The Nero Prediction (35 page)

“It was. She calculated the birth time of someone whose stars would bring her what she wanted. Your stars.”

I was so puffed up that I actually had to fight the impulse to tell him he’d been taken in by a forgery, just to see the expression on his face. Reason prevailed. If Balbillus knew the truth there was no point in telling it to him.

“Why did Agrippina choose me? Thousands of people all over the world were born at the same time.”

“She had a dream. She was in a great library. A marble pyramid, it must have been Alexander’s tomb, stood outside the window at the central crossroads of a mighty city. She saw a boy, arms heaped with scrolls, walking alone down endless rows of books. It was you all right.”

I nearly laughed out loud. “What did she find so special about the horoscope she’d chosen?”

 “She did very good work. She was a brilliant woman, you know, and even more passionate about astrology than her father Germanicus. The person born on the day and at the moment in time she discovered is totally ruled by the Moon. Do you know what that means?”

I allowed myself just a jab of irony. “The Moon stands for the mother. Mine died in childbirth.”

“Yes but it also stands for the women in your life. And because your Moon, situated in Taurus, a sign in which she exalts, rules your chart from your Tenth House, your House of Power, she has an enormous influence over you. You must have felt it, often.”

I had. In my youth when I had opened my heart to heaven, the Moon made my eyes burn with tears. When I watched Agrippina lead young Nero out onto the balcony as the full Moon rose the day Claudius adopted him. When she screeched at me the night Agrippina sent me to murder Nero. The night on Agrippa’s lake when Nero was singing in Neropolis and the comet brushed the Moon’s face. But not any more, not since my heart had been hardened by the realization that my stars were the invention of Phocion and the Copy Master’s greedy hand, the hand I had thrown into the sea to calm the waves.

“Is there anything else?”

“Yes. You are living proof of the truth of astrology. Your Moon in the tenth house predicts powerful governors. You have risen from slavery to be one of the most powerful men in the empire. Your Moon is precisely square your Venus which promises you great profit and riches. You have both. Jupiter in your Eleventh House favorably aspected with Mars and Venus on either side of him which says that you will be vastly fortunate. You have been. Your Mars in a precise lucky trine with your Venus accurately foretold that you would be successful with many women.”

I tried to smother a smile. “Yet at the same time under their power?”

Balbillus didn’t. His quick grin acknowledged mine. “What’s the difference? Your Mars is situated in Aries, which he rules from your Ninth House, religion. This means you are destined to destroy evil. Agrippina saw her opponents as evil. So, I believe, does Nero.”

Rachel flashed into my mind. She was saying that she’d rather die than live with the Beast. Suddenly I felt drained. “Is that all?”

I could see there was more because Balbillus kept his eyes lowered to the chart. “Yes but I can’t reveal it.”

“Why?”

“Because it concerns someone else.”

“Another client?”

“Yes.”

“Nero?”

“The Moon of the Year, which fell on March 11, foretells that you will soon be contacted by a powerful woman,” said the astrologer, at last raising his calm eyes to mine. “The Moon was full and she was in your third house, your House of Skills. The woman will ask you to use your skills to do something.”

An uneasy feeling shot through my veins, cold and swift as a frightened eel. I tried to flush it out with humor. “From what you’ve said about the Moon, I suppose that another powerful woman shouldn’t come as a surprise.”

Four months passed during which Nero become more expansive, and more reckless by the day. I'd seen the symptoms before. Statecraft and music were no longer enough. The imperial orchestra often played alone while Nero performed in the Circus Maximus on a chariot pulled by the fastest, the most spirited, the most dangerous horses in the empire.

He laughed off my pleas for caution. "Risk? Ridiculous! I'm destined to live to seventy-three, ask Balbillus. Besides it's important for the people to see that I've got old fashioned physical courage as well as artistic talent. They expect that from a Roman emperor, especially the ones who're tone deaf. Piso's conspiracy proved there are plenty of those."

The morning after this little outburst, just before dawn, I was shaken awake by my sleep-watcher. The man pointed to the window. "Dominus, look!"

The east was already tinted by the Sun. Venus caught my eye riding twenty degrees above the horizon. Below her, close to the dark curve of the earth, sparkled Mercury, Mercury who'd sprouted a twin which pointed skyward with its milky tail. Another infernal comet!

It was midday before Balbillus would admit me. "I apologize for the delay but I'm sure you appreciate that because of the new comet it has been necessary for me to make a great many computations for my clients."

I was surprised how brusque I sounded. "Do you know what it means for Nero?"

Distracted by a mighty roar from the Circus Maximus, the astrologer gazed out of the window to where, perhaps at this very moment, Nero was risking his life in yet another furious chariot race. "I'm extremely concerned. The comet has appeared in his House of Death."

"When are you going to tell him?"

"I already have but Ptolemy got to him before I could. He threw himself at Nero's feet with the extraordinary claim that the comet predicts that he's destined to become the new Orpheus! You must make Nero face the truth, about the comet I mean."

What was Poppaea up to? Why had she sent Ptolemy, that odious little man, to Nero? Was this some new strategy to control Nero now that her weapon, the liver reader Thallus, was no more? It wouldn't take me long to find out.

That evening after dinner Nero's new mistress Statilia drew me aside. She was the one who'd been swimming with Nero in Maecenas's pool the day I suggested Nero meet out poetic justice to the Christians. "You must go to Poppaea and warn her about the comet." she said.

"But she knows all about the comet. She sent Ptolemy to Nero with a very dangerous interpretation of what it means."

Statilia's eyes narrowed just a fraction. "You're wrong. Poppaea doesn't know. Ptolemy has issued instructions that no one is to break the news to her."

It was incredible, that Ptolemy had gone to Nero with a radical interpretation of the significance of the comet without consulting Poppaea. At last I'd caught him with his hand in the till. I asked Statilia, "What do you know about the comet?"

"That it threatens Nero and that he won't heed the threat because of Ptolemy."

"Who told you that?"

"Balbillus. He's my astrologer too. He's extremely concerned about what Ptolemy has done. Tell Poppaea, she’s the only one whose opinion Nero respects lately, I suppose because she’s about to present him with an heir. I've tried to warn him but he laughs at me. I’m sure he’ll laugh at you too. He even laughs at Balbillus. Speak to her for Nero's sake so that he's not taken away from us. Do it also for me, as you know I'm not without resources."

I knew that. Statilia was not only beautiful and cultured, a poetess, but the great-great-granddaughter of Statilius Taurus, an aristocrat of legendary wealth who'd built Rome's first stone amphitheater. I now also knew the identity of the woman that Balbillus, not Fate, had finally sent to me. The latest avatar of my controlling Moon.

Poppaea was five months pregnant and plagued by a persistent fever. An unpleasant surprise waited for me just inside her bedroom door. Ptolemy, absurdly presumptuous, standing as tall as he could on his platform shoes.

"She's not well," he snapped, "what do you want with her?"

"I believe you gave the emperor some interesting astrological advice this morning," was how I answered his question.

"What passes between an astrologer and his client is privileged information."

I tried to slide past him but he caught hold of my robe. "Whatever you do, don't mention the comet," he hissed. "This is not a propitious time for her."

"Ptolemy are you telling me that you went to Nero with a prediction of such enormous importance without first discussing it with Poppaea?"

Ptolemy paled at this, a pleasant sight. "She's too ill to know about the comet. That's why she can't be told."

"I don't believe that was the reason," I said as I pulled away from him.

The huge silk-covered couch, watched over by a life-sized statue of Fortuna, was some distance from the door. In spite of being fanned from both sides there were drops of sweat on Poppaea's forehead. The whites of her eyes had a yellowish tinge. She sounded very tired "What is it Epaphroditus?"

I spoke in an undertone, not so much out of consideration for Poppaea's condition as to keep Ptolemy from hearing what I was saying. "Domina, the emperor needs your help."

"Go on."

"Information is being withheld from you, information which indicates that the emperor's life is in danger, that he must take precautions."

Now there was a spark of interest in the feverish eyes. "What information?"

"A comet has been sighted in Leo."

An exclamation which was at the same time a groan of pain. "What?"

"A comet, domina-"

"Leo. His House of Death. Where is the tail pointing?"

"Cancer."

The feverish blue eyes were wide with panic. "His House of Marriage, the house of the Moon. I am his Moon. It points its finger of death at me!"

It hadn’t occurred to me that Poppaea would interpret the apparition in terms of her own destiny, although it should have.

 The smooth forehead was furrowed now. She touched a hand to her stomach. "Leave me. Tell Ptolemy to come closer."

The astrologer' ugly expression told me what I didn't want to know, that he'd heard what I'd said to Poppaea.

"I hope you realize what you've done," he spat at me.

The sudden agitation of servants, like the bow wave that runs before a ship, warned me that Nero was approaching.

He was bursting out of his dusty, green charioteer's uniform and his eyes glowed with triumph. "Epaphroditus, how convenient, I've had the most wonderful idea and I want you to take it down before it cools." He threw out his arms to Poppaea in a theatrical gesture of greeting. "My love! No Ptolemy, you stay," he said to the astrologer who was shuffling backwards, "I need your professional opinion. Oh Poppaea, if only you could have been there! "

Poppaea smiled faintly but her voice was flat and cold. "What for? To see the father of my child run over by a chariot driven by a slave?"

"Slave! A charioteer is no longer a slave, not when his chariot is a thunderbolt flying in the teeth of a roaring tempest! Oh Poppaea, you should have heard the crowd when I whipped my horses to the front on the final straight! Then I was no longer merely Nero, I was Achilles racing round the walls of Troy with the body of Hector bouncing along behind me. It was then that the stars sent me this idea."

 Poppaea's jaundiced eyes lingered on the ample figure of her husband who'd had been transformed by the tight-fitting green uniform into something altogether too reminiscent of a frog. "What idea?"

Nero turned to me. "Write this down. The vast sea of spectators gazes in astonishment at a seven-lane track dividing it into twelve equal segments like a horoscope. Each segment is labeled with the appropriate sign of the Zodiac. At the center of this gigantic horoscope, surrounded by the track, is a huge stage. At first the stage is empty. The orchestra strikes up with a melody expressing the confusion of chaos, oh I must begin composing it at once! Then seven chariots drive onto the track, each one decked up as one of the planets, each charioteer wearing the mask of the appropriate god. They don't line up-"

Poppaea shook her head. "I'm so frightened-"

Nero's stampede of words could not be slowed. "Just listen to this. They don't line up at the starter's gate, they take up apparently haphazard positions around the track. The audience doesn't know how to react. At first there's awed silence. The preparations have been done in secret. No one knows what's going on -"

Poppaea sat herself up in bed. "The comet-"

Nero didn't seem to hear her. "The really fascinating thing is that the crowd doesn't understand why the chariots aren't lined up at the starter's gates. They're given the tantalizing clue that each chariot's decked out as a particular planet, but still everyone's puzzled, perplexed. The chariot representing the Moon is on the inside track and is positioned in Cancer. Mercury is next and he's in Virgo. Then comes Venus in Libra, the Sun in Leo, Mars in Scorpio, Jupiter in Sagittarius and right on the outside lane Saturn in Capricorn."

 Poppaea was on her feet, her round belly thrusting at her silk robe, her face contorted. "You're not listening. The comet signifies my doom."

"Doom? Nonsense!" He gripped her by the shoulders, his eyes on fire. "You see, the positions of the chariots aren't arbitrary, after all. Sooner or later someone in the vast crowd realizes that what they see in front of them is the Thema Mundi, the position of the planets at the birthday of the universe! His gasp of discovery becomes a murmur, the murmur becomes a mighty roar of frenzied applause. 'Nero! Nero!' they chant."

The emperor released Poppaea's shoulders. She sank back onto the bed, a bewildered frown on her face as she watched her husband unwind the soiled handkerchief from his throat and solemnly raise it above his head. "A hundred thousand pairs of eyes are on me as I stride onto the empty stage and stand there, still as my colossus. There's an expectant hush. I drop the handkerchief. The chariot representing the Moon takes off at a furious pace leaving the others in the dust. The Sun plods along steadily at one twelfth the speed of the Moon. He's escorted by Mercury and Venus who dash ahead and then trail behind like hunting hounds but never stray very far from their master's horse. Mars's speed is also erratic, but its overall pace is half that of the Sun. By comparison Jupiter's advance is stately, about one twelfth that of the Sun while Saturn's chariot creaks forward so slowly that he hardly seems to be moving at all. Once the planets start following their orbits my fellow players join me on the stage for the performance: a depiction of the history of the universe from the first moment of time to the present. Throughout this performance, which takes place at the focus of the track, the ominous race of the planets continues without interruption from dawn until dusk by which time Saturn has made only one circuit of the track. Then, as the Sun sets and the final chorus sings its hymn of gratitude to the gods, the planetary chariots seem to break loose from their orbits as they take up their final positions. Now the Moon is in Leo, Mercury is in Sagittarius with the Sun and Mars, Venus is in Capricorn, Jupiter in Scorpio and Saturn in Virgo."