‘O Great Astrampsychus of Cunaxa: Will my son gain admittance to the Corps of Notaries this year?’
Castus could see what was happening now: those in the crowd who wished to ask a question wrote it upon a shard of pottery and passed it to the assistant with the crooked leg, along with a coin. The magician, after standing for a moment with his eerie mask gazing out over the crowd, began muttering his incantations.
‘CHAOR CHTHOR CHARABARAX IAO! Wake demons, wake spirits! Bring me truths, I adjure you…’
The assistant tossed a bundle of herbs and feathers onto the fire, and Astrampsychus stooped again into the smoke. The youth whirled his roarer, and the noise boomed out between the pillars.
‘You have placed your faith in unworthy men!’ the magician cried, reeling back from the smoke. ‘You have wasted your riches. False promises bring no reward…’
A groan went up from the crowd, and Castus saw a matronly-looking woman hunch her shoulders and cover her face. Now that he had grown used to the dull glow in the chamber, he could better distinguish the people in the crowd. Most looked quite wealthy, for all their drab costumes. Then, as he scanned the back of the room, he saw the round bald head and bulky Maximian’s steward.
The assistant was holding another shard of pottery now, tilting it to read the scratched words by the light of a lamp. His mouth fell open. Astrampsychus, jolted momentarily from his trance, snapped his fingers at the man.
‘Next question!’ he hissed.
‘I… I don’t know…’ the little man stuttered. The blank white dog-mask turned in his direction. ‘O Great Astrampsychus of Cunaxa,’ the assistant read in his cracked and wavering voice, ‘the question is: Who will be our next emperor?’
A collective gasp filled the room. Castus flicked his eyes to the crowd and saw the ripple of shock, people shuffling and edging back towards the door, others glancing at those beside them in suspicion. To ask any question about the fate of emperors was outright treason.
Castus pressed his shoulder into the alcove, turning his body so that he could watch the crowd without the light from the altar fire dazzling his eyes. He had seen enough of Astrampsychus and his rituals: the reaction of the people filling the room was of greater interest to him now. A hush had fallen, and the lamps seemed to flare up and burn a little brighter. At the back of the room, the eunuch Gorgonius had not moved.
The roaring noise again, and the crackle of the altar fire. The stink of burning filled the shadows.
‘I see letters forming in the smoke!’ the magician intoned.
Castus saw the crowd move forward again. In the lamplight he saw faces raised, mouths open in anticipation. He saw Sabina craning to see over the people in front, her eyes gleaming. Then his gaze fell on another figure, near the first row: a woman, with a deep hood covering her face.
‘I see… M…’
More gasps, and what sounded like a stifled giggle. Somewhere near the back, a woman was quietly sobbing.
‘I see… A…’
This time there were loud cries. Several people in the crowd were scrambling to their feet, hands raised as if to catch the treasonous words in the air.
‘I see… X…’
‘Enough!’ a man shouted, surging up and shoving his way through the throng. Castus thought he might be one of the Praetorian tribunes from the palace. Screaming women pushed themselves away from him. The man had a sword in his hand. ‘Enough! This is treason!’
Damp air rushed suddenly through the chamber, and the lamp flames twisted and died. Utter blackness: Castus scraped his head on the alcove as he dragged himself backwards. The noise of screaming echoed beneath the low ceiling, and already there were figures bursting through the doorway from the inner chamber, rushing in panic towards the steps that led from the tomb.
Reaching blindly along the wall, Castus found the edge of the door and hauled himself around it. A body slammed against him and he punched it aside. Two more, trying to push him back, and he barged between them with arms outstretched. He thought he had memorised the layout of the larger chamber, but now all was darkness and for a moment he was lost in the tumult, bodies shoving him from both sides, a wild confusion of sweat and echoing screams.
He reached the far wall, and heard her voice to his left. His hand caught her shoulder and he pulled her close; she fought against him, panicking.
‘It’s me,’ he said, wrapping his arms around her. ‘It’s me. Stay close behind me and we’ll get out of here.’
Somebody sprawled against his legs and he almost tripped; there were cries from the darkness, and he heard the rasp of a blade striking stone. Sabina was pressed against his back now, clasping his shoulders, and he pushed himself forward into the struggling mass that surged towards the door.
The night air was like a tonic, and they ran between the broken tombs feeling the oppressive weight of darkness sloughing off them. Sabina was still trembling, but gulping back laughter. She came to a halt, bracing herself against a crumbling wall.
‘Praise be to Isis! Praise be to Isis!’ She grinned, hands raised to the sky. ‘I thought I would die in there… Thank you…’ She stepped towards Castus and embraced him, pressing herself against his chest. ‘Thank you for coming back for me.’
‘Did you get to ask your question?’
‘Yes!’ she said, raising her head. ‘It was one of the first he answered. I asked what the fate of my husband would be, and he said…’ She pursed her lips, remembering. ‘He said: All will be given to those who are worthy; all will be taken from those who are not. What could that mean, do you think?’
‘I think it means the Great Astrampsychus is a very clever man,’ he said. He was all too aware of her body close against his, her arms still lightly draped over his shoulders. ‘Plenty of wealthy people in that room. Plenty of gold coins too. I’d bet that if we went back there now we’d find Astrampsychus and his mates crawling about on their hands and knees, collecting up a good sum off the floor.’
‘Do you think?’ Sabina said, and looked mildly offended for a moment. Then she laughed again and swatted lightly at his shoulder. ‘How unexpectedly cynical of you!’
‘I also think it means we should find the carriage and get back to the palace as soon as we can, before anyone notices we’re gone.’
They took the straight way back to the city, out through the fringe of the necropolis and onto the main road that led towards the Mogontiacum gate. In the back of the carriage Castus sat with Sabina clasped to his side; it was all too soon that the wheels slowed beneath them, he heard the driver calling out, and he leaned from the carriage to see the massive buttressed towers and double arched portals of the gateway looming in the torchlight. He spoke to the sentries himself: he was past caring whether any of them identified him now, and they would be seeing plenty of travellers that night far more exalted than he.
On the paved streets of the city the carriage jolted and rolled. A short ride, a turning, and they were drawing to a halt outside the stable gate of the palace once more. Castus made to get out, but Sabina clasped his arm. The faint light of a torch showed through the gap in the carriage curtain. She looked at him for a moment.
‘You’re very ugly, aren’t you?’ she said.
‘And this is why you choose to trust me?’
‘You have kind eyes,’ she said. ‘Sometimes.’
Then her arms were around him, her lips pressed against his, and the carriage creaked and swayed as he embraced her.
* * *
It was past midnight as he stepped back through the gateway to the precinct of the Protectores. The watch had just changed, and Victor was standing guard.
‘Have you heard the news?’ the young man said. Castus could hear the sour disappointment in his voice. He shook his head.