| 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, [i]rudely[/i], 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. Pricking 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 [i]knew [/i]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 rippled 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. Two days afterwards, when Lily mounted the deck in the morning, she found the ship docked in a harbor; during the night, they had arrived in Babylon. A quick smile spread over her face as she flitted back below and practically yanked James out of bed. “Wake up! Wake up! We’re here, we’re here, we’re here!” “Huh—er—whaaaa?” James was still asleep. “Wake up!” He was lying curled up in a fetal position on the floor, and she was trying to yank the covers out of his tightly curled fists. “Wake up up up!” “Arrgh!” James shook his head, pulling himself to a sitting position. “Lily, it’s seven fifteen!” Satisfied, Lily jumped up and picked up her toothbrush, singing something from Oklahoma. “They couldn’t pick a better time to start in life…” “Oh, yes, you could,” James mumbled as he pulled a haphazard piece of clothing over his head. “It ain’t too early and it ain’t too late,” Lily continued, brushing her teeth. “It is too early,” her husband complained, pulling a pair of sandals from underneath the bed. “Startin’ as a farmer with a brand-new wife,” Lily continued, stopping to spit some toothpaste into a basin. “Farmer?” James frowned, pulling out the other sandal. “Someone’s got some thinking to do.” “Soon be livin’ in a brand new state!” She finished rinsing her mouth out and ran wet fingers through her hair, trying to make it stay out of her face. Smiling broadly, she emerged from the bathroom, throwing on a white chiton and sweeping her hair off of her neck. Appraisingly, she glanced at James, who was wiping sleep out of his eyes while trying to fasten a cloak with a golden pin they’d bought in the Valley of the Kings in Egypt. Fussing a bit, she took it out of his hands. “James, you’ll blind yourself—let me.” Her nimble fingers pinned his cloak over his right shoulder and she smoothed some of the folds out. “There. Ravishingly handsome.” He grinned as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “That’s always nice to hear. Especially when I’d most like to be asleep.” Lily laughed. “You sleep enough as it is. Come on—the Hanging Gardens are waiting!” She gazed around the room, frowning. “Do you have any idea where my sketchbook is?” “Not a clue,” James sighed. “It had better not be gone. You’ve got the Artemis temple in there, and I don’t think you can redo that. Not unless you want to spend another fortune going even further back in time, and remember, you can’t stop the guy that did it. It’ll happen no matter what.” “There it is,” Lily remarked, kneeling underneath a small table and holding up a book of papyrus sheets triumphantly. “Ready?” James felt in a pocket of the cloak for his moneybag. He touched it and grinned. “Ready.” Arm in arm, they stepped off of the boat and wove their way through the noisy crowds and were swept through the castle gates, something both of them had become quite adept at. A large, sandstone structure was visible from every point in the city, and it was there that they turned their feet. They turned a corner, and there the Hanging Gardens were. The building was a carved, tan, sandstone; it formed a quadrilateral from an aerial view. From the dusty streets, the couple could see the terraced roofs and the balconies facing the sea. The whole building was as tall as the city walls; they stretched 320 feet into the air, and if James hadn’t pulled lightly on Lily’s arm, she would have stayed outside all morning, staring at the building. “Come on; we didn’t come all this way just to stare at it, did we?” “No,” she agreed. “It—it’s impressive, that’s all!” “Wait till you see the inside,” James grinned, pushing her forward. There were two magnificently armed and dressed guards standing at attention at either side of the main doorway; their backs were to two elegant and tall columns that towered over them, with vines of hanging grapevines curling around them. The guards stepped aside, saluted the couple, and let them enter the Hanging Gardens. Lily bit her lip in excitement as she let her skirt drop to the floor; she had had it draped over her arm in a war against the dust. Clasping James’ arm a tiny bit more tightly, they moved forward, underneath the curved marble ceiling of the entrance. Her eyes opened to the size of tealights when the sight of the gardens flew to her eyes. Superbly and brilliantly elaborate, they were a sight to be waited for all one’s life. Stairways lined the walls; they led to the multiple lovely terraced roofs, and the banisters were slender. slim toothpicks, formed into twisting curves. The hanging plants hung over terraces that were supported by stone columns. Arched vaults were located on cubed fountains, the latter creating a humidity that kept the air wonderfully and pleasantly cool, as did the shade from the trees. The garden itself was built on several levels, closely planted, forming a replica of mountain greenery. They were supported by an intricate structure of stone pillars, brick walls, and palm tree trunk beams that had been made watertight; they were laid over with mats of reed and bitumen and encrusted with two layers of baked mud brick. The structure then was covered with a layer of lead. The plants themselves that adorned the gardens had been imported from around the world; cedars, cypresses, myrtles, juniper evergreens, almond trees, date palms, olive trees, oaks, ash trees, firs, weeping willows and usual ones; pomegranate, plum, pear, quince, and fig trees. Grapevines twined around trees and columns; deadly nightshade decorated the tree roots, and trellises were heavy with hanging white Clementine. A uniform smell of wood, summer grass, water, fruits, and flowers hung heavy upon the air, and the brilliantly coloured flowers that dangled from the walls created a lush, tropical atmosphere. The couple spent the day walking through the fourteen vaulted rooms, the terraced roofs, and the underground crypts; Lily had picked samples of every lovely flower she could reach; her arms were filled with a bouquet near evening. The fruit was spectacularly cultivated; they had never tasted such rich, ripe pomegranates or seen such lush, large pears and plums. There were artificial fountains disguised as waterfalls throughout the gardens, and they could run their hands underneath the flow of water after letting the pomegranate juice run down their hands and chins. Lily had affixed at least twenty sketches into her book; a waterfall, a willow draping behind an olive tree, the terraced roofs, a cluster of tropical flowers. She hugged her drawings to her chest tightly; not for anything would she have parted with them. On one sheet she even dropped, purposely, the juice of some of the fruits; she pressed several of the flowers and the leaves of trees and vines between the pages. They had encountered only two groups of people during the day; two ladies with their expensive entourage and a noble and his wife, accompanied by what seemed like hordes of servants. Every member of each parade had stared down their noses at the handsome, young couple as they meandered along the paths alone, but their eyes had to drop as they faced Lily’s hard, determined, scornful gaze. She wasn’t standing for any nonsense from people that had been born rich, and she had no intention of concealing it. “Lily,” James whispered, after the lord and lady had passed by, “why’d you look at them like that? They didn’t do a thing to you.” “No,” Lily agreed, “besides stare at me as if I were dung underneath an anthill and needed to be removed from sight quickly. They don’t like seeing people that don’t flaunt their wealth.” James shrugged. “True, but you don’t have to go out of your way to make enemies, do you?” “I didn’t,” Lily replied. “They went out of their way to turn up their noses at us. I was forcing their noses back down. Don’t tell me you liked looking at that lord’s hairy nostrils!” Her husband wrinkled his own nose. “Say, is that the only thing you noticed?” “It was rather hard to miss,” Lily said dryly. “He was advertising them freely.” James snorted loudly and had to mask it by a cough, as several of the lord’s servants had looked at him curiously. They dined in the house of an important political personage that evening; he was inviting anyone that was anyone to the dinner, and as Lily and James couldn’t be mistaken for anything but wealthy, according to their clothing, the servants at the doors simply bowed low as they ushered the couple inside. The dinner was nothing elaborate, but it was expensive and quaint in its own way. Oranges carved into the shapes of flowers lay on white silk napkins; roasted duck stuffed with all kinds of exotic herbs lay on a centre platter; the wine, though not of especially good quality, still was enough to impress James, who had grown up with nothing but quality. They spent that week in Babylon; by the time they boarded their ship again, the fragments of the Hanging Gardens’ plants were dried and hanging upside down in their room; the smell permeated the ship and made it reek, so James said, of ‘the landmasses’. Lily and James returned to Egypt in several days; their first motion was to seek out the small store they had emerged from when they traveled to the ancient times. They found it easily; the owner was still adjusting picture frames on the walls, and he was the same as he had been two thousand years into the future; still dark, short, and fat. The greasy smile as he greeted them was the same; as was the price of their journey, Lily noted. She let James hand him the money; her mind was fixed on one thing. She intended to visit one of her favorite historical periods as far as costuming went, and she anticipated overflowing trunks when they returned. James nudged her in the back. “Go on. Where’re we going?” “Twelve hundred ninety-six, please,” Lily said clearly, and she watched James frown a bit. But before he could say anything, she had pulled him into the fireplace, and they were whirling off through future centuries. They landed in the same store, though the dusty, homelike, comforting, sunny noise outside had diminished a bit; the streets were changed almost beyond recognition. None of the lavish wealth penetrated the atmosphere, and Lily shook herself. “I liked it better back then—let’s get to our ship.” James nodded. “Yes—it was friendlier, then.” He guided her through the jostling crowds outside, finally reaching a harbor, which smelled awfully of fish; no spices were being fingered and no silk felt in appreciation. As soon as the two boarded the galleon, they set sail, not wanting to stay a minute longer in that country. Egypt had reached its golden age during the pharaohs, and now the palace and temples were dilapidated with wear. Lily leaned on the figurehead, eyes wide open, trying to block out the memories of the newer Alexandria by the rough wind hitting her forcibly in the face. James walked up quietly behind her, putting an arm around her waist. He felt her tense and then relax, and he sighed. “It’s a shame, but we couldn’t possibly do anything about that.” “No…” Lily whispered, “we couldn’t, but I do wish it could have stayed at least somewhat like it was!” “I do, too,” he said, “but you saw it in its golden age, you bought beautiful what probably now is artifacts, and you met Cleopatra VII, which is more than I can say for anyone else I know.” Lily kissed him. “You’re magnificent at cheering people up.” They anchored in England two weeks later; they had stopped along a string of French resorts; at the lower French shores, Calais, and Forges. From there they crossed the Channel into middle England, and they anchored on the western side of the country. It was wooded, not heavily so, but pleasantly; the sun was mild, and the fishermen of the town they landed at had guided the couple to a man that sold horses as soon as they found out that the pair did not intend to stay in the seaside hamlet. Lily chose their horses; she knew more about them than James did. True, James had been taught to ride at five years, but she knew horses; after all, Svordsja was one of the unparalleled of her kind. She had run her palms over the backs of several steeds, but the ones she finally picked were two James wouldn’t have looked twice at. In a rather dingy stable at the back of the barn, the two had hay almost plastered to their coats; the stable hadn’t been cleaned in ages, and their water had dirt floating inside it. Lily wrinkled her nose as she glanced at it, then swerved towards the owner. “This is a disgrace,” she said bluntly, and the man’s eyebrows went up in surprise and disgust. “M’lydy!—never would I—“ “You obviously have,” Lily commented ungraciously and rather rudely. “A child could take better care of these creatures than you are. They haven’t been brushed in months. How well do you treat them?” “Ye-es, well—m’lydy—“ He was hee-hawing around the point, and it was then that James stepped in. “My wife has asked you a question, and it is imperative for the continuation of your business that you give her a legitimate answer.” The owner gave in. “I can’t touch ‘em, m’lydy. They’s vicious brutes, them is. Kick us as soon as look at anyone. They bites, too. I wouldn’t touch ‘em, not fer the world, and I’d advise you and yer ‘usband ter do the same.” Lily had her competitive spirit roused, and she shook off James’ hand airily. “Open the door; let me inside. I’ll handle them.” Alone, she stepped around a large pile of manure till she reached the horse nearest her. Casting a glance around her, she found what she was looking for, and pulled a blanket off of a shelf. Dipping it in the watering trough, she rubbed the blanked calmly and firmly over the horse’s back; it didn’t make a move towards attacking her, and she didn’t expect it to. Calmly, both of them stood inside the stable, and the two men outside stared. “Lily—careful now. You don’t know what he can do.” ”Yes, I do,” Lily informed him. “She won’t hurt me.” A short, meager brushing down of the animal revealed a beautiful black coat, dark, glossy, and elegant. The other horse was a reddish-brown colour, and it was slightly taller than the other. The owner told them that he had bought both of them from a lord that was leaving for France, but that the horses hadn’t let anyone come near them; they bit, kicked, and generally were extremely violent. The stable boys had resorted to throwing buckets of water through the window over the door into the water trough, and their hay was forked through the same opening. Lily was the only one that had touched them for two and a half months. Lily had commandeered the black horse, but then again, James hadn’t expected anything different. In two hours, the horses were groomed enough to please even Lily’s eagle eye, and they were thundering across a moor; then crossed the forest by a slender path. The afternoon sun was just turning pink when the couple arrived at a larger town. Dismounting, they tethered their steeds in front of a lodging-house a farmer had recommended to them, James handed a small boy a few pennies, ordering him to watch the horses, and the two entered the hostel. There was a woman in her late twenties dusting shelves in the back of the small room the front door opened into; she whirled around, hitching up clean brown skirts and brushing wisps of braided, mousy-coloured hair behind her ears as soon as she heard them enter. “And what may I be doing for you two?” “We’re looking for a room,” James said evenly, “and Farmer Abbot told us to pay you a visit.” “Well, that’s nice of him, I’m sure,” the lady smiled, sitting down behind the desk and pulling out a ledger. “Never thought he’d remember me, did I, though his sister did marry Madge’s brother…where are we?—oh yes, here.” She looked up. “You’ll be wanting a larger room, then?” “Larger?” James questioned. He had instructed Lily to leave this to him, after all, she hadn’t exactly been particularly nice to the stable manager. “It holds a table and two chairs, it does,” the lady explained. “It’s also got several nice pictures, and a big rug all over the floor. I can give you a window or no.” “Window,” Lily said determinedly. “Definitely a window.” “I could give you two, miss,” the lady said, posing her sentence as a question. “Only two pence extra, it is, and we’ll do your washing twice a week in the bargain.” James glanced at Lily, then put his hand into his robes. “We’ll take the two windows. How much?” He paid quickly, and they were taken up a smallish, though clean stairway into a room with a white linen bedspread on the bed, two pillows, an old dark red carpet, a simple table and two chairs with a white tablecloth and cushions. The lady flung open the shutters, letting a cheerful smell of freshly dried grass float into the room. She had put a pair of curtains over her arms when she stepped upstairs, and, taking the curtain rod down, hung them up nimbly. They were plain linen, too, and freshly washed. The lady stepped down from the chair and dusted her skirts off. “I’ll be leaving you to yourself, then. Happens you’d like to do some shopping? We’ve got nice dressmakers around here, and we’re not too far from London. Three miles, as happens. They’d give you more fancy things, like. But we’re good local businesspeople, and no doubt my sister as lives in the town’s square makes the best bread I’ve ever tasted, to be sure.” She finished smoothing her skirts. “I’ll be leaving you, then. If you want anything, my nephew’ll be within calling distance.” She scurried off after putting the room’s key on the table, shutting the door behind her, and Lily sank down on the bed. |
| Beyond Hogwarts: Chapter III |
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