“So, now he’s decided he wants to make nice. What he did was unacceptable. A few extremists were guilty of murder, but not the entire Jewish population of Alexandria. Cyril should have consulted Constantinople before he did anything, and the fact that he took it upon himself to expel all the Jews from the city, along with looting their homes and temples, is almost unbelievable. He’s only the archbishop; it may have been a religious dispute, but it still wasn’t his place. And you can tell him all of that.”

“Good day, Governor.” Cyril’s messenger left.

“I see Cyril’s sent a whole entourage this time”, Orestes remarked as he noticed the monks standing in the doorway to his office. “Does he think he can intimidate me into giving up all my power to him? Just because I’m a Christian doesn’t mean I think that the Church should be running the government.”

“You say you’re a Christian, but you’re trying to prevent the Archbishop from exercising his rightful authority over the city.”

“But it’s not his authority, it’s-”

“It’s well known that you associate with the pagan Hypatia. She pollutes the morals of the city and will not even consider converting.”

“The philosophy that Hypatia teaches is surprisingly similar to our own religion. She’s an educated, respectable woman, and you shouldn’t criticize and gossip about her.”

“We don’t care about whether she’s literate or not. The important thing is that she accepts Jesus, and if she doesn’t, a public official such as yourself shouldn’t have dealings with her.”

“Please leave my office. We’re not going to get anywhere with this. If it’s so important to Cyril, he can come and speak with me himself.”

“It’s a shame that it’s had to come to this.”

“Come to what, exactly?”

Two of the monks pulled daggers out of their sleeves.

“You would really do this? Plot to murder your fellow man, who’s done nothing to harm you?”

“If it’s to influence people to reject unbiblical ideologies, yes. Sometimes there is such a thing as a necessary evil, and I’m confident that the Lord will forgive us.”

“Fortunately for you, He won’t have much to forgive.” Orestes moved from where he stood by his desk to an chamber with a locking door only a step away. There was a guard outside the window, bored at his post, who startled when Orestes shouted down at him.

“Get the other guards, make sure they’re armed, and come up to my office. Don’t kill any of the monks unless you absolutely have to.”

Hopefully they’ll leave without a fight. Otherwise, who knows what Cyril will make of this.

A minute later, a knock on the door, and through it the guard announced: “They’ve left. They said they were only interested in you, didn’t want to cause a scene.”

“I thought it was one of your better lectures. At least out of the ones I’ve seen”, said Sostrate.

“I thought I did well, too, but the audience wasn’t as full as usual. Actually, for quite a while now the audiences at my lectures have been getting smaller. Cyril, you know, the new archbishop, he’s just as bad as his uncle was. It may be hypocritical, considering my philosophy, but I think we’d all be better off if he’d just leave well enough alone.”

The carriage jarred and then stopped.

“What is it? I don’t think we’re at the library yet,” Sostrate said.

“No.” Hypatia pulled back the curtain of the carriage and looked out. “We’re near the Caesareum.”

She was about to ask the driver what the problem was when the curtain was torn down and a man appeared where it had been. He gripped her forearm and pulled, and she tumbled out of the carriage, getting caught up in her skirts. There was a mob swarming around the scene, and a few of its members joined the first man in dragging Hypatia towards the church.

Sostrate started sobbing, but she didn’t try to help. She climbed out of the carriage on the other side and started running towards her father’s house, a handful of streets away.

Inside the church, it was quiet, until the mob burst in, carrying Hypatia with them. An area of the floor was being retiled, and the old tiles sat in little heaps along a wall.

The method of execution had been discussed beforehand; some people were wary of it, but Peter, the leader, thought it was appropriate because it was reminiscent of Biblical stonings.

Each person, before they had time to think, seized a few tiles and attacked Hypatia. Whether they threw them at her, or hit her repeatedly, it didn’t matter. She would be dead and they’d have had a part in it.

No one came in, and no one tried to stop them. The tiles tore through her clothes and then her skin, and she screamed and moaned and tried to roll away, but eventually she stopped.

The mob had lost their fury, but they’d gone far enough that they had to finish it out. They carried her body out into the street, by now almost deserted; everyone who saw what happened had either hurried away or joined the mob themselves. Peter had a wagon waiting by the church. Hypatia’s body was heaved into it, and the whole company departed for Cinaron, by the coast, where they were to burn her body.

“Have you heard the news, Orestes?” Iphigenia asked as soon as her husband came out of his meeting. She knew he hadn’t, but she wanted to break it to him gently, if possible.

“No, I haven’t. Is it serious?”

“Extremely. It’s such a terrible thing. Peter, the lector, you know, he and some other zealots, they got together, and today when Hypatia was leaving her lecture, they pulled her from her carriage, an-, and they killed her.”

There was silence, and Iphigenia continued. “And it’s more than that, really. Cyril has already tried to have you assassinated once. What if a crowd is angry and decides to take care of it for him? I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to live in Alexandria any longer. Maybe we could move up to Constantinople?”

Orestes sighed. He hadn’t been close with Hypatia, but her death was still devastating. “It pains me to leave the city to him, but I think you’re right. Leaving is the best option.”