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Chapters (76)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. I
  4. II
  5. III
  6. I - INVADER AD 43-70
  7. I
  8. II
  9. III
  10. IV
  11. V
  12. VI
  13. VII
  14. VIII
  15. IX
  16. X
  17. XI
  18. XII
  19. XIII
  20. XIV
  21. XV
  22. XVI
  23. XVII
  24. XVIII
  25. XIX
  26. XX
  27. XXI
  28. XXII
  29. XXIII
  30. XXIV
  31. XXV
  32. XXVI
  33. II - BUILDER AD 122-138
  34. I
  35. II
  36. III
  37. IV
  38. V
  39. VI
  40. VII
  41. VIII
  42. IX
  43. X
  44. XI
  45. XII
  46. XIII
  47. XIV
  48. XV
  49. XVI
  50. XVII
  51. XVIII
  52. XIX
  53. XX
  54. XXI
  55. III - EMPEROR AD 314—337
  56. I
  57. II
  58. III
  59. IV
  60. V
  61. VI
  62. VII
  63. VIII
  64. IX
  65. X
  66. XI
  67. XII
  68. XIII
  69. XIV
  70. XV
  71. EPILOGUE
  72. I
  73. II
  74. III
  75. IV
  76. Afterword

But you are wrong, Agrippina thought, her heart sinking.

XXI

XXI

‘A prophecy? How very interesting. What prophecy?’

Nectovelin glared.

‘Search him, Vespasian.’

Vespasian called a guard to help him. It took only a moment for the leather document wallet to be placed in Claudius’s hands.

Claudius fingered the wallet gingerly, his face pinched. ‘It smells as if it has been strapped to a horse.’ But he loosened its ties, extracted the parchment, and unfolded it. He carried it over to a lamp for better light, and squinted. Then he picked up a little wire frame mounted with two lenses, and held it before his eyes.

Agrippina gasped, thinking of another Prophecy phrase - a man will come with eyes of glass. Somehow, was it all coming true?

Nectovelin looked at her suspiciously.

‘Well, well,’ Claudius said. ‘A British prophecy written out in Latin - and quite good Latin at that. Tell me how this came to be.’ When Nectovelin did not reply the Emperor took off his ‘eyes of glass’ and turned on him. ‘You do understand that all that is keeping you alive is my curiosity.’

Nectovelin seemed to be shaking with rage. Agrippina understood that to him the Prophecy was an amulet, its magical powers independent of whatever its words actually said - and now, in this moment of ultimate failure, he was having to endure those words being read by a stranger, an enemy. But he made himself recount the story of his birth: the Latin chatter of his mother in labour, how her words had been transcribed by Agrippina’s grandfather.

Claudius eyed Agrippina. ‘So it’s a family matter. And when was this? How old are you, man?’

Nectovelin gave his age: forty-seven summers.

‘Forty-seven, forty-seven ...’ Claudius went to his desk and began pawing through scrolls. ‘Something is in the back of my mind. What else was significant about that date? We Romans are partial to a good prophecy, you know,’ he said, lecturing the party of rebel Britons and tense soldiers, while casually facing the other way. ‘You can see the appeal. We mortals fumble our way through the mist of events like men in blindfolds. How marvellous it would be to glimpse the future clearly - or even the past! We Romans have our own prophetic books ...’

The Sibylline Books had been a gift to a king of Rome by a sorceress called the Sibyl. The Books foretold the entire future of Rome, so the sorceress said.

‘Sadly the Books were destroyed in a fire more than a century ago. But a collection of fresh oracles has since been gathered from shrines around the world, and housed in the temple of Apollo on the Palatine since the time of the deified Augustus. Perhaps this new oracle will find a place in that strange library - what do you think? ...