Queen of Kings - Maria Dahvana Headley [120]
“Usem told me that there is a plague,” Augustus interrupted. “All over Italy. Everywhere but Rome.”
“There are always plagues,” Agrippa replied. “It’s summer.”
“The plague comes from Cleopatra’s vengeance. She’s missing,” Augustus insisted. “And Chrysate has done something monstrous—” But even as he said it, Chrysate appeared behind him, opening the curtains of his bed.
“She does not seem to be missing,” Agrippa said. “Did you forget who shared your bed?”
Augustus was terrified. She had not been there. Had she? Had he gone mad? She was wearing only a flimsy silk gown, and he could see everything through it. Her hair was still wet from the cauldron.
“I am here,” Chrysate said. “I have been with you all night, as you should certainly know. If Cleopatra is missing, you are the one who has charge of her. Your guards guard her.”
Augustus nearly screamed. He could not understand what was happening. He felt dizzy, and his slippers were still soaked in blood. He held one out to show Agrippa, and for a moment, the general looked startled.
“The kitchen slaughtered a chicken and made a soup for me,” Chrysate said. “He tread in the blood. Do you not remember, Augustus? You are not well. If I were you, I would summon a physician.”
She spun on her heel, leaving the room.
The general’s lip curled in disgust.
“If you’re looking for a creature who might cause a plague, I suggest you look into your own bed. You might look to your witch.”
“I am looking to her! You must go out and fight this plague!” Augustus insisted.
Agrippa slammed his fists on Augustus’s desk, tipping the theriac over.
“I AM A SOLDIER!” he shouted. “I wage war against men, not gods! Not Fates! Not witches! Not curses invented by drunkards! You sit here in your study, drinking your potion and wallowing in your fears. Your uncle would be ashamed of you. You do not rule. You rave!”
Augustus sputtered, stunned. Agrippa had never spoken so to him.
“How dare you?” he managed. “I will have you crucified!”
“I speak as your friend. There are threats out there. There are threats in here! Real threats. I will fight them for you, but you cannot ask me to fight the invisible. There are rumors in the streets that you’ve gone mad, and prophecies that Rome is cursed and doomed. I delivered them to you a week ago, and have you read them? You have not. What have you done? You stay here all day and all night with your witch and your drug. Your power grows weaker every day.”
Agrippa paused, breathing heavily.
“I am done,” he said. “Do what you will with me, but do something!”
“Get out of my sight,” Augustus screamed. “I am governing Rome! You have no idea what I do!”
“With pleasure. I have a city to defend.” Agrippa smacked his hand against the theriac, and the bottle sprayed across the room. “If you care anything for that city, I suggest you stop drinking this poison. It makes you blind.”
He slammed the door as he left.
Augustus’s heart raced, his brain straining at the base of his skull. A blazing light began to flash and rotate before him, like a sun newborn in the confines of his room. His eyes rolled backward, and the lioness approached him in the crimson darkness, her golden eyes slitted, her breasts bared, and her fingers placed on a bowstring. She looked at him with such knowing. Such understanding. She was the only one who knew what he had been through.
He should give himself to her, that was it. He should give Rome to her—He heard himself shout, and his eyes flew open. He dunked his head in a basin of cool water, raising his face from the liquid only when it felt that he might drown. In the polished glass above the basin, he saw his pallor, and a thin thread of blood trickling from his nose onto his lips.
He was losing himself.
Augustus sat down carefully, his legs shaking. Was Agrippa right? And the Psylli? He’d said the same thing.
He stood and went to the sword that hung above his mantel. He took it from the wall and swung it experimentally. It had been years since he’d