just very sharp, that’s all.”
   He leaned down next to her, whispering under the din of the ships in the harbor and the clattering of the women’s voices. “Why’re you buying that, anyway?”
   ”It’s interesting,” Lily shrugged. “I’ll have a relic. Besides, it makes me feel awfully important.”
   She let James pay for it, then stood up; she had caught sight of a billowing, white sail. “James!”
   “What?” He looked down at her apprehensively.
   “Look—our ship’s still there! Still in the harbor!” She pointed past the hull of a merchant galleon to the one they knew well.
   “So it is! Say, we’ll board as soon as we finish buying here, and get ready for that party tonight there, all right?”
   Her smile gave him his answer, and as she bent down again, her eyes fell on another weapon. Picking up something, she held it out to him.
   She had selected an ivory sheath inlaid with gold hieroglyphs; the hilt of the sword was in the same design. Lily smiled as she slipped the belt around his waist and fastened it.
   “It says, ‘Blessed be thou, protected by Isis.’ I like it.” Lily kissed his cheek. “You look very elegant.”
   He grinned. “I suppose I’m buying this one, then, am I?”
   ”Of course!”
   They paid around eleven Galleons in Egyptian talents, and then a few more on a cloak-pin for James. Light-hearted, the couple boarded their ship, laughing and talking.
   The sun set quickly, and by the time they were ready, it was dusk outside. Lily took the arm offered her by her husband. He was in the white and red they had bought earlier that evening, but the cloak-pin was ivory with a ruby; it was shaped like a sword, with the stone in the hilt. The white cloth was wrapped like a Roman toga, and his own sword was fastening it at the waist with the leather belt.
   Lily had taken all the care in the world to use hardly any of the balm of Gilead, an oil extremely rare even in those days, and she wore the emerald chiton over the blue one still, though all the jewelry was fastened onto her arms, ankles, neck, and into her ears. Her hair was swept into a coil in the back of her head, and the chain that passed around her forehead hung entrancingly almost in her eyes, outlined heavily in ocher, as the nobles of that period thought was beautiful to do.
   They passed the palace guards with no trouble; they exhibited enough wealth and a carefree outlook so as to immediately be assumed nobles. Lily was almost disappointed; she had practically hoped for a situation that would call for immediate, convincing lies she made up on the spot and flinging what charm she had onto the guards. Still, she supposed, nothing could be like in storybooks, though her life did wonderfully resemble one.
   The two stepped inside the castle walls and were face to face with a large, glittering, silken, elegant crowd; ladies were embracing each other, some men were talking in a corner, a few couples were laughing gracefully, and servants fluttered to and fro, bearing great trays and casks of wine. James pulled lightly on Lily’s arm.
   “We’re in with the rich crowd now!”
   Lily laughed. “I wish we’d been born here!”
   Not unnoticed and not unobserved, the two moved from group to group, now sampling a leek soup, now trying to force wine down each other’s throats. The evening was magical, and the dancers in the centre of the room that some were watching added to the charm with their weaving and winding sashes of silk and the bright jewels they wore. Theirs were paste, but the ones that the guests wore were real, as was the gold that cast shimmers all over the room. The word for describing the gathering was ‘rich’, there was no other one for it. The light; warm and yellow, the expensive silks, the cushions, the food, the gold, the jewels, the people.
   The dancers ceased their movements, and they were rewarded with a storm of applause as they were led away by several slaves. The people resumed their conversations at three long banquet tables that were sagging with large platters of food and drink, and Lily and James slipped into seats near the middle of one table. Lily’s eyes roved over the gathering busily.
   “What’re you doing, Lil?”
   “I want to see if I recognize anyone. From pictures and sculptures, that is.”
   James shook his head. “I don’t think Caesar or Pompey came here in this year…it’s a bit hopeless, since no one knows what they really looked like.”
   “No?”
   Lily’s odd expression made James look at her curiously; her green eyes were sparkling with an inner exultation, and her lips were almost unnoticeably curved in a triumphant, wondering, and awed smile. James turned his head to look at where her eyes pointed. He caught his breath.
   At the head of the middle table a young girl sat, no more than twelve. She was simply dressed in a white chiton, but around her neck hung a heavy golden collar, almost ridiculous on such a slight figure, but she carried herself wonderfully well, like a dancer. She had Macedonian roots, true, but they only showed in the more pale than usual skin tone; it was a light tan instead of the darkened bronze that had enveloped the Egyptians. Her hair was a dark brown, so dark it was almost black; fine and carefully combed, it hung past her shoulders and to the middle of her back. Her eyes were a dark, regal, intense brown, but at the same time soft and sweet. She wasn’t a thin wisp of a child; one could tell she rode horses well and often.
   She spoke Aramic to one couple; as another man paid her a compliment in Hebrew, she responded in his tones, and passing to those like a musical instrument did from one string to another. James’ eyes widened in wonder.
   He knew who she was, of course; there was only one girl she could be. Cleopatra Philopater VII, still a princess of Egypt. And she reminded him strongly of someone else—the nymph-like redhead next to him. He didn’t know how many languages she knew, but they were many; she was as domineering as the princess, and she was just as captivating, if not more.
   Lily turned around to her husband. “What’s wrong? You look—like you’ve seen a spirit.”
   “I haven’t,” he smiled. “It-s just—Cleopatra—“
   “She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Lily asked wistfully. “One of the most I’ve ever known about…”
   The guests had finished dinner by then, and the gathering rose to their feet, to resume what they had been doing before. James was looking over his shoulder at a man wearing a dark red tunic, and when he turned back around, Lily was gone.
   Her keen eyesight had caught the princess’ figure leaving the banquet hall; she followed the girl outside into the gardens, where the princess sank to her knees in front of a fountain, putting her head in her arms and simply sitting there.
   Without an inch of hesitation, Lily moved forward, placing a hand on Cleopatra’s shoulder. The girl flinched and spun around, eyes wide.
   “Oh! I apologize for leaving—I—“
   Lily shook her head, and the princess stopped.
   “Who are you?”
   Sitting down next to her, Lily took in the whole of the girl’s face with her gaze. “I’m nobody. I’ll be nobody in two weeks, that is.”
   Cleopatra frowned. “I don’t understand.”
   “You’re not meant to. It’s my secret.”
   They were five years apart, but they felt as if they knew each other dearly; that they had since childhood. Neither of them had even dreamed of the other before, and they weren’t in the faintest sense related, yet they knew each other.
   “Where are you from?”
   “From afar,” Lily said wistfully. “I’m only here for a short time, but Alexandria is a magical city.”
   A flush of pride entered the princess’ cheeks as she dropped her head. “It is, isn’t it?”
   “I’ve never seen a city like it,” Lily replied seriously. Then her face relaxed into a smile; she had seen a shadow she knew all too well out of the corner of her eye.
   “I have to leave—but I’ll remember you.”
   Cleopatra took Lily’s hand in her own. “I admire you. I do know I have only seen you for minutes, but you are so full of life, so free. I wish you joy.”
   Leaning forward, she embraced the seventeen-year-old quickly, then nodded in farewell as the redhead flitted backwards, merging with the shadows.
   Lily was in awe. The girl she had met couldn’t be mistaken for a queen no matter what happened to her, and for a fleeting instant, tears sprang to her eyes at the thought of the queen’s suicide. They were dashed away, however, by the quick movement of a man that pulled her into the shadows.
   “James?”
   “We’d better leave now. They’re getting too rowdy inside—it’s the wine.”
   “Ye-es…” she replied softly. “I only wish I could have known her.”
   “Known who?”
   “Cleopatra,” Lily replied. “She’s more fit for a queen than any other person I’ve met.”
   James sighed. “I’ve never seen two people click the way you two did. As if you’d known each other from the cradle."
   Lily shrugged. “We haven’t; and you know that.”
   “Not really. I just realized I don’t know much about you at all. All I know I’ve found out in the past two weeks or so. You never really let me find out anything about you beforehand.”
   Lily brushed a tear from her cheek. “I hate to think of her dying. The world’s going to lose so much…”
   James hugged her. “We all have to die sometime, and she made the most of her life. And so are you, too, if I can have anything to do with it.”
   “I hate thinking of death,” Lily said wistfully. “I’m not afraid of it, not in the least, but it destroys so much, so much that this world could use. Just think what we could have gained if—say, Shakespeare was still alive.”
   James put his hands firmly on her shoulders, turning her to face him. “Don’t think of that. Don’t ever say ‘what if’. What’s happened has happened, and we can only do what we can. True, in an idyllic world we’d have the greatest playwrights alive and there wouldn’t be any hunger and everyone would be rich or at least well-off and millions of other things—but this isn’t a utopia. We’re stuck with what we’ve got, and it’s not as bad as it could be.”
   Sighing, Lily leaned against him. “I know. I know. I’ll stop.” She wiped away another tear.
   They were walking down the relatively quiet streets; music from the festivities still came to their ears, but it was muted, and their sandals clacked quietly against the cobblestoned harbor where their ship was anchored.
   Lily hadn’t eaten much that evening, but she wasn’t hungry; nor was she tired. Late that night she remained awake, musing, wondering, until around two in the morning her head fell onto her pillow and her eyes closed. She couldn’t keep her mind away from the twelve-year-old princess, and now she knew why the history and legends of the girl had lived so long; she truly was a wonder of the ancient world.
   They spent another two weeks in Egypt, swimming in Alexandria’s harbor, buying presents for their friends at home, sailing down the Nile on a barge, riding around the Pyramids, and much more. Being so close to the Equator, the water in the Mediterranean was pleasantly warm, though still a cold relief from the sun, and there was hardly any seaweed that slashed at their legs. There was a small current, but not a dangerous one, and they spent hours sitting on the rocks with their legs in the water, talking about important and frivolous things, and sometimes silence reigned underneath the blazing sunlight.
   They spent at least fifty Galleons on presents for their friends and family; Lily picked out silk scarves with golden pins for Eva, Vanessa, Amanda, and Lora; for Frank Longbottom, Severus and Lucius she bought small golden knives in elaborate sheaths. Sirius, Remus, and Peter had beautiful, long cloaks that swept the ground and were trimmed with gold thread. James and she had collaborated on gifts for his mother and father; they were to be presented with the elegant, large necklaces that both men and women wore during those times.
   Lily had fixed her mind on seeing the seven wonders of the ancient world: the Pyramids, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, the Statue of Zeus at Olympia, the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus, the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus, the Colossus of Rhodes; and the lighthouse at Alexandria.
   They mounted the lighthouse their third day in Egypt; it stretched higher than any structure had done so far, and at the top of it was a mirror that reflected things up to fifty kilometers away and made them appear to be so close as to be within range of a waving hand. Inside, the building was thick with smoke from the fire that lit the tip of the lighthouse and it smelled of the sweat of the laborers that shoveled the fire constantly, but Lily hardly noticed any of that. They entered it at night and during the day; during the day was when the lighthouse used reflecting rays of the sun instead of the fire to mark its point.
   The trip down the Nile was nothing less than magical; the barge was small, only large enough to hold them, two slaves that were rowing, provisions, and a large divan for them underneath a pink silk awning. The water ripples softly under the oars the whole time; there was no rain and no sandstorm disturbed their view of the land. And the Pyramids were one of the most magnificent sights either of them had ever seen; beautiful and almost new, they stretched their points up to the clouds, piercing some of them. Palms were planted around them; the golden sand reflected lustily the shimmering rays of the sun.
   The couple took several rides through Egypt on a pair of glossy dark brown horses, perfectly matched, and neither of them had laughed so much in their life as when the wind whistled around their ears and the soft thuds of the horses’ hooves could be heard on the sand. Neither of them had ever enjoyed themselves as much before, except perhaps at their wedding.
   The next place they traveled to was Athens, during the time when Sophocles was presenting three of his plays to be performed in a festival; the Oedipus triple, and they watched his crowning with the laurel wreath as he was paraded through the city afterwards. The Parthenon was bright and new in its splendor of white marble, and the golden statue of Athena inside reflected on the polished marble floor with such an exactness that the two felt as if they were stepping on mirrored glass. They saw the statue of Zeus at Olympia after a long, two hours’ ride in a golden chariot; the Colossus of Rhodes they reached after a trip in their galleon; the beautiful Mediterranean island was an almost idyllic setting for the statue.
   Rome was next; ancient Rome, before Julius Caesar met his death. They traveled to Herculaneum and to Pompeii, two of the loveliest seaside resorts Italy had to offer. They tasted foods like roasted songbirds and fresh olives; grapes straight from an Italian vineyard, diluted Roman wine; they passed down the Appian Way, a great street wide enough for three chariots to race each other, a hundred miles long, and lined with the crosses of crucified slaves that were taken prisoner after the defeat of the slave Spartacus and his army. The togas the Romans wore were crude linen; they were heavy and not nearly as regal as the Egyptian chitons.
   Lily had loved her stay at Herculaneum best; the sea breezes were ones she could have lived off of the rest of her life, and the house they visited had rooms that opened within yards of the shore; there was even one room into which the water reached when the tide ran up the beach. Inside Rome itself, the bath-houses were one main attraction; the hot water came from underground springs beneath the city.
   From there, they visited old Asia Minor, which was Turkey in their time, where they visited Caunos, a city next to the Mediterranean, bordering the shore. They bought beautifully woven carpets for themselves and their friends, elegant pairs of slippers that curled up at the toe, large, painted vases, bowls, plates, and cups, several carved chairs covered with fine fabrics, and pounds of fine, fragrant coffee. Lily had accidentally spilled a cup of the brew onto one of James’ dark robes, and though the stain vanished, the smell persisted, and no amount of washing could remove it, which was a rather pleasant thing.
   The temple of Artemis and the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus were both in Turkey; the couple visited the Mausoleum first. A magnificent tomb to the King Mausollos of Caria, it was decorated with wonderfully elaborate statues and paintings. It resembled more a Greek temple than the Egyptian pyramids, though it was also a burial place for a king.
   The temple of Artemis, the Greek goddess of the hunt, among other things, served both as a marketplace and religious institution. Merchants, tourists, artisans, and kings paid homage to the temple and the goddess by sharing their profits with her; Lily saw gifts of gold and ivory statuettes of Artemis left there; earrings, bracelets, necklaces—all kinds of jewellery.
   They were sleeping in a building surrounded by a small courtyard on the 21st of July, 356 B.C., when Lily was awakened suddenly by a faint warmth in the air. She sat up in bed, sniffed once, and flung the covers aside, shaking her husband.
   “James! Wake up! Now!”
   He rolled over. “What, in heaven’s name? It’s got to be three in the morning!”
   “Fire! Can’t you smell it?”
   James sniffed. “Can’t say that I do.”
   “I do. Get up! Oh, please, you’ve got to!”
   A flicker of yellow fell onto the wall across from them, and both their eyes were riveted to the light. James threw the blanket aside.
   “I should learn to trust your instincts. Where is it?”
   Lily pointed to the west. “It’s not too far. Hurry!”
   They quickly threw on some overclothing and rushed into the streets, carrying what they could. Lily had been right; the temple of Artemis was on fire, only a street away from their lodgings.
   “No! No—no—no! It can’t be! Not—not--”
   James took her in his arms. “Lily, you can’t help it!—ouf!”
   Someone had crashed into both of them, knocking them to the ground. The man that had bowled them over tried to run, but James caught his ankle, and he fell headlong.
   “Now, sir,” James said sternly, “I at least demand an apology.”
   The man turned his face to the light, and he let out a loud, harsh laugh. His hair was long and dark; tangled, it fell in his brown face and eyes; an Adam’s apple was prominent on his throat.
   “An apology? An apology? From me, the one men will remember for thousands of years? Hah!” He let out a sharp laugh and twisted free of James’ grasp.
   Lily had regained her feet, and with a swift move, she tripped the man again as he tried to run. She knew she had remembered reading of something like this.
   “Your name will be remembered for centuries? You—you’re not Herostratus, by any chance?”
   The shrill, repeated laugh provided her answer, and, her suspicions confirmed, her eyes narrowed.
   “You set fire to the temple, didn’t you?”
   “My name will be set down in history! I shall be remembered for years!”
   The guards of the city came running to solve the commotion, and Herostratus was taken away without any further ado. Lily and James remained in the now dark streets, facing the ruins of the once gorgeous temple. Silent tears were running down Lily’s cheeks.
   “I wish I hadn’t seen this. It was—it was—it—“
   “Shh,” James whispered, drawing her to him. “It’s all right.”
   They left the next morning; their lodgings hadn’t caught on fire, and they still had everything they came to Asia Minor with and had purchased there. Lily only brightened up when James reminded her of their next choice of sights: the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.