"Sebastianus," Ulrika said. "Primo told us that he said in his report to Nero you went to Judea to find hidden treasure. You need only appear at the entrance and give them your name. If Nero is truly desperate for money, he will have you brought into his presence at once."
"But you have nothing to give him," Timonides protested. "I have seen the visitors arriving at the palace. They bring fantastic gifts for Caesar. You will not be allowed to enter empty-handed."
Sebastianus smiled. "But I do have a gift for Caesar. A very rare and unique gift that only I can give."
Timonides wrinkled his nose. "What might that be?"
"You yourself gave me the idea, old friend, in something you just now said. But we must hurry."
They went first to an inn, where they bathed and changed into clothes Timonides purchased for them in the marketplace—Sebastianus would not have Ulrika and himself arrive before the emperor in anything less than the finest garments. Ulrika wore a dress of several layers, all the shades of a sunrise, with a daffodil-colored veil that went from the crown of her head to her feet, and draped artfully over her right arm. Sebastianus donned a black knee-length tunic edged with gold embroidery, and a matching black toga draped over his broad shoulders and arms. Adding new sandals that laced up the calves, and expensive belts made from the softest kid leather, Sebastianus was satisfied that he and Ulrika made an elegant couple, aristocratic enough to pass the scrutiny of any palace steward or chamberlain. And now that Timonides had regained all health lost in China, and wore clean white robes that set off his handsome flowing white hair, he made for a fine servant to the patrician couple.
Before they left the inn, Sebastianus took Ulrika's face in his hands and kissed her on the lips. "Whatever happens today, my love, remember that I will always love you. Wherever destiny takes us from this day forward, I will carry you forever in my heart. Now listen to me. Let me do the talking. Say nothing to Caesar. Do not try to defend yourself. I will find a way to exonerate you of the charge of witchcraft. Above all, do not divulge to Nero your gift, for he will want to keep you for himself. They say he has become obsessed with the gods and knowing the future. Ulrika, if he learns of your spiritual gift, you will be kept a prisoner in the palace, and Nero will torment you with his insanity. Promise me you will say nothing."
"Sebastianus, what is your gift for Caesar? He has taken everything. We are left with nothing except the clothes we wear."
"Do not fear, my love. From what I have learned of our emperor, it is something he will not be able to resist."
It was a short walk to the Forum and the base of the Palatine Hill, but the way was crowded with onlookers lining the wide avenue to gawk at the visitors who continually arrived in the hopes of an audience with the emperor. But Sebastianus managed to get himself and his two companions through the maze of stewards and chamberlains, and finally into the palace itself.
The waiting hall outside the imperial audience chamber was so crammed with people and animals it was nearly impossible to make one's way through. Visitors hoping to impress Nero had brought extravagant and fabulous gifts, filling the colonnaded hall with a colorful spectacle of comically dressed midgets on golden leashes; dance troupes with drums and torches; trained dogs dressed as lions and tigers; enormous chests brimming with rare bird plumage and animal pelts; statues carved in the likeness of the emperor. A staff of imperious chamberlains, dressed in impressive long blue tunics embroidered with silver threads, saw to the sorting of the guests. The hall was filled with the dull roar of many voices mingling with the peculiar barks and howls and squawks of the exotic animals that were waiting to be presented to the emperor. The chamberlains checked rosters of names—those invited and those to be banned. Sebastianus Gallus and Ulrika were on neither list.
The fat steward who had the final say-so at the enormous double doors looked them up and down. He held a tall ebony walking staff tipped with gold, intended to be rapped on the floor for attention. "You say you have a gift for Caesar? You do not appear to be carrying anything."
"It is for Caesar's eyes only," Sebastianus said.
The man waited, sucked a tooth, shifted his heavy staff to the other hand.
"I will not bribe you," Sebastianus said. "I will simply send word to Caesar that, due to the negligence and greed of a certain steward identified by a raspberry mark on his neck, one of Caesar's oldest and dearest friends was kept from presenting him with a prize above all others."
The chamberlain met Sebastianus's eye with the air of one who had faced many an arrogant, and threatening, visitor to the palace.
"And you are to personally escort us," Sebastianus added.
The chamberlain's brow arched in frank surprise. He sucked his teeth again, taking the measure of the unusual trio, then he said, "I think I shall call a guard instead. I see no gift for Caesar. Especially none more valuable than any of these," and he gestured toward thirty African slaves bearing massive elephant tusks on their shoulders.
"Apparently," Sebastianus said calmly, "you enjoy a special intimacy with our emperor to know what he would prize above all else."
Sebastianus kept his eyes on the chamberlain, who met his gaze for a moment, and then he faltered, looking away, clearing his throat until he said, "Come this way."
Going through a smaller door, they followed the chamberlain into the audience hall, remembered from ten years prior, and joined a cacophonous press of colorful humanity. Nero's guests were mostly from the Roman patrician class, judging by their elegant gowns and togas, and the ladies' hairdos, which seemed to compete for height and number of curls. They stood about murmuring amongst themselves, turned every now and then when a foreign guest was admitted, and ogled the gifts laid at Nero's feet. Young slaves in pale-blue and silver tunics moved among the guests with platters bearing cups of wine, or tasty treats such as roasted sparrows and figs dipped in honey.
Ulrika was flung back to the last time she had stood in this hall, ten years prior. She recalled seeing the same apparition that had appeared to her in the countryside when she was twelve—a woman running with her mouth wide in a silent scream, her arms and hands covered in blood. Ulrika had not known why the vision had appeared to her in this audience chamber, and she still did not know. But should it happen again, this time she would have control of the vision and learn its meaning.
The crowd was dense, so Sebastianus allowed Timonides and Ulrika to go first as they followed the chamberlain, with Sebastianus behind them, shielding them from elbows and feet. Ulrika tried to glimpse the emperor at the other end of the domed chamber, but she could not see him over the heads of so many.
One personage, however, caught her eye.
The Vestal Virgins were priestesses of Vesta, goddess of the hearth, and Rome's patron goddess and protector. The Vestals were freed of the usual social obligations to marry and rear children, and took a vow of chastity in order to devote themselves to the guardianship of the sacred flames of Vesta, seeing that they never burned out. The Chief Vestal, who had caught Ulrika's eye, sat on a high throne surrounded by handmaidens and wore a stunning gown of many layers in colors of blue, aquamarine, and peridot green. She was the most powerful priestess in Rome and was always seen at important events, at chariot races, or being carried through Rome in her private chair on important business.