Queen of Kings - Maria Dahvana Headley [114]
The company made a sign against witchcraft. Antony had been their idol, and then he had betrayed them. It would be a comfort if that had not been his fault. It would be a comfort if, in fact, Augustus, who was known to be no warrior, who had fled several battlefields, turned out to be a liar. Stranger things had happened in the history of Rome.
The commander read the rest of the prophecy.
“And thee, the stately, shall the encircling tomb receive, for he, the Roman king, shall place thee there, though thee be still amongst the living. Though thy life is gone, there will be something immortal living within thee. Though thy soul is gone, thy anger will remain, and thy vengeance will rise and destroy the cities of the Roman king.”
He put the scroll down, his face grim.
“In Alexandria, I was with the emperor when we went into the mausoleum. The queen’s body was not there, though we had carried it to the pyre and chained it in place three days earlier. We thought it had been stolen, but the emperor went pale. This prophecy says she lives, and I believe it. The prophecy says that Augustus has inflamed her wrath—”
“It doesn’t say Augustus,” one of the men interrupted.
“Destroy the cities of the Roman king,” the commander said. “There is a plague, or haven’t you heard? Everywhere but Rome. She is saving Rome for last.”
The men stared into their campfire, sobered.
“Perhaps she saves Rome for something worse than plague,” said the young legionary who had guarded Cleopatra.
Elsewhere in the new texts, the oracles implied that a return to the republic would save Rome. Messages began to be exchanged, from end to end of the country, from legion to legion, from commander to commander. Soon, the senators and their emissaries traveled to these distant legions, soliciting their support, working their way through country villages and ports, where the rumor of the emperor’s misdeeds had already spread.
The new Sibylline prophecies did as the senators hoped they would.
An army constructed of legions that had once been loyal to Antony, and of legions that were commanded by allies of the seceding senators, began to rise.
6
Augustus sat in his chamber, staring out the window at the strange glow that remained on the horizon even in the dark. The night was live with shooting stars, and watching them cross the sky, and cross again, Augustus felt an irrational terror. He had been awake too long, sitting at the window too long. Marcus Agrippa had stayed away from his chambers since the battle at the Circus Maximus, and lately, his only company had been the priestess.
Chrysate practiced spells of binding, spells which, she told him, would serve to keep the queen under her power, but for now, it was best to keep the box under Roman guard, in the silver-lined room.
Augustus trusted Chrysate. Though perhaps not entirely. Strangely scented smoke trailed down the hallway, and when Chrysate kissed him, her hair smelled of burning balsam and damp sand, of honey and cinnamon. The smell reminded him of Egypt’s tombs.
They had won, he told himself, but Augustus still could not sleep. He thought of Cleopatra slithering inside the silver box, twisting and looping around herself, and Antony, his eyes burning embers. Every night, he stared at the paintings on his ceiling, fearful of things he could not name. The fireball he’d seen streaking across the heavens, perhaps. The roars that still shook Rome. His servants called them thunder, but he knew better.
There were petitioners and senators, armies and advisors, and all of them demanded his attention. On the table beside him was a tall stack of oracular prophecies, discovered in a cave and newly unrolled from amphorae, along with a message from Agrippa stating that they must be read.
Augustus did not feel like reading.
Augustus had even summoned his favorite poet Virgil from Campania, but the man failed to bring him rest. Nothing Virgil said, no matter the beauty of the