11

Agrippa and his small band of men rode south to Krimissa and to the temple of Apollo, dedicated in the time of Troy by the warrior Philoctetes. All of Italy was founded on myth, and when Nicolaus had told him the tale of what this place concealed, he’d nodded in recognition. He knew the story. It was part of the living and proud history of Rome, like the hut of Romulus.

Nicolaus was not with Agrippa’s group. With a sword, the historian would be a danger to no one but himself. Instead, Agrippa had left him to watch over Augustus, enlisting the seiðkona as well. All that was necessary was that Augustus stay in the residence. The emperor was weakened by the potion he insisted on consuming. It would take little effort, even for a scholar and an ancient, to keep him stationary.

Agrippa held out little hope that anyone could keep Chrysate away from Augustus, but he hoped that Augustus might be tantalized by the historian introduced as a new biographer. The emperor fancied himself a writer of some skill, though he typically wrote only rhymes. Agrippa smiled in spite of himself, thinking of it as they rode around a promontory. He felt better, now that he was out of Rome. He was doing something about the problem. Never mind that he was the only one who was. At least Cleopatra was no longer under Chrysate’s control. The room she was jailed in was lined at every seam with silver, and the box she was inside was wrapped in silver chain. Agrippa’s most trusted men guarded it.

The Psylli had come to him before he left, and asked to go with him to Krimissa, but even after the battle at the Circus Maximus, he was no Roman soldier. Usem could not possibly be as well trained as Agrippa’s own men, and he did not seem likely to follow orders. Agrippa had left him, instead, guarding the silver room. If Chrysate tried to use magic, Usem would know it.

At last, the temple was in view, and Agrippa’s smile faded.

From below, the building shone in the late-afternoon sun, placed at the top of a spiraling cliff and nearly inaccessible by road. Agrippa looked up at it, nervous.

It was what he wanted, though, he could not deny that. He’d prayed for a solution, and the historian had given it to him.

Agrippa directed his company to wait for nightfall, and when it was fully dark, they rode hooded up the hillside, approaching the temple from the rear. The horses had to place their muffled hooves carefully, and a journey that under better conditions should have taken but a few minutes took well over an hour. The darkness was well used, however. Agrippa did not wish the temple’s inhabitants to have advance warning of the soldiers’ approach.

He hoped to do things peacefully, but he did not expect this would be the case.

The temple guarded a prize, or so Nicolaus swore. Weapons that would kill an immortal, that would fight against magic. They would be fatal to Cleopatra as well as to Chrysate. Chaos to fight chaos.