Call to Juno (Tales of Ancient Rome #3)(6)
“Do you also wish to dispense with the auspices for your coronation?”
Caecilia tensed, frightened Vel would continue to act rashly. She squeezed his arm to warn him to temper his words. He frowned at his wife’s surreptitious warning.
“No, the people would fret if such a ceremony was not conducted.”
Tanchvil pursed her lips. “Then I’ll direct my acolytes to prepare. We’ll sacrifice six white cows to Uni, and I’ll determine the will of the gods.”
Tarchon walked across to the altar table and examined the ceremonial paterae dishes and pitchers of wine, the bowls of flour and sharp sacrificial knives. “I’m looking forward to seeing your skill as a haruspex, Lady Tanchvil.”
“I don’t examine the livers of animals for divination, Lord Tarchon. I’m an augur who reads patterns of flight, or listens to the call of birds.”
She clapped her strong sinewy hands. A young cepen priest entered the chamber from the workroom. Caecilia gasped to see an enormous golden eagle on his arm, head hooded, legs tethered. He settled the bird onto a stand. Tanchvil moved across to the creature, murmuring to it and stroking its wings.
“Antar is the instrument of my augury. He’s wondrous.”
The sight of the raptor, so wild and yet so docile, intrigued Caecilia. She could not wait to see how this woman would predict the future from the journey of this most majestic of birds.
Absorbed in studying the eagle, it took a moment for the queen to notice the female acolyte who had entered the room carrying a shallow patera of oil. There was something familiar about her, with her ringlets of black hair. The girl kept her head lowered, avoiding her gaze. Caecilia blinked as she recognized her. It was Aricia, her maid Cytheris’s daughter. She’d tried to help Artile abduct Tas. All believed she’d escaped with the priest. Clearly she’d suffered her own type of betrayal. Caecilia stiffened, anger welling in her, her hands shaking. She was about to accost the girl, but before she could say anything Tanchvil gave the acolyte an order. Aricia limped back into the workroom.
Caecilia wanted to challenge the high priestess about her novice, but Mastarna extended his arm to her, distracting her. “It’s time to meet our people.”
The queen nodded. There would be time later to make inquiries about Aricia. Swallowing her nerves, she walked to the portico and down into the sanctuary. A crowd had assembled around the podium and altar. A crowd who’d always resented her.
The eagle rested on the gauntlet covering Tanchvil’s forearm. Caecilia sensed the creature’s power—how his talons gripped the leather, the cruel curved beak, and the potential of his folded wings. It was the bird of Tinia, king of the gods. In Rome, Jupiter held it dear. The raptor could ascend above the storm and carry the soul of the mighty into the presence of the divine. Today, the priestess would send him forth to become the messenger of the gods.
Antar shifted, causing the holy woman to brace herself to bear his weight. The bells on his hood jingled. He was impatient to be free.
Tanchvil carefully removed the hood. The eagle’s head and breast were flecked with gold, his dark plumage shiny. If he chose to flap his enormous wings he could break free even before his mistress had loosened the leather restraints. And what was to prevent him from turning and ripping her face with his beak?
The hatrencu lifted her arm to send Antar skyward. Caecilia felt the swish of air as the eagle rose, his pinions extended, seeking the thermals. Holding her breath, she waited to see to which quadrant of the heavens he would fly. His wings stretched in perfect symmetry; the raptor spiraled higher, gliding over the southeast of the city before heading northeast. Then he hovered for a moment before diving and swooping upward again.
Tanchvil raised her arm and called to the eagle. The priestess’s cry was piercing, mimicking that of the bird. The winged herald circled, then flew with great arcing flaps to thump down once again upon his mistress’s sheathed arm.
“Antar was summoned by Laran, the god of war, but then headed toward Uni’s realm. The war will continue, but Veii’s mother will continue to protect us.”
The throng was quiet. Caecilia knew they’d hoped Uni would decree that Veii would once again be free.
Mastarna’s expression was brooding beneath the crimson paint as he considered his response. Tanchvil once again hooded the bird’s eyes.
Taking a deep breath, Caecilia stepped forward to the edge of the podium. She hoped her voice would be loud enough. She could feel the eyes of the people studying her as they surrounded her. She was used to their scrutiny—sometimes bearing their suspicion and distrust. Sometimes admiring her for bearing the general so many sons. “My people, do not be disheartened there has been no sign our enemy will yield.”
Mastarna encircled her waist with his arm. There was surprise in his voice. “Thank you, Bellatrix, I will speak now.”
“No, I haven’t finished, Vel.” She inhaled deeply again, her nerves settling. People were shifting and jostling to get a better look. Their faces were tired and gaunt.
“Ten years ago the generals of Rome married me to Vel Mastarna against my will. My uncle, Aemilius Mamercus, was numbered among them.”
There were no catcalls. Confidence eased through her. She was amazed her voice carried across the sanctuary. She stepped from Vel and pivoted in a circle, ensuring everyone surrounding the podium could see and hear her.