The Memory of Snow Read Online Free PDF Page B

another
sip of wine.
    ‘For six more days you can,’ replied Milenius, barely hiding
his smile. ‘For six more days. Then I shall tell everyone how much you enjoy
dressing as a woman. Lucius was right.’
     
    One evening later that week, Marcus slipped into the Mithraic
Temple. He had discarded his women’s clothing and dressed in his Corax
loincloth, wrapping a thick woollen blanket around his body. It was bitterly
cold, with a fresh snowfall and a whirling blizzard covering the countryside.
He was shivering as he took his place on the feasting benches, next to the statue
of Cautopates. Plenty of candles had been lit and the temple was filled with a
smoky haze, but it did not do much to disguise the fact that it was bleakest
winter outside. The stone plinth was covered with animal skins and the Nymphus
were walking down the aisle holding their lamps before them. The other grades
of initiate were processing behind them, amongst them, the Leos, carrying
carved thunderbolts before them, and the Perses, who held images of the moon
and stars aloft.
    Marcus joined in with the chanting as the procession passed
him. The Pater was at the back, flanked again by his Miles, or soldiers. He
took his place on the stone plinth and began the ceremony. Marcus participated
whole-heartedly, despite the coldness of the cave-like building, and privately
wondered when it would be the best time to approach the Pater about Janus.
    At the end of the ceremony, the cult members partook of a
feast. Marcus raised his glass along with the others, and wryly considered how
much wine he had consumed over the past few days. He knew the major ceremony
for Mithras was at mid-summer, to celebrate the solstice. Marcus had wondered
whether they would still be worshipping Mithras by mid-summer, knowing what he
now knew about the Commandant. All the more reason to approach the Pater about
Janus as soon as possible.
    Marcus got up from his seat with the other cult members and
wandered around the temple, chatting to people. As a Corax, he was the only
level of initiate not to wear a mask. As such, there was only one Corax at a
time. This was to preserve the mystery of the higher echelons and to remind the
Corax that they were the lowest of the low. That was why their identity was not
hidden within the temple walls. It felt odd talking to people who you did not
recognize. He had his suspicions about the odd person here and there; a
movement, a gesture familiar to them, and he could sometimes make an educated
guess. He felt certain that one of the Leos was Lucius; he had a particular way
of standing. An old wound had left him putting more weight on his left leg than
was usual. The Leo in question seemed as if he tried to compensate for this,
and as such looked awkward and ill at ease. Which was why, Marcus noticed, he
sat down more than the other Leos. Marcus took a deep breath and approached the
man he thought was Lucius.
    ‘May I ask your advice, Sir?’ he began. The man turned his
head towards Marcus and nodded.
    ‘You may, Corax,’ he replied. His voice was muffled through
the head-dress. Marcus had realised, to his mild annoyance, a while ago, that
you could not even identify the members from their voices.
    ‘I have a friend who is interested in joining our cult. I
need to pass his name on to the Pater. How do you suggest I do this?’
    ‘Why can he not go through the correct channels?’ asked the
Leo. ‘His name shall stay on the list until the Pater decides and works through
it.’
    ‘It’s…complicated,’ said Marcus. He felt his cheeks redden,
despite the chill in the air. How could he explain his reasoning to the Leo?
‘Perhaps I should just ask the Pater directly. Do you think he would accept
it?’
    The Leo laughed.
    ‘You have much to learn, Corax,’ he said. ‘We do not bother
the Pater with such requests. If you are desperate, you could try to speak to
his Heliodromus. As we are celebrating Saturnalia outside in the fort,