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She prayed that the deity would appear as she stared down at the floor, a mosaic of stylized rosettes entwined with cornucopias in red and green. The colours began to blur. Time lulled, like still waters.
She could hardly hear her own breathing over the relentless thudding of her heart – a wild bird, caged in her chest.
Nothing was happening. Perhaps the goddesses would only come to her aid when she was in mortal peril. If so, she was about to be abjectly humiliated.
Claudia’s mind tumbled ahead, trying to come up with an explanation for her failure to demonstrate her connection to divinity as heat gradually rose in her neck and cheeks. The senators started to murmur impatiently, their scowls deepening in her direction.
Then a beam of sunlight bled through an arch, brighter than seemed possible for the hour. It fell directly upon Victoria, illuminating her face in a way that made her look curiously incarnate.
One of the senators pointed, crying, ‘Look!’
With the grinding sound of metal in motion, the goddess began to move, like an automaton created by Vulcan.
‘Hark!’ came a tremulous, building-shaking voice.
Victoria’s lips didn’t move, but the commanding voice seemed to issue from within the moving statue.
As bronze turned to gold, she slowly spread out her wings, their sculpted feathers glistening.
The gathered senators cried out in unison, scrambling towards the rear of the room.
‘Behold, the Empress of Rome,’ said Victoria,
One man fled for the doors. Others were already on their knees. Even Marcellus paled, his gleeful expression melting away.
‘All will serve her, by decree of the Fates,’ said Victoria.
‘Claudia.’ Rectina clutched at her chest, like a worried mother.
‘Now I have truly seen everything,’ said Pliny the Elder.
Slowly, Claudia stepped forward, her breathing ragged. The golden goddess leaned forward and touched her head.
‘Claudia Caesaria is blessed by the goddesses,’ she said.
Claudia nodded up at her cold face, in gratitude, in reverence.
The statue retracted her wings and slowly stilled, her lustrous gold skin returning to dull bronze. Claudia slid the ring back on her finger and turned defiantly to face the Senate.
‘Will that be proof enough?’ she said, coolly.
Senate House erupted into pandemonium.
‘She is a witch! A daemon!’
‘All hail Empress Claudia!’
‘This is foreign sorcery!’
‘All hail Empress Claudia!’
‘Order!’ bellowed Damocles, struggling to regain control. ‘We must have order! Settle down, men. There must be a vote. This is the last vestige of democracy in Rome. We shall not be reduced to raving maniacs.’ An uneasy hush fell. ‘I call upon you to cast your ballot.’
One by one they did so, by placing stones engraved with their initials into one of two bowls. One for Marcellus, and one for her.
Her cousin had retreated to the other side of the room, while she and her followers now gathered around the Altar of Victory.
They had switched sides.
