The Oxblood Book

By Jasper Costello

Although 1000’s of years old, the Sibyl of Cumae is most definitely alive. The ancient oracle is wreaking havoc in Cambridge, desperate to get The Oxblood Book, a book so powerful that good and evil forces are racing to get to it first. But, nobody told unassuming Cambridge student Jago Robins the book is destined to be his, coveted and protected for centuries by a secret network of Guardians.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pixelot Publishing
• Release date: Jan 3, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458137401

Jasper Costello

After receiving a degree in Molecular Biology, Jasper Costello went on to train in the law. He worked for over 20 years practising in law, a career that brought him into contact with scientists at the cutting edge of vaccine development. Here, he learned about the business of making vaccines and the huge challenges faced when developing a pandemic ‘flu vaccine. While convalescing after an accident in 2005, Costello embarked upon writing THE OXBLOOD BOOK, drawing upon his experiences of Cambridge (England) where he lived, together with his knowledge of science and his experiences at university. The notion of a world-wide ‘flu pandemic occurred to him as a potentially devastating and real threat that could face mankind. This was an early theme in his writing. As Costello progressed with writing the book, it was interesting to see this theme subsequently develop in the news and reach the public’s consciousness, becoming a reality when the World Health Organisation declared a stage 6 pandemic of the H1N1 swine ‘flu strain in 2009. Throw into the mix Costello’s love of history (including his fascination in ancient Roman history) and his love of family, and the result is his first offering - THE OXBLOOD BOOK.

Book preview

Myth has it that one particularly beautiful Sibyl came from a cave at Cumae, an early Greek settlement 12 miles west of Naples in Italy. She was known simply as the Cumaean Sibyl and she was fated to find eternal life. It is thought that the Cumaean Sibyl became the High-Priestess of Rome and she is said to have prophesised the coming of a wonderful child who would change the face of the earth.

The Cumaean Sibyl was destined to be just a figment of ancient legend, until in 1932 archaeologists discovered a cave at Cumae. They had found the cave of the Cumaean Sibyl.

The Sibyl had actually lived.

Fading Beauty

The Cumaean Sibyl, legend has it, caught the eye of the sun god Apollo. Stunned by the Sibyl’s beauty, Apollo went about courting her. Desperate to gain the love of the Sibyl, Apollo promised her a wish if she consented. The story goes that the Sibyl pointed to a pile of sand and, turning to Apollo, consented to his love if Apollo would grant her a wish. That wish was that she should have life equivalent to a year for every grain of sand in the pile. In essence, she wanted immortality. Apollo eagerly agreed, and the Sibyl was granted her wish.

Having received her desire, the Sibyl tricked Apollo and declined to give him her love. But, the Sibyl had forgotten one thing: she had forgotten to ask also for eternal youth, for without it immortality is worthless. Realising her mistake, the Sibyl asked Apollo to grant her eternal youth too. The spurned Apollo refused, and the legend states that the Cumaean Sibyl was doomed to grow older and older for eternity.

The Golden Bough

The Sibyl is also known in the myth of Aeneas’ entrance to the Underworld, the land of the dead which was governed by Hades (Pluto) and his wife Persephone (Prospernia).

Aeneas wished to visit his dead father in the Underworld, but Aeneas’ wish was not possible, since he was still alive and could not enter the land of the dead. The Roman Poet, Virgil recounts how the Cumaean Sibyl came to Aeneas’ aid. The Sibyl instructed Aeneas to fetch the Golden Bough so this could be presented to Persephone. The Golden Bough was a bough with a golden stem and golden branches and leaves. The tree bearing the bough was hidden in dense woods and the myth says that when the bough was torn off the tree, another golden one would grow in its place. It is said that the Golden Bough could be easily plucked from its tree by those who were destined to descend to the Underworld. Those with no such destiny could not take it from the tree even with the use of a sword. Guided by two doves sent by his mother, Aeneas found the Golden Bough and plucked it from the tree with ease.

The way to the Underworld was across the deadly and magical river Acheron, and passage across was provided by the boatman Charon. At first, Charon refused passage to Aeneas. But, the Sibyl accompanied Aeneas, and on seeing the Sibyl take the Golden Bough from under her robe the Charon gave Aeneas and the Sibyl passage across the river. The journey was dangerous, and the Sibyl guided Aeneas away from Hydra, the Chimera and other mythical beasts. Thanks to the Sibyl, Aeneas reached the banks of the Underworld, and he could finally pay respects to his father’s spirit.

In February 2010 the British newspaper, The Telegraph, reported that Italian archaeologists claim to have found a stone enclosure which once protected the legendary Golden Bough, probably an ancient sacred oak or cypress tree. The archaeologists discovered the remains while excavating religious sanctuary built in honour of the goddess Diana near an ancient volcanic lake in the Alban Hills, 20 miles south of Rome. Pottery fragments found near the site are believed to date from the mid to late Bronze Age, between the 12th and 13th centuries BC.

Sibyllini Libri

The most famous story of the Cumaean Sibyl is that of three books, the Sibyllini Libri (Sibylline Books²), holding the Sibyl’s oracles which would steer the course of the Roman Empire.

It was at the mouth of her cave that the Sibyl would place her prophecies, which she wrote on palm leaves³. Sometimes no one came to consult the leaves and the leaves would be blown by the wind from the mouth of the cave to be lost forever. The prophecies were written in complex, often enigmatic, verse⁴. But it was the accuracy of these verses that ultimately lead the Sibyl away from her cave and into the favour of the Roman Kingdom, which would consult the Sibyl in times of crisis.

The story goes that the Sibyl travelled incognita from Cumae to Rome during the reign of Lucius Tarquinius Superbus⁵, the last ruler of the Roman Kingdom. On arriving in Rome, the Sibyl offered Tarquinius nine books of her prophecies. The price was exorbitant and Tarquinius immediately refused to buy the books. The Sibyl was not defeated. She burned three of the books and returned to the king with six of the books. The price, however, was the same as before. The king thought it preposterous that the Sibyl would want the same exorbitant price for even less books! Again, the king refused to buy the books, and again the Sibyl burned three of the books. The Sibyl returned once more to the king, bearing the three remaining books of prophecies. The Sibyl offered the three books to Tarquinius, but the price remained the same. Tarquinius’ instinct was to turn the woman away, but instead he asked her to return once he had consulted with his advisors. The Sibyl returned. The king promised to buy the books as long as the Sibyl re-wrote the missing six books. She refused, and fearing that the Sibyl would walk away with the remaining books, the king purchased the three books at great cost. This was to turn out a wise purchase, since the books contained the destiny of the World and under their guidance Rome would flourish, as would the Roman Empire.

The three Sibylline Books were kept in a stone chest in a subterranean crypt in the Temple of Jupiter on Capitoline Hill in Rome⁶. At first, the books were held in the custody of two specially-appointed officers, the Duumviri sacrorum (who were Guardians recruited from nobility, holding their post for life). The ordinary citizens of Rome were not permitted access to the books. Only the officers could consult the books, at the special command of the Senate. No-one was permitted to copy the books either. Accounts tell of one of the two officers, Marcus Atillius, who abused his position and sought to copy the books. He was reported and consequently sewn up in a leather bag and thrown into the river Tiber to his fate. Subsequently, the books became guarded by ten officers, and eventually fifteen officers (Quindecemviri), such became the importance of the books to Rome. After the expulsion of the kings, the Roman commonwealth continued to revere the books and hold them under close guard.

The Senate would order the books to be consulted in the event of great calamities, inexplicable events or apparitions and when the tide of war was turning against the Romans⁷. Time after time, the books would provide navigation away from danger.

Disaster finally struck in 83BC when the Temple of Jupiter burned down after the close of the 173rd Olympiad. It is documented that the books burned too, to be lost forever. Having sold her books many years before, it is said that the Sibyl disappeared from among men, so she could not be found in order to recreate her oracles. In their desperation, at the command of August Caesar the people of Rome searched throughout Italy, Greece and Asia Minor for prophecies to replace the Sibylline Books. Many prophecies were written. Those deemed to be fake were burned and those deemed to be genuine⁸ were assembled together and kept securely in two gilded cases at the foot of the statue of Apollo in the Temple of Apollo on the Palatine in Rome. These books were guarded by 15 guards (Quindecemviri), as with the original books. Later, in the time of Tiberius, the books were reviewed, many rejected, and also it was proposed that a new volume of prophecies be added.

The Books were kept in the Temple of Apollo for most of the remaining Imperial Period of Rome. Eventually, the books were burned in AD 405 by General Flavius Stilicho, who regarded the books as evil

Finally, as history knows, Rome fell and along with it the Empire. What could have been if the Sibyl’s books had not been burned and their guidance lost…?

The Jar and the Whisper

And what of the Sibyl? Myth says that the Sibyl returned to her cave at Cumae, where she aged and withered until eventually her body could not be seen. She needed nothing to eat or drink for she could never die. Only her voice remained, emanating from a jar high up in a tree at the mouth of her cave.

When asked what she wanted most, the Sibyl would always reply

‘I want to die! I want to die!’

Eventually, the story goes that the Sibyl’s voice became so faint that it became just a whisper and then could not be heard by ordinary men.

The Sibyl’s Cave

Interestingly, although archaeologists found the Sibyl’s cave, they never found the Sibyl’s jar.

There is record of a visitor just after the Sibyl had ceased her priestess duties. This was during the Roman Republic and before Julius Caesar had been murdered. The Sibyl is said to have worn long robes and delivered her prophecies from a throne housed in a sacred chamber (adyton) in the innermost reaches of her long cave.

The description of a sacred innermost chamber is consistent with the cave which can now be seen at Cumae. The cave is carved into the side of a mountain at Cumae. The entrance of the cave opens into a long ‘dromos’ or gallery of a trapezoid shape with perfect straight sides. The gallery is 431 feet long and 8 feet wide. The height varies from 16 to 60 feet. The Sibyl’s cave is likely to have been built by Cretan colonists some time between the 2nd and 5th millennia BC. The cave’s gallery is illuminated with alternating light and dark by chambers positioned along its length, these chambers themselves being lit by light shafts cut into the ceiling. Thus the approaching Sibyl or visitors mysteriously appeared and disappeared to onlookers as they moved along the gallery. This produced a mysterious and awe-inspiring effect to the Sibyl’s cave. The ceilings to the gallery and chambers are vaulted and the entrances to the chambers are arches cut into the rock. At the end of the gallery is an arch leading to the inner-most sanctuary of the Sibyl where sacred rites of Apollo were held and her messages delivered to onlookers. The last sanctum is a large hall having a square niche cut into the rock on the east side. This niche was shuttered and was likely was the home of the Sibyl.

***

Footnotes

1. The Cumaean Sibyl was also depicted by Raphael at Rome church, Santa Maria della Pace and by Andrea del Castagno in a painting exhibited in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, Italy. [Back]

2. The Sibylline Books have also been known as Libri Fatales and Fata Sibyllina. [Back]

3. Virgil describes the leaves of the Cumaean Sibyl, and it may be that this was a reference to The Sibylline Books. [Back]

4. The Sibylline Books were most likely written in Greek 6-part verse (hexameters) Those regarded as genuine were written as acrostics, i.e. the initial letter, syllable or word of successive lines, paragraphs or other recurring features in the text combining to spell out words with a meaning , such as the subject of the prophecy in question. [Back]

5. Lucius Tarquinius Superbus reigned from 534-509 BC. [Back]

6. Brutus sought refuge in the Temple of Jupiter after taking part in the slaying of Julius Caesar. The Temple had been consecrated in 500BC. [Back]

7. See Livy (volume III), recounting the troubled history of the Sibylline Books, and in particular recounts that the Duumviri (two guards) consulted the books in 461 BC after a devastating earthquake struck and when the heavens also were on fire. In 443BC and 399BC it is said that the books were consulted after an epidemic struck down cattle and people. Also in 343BC the Senate consulted the books when an omen struck: Rome was terrorised by a shower of stones. The books directed Rome to call upon the healer Asclepius when a pestilence hit and decimated the population. In 218BC a number of ominous prodigies were seen and the books were once more consulted. Hannibal launched a campaign against Rome in 217BC, and the books were consulted then too. For further reading, see Priestesses by Norma Goodrich Lorre, which reports that

‘That spring [in 217BC] in both Italy and Sicily, the heavens gave many warnings. First, the orb of the sun decreased in size. Then it appeared to be colliding with the moon. Then two moons appeared in the daytime sky. Then the sky split apart; through this rift a brilliant light shone, and then the sky appeared to catch fire. Then, in the city of Capua, during a rainstorm, one of these moons fell to earth. The same portent that had signalled the fall of Thebes occurred: a holy spring ran blood.

The Cumaean Sibyl finally ordered the now hysterical populace to go out and sit at the crossroads and to pray to Triple Hecate, and last of all to bring from Asia the Black Stone of Mother Cybele, and then Cybele Herself, as their protectress in this grave emergency.’. [Back]

8. Some text is referenced in The Apocryphal Literature edited by Charles Cutler Torrey, who commented that the present books IV and V are believed to have been written by the Cumaean Sibyl. [Back]

***

Entrance of the Sibyl’s Cave at Cumae

Chapter I

At the Cave of the Sibyl,

The Black Mountain of Cumae

Once she had been beautiful, revered and feared by all around her. The power of her prophecies and hold over the world had been immense.

The magnetism of youth and beauty had long gone now. The Sibyl was old. Very old. Older than any living thing on Earth. Trapped in her body. For an age she craved love. The feeling to love and be loved. She knew now that that was just a cruel dream. A dream that lodged deep in the recesses of her mind like a parasite ready to burst out and consume her if she was weak enough to let it. But long ago, she had decided to do a deal with herself. The dream of love, painful as it was, would be masked by something else. Something equally unobtainable, but easier to desire. For, now she wanted just one thing – to die.

But, she never would, for she was immortal.

And, as she aged, her body withered and shrank and her hold over the world faded. No-one visited her cave any more in search of her prophecies. Her sanctuary now was a small jar hanging high up from the wizened branch of an old olive tree at the mouth of her cave. It was from there, swaying at the mercy of the ancient mountain winds, that the Sibyl would do her time and contemplate what could have been. If only she had done things differently and been true to her word. If only she had not deceived Apollo all those centuries before. If only she had asked him for immortality and eternal youth. If only her ego had been tempered with humility. So many regrets. And like a mortal, with age there came loneliness and isolation and endless time to reflect on those regrets. It was these cruel things - but nothing more - that fate allowed her to taste of the mortal world.

Occasionally, the Sibyl’s heart would rise as she heard voices approaching her cave. But, it would always be the same. Boys from the local village there to pick the olives and throw stones at the jar hanging in the tree. Now, even they did not come any longer. Could it be that she had been forgotten? Her voice, once powerful and dominating and mystifying, had grown more stifled with the years. First a suffocated noise, then a hiss and now a whisper. A whisper so faint that no man could hear it. A whisper smothered and claimed by the wind.

***

Dawn was breaking, and as the cold, dark cloudless night sky made way for the Mediterranean sun, the black volcanic mountain at Cumae was bathed in rejuvenating light. Still in its infancy, the day’s sun was already relentless, and the Sibyl could feel the hot air rising up into the branches of the olive tree from the warming mountain rocks below. But this day was not the same as all the others. The moon had not yet been usurped, and as the Sibyl peered out of her jar she could see both the moon and the sun jostling for position in the new day sky.

Just then, the branches of the olive tree shook and the Sibyl’s jar rocked violently from side-to-side, ringing out like a hammer in a bell as the jar was bashed against the tree. From the jar, the Sibyl could see a slave boy climbing up the tree.

Go away! Go away I said! screeched the Sibyl. But she knew that her cries were futile, since the boy would not be able to hear her.

Go away!

Hush woman! came a booming voice. And with that, the Sibyl’s world was once more turned upside down.

You can hear me! Is it really you? exclaimed the Sibyl from within the jar. The warmth of the morning sun was no match for the voice. It was soothing and reassuring, defrosting the Sibyl’s spirit as it rose through her body. The voice of Apollo. At that moment she felt alive!

Apollo, I am so sorry for what I have done. Can you save me? Will you… The Sibyl was cut short.

Listen! You have deceived me. I promised you immortality in return for your love, but you spurned me. How dare you cross me? I am a god, and I have the power to direct your life. I gave you your ability to prophesise. Trusted you, and you betrayed me. You have not used your powers wisely. I am prepared to give you one more chance. But, you must do what I command.

"I will! I will! Anything…!" The words effused out of the Sibyl’s mouth involuntarily.

The slave boy had now reached the top branches of the tree.

Bring her down, commanded Apollo.

And with that, the boy duly unhooked the jar from its branch and clambered down the tree, rushing on to catch up with Apollo who was already striding to the mouth of the Sibyl’s cave. Petrified, the slave looked into the mouth of the cave. The mouth was trapezoidal in shape and opened into a long, straight-sided corridor that had been carved deep into the mountain rock. The slave could see that the corridor was illuminated by light shafts dotted in the ceiling along its length. This gave the corridor a mysterious appearance of alternating light and dark strips, fading to blackness into the deep recesses of the cave. What is down there? thought the slave to himself.

Come boy. And with that, the boy, jar in hand, sheepishly followed Apollo into the corridor. The mossy, damp floor was pleasantly cooling on the slave’s bare feet. But, this was the only comfort he could find with which to settle himself, for he was fearful of what was to come. The slave struggled to keep up, and as Apollo and the slave processed along the corridor the slave could see Apollo disappear and then mysteriously appear again as he swept through the alternating dark and light patches punctuating their way.

They finally reached the end of the corridor. Apollo paused, and so did the boy a few steps behind. Before them was an archway that had been cut into the rock. The boy could not see beyond, since there was no light.

Wait here, boy, commanded Apollo. The boy duly obeyed (deciding to himself that it felt safer to stand still than follow Apollo into the darkness before them).

Apollo disappeared into the blackness. For a moment, the slave thought that he’d have rather not been left by himself after all. Anyway, I don’t have a choice! he thought to himself. Then, still standing rigid, not daring to move an inch in the darkness, the boy could see the blackness before him suddenly disappear, to be replaced by a warm, reassuring glow of light. The boy could now see a large, stone chamber before him. Small niches were cut here and there into the stone sides of the chamber, and at the far side opposite the boy, he could see a high-backed throne carved into the chamber wall. Apollo stood next to the throne, in his hand was a wonderful, golden bough, emanating strong, powerful light that illuminated the chamber.

Come.

The boy walked forwards to Apollo and stopped. Half in deference to Apollo, and half as a result of the glare of the light from the Golden Bough, the boy lowered his head and looked to the floor. He could see dried, brown palm leaves scattered around the throne. In the light, the boy could clearly see unusual writings and symbols on the leaves. The Sibyl’s prophecies? thought the boy to himself, not daring to utter the question openly.

Put the jar on the throne, and leave, commanded Apollo.

The clank of the jar on the cold stone seat of the throne echoed around the chamber. The boy, head still bowed, turned and made his way out to the corridor. He walked quickly, and then when he was out of sight, he ran for all his life out of the corridor and into the arms of the waiting daylight.

Inside the chamber, Apollo placed the Golden Bough to one side at the foot of the throne.

Will you save me? pleaded the Sibyl.

I will…I will, provided that you carry out my wishes and do not fail.

Yes! Just tell me…, said the Sibyl eagerly.

I have watched you exercise the powers that I bestowed upon you all those years ago. You have done well. Your oracles have been a force for good, steering mortals in times of need. And the books of prophecies – these have been your greatest triumph…

Yes! exclaimed the Sibyl, wanting to prove her worthiness.

…and your greatest mistake, finished Apollo crushingly. Those books have great power. Untold power. Power that can change the face of the world forever. As long as they were in your control and you delivered their prophecies, they were safe. But, I watched as your greed led you to sell them to the Roman Kingdom. That was your mistake. You lost control. The world has been lucky so far, but that luck will run out. It is inevitable. In the hands of bad men, the books can become a force for evil, a scythe to cut the world down. As a god, it is my duty to care for all worlds: the mortal world, immortal world and the Underworld. You are to be my instrument for good to steer the mortal world away from harm.

But, what can I do? questioned the Sibyl.

I want those books back. They are a conduit for my prophecies – prophecies that you delivered for me – and the books need to be in my control. They are too powerful to be in the hands of mortals. If you succeed in getting the books to me…

Yes! Yes!, blurted out the Sibyl in excitement.

If you succeed in getting the books to me, I will grant you the thing you desire most… Apollo paused before asking the inevitable question:

What do you desire?

Without hesitation, the Sibyl said: I want to have love. To love someone and to be loved. That is what I want most. It is all I desire

That, I can grant you if you bring me the three books. But remember, deceiving me to obtain immortality – that was your first failure. Handing the books to Rome – that was your second failure. And, if you do not return the books to me, that will be your last failure. You will not receive love and you shall not receive any more chances. Instead, I shall wreak great mischief on Earth. War and pestilence shall prevail far and wide until eventually you shall be the only remaining soul in this world. You, the immortal one. I, Apollo Helios, god of the sun, shall disappear from the mortal world, and only my twin sister, Artemis, the goddess of the moon, shall visit this world. Apollo’s booming threat resonated inside the stone chamber.

The consequences of this hit the Sibyl instantly. If she failed, she was doomed to live a life of loneliness by herself forever in darkness. There was no decision to be made. She had to please Apollo and get those books back.

I will not disappoint, the Sibyl whispered meekly.

Then, let us proceed, stated Apollo calmly.

Apollo held up a small, golden phial. The phial was a tear-shaped bottle with a long neck. A multi-coloured band of gems encircled the rim, glinting in the light of the Golden Bough. A breeze blew in from the corridor, sending the palm leaves swirling from the floor of the chamber. The wind dropped as suddenly as it had arrived, and the leaves floated back to the floor in a new arrangement:

A new prophecy.

A whirring, whistling noise projected from the jar as the Sibyl breathed hard in anticipation. "Soon, I shall be free!" she exclaimed in delight.

Apollo placed a finger over the end of the phial and inverted it. Releasing his finger from the phial, Apollo revealed a small, silvered droplet of liquid on his fingertip.

This is the essence of life. To find love, first I shall restore your youth, your alluring beauty. Remember, this youth will not last forever. I am not granting you eternal youth. It will fade slowly, but believe me it will fade over your lifetime. If you do not return to me with the three books, you will age and age forever more, and your hope for love will slip through your fingers like sand. Do you understand?

I do, affirmed the Sibyl.

And with that, Apollo proceeded to transfer the droplet of liquid from his finger onto the rim of the Sibyl’s jar. The Sibyl looked up at the droplet that was balanced high up above her on the rim of her jar. To the tiny Sibyl, the droplet was very large, and its size frightened – and excited – her in equal measure. The Sibyl stood with her back to the jar wall on the opposite side to the droplet. She wanted to run over to the other side of the jar, but she was scared. What if it drowned her? What have I got to lose? she thought, and with that the Sibyl rushed over to the opposite side.

It was falling now! The Sibyl watched in delight as the droplet tippled over the edge and streamed down the inside of the jar towards her like a comet bearing a silvery trail. Like any momentous event, this one seemed to the Sibyl to happen almost in slow motion. The Sibyl continued to look up in expectation. As the silver droplet got nearer and nearer, it took on the appearance of a huge, mirrored orb getting bigger and bigger all the time. She could see her reflection in the convex surface of the orb. The orb’s surface distorted and stretched her image. I look huge! she thought to herself in disbelief. The orb seemed to stretch out and plump her face, so she no longer had wrinkles. Even before the droplet had arrived, her reflection was young and beautiful again. It’s almost here now! The Sibyl stretched out her arms and closed her eyes. An icy cold, refreshing wall of liquid engulfed her. And just at that point the Sibyl screamed out at the top of her new-found voice in sheer ecstasy.

Apollo did not look back as he exited the chamber. The terrible, primordial scream of the Sibyl, amplified by the smooth stone walls of the chamber, still pierced air. The shocking noise filled the core of the mountain like red hot lava, spewing out over the Mediterranean sea and valleys surrounding Cumae.

***

Outside, the daylight was fading fast and the mountain was almost in blackness again. Bats were stirring in the crags of the rocks, readying themselves to take advantage of the thermals permeating up from the ground below. The valley was back to normal, now the screaming had stopped. But, the terrified villagers in Cumae were dreading the uncertainty that came with the night.

In the Sibyl’s chamber, there was no clue of the world outside. The Golden Bough continued to radiate, illuminating the chamber in full light, except for the occasional pool of blackness where the niches in the wall were thrown into stark shadow. The Sibyl picked up the Bough and placed it next to an elliptical, stone basin carved into the chamber wall. She filled the basin with water from a large jug, put the jug to one side and stood there in front of the basin - peering in, waiting as the water settled. The rippling of the water slowed and eventually subsided altogether. As it did, the Sibyl could see her image come into focus. The Sibyl gasped in shock.

Beauty! Youth and beauty! You have returned!

For some moments, the Sibyl could not break her own gaze. She was mesmerised by her own image. An image that she never dared think to see again. Emotion welled up inside her and a tear trickled down her face, followed by another. The tears dripped, one then the other, into the basin. The mirror surface of the basin water rippled, and in an instant the Sibyl’s image scrambled.

Now, I am ready to love! declared the Sibyl.

Chapter II

Centuries Later

Rome, 6th July 83BC

Rome was burning.

It was night, and from the porch of her villa, high up in the hills above Rome, the youthful Sibyl surveyed the panic and terror that lay out before her. It was a delight. The hills around her had a green and lush calmness that formed a shroud surrounding and enveloping the conflagration at its centre that was Rome. The screams of horror from the streets below emanated up the hillside, like hot vapours rising. As they wafted up to the Sibyl, she seemed almost intoxicated by them.

The swaying flames from a stone fire-bowl before the Sibyl provided the only light on the porch, for even the moon and the stars seemed to have deserted Rome that night, such was the thick, choking, black suffocation in the air. The Sibyl stood motionless in her long, black, hooded robe, staring out into the distance. She was transfixed. The waves of her long, auburn hair undulated gently, reflecting the light from the flames as though teased by their dance. The light green of the Sibyl’s eyes were cold and yet passionate at one and the same time as the reflection of the rising red flames before her writhed like snakes in her gaze.

Where…? interjected the Sibyl’s slave, who had now entered the porch, her voice only daring to be barely more than a whisper so as not to break the moment.

There. The Sibyl waved her hand dismissively at a spot to the left of the fire-bowl.

The slave placed a small, long-necked bottle down and retreated silently into the darkness and then the sanctuary of the inside of the villa. The Sibyl had not even noticed the slave leave. The Sibyl, eyes still fixed ahead feasting at the catastrophic site of civil war before her, reached out and reeled in the bottle. She closed her eyes, breathed in deeply, and, as she exhaled, poured a stream of a powdery substance from the bottle and onto the flames in the fire-bowl. The flames instantly intensified and brightened to a white light as the powder crackled and cracked on the fire. The Sibyl eagerly inhaled the pungent vapours now rising furiously from the volcano developing before her. Desperate to consume as much as possible, the Sibyl drew the gases deeply into her lungs. In, out, in..the hunger getting bigger with each breath.

Finally, the Sibyl expelled one long, last deep breath and opened her eyes. She was high. Ascended. Her pupils were now as vast and impenetrable as the choking clouds of smoke rising from the heart of Rome. Her irises, merely, reduced to tiny green Saturn rings cutting through the blackness. Her soul now matched the coldness of her heart. She had waited many, many years for this moment.

"This is the night!" she exclaimed, her declaration spreading over the city pyre before her like a creeping dark pall over Rome.

***

At the Temple of Jupiter,

Capitoline Hill

The Temple of Jupiter. The most important of all temples. And that night, it was the gushing heart of Rome. And from this heart spurted the streets, awash with mad countercurrents as torrents of Rome’s citizens dashed, frenzied this way and that from danger and in search of help.

As she approached Capitoline Hill, the Sibyl slipped with ease like a black tar through the streets’ conduit of mayhem and eventually to a large crowd that had gathered at the foot of the steps of the temple. The ravaging fire was not far now.

‘Who could save the Temple now? Surely it was doomed!’ screamed the throng’s collective voice with panicked, searching stares directed at the guards on the steps of the temple. The distraught people needed a focus for their terror, and this was it. The Temple of Jupiter and its precious stash – the three Sibylline Books. The crowd was chanting, calling upon the Senate:

‘Consult the books! Consult the books!’

As the Sibyl edged her way to the front of the throng, she could see the imposing presence of the temple before her at the top of a large flight of stone steps. On the stairs were twelve guards facing the crowd; eleven guards were lined at the top of the stairs across the massive wooden doors to the entrance and one