Dark Omens by Rosemary Rowe Read Free Book Online Page B

flutes struck up again and he joined the procession towards the altar steps, he almost seemed to march along in time. Behind him came a pair of temple servants with the ram which, by contrast – perhaps perturbed by the golden collar and the wreath of leaves around its head – seemed most reluctant and was having to be tugged along by the gilded halter-rope. Last of all came the assistant priests, the
victimarius
who would wield the sacred knife, and the augurers to read the entrails afterwards. As they approached the altar steps Cantalarius stepped up to join them, as was now his due.
    One of the temple officials swaggered to the dais and gave the exhortation, ‘Still your tongues,’ while the old priest pulled up his toga-folds to form a hood and stepped forward for the
adoratio
, reverently touching the altar with one hand. The opening prayer is an elaborate recital, beginning with Janus and working through the whole pantheon of gods, but he managed perfectly – although I noted that an acolyte was standing by, with the proper formula written clearly on a scroll.
    Then it was time for the sacrifice itself. Sacred breadcrumbs, mixed with perfumed herbs, were duly sprinkled on the ram, and the sacerdos lifted up a cup of wine for all to see, took a symbolic sip himself and scattered the remainder on the animal. This is of course the prelude to the central act: the waiting victimarius had already raised his knife and the old priest’s attendant was stepping forward with the sacred golden vessel to collect the blood. But as the pipes and flutes began again, as loudly as possible to drown out any unpropitious sound, the sheep – presumably startled by the unexpected noise – panicked and decided to make a run for it.
    It was a young, strong animal and if it had indeed been dosed with poppy-juice – as rumour says that sacrificial creatures are – then it was not enough. The sudden violent movement caught the old priest unprepared: he let go of the rope. The ram eluded the victimarius, leapt off the dais like a mountain goat and went charging off into the crowd – causing consternation as it went. Worse, the old man made a futile grab for it, lost his balance and went tumbling down the steps.
    There could hardly have been a more dreadful augury. There were shouts and cries of anger, some against my patron (‘this is what comes of using a substitute as priest!’) and for a few minutes there was pandemonium. But the ram was captured finally and dragged outside the court (there would be no question of using that one now) and I saw Marcus and the priest in solemn conference, together with the commander of the garrison. Then the soldier left the sanctum with a temple slave while the old priest brushed his toga down and climbed the steps to speak to us. His voice was trembling.
    ‘It is clear the gods have chosen to reject the sacrifice. The augurers assure me that it is for the best, as the omens would be inauspicious if we’d killed that beast. It is not the result of any change of priest. No doubt the fates are angry with the donor of the ram. So there’s no cause for alarm. Keep your places. We will offer up a pig – as is required to propitiate the gods and cleanse the altar – and then we will attempt the sacrifice again. We are fortunate to have another ram available, personally donated for the festival by the commander of the garrison.’
    There were some sullen mutterings and the pipes began again. I felt sorry for Cantalarius, who had been publicly humiliated now and was obliged to leave the temple in disgrace. Poor fellow, matters had gone from bad to worse for him and as he left the rostrum things took a nasty turn. Members of the crowd began to jostle him, and soon he was being buffeted and kicked and cursed and spat upon – though the incident had really been no fault of his. In the end a temple slave was sent to clear a way for him and he was able to make his way outside, followed by a chorus of angry