The Temple of the Muses(50)

“If the streets are so crowded,” Rufus said, “these land-going triremes are going to take hours just to get to the Rakhotis.” He should have known that would be taken care of.

When Berenice’s party arrived, it was preceded by a flying wedge of a hundred Macedonian soldiers to help ease its passage. The men were dressed in the flashing bronze armor and towering scarlet plumes of the Palace guard. Behind them came Berenice’s massive palanquin containing her personal favorites, including Julia and Fausta, a horde of slaves, dwarfs and dancers, plus numerous hissing cheetahs and frolicking baboons.

“I am so happy you have decided to join us!” Berenice yelled over the noise. “Just fall in behind my conveyance. The others will make room for you.”

We did as directed, and the riders in the two other litters looked annoyed at being thus separated from their deity. I got a particularly ferocious glare from Achillas, who rode in the second litter. I was not surprised to see him there. Then, amid a shrilling of flutes and a pounding of drums, the twang of harps and the rattle of sistra, we were off.

Even with the soldiery clearing the way, our progress through the streets of Alexandria was leisurely. Densely packed mobs can get out of the way only so fast. From the Palace we took the Street of Argeus south to the Canopic Way, where we turned west like a line of warships veering into harbor on a still day. The crowds cheered us and sang praises to Berenice even as the soldiers’ spears poked them out of our path. Flowers showered us, for everyone seemed to be wearing garlands. A good many were also draped with snakes, which I was grateful they did not throw at us.

“It’s shaping up to be a lively day,” Rufus said, his head now sporting a rose wreath.

“Things must be getting really raucous at the temple,” I said, holding out my cup, which Hermes promptly filled.

“At this rate we may miss the statue speaking,” said one of the staff.

“Have no fear,” I told him. “That god is not going to speak until the princess and all the most important dignitaries are present.”

“If this god has such a regard for royalty,” Rufus said, “why does he operate through a greasy little Asiatic prophet?”

“Alien gods are strange, are they not?” I agreed. “Our gods make their will known through omens sent to the augurs: an orderly and sensible system. Asian deities are altogether an emotional and irrational lot. They depend much on enthusiasm, oblique utterances and coincidence. Although sometimes those coincidences can turn out to be convenient for certain parties.”

“Eh?” Rufus said. “You’re babbling again, Decius.”

“I’ll make you a little wager,” I said. “Five hundred denarii says this god is about to predict a sudden shift in Egyptian-Roman relations.”

“You know something, Decius,” he said. “You can’t fool me. You bet on chariots and gladiators because you fancy yourself an expert. You wouldn’t offer a wager like that if you weren’t privy to some inside information. What is it? Have you been seeing one of those priestesses for a bit of clandestine flagellation?”

“Not at all,” I said, my dignity offended. “I have arrived at this conclusion through a process of deduction.” They all laughed and hooted at me.

“You’ve been hanging out with those old philosophers too much, Metellus,” one of them said. “You’ve begun to fancy yourself one of them. Deduction, indeed!”

“And,” I went on, ignoring them, “I want you all to testify to Creticus that I predicted it beforehand. He’ll think I made it all up afterwards, otherwise.”

“You’ve delved too deep into the wine, Decius,” Rufus insisted. The rest of them agreed loudly, pelting me with some of the rose blossoms that littered the palanquin.

“Then,” I said through my teeth, scenting blood, “you won’t all mind betting me five hundred denarii that I’m wrong.”

That gave them pause, but Rufus assented and the others, not wishing to appear timid, one by one agreed to the wager. Hermes leaned forward and refilled my cup.

“Where are you going to get twenty-five hundred denarii?” he muttered in my ear.

“Have no fear. Just start planning how you’re going to steal it from me.”

As we passed the Great Serapeum we saw the crowds backed up on its steps, so dense was the crush in that part of town. This, I thought, was the result of more than a sudden, flying rumor. Some real advance planning had gone into getting this mob assembled here on this day. The whole polyglot fabric of Alexandria was there, people of every nation present to enjoy the spectacle, but there was a huge majority of native Egyptians, more even than one would expect of a district like the Rakhotis. Most looked like peasants out of the fields, but there were a good many townsmen of the merchant, artisan and scribe classes. The only group that seemed conspicuously absent were the priests of the traditional gods, although some might have been present in disguise, which for an Egyptian priest consisted of doffing his leopard-skin cape and donning a wig.