Dawn or Dusk: An Historical Novel

By Robert E. Englekirk

“History repeats itself” is an overused banality that warrants exploration. The cyclic nature of our societal traipsings, though ostensibly obvious, bear examination should we wish to moderate its catastrophic excursions. Ascendant and descendant paradigms are too often disguised by perturbations which, if not controlled, promote chaos and despair; that is, if they do not reverse the extant paradigmatic cycle. That we are on an ascending path seems evident; however, the too frequent downward excursions suggest the likelihood of a trend reversing change; hence the title “Dawn or Dusk” for absent a frame of reference they too are indistinguishable. Which way will we head and how can we impact our future is a dominating issue.

To address this and other questions I turn to history and affirm that not only does it repeat itself, but we make the same mistakes − time after time. The focal point of the story is the Greco-Roman world. The 5th century dominates because the western part of the Roman Empire was unable to reverse a downward trend while the Eastern Empire reversed a very negative series of excursions and prospered for another 1000 years as the Byzantine Empire.

The adopted format is that of an historical novel. The protagonist is a 21st century student who is not only in search of the “true” past, but herself as well, as she questions the immutable essence of man and explores the commonality of elements of discord. That we are looking at a rising sun is proposed − though realizing the Dawn may depend on our ability to make reasoned decisions. The ball is now in our court!

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9781626757905

Robert E. Englekirk

Dr. Robert Englekirk applies his creative engineering capabilities (Getty Brentwood, Horton Plaza) to an assessment of the history of the Byzantine Empire. His goal was to discover how these people were able to advance civilization in an otherwise ‘Dark Age.’

Book preview

PART 1 - PROCLIVITIES

1. San Diego, June 8th, 2012

The June weather along the San Diego coast is surreal. The sun and the fog often compete for control. This morning fog seemed to enter my room only to be dismissed by a penetrating ray of sunshine intent on my acceptance of the new day. We were, however, not in consonance. It had been a long, hard, seemingly endless school year. The recent spate of parties did not help matters. Fortunately, my boyfriend, Ted, had insisted on an earlier evening last night so that I might present my best face to the Department Chair this morning.

Reluctantly I abandoned my comfortable bed and began my morning ritual. The face that confronted me in the bathroom needed help. The straight brown hair must be given some life and the sunburned complexion required its usual attention. The result would not be defined as beautiful, but it was not unattractive. The sparkle of the penetrating blue eyes was its dominating feature. There was no sparkle this morning. Did it reflect a change in me? My grandfather had suggested that I would experience attitudinal changes. Last night, while talking to some of my girlfriends, one of them even suggested that we were leading the lives of slaves. Was pseudo-slavery truly ordained, I wondered?

As I re-entered my cheerfully decorated room, it was hard to classify it as slave quarters. Yet, was I really free? My parents were not slave drivers. They only perceived that they were in control. The surrealistic play of sun and fog reminded me that I was only fooling myself. Did they not deny me the blackout blinds I had insisted on! Mom had said that heavy blinds were not a part of her vocabulary for my room. Just whose room was it? I reflected. This brought me back to reality and more specifically the program for today. My immediate future would, to a large extent, rest on the outcome of this meeting with the Department Chair.

The alternatives were truly grim. My master’s degree in history suggested that I teach history in high school, but there were many more qualified than I. Too many kids today, myself included, seemed increasingly egocentric and unappreciative. Ted and marriage? Not any time soon. Who would support us? Certainly not our parents. Waiting tables had been suggested by some as being profitable, but my Dad would kill me for taking such a position after paying for the last six years of my schooling. Facing another six years at school in search of a Ph.D. did not fit into my Cinderella-inspired dreams, but it was the path of least resistance.

This resolved I studied my wardrobe. Most of its contents were categorized as surrealist. Would my black tunic be appropriate attire for meeting a professor whose specialty was the history of Rome? It was too drab and uninviting. I knew my mother and probably not even Ted would allow any of the tank tops, no matter how artfully they were cut or shaped. I finally settled on a green blouse with cap sleeves and deep v-neck enhanced by a lace-like trim. The classification of surrealist had originally confounded me – apparently it was derived from the subconscious suggestion of nudity. This surely would be welcomed by Ted and the Chair. My mother would probably accept it if I wore a sweater. The cool coastal morning made the sweater a natural addition.

My entry into the kitchen was greeted by my mother’s usual warm salutation, Good morning, Olympia dear. No surfing today? Tempted to inquire what was good about the morning, I told her that Ted had a full day planned for both of us. Her usual query, How about some eggs and toast? went unanswered as I searched for orange juice in the fridge. Her ramblings ultimately penetrated my musings.

Please don’t drink so much tonight, she pleaded. Your father wants to talk to you before his golf match tomorrow. He is not pleased with your grades this quarter.

How did he get my grades? I asked. That’s privileged information.

I believe he called Ted, she said as I responded to the sound of a horn.

See you tomorrow, and out I went, resisting the temptation to slam the door behind me.

Ted was his usual ungentlemanly ebullient self. I could not remember if he had ever opened the car door for me. Pleading fresh lipstick, I resisted his casual attempt at a kiss. Nothing deterred him and though he rambled on, I spoke not a word during the short trip to campus.

Ted and I were ushered into Dr. Mancini’s office by one of his teaching assistants. The T.A. assured us the Chair was on his way. Neither of us believed him.

The Chair’s office was the product of more than a decade of budget cuts – about half the size of my Dad’s study. The bookcase on the entry wall was overstuffed. It would be hard to extract one book they were so tightly packed.

We took the two chairs that occupied the five feet separating the Chair’s desk and bookshelf.

I hope Dr. Mancini is tall, I remarked, else I won’t be able to see him.

All professors are overburdened with exams and papers at quarter’s end, Ted replied almost apologetically.

I used the fact that the room was so warm to remove my sweater. The carefully selected blouse with its laced deep v-neck went unnoticed by Ted who was wrapped up, as usual, with a text message.

Dr. Mancini burst through the door and apologized profusely for being late. As Ted introduced me, the ebullient Chair almost dropped his iPhone.

He proceeded haltingly to his chair and immediately relocated the papers that blocked his view, placing them on the floor next to his printer. I felt like cheese in a rat hole – at least the blouse had done its work.

Dr. Mancini was wearing faded jeans and a sports shirt, much the custom on our casual campus. He looked more the confused graduate student than the preeminent academic I had expected. He and Ted did have a lot in common.

As we went through the usual niceties, my mind contemplated the realities of my future while Professor Mancini contemplated the over-exposed part of my anatomy. One more bad quarter and I would probably be waiting tables. I knew that I could prevail here for though not particularly attractive, I did have a way with older men and now was the time to use it.

Dr. Mancini brought me back to the present, Ted assures me that your grade in Ancient History does not reflect your interest in the topic.

True, I lied as I smiled and leaned ever so slightly forward to his obvious delight.

I’m glad to hear that, he hesitantly continued. I am especially interested in the early 5th century. The products of our underfunded history program would understand little of ancient history were it not for Hollywood. As for the Roman Empire, its demise was a consequence of a Barbarian invasion in 410. Historians are trying to dispel this myth. From time to time, they are aided by the authors of historical novels. Just what caused Rome’s collapse must be understood, for Rome’s judgmental errors have been repeated too often. I would like you to compile these positions and argue their merits. Sounds easy enough I thought, at least until he continued. Your background in 20th century history should allow a comparative analysis.

Sounds interesting as well as reasonable, I lied again, with all the charm I could muster.

I want you to take it one step further, continued Dr. Mancini with growing excitement. Cycles of major civilizations occur in a perturbed cyclic form. You see, they proceed from sparks to ashes, and along the way they tend to have periods of decline as well as resurgence. I think you should develop similar patterns for ancient Egypt, Crete and Mycenae. Why not Babylon, Persia, China, or the Renaissance I internally groaned, maintaining a smile, while trying to remember if the waitress served over the right shoulder or the left.

Ted was no help, I see what you are driving at. These empires lasted for many centuries: Rome at least ten, while we are only in our fourth century.

Exactly, continued Dr. Mancini, with renewed hope, as if his sermon had finally penetrated Ted’s mind, and many parallels exist. But, two questions need to be specifically addressed: is our current apparent downward cycle as perceived by many, merely perturbative or are we on the road to perdition? Of even more importance, given either of these scenarios, is how do we reverse our direction?

Ted’s obvious excitement could no longer be contained, are we headed for dawn or dusk? Clearly the Byzantine Empire was able to turn its back on the setting sun.

Precisely, replied Dr. Mancini. Ted and I will, of course, help you. I could already see my name amongst the acknowledgements to his masterwork. My acceptance of the program was obviously assumed – serve from the right, take away from the left?

As we left the building I wanted to scream but could not decide on the focus of my derision. Were they chauvinists or merely arrogant self-centered academicians, or, or, or? So, I bit my tongue and shed my pseudo-smile though I knew Ted would not understand what had generated my sulky silence.

I had imagined that we could hit the waves after our meeting for we did plan to attend the monthly meeting of the Dionysian Society this evening. Wrong again. I thought you might enjoy a lecture this afternoon, and he proceeded to sing the praises of the presumably noted lecturer while I wondered if I would ever be released from the leeches that directed my every action. Besides, the surf is poor and the moderator is your T.A. in that philosophy course you praised last year. John was cute, not interesting. My praise for the course was intended to arouse Ted’s interest in me – nothing more!

After lunch in the Price Center we settled into the seats in the large hall of the Center Building. To my amazement the hall was soon filled. John started abruptly by paraphrasing Plato. The soul does not exist in time and space. It comes from the world of ideas and is only temporarily united with the body. Did he expect me to believe that the movie Avatar was a documentary! I must admit that my mind wandered as it often did. I wondered at the possibility of my soul finding a more interesting body to inhabit. The clock and my intuition finally alerted me to the approaching end of the lecture and I concentrated on the speaker’s last thoughts so that I might be able to convince Ted of my interest. Ted was, after all, a pleasant, sincere type and my girlfriends all thought that he was quite a catch.

I thought it was interesting when he quoted Descartes, I sagaciously intimated as we proceeded to the car. Do you think it at all possible that we do not have a body – that the mind can exist apart from the body? Can we all be only dreaming?

Descartes spent much of his time attempting to analyze the mind/body relationship but now my body demands food, Ted replied.

My mood did not improve at our favorite Greek restaurant. Rather, while Ted rambled, I thought about our past. I met Ted three years ago when he taught an introductory course in ancient history. I had been crazy about Ted those first few years, but I had become less sure of late and today did not help. In spite of our affiliated interests, life with Ted threatened to become boring. He would be content with a contemplative, tranquil life whose focus was quite narrow. Perhaps my lessening of interest was a consequence of my desire to lead a more exciting life. Ted would not stop extolling the virtues of Professor Mancini and the project they had selected for me. The complexity of our traveled path must be explored thoroughly if we are to understand how to deal with the realities of today and tomorrow. You must be excited by the opportunity to study under such an insightful man. I was not.

Constrained consumption was unusual for Ted. He was always hungry. I had finished my small plate of delicious fried tomatoes and feta; yet he was less than halfway through his Souflaki. Even he found it difficult to eat and talk. My thoughts continued to wander, but he obviously was not aware of my lack of interest as he continued to ramble on. I reflected on my changing attitude towards life. What did I really want? My friends and I had entered college thinking it to be a proper and accepted path, though most of us had no clear vocational objective. Preconditioned to success by unflagging support from all, our academic efforts were admittedly less than they should have been. Like the Scarecrow of Oz we would receive a plaque proclaiming our wisdom. What more did we need? I seemed always to be mindlessly drifting through space, waiting for the next text message as I was now. Even the family cat was ostensibly more conscious than I.

Finish your wine; it’s time to go, Ted prompted. Your half of the bill is $15.00. Ted was always broke and probably always would be. Always absorbed in something else, he never offered to help me put on my sweater!

The meetings of the Dionysian Society were held at Helen’s house in Rancho Santa Fe. Helen had been my role model both in high school and college. You know the type: beautiful blond, cheerleader, idolized by everyone. She was three years ahead of me, so I did not know her then. Nevertheless, I continued to envy her. She had married a bright young graduate student whose mercurial advance had led them to the acquisition of the estate that was our destination. Her academic interests had introduced her to graduate students and faculty in both history and philosophy; her charm was a great asset. My perspective was different now, and the Helen I came to know did not exude self-confidence or the love of life that had originally attracted me. Her husband’s interests and their failure to produce a child must have contributed to her apparent boredom.

Was her outlook on life much different from mine I wondered? The hacienda with its extensive grounds suggested that it should be.

The Dionysian Society was philosophically oriented and, though the meetings were usually interesting, tonight’s featured guest had not appealed to me. He was a proponent of India’s philosophies and most likely a Hindu. Ted never missed a meeting, perhaps because the wine flowed freely, but more likely because the discussions were spirited. I had learned that Dionysius was more than the Greek counterpart for Bacchus, the Roman god of wine and debauchery. Ted maintained that Dionysius was a much-revered proponent of thought and creativity: the wine part only freed the mind.

Govinda, the Hindustani guest spoke for about half an hour. His talk centered about the transmigrative nature of the soul. He proposed as did Descartes, Plato and many others that the soul was the immaterial part of the mind which upon death would move on to another host. But, his assessment of the process differed considerably from that of Descartes.

That he suggested an escape caught my attention, especially when he explained that Hinduism had been around for over 3,000 years. Hinduism to me had always been associated with a pantheon of over 300 million gods. This had made it easy for me to categorically dismiss it. When Govinda proposed that all living things are gods, he really awakened me, because it was consistent with what I had been taught and come to believe: there was a god within each of us. His description of the caste system allowed me the time to digest these fundamental propositions. It became clear that the caste system only allowed a path for us to follow, up or down, depending on the nature of our acts. I waited patiently for him to describe how one could affect the transmigration he proposed. Extreme selfless meditation was the only answer I could extract. He ended by uttering the first sound of creation, ‘Om,’ and then proposing that whoever knew this sound would attain their desired destiny.

After the open session, Govinda joined Ted and a few friends. I was not excluded, though I knew that my opinion would not be encouraged. Govinda did not promote this exclusionary attitude and for whatever reason increasingly promoted my involvement. We discussed my thesis topic at great length and Govinda seemed quite interested. His dominant concern centered about the reliability of any reference material. Many have addressed the cyclic patterns of history. I believe that too many factors must be considered – a recitation of presumed facts will not suffice. The minds of the people involved must be explored and this could only happen if you were to make their acquaintance.

Too bad my soul must await death to transmigrate, I offered sardonically.

Perhaps your soul could occupy the body of one of Attila’s concubines, Ted interjected to everyone’s amusement except Govinda, for he was not disposed to joking.

That type of transmigration is not out of the range of possibility, Govinda replied. Brahmins are convinced that meditation can bring about many things otherwise believed to be impossible. Are you the same person you were ten years ago?

Preposterous, how could a 20th century mind acclimate to a 5th century body, even if it were to reach an appropriate host? interjected our insufferable skeptic Thomas.

To explain it in your scientific terms is impossible. I will make no attempt, replied Govinda. Our beliefs are observation-based. We believe this to be a more reliable approach. The basic concept was once again proposed by your Greek ancients about the same time as our revered philosopher, Gautama Siddartha, preached in India.

 I cannot categorically dismiss your position as Thomas does, Paul offered. Is not the soul you refer to often identified as one’s spirit?

Indeed, Govinda continued, and spirit is a characteristic that is clearly transmitted from person to person.

What about little things like fear? replied Thomas. Do they not accompany the spirit or soul? Suppose Olympia’s soul did transmigrate to the court of Attila the Hun; would she not be paralyzed by fear?

No, fear does not reside in the soul, Govinda replied in his usual placid manner. Earlier, I described how man believed that the soul travels from one being to another. I did not propose the exclusivity adopted by your Greek ancients; rather our souls can be hosted by any living being. Returning to your concern relating to the transmigratory nature of fear, I ask that you consider a transmigration from a rabbit to a lion. Clearly the lion would not retreat from a challenge; nor for that matter would he inherit the speed of the rabbit, for these characterizing traits do not belong to the soul.

Though not convinced, Thomas offered no reply.

I can think of a good place for you to go, Ted proposed. Why not go to Athens? You have always expressed such a desire. You would be between Rome and Constantinople, the poles of the empire you must examine. I can even propose the people you might visit. Olympiodorus is a well-respected teacher. One of his most acclaimed students is Proclus, still the most revered of the Neoplatonists. I imagine you might also run into the historian Priscus, who chronicled the life of Attila as well as a host of others. I believe Olympiodorus had a daughter named Olympia. What a coincidence! This, of course, amused all and even brought a smile to Govinda as the group broke up.

I loved your lecture this afternoon, I lied to John, as he cornered me. My blouse was working overtime; perhaps I should find my sweater. I glanced at Ted but he seemed not to have noticed my feigned interest – lost in his own world as usual. You mentioned Neoplatonism this afternoon and Ted suggested I might meet Proclus if I were to transmigrate to 5th century Athens. I don’t recall hearing about Proclus in either my history class or your excellent philosophy class. John did not need an engraved invitation and Ted remained unaware.

John’s eyes lit up and it was obvious that I was probing another sweet spot. Proclus was a 5th century philosopher who advocated a reason-based approach to life. His work has been revisited many times. The Neoplatonism he extols is a philosophy that summarizes Proclus’ beliefs. In essence, Neoplatonism is an extension of Plato’s philosophy.

Can you give me an example of its extension that I might understand? I asked though determined to avoid a lecture.

Let’s turn to the Renaissance, John proposed. The beliefs of Proclus were adopted by the likes of Michelangelo and da Vinci. They were even encouraged by the church.

Why would the church choose to promote pagan beliefs? I asked warming to the topic.

In the Renaissance, people were beginning to think once again. This caused the church to seek a reasoned basis for the acceptance of its doctrine.

I’m glad Dr. Mancini didn’t order me to address this issue, I said with an inviting smile. Ted didn’t notice.

Not as complex as you think, John replied. The basic difference between Catholicism and Neoplatonism centers about attitudes towards faith and reason, an issue which will always trouble many. Most of the other goals are advocated by both.

You mentioned Michelangelo, I said.

To understand Michelangelo requires a further step; how the individual relates to his god. Here, the importance of the soul dominates and one must presume the virtue of a soul locked in an evil body, which in its pursuit of pleasure is intent on corrupting the soul, he replied. Ted finally interrupted us with a request to head home. We made our farewells.

As we made our way down Encinitas Boulevard, Ted inquired into our destination. My response was slow in coming. I realized that Ted was still in a state of disquietude brought on by the excitement of the very full day. I, on the other hand, was exhausted and confused – confused about everything. Why don’t we go to Beacon’s Beach and watch the moon on the water?

The car park at Beacon’s allows the passengers to look down on the water some 100 feet below. The moonlight reflected on the water created an illusion as though someone had thrown a handful of diamonds on the water, like skipping stones. I could spend the night watching the sea – it was the perfect tranquilizer. Just what I needed. I knew, however, that moonlight alone would not tranquilize Ted’s restlessness so I invited him to discuss the fall of Rome. Dr. Mancini implied that the collapse of Rome was not reasonably laid at the feet of the Goths. Why is this not a valid hypothesis?

Priscus would have argued that Rome incited all barbarians to revolt. He was convinced that the history of Rome evolved from a need to placate a disconsolate people and an increasing number of barbarians. Priscus would have classified Rome’s defeat at Adrianopolis in 386 and the sacking of Rome in 410 as symptomatic. Today, one reading the history written then would see the truth buried by pundits. Much of Priscus’ real work was sanitized by the monks who transcribed it.

What do a few battles have to do with the course of history? I ask mesmerized by the moon beams.

Nothing, Ted replied. It was the failure of Rome’s immigration policies, banking failure, agrarian failures, security failures, diplomatic failures …

That’s enough, I interjected. I must go home. My father wants to see me early tomorrow. It has been a long day. I have thoroughly enjoyed it, I lied again.

The ride home was a quiet one and at the door step I only offered my cheek. See you in the morning. The surfing should be good! he said.

My gloom was well hidden in my withdrawal. I saw no point in lying once again.

This most troubling day seemed not to go away. Govinda’s propositions still haunted me to the point where I knew I would not sleep. I should try his meditative cure I thought; so, upon reaching my room, I assumed the lotus position on the floor and with a straight back and closed eyes repeated his suggested chant – Om.

2. Athens – June 9, 423 AD

As my eyes acknowledged the soft morning light, it became immediately apparent that I was not in my comfortable San Diego bedroom. I did not recall being abducted last night. Perhaps I had been yanked out of the real world like Dorothy, but this small room bore no resemblance to Oz! The evening before crept into my awareness. Dionysius’ counterpart, Bacchus, had undoubtedly worked me over and my first recollections were truly disconcerting. As I lay there paralyzed, my mind searched for an explication. My older sister’s interest in dreams surfaced. During my sophomore year, before my sister married and moved to New York, she was plagued by complex dreams. We both studied the phenomenon. My current condition was consistent with the last stages of the sleep cycle where dreams are created – REM or rapid eye movement. The body paralysis I was experiencing supported this possibility. If this was the case, I must be dreaming. Was I in fact in Nietzsche’s second world?

The paralysis released its grip on me. I became aware of the motions of my body. These suggested some type of disconnect within my mind, but this too could be attributed to Bacchus. It certainly would not be the first time that I mechanically performed functions! My mind gradually began to relate the present to the immediate past. Could it be possible that my soul had really transmigrated? Impossible, I thought. The more logical explanation was a wine-induced dream.

As I considered those parts of my body that I could see, I was impressed with its well-proportioned shape and youthfulness. This body was certainly not mine, though it might be the body of my dreams! The olive skin tone suggested Mediterranean descent, as did the long black hair. This girl was proceeding through a morning ritual. The soft cotton tunic she donned was a welcome addition, for the morning air was pleasantly cool and the gown was made of the highest quality cotton. Whose body was this?

If my soul had, in fact, transmigrated into the body of another, was my soul really just along for the ride? That seemed to be the case, but was it not my soul’s responsibility to override the mechanical actions of this body? A test seemed to be the logical way to resolve this question. So, I directed the body to move to and face the far blank wall. This it did willingly, for it immediately stopped putting on a sandal, rose, walked to the wall, facing it as I had commanded. Control of the body must somehow be shared. Mechanically driven for the most part, but overridden by the mandates of the soul. Given the soul’s dominating control mechanism, this body could, appropriately, be presumed to be mine. My new body remained facing the wall. I released the command and my body returned to the task it had been instructed to abandon.

In the process of completing the morning routine, my body approached a small mirror and it prepared to apply some coloring. Wow, I thought, what a pretty face. The prominent high-bridged Roman nose, cheery bright eyes, and full lips represented quite an improvement over the face I had apparently left in San Diego. Truly impressed, I left the room and entered a beautiful porticoed patio or atrium. The atrium contained a small pool which was attractively landscaped with potted plants. The surrounding portico was broad and promised a significant amount of shade. My room, as well as the rest of the visible rooms, faced this atrium. Each possessed a window that gave onto the atrium and, in addition to providing air, encouraged the pleasant shaded light I had just experienced.

I turned left and headed towards the rear of the house, entering an ample kitchen area which was well supplied with terracotta plates and bowls. Cooking was apparently done in a separate building located further back. The organization of the home seemed to follow that of the Roman townhouses I had studied. Was I in Italy?

Good morning Olympia, greeted a woman whose pure Greek suggested that I could indeed be in Greece. Her demeanor and the warmth of her greeting implied that she was my mother. I politely returned her salutation and mechanically confirmed her rank in my salutation. Excitedly we asked where papa might be. My name was apparently Olympia – how convenient. My Greek would certainly have impressed my teachers, for it too was truly beautiful.

Olympiodorus is in the front atrium talking with Proclus and a few of his students, my surrogate mother replied. This must be a dream! Were these not some of the people proposed by Ted last night?

My body proceeded to the front atrium as though on a mission. Good morning Papa, I joyfully exclaimed. The aggressive, unconstrained nature of my action became immediately apparent. Presumably it was encouraged by an unconstrained soul. This zealous intrusion was obviously not only out of character but contrary to custom. I must encourage the material part of my Greek sister’s mind to actively participate in controlling my emotive actions. Cultured mandates certainly must have been ingrained in the mechanical part of her mind.

As though responding to the touch of a hot pot, I heard the hesitating response I made with amazement. Papa, please excuse my impertinence, but I am anxious to find out if what I heard last night about the happenings in Constantinople are true. Was Emperor Theodosius’ wife, Athenais, really elevated to the rank of Augusta and proclaimed co-emperor?

The partnership I hoped to evoke had failed to materialize. My unconstrained body danced over to the most handsome man I had ever seen and planted a gentle sisterly kiss on his cheek. He, though obviously surprised, responded by encircling my waist with his powerful left arm. The tunic offered but little resistance. The passion which resided in the material part of my mind, absent its traditional soul-based control, had, once again, overstepped customary bounds. Philosophers throughout history have wrestled with the divided functions of the mind, now it was my turn. The soul must accept responsibility for the passions which reside in the material part of the mind. My San Diego-based soul must learn to control this body and I was just beginning to understand how difficult this task might be.

That is the message received, replied Olympiodorus obviously taken aback by my advance on Proclus.

Surely, commented this most handsome man as I withdrew, this will not please the Emperor’s sister Pulcheria. Has she not been the power behind the throne since Theodosius became the emperor?

Now, somewhat distanced from the handsome Proclus, I could consider his body more discretely. He was undoubtedly the perfect Greek. His summer tunic covered only half of his chest for it hung from his left shoulder and ended just above his knees: revealing much of a very muscular anatomy. He obviously lived well, for only the slightest bit of extraneous flesh appeared on his flanks just above his waist. My UCSD girlfriends and I found these love handles to be a common characteristic of Greek heroic statuary and here they were – in real flesh. His eyes were dark, of course, and shielded by heavy black eyebrows. The thinnest mustache encircled his mouth, joining a carefully coifed beard, neither of which infringed on his powerful lips. The hair that covered his head was curly, only two or three times as long as his facial hairs. Was he vain or just respectful of the body given him? His age presented another mystery. He could be anywhere between a well-developed boy in his middle teens and a mature youth in his early twenties. His response to my Greek body suggested that both bodies were younger than their maturity suggested. I hoped that if I was in the grasp of a dream it would last long enough for me to more fully appreciate him. Was I capable of controlling the passion of the lovely body I had inherited? Did I want to? In any event Proclus was quite a welcome contrast to casual Ted.

My mind obviously contained more than its immaterial parts, for it seemed to be able to follow the accompanying dialogue and comprehend events of that epoch. Theodosius II was made emperor of the Eastern empire in 408 at the age of 7 so as to maintain the young family line that succeeded that of Diocletian, responded Olympiodorus addressing his students, an imperial family line that was founded in 364, but only given respect in 379 by Theodosius I, usually referred to as ‘the Great.’

But, was not his sister Pulcheria only two years older than Theodosius? I asked. Why was she made regent and not empress on the death of her father?

Somewhat irritated, my father replied, That is not our custom. If a boy is available, he will become emperor upon maturity. If a male heir is not available, the army usually appoints one. It seems as though you have been studying subjects out of school and in an incomplete manner. Perhaps you would be better served by devoting this effort to your music.

To which I replied very sincerely, Kind and wise father, I am most anxious to understand these issues and plead for your understanding guidance. Would you please tell me how this young Greek girl, Athenais, became an Empress of Rome? The story would probably not have been told, had not Proclus also expressed an interest.

Yes, tell us, Olympiodorus, Proclus interjected.

Olympiodorus’ tone changed immediately, sensing the enthusiasm of his listeners. The story of Athenais is one of which fables are made. She is the daughter of a Greek father, Leontius, who was, and still is, a noted Athenian philosopher. He schooled Athenais in philosophy and religion. Leontius’ stoic leanings are well understood by the emperor. He is allowed to teach philosophy today only because of his recently acquired relationship to the emperor. At any rate, Leontius had two sons in addition to Athenais. As is customary, Leontius divided his patrimony between his two sons when he decided to devote his life to philosophy. He gave Athenais 100 gold coins, confident that this, along with her beauty and intellectual merit would be equivalent to the patrimony provided her brothers. Unfortunately, the avarice and jealousy of her brothers had no limit. They wanted her gold as well as Leontius’ large estate. Their malicious actions soon forced Athenais to flee to Constantinople, where she sought and obtained the protection of the court. Since Athenais was not only beautiful and smart, but also a virgin, she was deemed to be the perfect match for Theodosius; the only negative was her stoic background. As fate would have it, once Theodosius saw Athenais, an action that took place without her awareness; he was immediately smitten and their marriage soon followed in 421. Athenais quickly absorbed the teachings of Christianity, not a difficult task for they are essentially the same as those taught by stoic philosophers. Her next test was to produce an heir to the throne and this, too, she soon accomplished. Thus, she was ready to become the co-emperor she now is.

Is not Pulcheria concerned about losing control of the throne? asked Proclus.

It is unlikely that Pulcheria will lose much control because Theodosius is more interested in theology, astronomy, and hunting than political affairs, replied Olympiodorus. Athenais, according to her father, is not interested in political matters. To this, add Theodosius’ infatuation with his new bride and the joy they share. Pulcheria’s control is likely to be increased, not diminished.

As the others continued the discussion, my thoughts returned to San Diego. Athenais-like stories were cast in a framework that fostered optimism, while our senses were continually bombarded with reports of murder, rape and incest. Fifth century Greece seemed to promote the positive, which was quite a contrast.

My soul could not resist voicing what I viewed as an appropriate appeal. Papa, you are as well regarded as Leontius. Can you not support a fate similar to that of Athenais for me? Should you not educate me as Leontius did Athenais? Please allow me to join your classes, I pleaded with every bit of the charm I had employed on Professor Mancini.

It would be nice to have a lovely pagan princess available should the occasion allow, suggested Proclus.

I will consider the proposal, reservedly replied Olympiodorus, as he began the day’s lecture. It seems as if the leadership of the Western Roman Empire might be severely compromised. Emperor Honorius of the West is quite sick. Should he die, the fear is that his throne may be usurped by his first minister, John.

But what of Galla Placidia? asked Priscus, who had but recently joined the group.

Galla Placidia’s relationship with the Western Roman Empire has always been intimate: first with the leaders of the Goths and then General Constantius. I am sure she has not given up on her quest to become emperor of the West.

It is my understanding, interjected Proclus, that Galla Placidia and her two children by Constantius are now on their way to Constantinople in search of refuge. Why would she leave Honorius when he appears to be in such need?

Court rumors fly and I believe that her departure can only be attributed to the occurrence of an irreconcilable family quarrel. Love and hate are closely related as we all know, replied Olympiodorus. The fact remains that she seeks asylum for her daughter and two-year-old son, who is the legal successor to the Western empire.

Great, interjected Priscus with the conviction one might reasonably expect from a citizen of Athens. If Honorius dies, Galla Placidia will become regent in the west and both the Western and Eastern Roman Empires will be ruled by women. We are surely doomed. Remember how Ptolemaic Egypt collapsed under the stewardship of Cleopatra?

My soul could not tolerate this insulting inference, so it once again interceded. Women have successfully ruled the world on several occasions.

Priscus, Olympia is certainly correct, and one should not conclude that the rule of women will lead to the collapse of the Roman Empire, replied Proclus, who appeared to be impressed by my show of spirit. In Alexandria, Cleopatra is still revered by many. Only a few Egyptians blame her for Egypt’s demise.

Olympiodorus reentered the discussion, attempting to avoid the issue of matriarchal leadership. There is no question that the empire is now in peril, much as it was during the time of Cleopatra, but this topic must be deferred. If, as has been postulated, the Western empire becomes immersed in yet another civil war of succession, Theodosius must respond with force, or else face the threat of a strong ‘would be’ emperor who is sure to wrest most of the Western empire from the Theodosian dynasty. The pressure on Theodosius continues to mount for he must now regain control of the Western empire, maintain order along the Danube and fight a new war in Persia, all of which will further tax the wealth and manpower of the Eastern empire.

What about help from the west? I asked, trying to stay engaged. Do not the legions garrisoned at Milan remain strong?

Mediolanum is still a strong military center but it must control the barbarians of the north along the Rhine frontier, the Goths in Aquitania, and the Vandals in Spain, as well as squelch the uprisings in Britain. We must not forget that Mediolanum’s location on the open plain makes it especially vulnerable, replied Olympiodorus. Theodosius cannot count on any help from the west. Your use of the colloquial ‘Milan’ is not socially appropriate my daughter, he added, apparently warming to my involvement.

Relieved, I asked, Are we once again at war with the Persians? Had we not joined them in an effort to contain the Huns in the Carpathians?

The way I understand it, replied Priscus, a Christian zealot defaced a pagan temple and destroyed the statue of one of our pagan gods in the Syrian city of Heliopolis or ‘City of the Sun.’ This part of the Levant is rapidly converting to Christianity so it is not unusual that altercations might occur there.

These Christians are getting out of hand, Proclus added. Have you been to Delphi? Many of its temples have been defaced since the shrine was closed by Theodosius the Great in 393 in response to his edict to close all pagan shrines."

Priscus, your version is not the story I heard, but a religious-based altercation was undoubtedly the root cause of this new war with Persia, said Olympiodorus. Proclus, I advise you to be careful what you say about Christians. You may find yourself conscripted and on your way to Ravenna or Syria. Self-appointed Christian police are everywhere.

I will never understand the relationship between this new Theodosian dynasty and the Christians, commented Priscus. Constantine the Great issued an edict in Mediolanum in 309 that only made Christianity a legal, accepted religion. I agree with those who maintain that his subsequent apparent adoption of Christianity was but a clever political move designed to unify the empire.

Remember, Constantine was baptized, added Olympiodorus.

Yes, replied Priscus but that was in 337 and it occurred on his death bed – more than likely an attempt to cover all bets. When the empire was once again divided on Constantine’s death, religious convictions had a lesser impact on the empire. The Christian prelates seem to have preferred to argue issues relating to orthodoxy. Recall, for example, that Constantine’s nephew, Julian the Apostate, was educated along stoic lines and promoted pagan beliefs. Religious convictions seem to have been changed at will.

The reign of Julian the Apostate almost revived paganism, commented Proclus. He would have succeeded had he not been assassinated by one of his own men when on campaign in Persia. He was then only 32 and his reign of two years was hardly enough to reverse the direction allowed by his uncle’s actions. Valens followed Julian as Emperor of the East and he was a confirmed Arian – a heretic belief that Christ must have been part man/part god. This too was probably politically motivated and intended to appease the large number of Arian Goths in his army.

Or the populace, commented Olympiodorus. Regardless, we are now almost despotically controlled by Orthodox Christians led by Pulcheria. Enough speculation, tomorrow’s discussion will have as its focus the philosophy of our Greek ancients and its impact on our beliefs today. We will, in a few days, visit the Pekioke Stoa where we will meet and confer with Empress Eudocia’s father, my close friend and colleague, Leontius.

Totally confused, I left the atrium and joined my mother and sister for breakfast. One thing was clear; the early 5th century was immersed in chaos: political, military, and religious. On the bright side, I seemed to have reached Ted’s proposed destination: the home of Olympiodorus. Now, I must patiently await an understanding of the events and people that dealt with the chaos of the time. I could not help but wonder what the reaction of these 5th century Greeks would be to the wars and disputes that would plague the world in the centuries to come. From what I could see there was no end in sight, then or now. Must we eternally face a setting sun, I wondered?

* * *

The next few days were indeed difficult. Was I living a dream? Each time I closed my eyes, however briefly, I expected to return to San Diego, for I could not accept the transmigration that seemed to have occurred. More than likely my mind, overworked by my studies and the alcohol, was playing tricks on me. I had been exposed to the people I had met that first morning; would they not logically have entered my dreams? If, on the other hand, my soul was actually lodged in the body of a Greek girl who was the daughter of Olympiodorus, I could not have asked for better outcome, assuming that the stay would not be of too long a duration. The experience would certainly facilitate the development of my dissertation.

Slowly, I began to put the pieces of the puzzle in place. The year must be 423 for that was the year Honorius died. The place was obviously Athens and my surrogate father, Olympiodorus, must be the famous historian and diplomat who chronicled the lives of men like Galla Placidia’s husband, Emperor Constantius, and the leader of the Goths, Aleric. He had been ambassador to the court of Aleric when Galla had married Athaulf and subsequently helped negotiate her release after Athaulf’s murder. Priscus was another famous historian who would faithfully fill a similar role and record the history of Attila and the Huns. Olympiodorus would now be in his mid-fifties while Priscus should be in his mid- to late-twenties; at least Ted had taught me something. If my suppositions were true, my exposure and insight would be truly unique, for what my scholarly friends knew about the 5th century was garnered from the meager, often altered, fragments that remained of the extensive writings of these two.

Proclus was well-known and highly regarded both in his time and the centuries that followed. He was the last of the great Neoplatonic philosophers. He would become the head of Plato’s Academy in Athens about 450. He could be approaching twenty.

Dream or transmigrating reality? There appeared to be not much that I could do about it, though I did try on many occasions to awaken from this dream or will my way home as the case might be. I failed in each attempt! Perhaps, I was quite simply not ready.

3. Pekioki (Painted) Stoa

A few days later, my Greek father announced the excursion to the Pekioki Stoa immortalized by the famous philosophers of ancient Greece. I desperately wanted to join the group but realized by now that my gender precluded such a visit. When I appealed to Proclus, he suggested that, if appropriately attired, I might not be noticed in such a large group of students. He did, however, urge me to discuss the plan with my mother. My Greek mother ultimately acceded and even helped me prepare appropriate attire for the trip to the stoa. Mothers were all alike, I concluded.

The next morning I quietly slipped into the group of about twenty as they left the house. I was, however, within a half hour discovered by my papa. I anticipated his anger but not his determination. Fortunately for me, we had reached the city gates and Proclus came to my defense. I had no idea how courageous Proclus’ interposition really was. Priscus later told me that Proclus would have been suspended for his transgressions were he not Olympiodorus’ favorite. Fortunately, my return at this point would have occasioned a delay that could not be tolerated. As Proclus pointed out, I could not return to the house alone because the city outside the walls was far from safe, being haunted by whores, pimps and rogues posing as students. I was allowed to proceed with the group after Proclus and Priscus agreed to keep my gender violation inconspicuous. Yes, I realized that only citizens, an exclusively male set, were allowed in the Stoa, except, of course, for their servant slaves. The fact that three women would soon control the Roman Empire had not altered classical gender mores and these conventions, I knew, would take centuries to change. At any rate, I had not come so far to be shackled by prejudicial customs.

We proceeded through the Dipylon gate and headed towards the Temple of Hephaestus. Proclus and Priscus accompanied me as they had promised, providing a running commentary as we proceeded. My lovely Greek body, not entirely disguised, was decidedly an asset, for Proclus’ interest was obvious. These city walls were built between 480 and 470 BC by an aggressive Athenian statesman named Themistocles, put forward Priscus. As an archon, one of Athen’s elected leaders, he also promoted the development of the Athenian navy and began to enlarge the port of Pireaus. He must have understood nature, for he realized that the defeat of the Persians at Marathon in 490 BC and at Salamis in 480 BC would not insure Athenian invincibility; her power would continue to be challenged. These walls once extended to the port of Pireaus and this allowed access to the sea should Athens be put under siege. The security presumably provided by those city walls was put to an end by the Spartans in 404 BC. Since then, we have too often been the vassal of foreign powers, most notably the Macedonians and Romans. Now what remains of the walls merely divides the city. The military maintains some degree of peace and order within, while chaos rules without. The 5th century BC was our most brilliant and yet unrestrained era. Our route will most assuredly proceed past the Temple of Hephaestus, for it and the view it commands are a favorite of Olympiodorus. He believes it to be the most beautiful temple in the world.

Was this temple not also dedicated to Athena? asked Proclus.

Yes, but it was not uncommon to honor two gods when asking for divine assistance replied Priscus. Athena was, in this case, honored as the goddess of craftsmen, whereas Hephaestus, a son of Zeus and Hera, was not only a craftsman but also the god of craftsmen. So the district we are crossing must, in ancient times, have been an industrial quarter.

The temple is truly beautiful, I remarked.

This temple was built in that tumultuous century when Athens was almost continually at war, commented Priscus remorsefully.

How was that possible? I asked. How could Athenians fund the repulsion of the Persians, hold off a Spartan led alliance and still build the Parthenon and Temples like the Hephaestion?

Much of Athens’ wealth came from the silver mines of Attica, but these temples and monuments were built by Pericles who heavily taxed the city/states of the Delian League. These offended states ultimately revolted as they saw most of their contributions poured into beautifying Athens. Hence, a city/state founded on the most ethical of principles had quickly turned to avarice as a way of life, continued Priscus. The Hephaestion is the product of many years of experimenting with architectural forms. Temple architecture had originally been realized using wood. As iron tools evolved, the temples of the 7th century BC began to use an increasing amount of stone. In Magna Graecia, Paestum and on the island of Corfu, styles and functional aspects quickly evolved into what you see here. By the second half of the 5th century BC, Greek workmanship neared perfection. Observe how the columns are constructed of pieces of stone placed one upon the other. The demarcation lines you see today are a consequence of weathering and 800 years of organically caused decay. These perfectly flat surfaces were attained by placing pieces of marble on a flat surface coated by wet paint and then grinding down the identified high spots until the abutting stones could be perfectly joined without mortar. This workmanship is a defining characteristic of these classical temples.

What amazes me said Proclus is the roof construction. Romans in most cases rely on arches of either stone or brick to create large open spaces.

These ancient Greeks replied Priscus were products of a geometric age and as a consequence not interested in exploring curvilinear shapes. Form took precedence over function. The lintels or stone beams you see were cut from quarried limestone. Each block was tested by superimposing upon it the stones it must support once erected. Thusly, the engineer understood that the piece had no hidden imperfections and could forever serve its intended purpose.

Move along or we will be late, Olympiodorus prodded. You can talk temples when we visit the Parthenon. As for the Hephaestion, I prefer to think of it as a monument which celebrates the exploits of Theseus, a story well known to all Athenians. Obviously, I could not ask that the story be repeated without endangering the secret of my provenance. So, Theseus would have to await another day. This thought resurrected the question of how long I would remain in the 5th century. Could I still be dreaming? When would I be returned to San Diego and reality?

As we descended from the Hephaestion or Thesion, the view of the Acropolis above and the Agora below were truly stunning. I knew then that I must somehow visit the Acropolis and asked Priscus, who seemed a part of Olympiodorus’ school, when we might visit the Parthenon.

Soon I think, he replied, as I recall the visit will be a part of a series of discussions on the birth of the polis or our cities. On that day, we are scheduled to discuss ancient civilizations of the Bronze Age.

Look over there. That is believed to have been the house where Socrates grew up. His father was a craftsman who specialized in masonry and more importantly it is believed that it was here where Socrates met his students, said Proclus.

Imagine, I thought, standing on the very ground so often tread by Socrates and his most famous student Plato. The Acropolis must surely have inspired them. Proclus, please tell us why Socrates is so revered.

Socrates was responsible for planting seeds of wisdom in those who were to follow. He associated knowledge with virtue. Some contend that he returned to man the power of reasoning from the home of the gods where it had languished for centuries. His students placed the cornerstone of many philosophies; maintaining that our activities must be guided by reason and this reasoning should avoid both excess and deficiency, responded Proclus.

So the father of western thought must have had a confidence in the virtue of man that has since been lost, I replied.

That’s the way I see it said Proclus. Plato’s basic definition of virtue and how it is attained is my motive for rejecting Christian doctrine.

It is easy to see why you are pursued by the Christians, commented Priscus. You are clearly headed in opposite directions philosophically – the Christians maintain that man became evil or first sinned when he tasted knowledge, a forbidden fruit; while you believe that knowledge leads to virtue.

Is this not a part of their creation myth? replied Proclus. Christians seemingly accept the basic immorality of man and maintain that his only salvation is through a belief in their god. I think that if you provide a person with a forgiveness process that is based on money and penance, he will soon be convinced of his virtue regardless of his acts. Virtuous deeds appear to have no intrinsic merit. The ‘truly devout’ now become hermits or seek the sanctuary of a monastery. What incentive to contribute to society exists? Perhaps this will change.

What did Socrates believe? I asked.

This is a difficult question to answer, replied Priscus, because most of what we think we know about Socrates comes from the pen of his student Plato, for Socrates followed the oral tradition of his ancients.

To which Proclus added, I believe that Socrates refused to put his thoughts in written form because this would suggest an unwarranted veracity. Can you identify a specific topic? After all, Plato developed Socratic thinking on many subjects.

How about the existence of a god and man’s soul? I quickly proposed.

The two are indeed linked, replied Proclus. Plato, presumably following Socrates, seems to have believed in the existence of both a god and the fact that each of us is endowed with a soul which is immortal. He maintained that the ultimate reality of either is not only unknown but will never be known.

Interesting I thought; this position is probably why the Renaissance church supported Plato’s thinking on most matters and endeavored to show that the teachings of the Renaissance church were consistent with classical philosophies. What about the function of the soul – what was it intended to do? I asked. This was obviously a question of vital interest to me.

Plato, possibly based on what he learned from Socrates, divided the soul into three parts divorcing it entirely from the body, replied Proclus enthusiastically. Roughly defined, these three parts correspond to the functions associated with reason, emotion, and desire. A package that could easily be viewed as immaterial and immortal, one which could travel from one person to another upon death.

Beginning to believe that I knew the answer, I asked, Could not the soul change bodies absent the condition of death?

Plato seems not to have considered this possibility, replied Proclus. One must presume then that Plato was convinced that the nature of man was immutable.

Though I knew that we had lingered too long already, I asked, What about Aristotle? That we had fallen back did not seem to trouble Proclus. Had I aroused his emotions to the extent that they were subverting reason?

Aristotle questioned much of what was passed on to him by his teacher, Plato. His general attitude tended towards that of the stoics, continued Proclus. He did not accept the conclusions of anyone unless they could be either materially or logically verified. In biology, Aristotle believed that natural processes determined the end of all things, not too unusual a conclusion since his father was a noted physician. We must also realize that Aristotle, as a young man, had not only observed the collapse of Athenian democracy, but became involved with Alexander, both as a teacher and advisor. Thus, his view of mankind was possibly not as positive as those of Plato and presumably Socrates. Aristotle, however, followed the classical theme of connecting virtuosity and knowledge, but appended it by relegating those who did not pursue a virtuous life to natural slavery, differentiating natural slavery from the conscripted form.

After skirting the Agora we finally reached the Stoa where we joined Olympiodorus, Leontius and the others. Leontius, the father of Athenais, was as impressive as the stoa or porch upon which he stood. His head supported long curly gray hair that blended into an unkempt beard. His body, though covered by an ample tunic, was slight. His voice was deep and mellow; his attitude grandfatherly. I had to pinch myself to believe I was actually in this place listening to a renowned 5th century philosopher! The Pekioki Stoa was in ruins, but the form and sense of place were still very much alive.

Leontius greeted us warmly and proceeded to explain why he so often chose this spot to speak to his students. "This is the birthplace of Athenian greatness, for it was the chosen meeting place of the great, ancient Greek philosophers. It still is a monument to the accomplishments of our forefathers. Originally, the colonnaded arcade had been adorned by many paintings commemorating Athenian victories. Most prominent, no doubt, was that describing our victory at Marathon over the invading Persians in 490