"Tell me, Gallus," Nero said, peering down his nose. "How did you learn of General Vatinius's secret strategies? Commander Vatinius enjoyed a triumphal entry into Rome after his victory in Germania, and as a reward he was granted command of the legions in Britain, where he is currently employing his strategies again. But how did you learn his secrets?"
Sebastianus felt many eyes on him, including Ulrika's, which were wide and blue and full of question. "All of Colonia speaks of them, sire," Sebastianus said, "for that was how the battle was won. They are no longer secret."
Agrippina leaned forward and said something in her son's ear, upon which his advisors drew in close and a conference was held with much nodding and shaking of gray and white heads.
When Nero's advisors were done, the old men in togas drew back from the sixteen-year-old, whose voice still cracked when he spoke, and Caesar said, "Very well, Sebastianus Gallus, it is our wish that you carry our imperial diploma to China, there to establish an international mission with the ruler of that land. Along the way, you will make allies of monarchs and chieftains, offering them our protection in exchange for small favors. We will send you with gifts for these rulers, to show Roman generosity, and in return you will bring back examples of their resources. We will also send men trained in foreign diplomacy, who will establish political connections along the way. It is our wish that, someday, Roman eagles will protect the entire world."
Nero yawned then, and the captain of the Praetorians quickly stepped forward. Gesturing to his guards, he rounded up the five and escorted them away from the throne. But they were not escorted far. The captain and his guards soon withdrew, vanishing behind a tapestry that hid a door, to leave Sebastianus and his companions standing in the crowded reception hall in speechless silence.
Finally Sebastianus spoke, and there was disbelief in his tone as he said to his companions, "It appears that I have won the China route! Timonides, we will need the most accurate and precise star-charts drawn up. I want to know the most propitious day for departure."
"At once, master," he said. "But I can feel it in my old bones that the reading is going to be very favorable toward you. After tonight's victory, how can it be otherwise?" Timonides could barely contain his joy. The catastrophe that he had expected tonight had not only not occurred, but a wonderful gift had been given to his master instead!
China! Timonides had heard great stories of the food there, the delicacies, the rare treats! A specialty called rice, fluffy and subtle, to be mixed with meat or vegetables, fried or boiled and seasoned to one's own taste. And did not Babylon lie along the route? Timonides had heard of a special dish there that involved crunchy fish fins dipped in sesame oil and wrapped in bread. His paunchy stomach rumbled. He could hardly wait for the journey to begin.
As he took Nestor by the arm to hurry out, Timonides vowed that from now on, he was going to lead an exemplary life. No more falsifying horoscopes, no more lying about the stars for his own personal gain.
Sebastianus said to his chief steward, "Primo, you will need to get started at once recruiting men, as we sail as soon as possible for Antioch."
"Yes, master," the old veteran said with uncharacteristic animation. A military mission! One involving strategy and warfare. His face lit up until he was almost no longer ugly, and his soldier's mind awoke from slumber to begin racing ahead with names, plans, strategies, lists of supplies he would need. He turned on his heel and left.
Sebastianus finally faced Ulrika. "I owe you a tremendous debt," he said, looking at her for a long moment, oblivious of the crowd milling around them, aware only of her nearness. He wanted these people, this colossal hall, all of Rome to vanish and leave him alone with her. "How can I thank you?"
Ulrika could hardly catch her breath as she looked up at him. Sebastianus stood so close, his eyes holding hers, his voice drowning out the din so that the rich tones coming from his throat were all she heard. No one else existed, the world was silent and far away. She wanted to slip into his arms, press her body against his, feel his heat and warmth and reassuring strength.
"You need not thank me," she whispered, thinking: I do not want to be parted from this man. "But I will ask a favor. Just now, you told your steward that you would be departing for Antioch. My mother lived there as a girl, she grew up in the house of Mera the healer woman until she was sixteen years old. Perhaps that is where she and my family went when they fled Rome. I can think of no other place they would go. I need to know that she is safe. And she is the only one who can tell me where to find the Crystal Pools of Shalamandar."
Sebastianus was flooded with relief. He had feared these were his final moments with her, that they would be parting ways in this remarkable hall. "I will gladly take you to Antioch," he said.
As they fell silent then, looking into each other's eyes, thinking of the coming weeks and months together, for Antioch was far away—as Sebastianus thought excitedly about the new adventure he was to begin and the mythical realm that lay at the end of an unknown road, as Ulrika thought of Antioch, the third largest city in the world and home to many gods, many temples and sacred groves where answers were to be found—neither saw Empress Agrippina give covert orders to a slave, who then crossed through the crowd to detain Primo at the door and escort him back to the throne, where he was admitted through a doorway concealed behind a tapestry.
Inside a private chamber where flames flickered in golden lamps, Primo the loyal soldier listened to words that made him go gray-faced and wish he had never been born. For the first time in a life of dedication to duty and following orders without question, Primo the veteran considered running away and making sure he was never found.
"Do you understand your orders?" Empress Agrippina asked sharply.
"Yes, mistress," he said, sick at heart, knowing that his beloved master, Sebastianus Gallus, was at that moment celebrating an empty victory. What Primo the loyal friend had learned was that the new emperor was not a generous benefactor after all, but a very dangerous and deadly enemy.
BOOK FOUR
SYRIA
13
WHEN ULRIKA SAW THE apparition standing behind the innkeeper as he wiped down his stained counter, unaware of the numinous visitation, she set aside her cup of warm wine, settled back in the chair, turned a deaf ear to the soft voices in the tavern, and concentrated on slowing her respirations.
In the weeks since discovering, in Nero's audience chamber, that controlling her lungs brought her closer to controlling her visions, Ulrika had practiced what she thought of as "conscious breathing." It had taken her several tries—twice more in Rome, three times on the ship crossing the Great Green, and once prior to this evening in an Antioch street—to learn that not only must she breathe slowly, but in a measured cadence, drawing air through her nose, expelling it through her mouth.
And so now she inhaled the aromas of the tavern on this late, rainy night—the smells of stale beer, roasted lamb, smoke from the fireplace where flames roared and kept out the winter cold—and as she withdrew into herself and grew calm, she sent a silent voice across the smoky room, across the supernatural ethers, and said, "Who are you? What is it you wish me to do?"