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"He put the Parents in the sun, Eudoxia," I said. "Don't slide into a dream that makes him innocent. The Elder was evil and guilty. The Elder was selfish and bitter. Would you know his ultimate fate?"
"In my dream, the priests told me that you took the books, Marius. They said that, unopposed, you came into the library of the temple and took all the old scrolls away. "
I said nothing.
But her grief was heartrending.
"Tell me, Marius. Where are those books? If you will let me read them, if you will let me read the old stories of Egypt, then my soul can find some peace with you. Can you do that much for me?"
How bitterly did I draw in my breath.
"Eudoxia," I said gently. "They're gone, those books, and all that remains of them is here, in my head. " I tapped the side of my forehead. "In Rome, when the savages from the North breached the city, my house was burnt and my library destroyed. "
She shook her head and put her hands to the side of her face as though she could not bear this.
I went down on my knees beside her and I tried to turn her to me, but she would have none of it. Her tears were shed quietly.
"I'll write it all out, all that I remember, and there is so much that I remember," I said. "Or shall I tell it aloud for our scribes? You decide how you will receive it, and I'll give it to you, lovingly. I understand what you desire. "
This was not the time to tell her that much of what she sought came to nothing, that the old tales had been full of superstition and nonsense and even incantations that meant nothing at all.
Even the wicked Elder had said so. But I had read these scrolls during my years in Antioch. I remembered them. They were inside my heart and soul.
She turned to me slowly. And lifting her left hand, she stroked my hair.
"Why did you steal those books!" she whispered desperately, her tears still flowing. "Why did you take them from a sanctum where they had been safe for so long!"
"I wanted to know what they said," I answered candidly. "Why didn't you read them when you had a lifetime to do it? " I asked gently. "Why didn't you copy them when you copied for the Greeks and the Romans? How can you blame me now for what I did? "
"Blame you?" she said earnestly. "I hate you for it. "
"The Elder was dead, Eudoxia," I said quietly. "It was the Mother who slew the Elder. "
Her eyes suddenly, for all their tears, grew wide.
"You want me to believe this? That you didn't do it? "
"I? Slay a blood drinker who was a thousand years old, when I was just born?" I gave a short laugh. "No. It was the Mother who did it. And it was the Mother who asked me to take her out of Egypt. I did only what she asked me to do. "
I stared into her eyes, determined that she must believe me, that she must weigh this final and all-important piece of evidence before she proceeded in her case
of hatred against me.
"Look into my mind, Eudoxia," I said. "See the pictures of this for yourself. "
I myself relived the grim moments when Akasha had crushed the evil Elder underfoot. I myself remembered the lamp, brought magically from its stand, to pour its naming oil upon his remains. How the mysterious blood had burnt.
"Yes," Eudoxia whispered. "Fire is our enemy, always our enemy. You are speaking the truth. "
"With my heart and soul," I said. "It's true. And having been charged with this duty, and having seen the death of the Elder, how could I leave the books behind? I wanted them as you wanted them. I read them when I was in Antioch. I will tell you all they contained. "
She thought on this for a long time and then nodded.
I rose to my feet. I looked down at her. She sat still, her head bowed, and then she drew a fine napkin from inside her robes, and she wiped at her blood tears.
Once again, I pressed my promises.
"I'll write down all I remember," I said. "I'll write down all that the Elder told me when first I came to the temple. I'll spend my nights in this labor until everything is told. "
