“And what does the portent signify?”
“The rising of the waters was a warning to Rome that they’d neglected Mater Matuta and Nethuns.”
“And what are the expiation rites for such transgressions?” said Tarchon.
“That’s what concerns me. The waters of the lake must be drawn off so they no longer reach the sea. If this is achieved, then Veii will fall to Rome.”
Tarchon turned to the king. “We heard the Latins have drained their floodplains. I thought it no more than irrigation. But now . . .”
Mastarna grimaced. “It seems they were diverting the water for holy purpose. No wonder the Latin tribes have joined forces with Rome again to hold the Aequians and Volscians in check.”
Caecilia cast an alarmed look at her husband. “But how did Camillus know the answer to placating the gods? The Roman magistrates only have recourse to the three Sibylline Books. Those texts are limited on such matters.”
“That’s true,” said Tanchvil. “But the oracle at Delphi might have been consulted.”
Caecilia rubbed her temple, her head aching. Could it be true Veii might fall? “But why would our gods allow Veii’s destruction, Lady Tanchvil? Why would they favor Rome?”
There was reproach in the hatrencu’s voice. “You most of all must be aware that Queen Uni has been disregarded. The wine god is now revered more than her. Her festival on the kalends was forgotten. Instead the Mysteries of the Pacha Cult took precedence. It’s dangerous to displease her.”
Guilt surged through Caecilia, realizing she’d forgotten to worship Uni in the wake of the Feast of Fufluns.
Images of the initiation rites flashed through her mind. The Mysteries had not been as frightening as she’d feared. The games preceding it had recalled a time when Veii was carefree: a chariot race, a discus contest, jugglers and acrobats. And the procession into the woods to give offerings to Fufluns had been joyful. The masked actors following the high priest were dressed as maenads and satyrs. The nymphs danced and capered while the horse-tailed men stalked them, the leather phalluses tied around their waists jiggling. The pomp wended its way through ravine and woodland, leaving afternoon sun behind and greeting evening shadows. Holding their thyrsus staffs and torches aloft, the worshippers created a moving carpet of light up to the altar. The roasted aroma of the sacrificial goats was mouthwatering as the supplicants sated their hunger.
The wine had been unwatered. Strong and heady. Sweetened with honey. The first sip had tasted like fire. Caecilia refilled the drinking horn many times, seeking intoxication as quickly as possible. Giddy and laughing, her heartbeat was captured by the rhythm of the drums. Music enveloped her. Her senses thrummed with the moan of bullroarers, clash of cymbals, and trill of double pipes. Euphoric, she danced, eyes closed, snapping her head back and forth. Singing and gyrating, the revelers packed tight around her, their faces hidden by the guise of beast or satyr.
Kneeling before the enormous ivy-entwined mask of the wine god, she drank the holy milk that would purify her as she revered the sacred phallus. From the eyeholes of her mask, her vision was restricted, the terra-cotta pressing against her face. She could hear herself breathing. And when she stared into the blank eyes of the divinity’s mask, she was liberated; she was no longer Caecilia.
Perspiration coated her from dancing too close to the bonfire, her sheer chiton clung to her flesh. Then he found her, wearing his bull’s head mask, his half-naked body also slick with sweat. He’d carried her into the bracken. And there, lying on his goatskin, he taught her to see Fufluns. Her mind and soul merged with the divinity, her body an instrument to channel the god’s spirit. When the elation ebbed, she grew greedy, needing the exquisite rush and heat and ecstasy again. Not satisfied with just one encounter. But the half bull was as possessive as he was potent. In the morning, she could not recall other than his lust as she woke, head aching, naked on his cloak, his arms around her.
Now the memory of the festival caused Caecilia to flush under Tanchvil’s scrutiny. Yet should the followers of the Pacha Cult be ashamed of worshiping the dying god? Was Uni so jealous that she would seek to punish Veii because some sought epiphany? Surely there was room in the heavens for both immortals to be worshiped side by side? “I concede I’ve neglected Queen Uni, but it was with no malice. I still love and revere her.”
“And as the chief priest of Veii,” said Vel, “I seek to honor all deities and cults. However, I regret my failure to observe the mother goddess’s rituals. I’ll declare a holy day on the summer solstice to seek both her forgiveness and her blessing.”
Tanchvil caressed the outstretched wings of the eagle on her torque. “I’m grateful, my lord. As the people will be when they hear. But the news of Lake Albanus is a dire warning. I fear you’ll need to do more than beseech the divine Uni for her pardon. Veii must convince the gods that it’s worthy of being saved.”
“And how do you suggest I do that?”
“Observe the Fatales Rites. Call down lightning on Rome as I suggested before. Let me send my eagle, Antar, to the Veiled Ones to convince Tinia to hurl down his thunderbolt of destruction. Veii’s fate may yet be deferred and disaster averted.”
“I’ve already told you I don’t believe in interfering with Fate. Nortia sets her course. She’s fickle and changeable. We might as well beat our hands against air than attempt to persuade her. And the Veiled Ones seldom arm the king of the gods with lethal lightning.”
Tanchvil rose. “I can only counsel you, my lord. But the Fatales Rites should not be dismissed so swiftly.”
Caecilia thought how complicated Etruscan religion was with its layers of authority. Yet she didn’t wish to discount the priestess’s counsel. “Please, Vel. Consider what she’s saying.”
He clenched one hand into a fist on the table. “I recognize your concern, Lady Tanchvil, but, frankly, I can’t see how Rome can conquer Veii. Appeasing the gods of Latium will not help Camillus break down our walls nor scale the heights of our citadel. And you seem to have forgotten Artile foretold Veii was only vulnerable if it failed to punish the traitor among us. Justice was served when King Kurvenas was killed.”
“Hubris has been the downfall of many a lucumo, my lord. This city came close to surrendering not so very long ago. Catastrophe may yet be rained down upon us if we ignore divine warnings. You might be brave enough to flout the gods, but I don’t see why your people should suffer because of your impiety.”
Mastarna eased back in his chair, staring at the hatrencu, one hand still clenched. Caecilia reached across and placed her own over his. His fingers relaxed. She murmured, “Do this for our people, Vel.”