Queen of Kings (50 page)

I have the extraordinary good fortune of counting among my friends a scholar in classical and early Christian magic, so I used the work and words, some published, some not, of Dayna S. Kalleres as guides in the research process.

In regard to Egyptian history, magic, religion, folklore, and hieroglyphic evidence, I consulted a variety of documents, both ancient and contemporary, including
The Egyptian Book of the Dead
(more properly known as
The Book of Going Forth by Day).
Sekhmet is a real goddess, and her history as laid out in this book is, for the most part, supported by Egyptian lore. A particularly good account of the relationship between Sekhmet and Ra and the attempted destruction of humanity by Sekhmet may be found in Geraldine Pinch's
Magic in Ancient Egypt
. Discussion of Sekhmet's Seven Slaughterers may also be found in this excellent book, though Plague, as depicted in
Queen of Kings
, is inspired by the Irish legend of the Boyhood of Finn and Birgha, the spear he uses to defeat the lovely voiced giant, Aillen. Sekhmet's more contemporary incarnation, post-Isis, had placed her as a “women's goddess”—meaning that she presided over childbeds and menstruation—a definite demotion from her earlier responsibilities, which were waging war and destroying enemies of both Ra and the Egyptian pharaohs. It is no wonder, in my opinion, that in this book, she is ready for something a bit more interesting.

Chapter 4 of Book of Divinations is inspired by my favorite section of Bram Stoker's
Dracula
. The notion of a ghost ship whose passengers and crew have (all but the captain) been slaughtered by the monster they've unwittingly brought aboard has always made my skin crawl, and when I saw the chance to create my own variation, I was delighted to do so. The ship in Stoker's novel is the
Demeter
.

The Sibylline Oracles are a complicated collection of documents created mainly in the second through fifth centuries A.D., but encompassing fragments dating back to the first century B.C.E. They are scholarly forgeries of earlier oracular texts—the Sibylline Books—which were mostly lost in a fire in 83 B.C.E. In the time of Augustus, they began to be commissioned propaganda, and written by scholars on both sides. They'd be consulted and read aloud as the words of the gods. However, the scholars who wrote the Oracles came from all sides of the events—even from Alexandria—and so some of them predict Cleopatra's destruction of Rome, and others predict the glittering rise of Rome under Augustus. The quotations that begin Book of Divinations and Book of Lightning, and which are referenced throughout
Queen of Kings
, are from the oldest sections of the Sibylline Oracles, Books III–V. The quotations are taken unaltered from the 1899 translation of the Sibylline Oracles, and are generally agreed to be referencing Cleopatra and her dealings with Antony and Augustus.

As crazy as this may sound, given the Sibylline Oracles depiction of
“the widow
,” the
“cataract of fire”
and the cohabitation with a
“man-eating lion”
as well as the mutilated fragment involving Cleopatra being buried:
“thee the stately shall the encircling tomb receive . . . is gone . . . living within,”
this book was not inspired by them. I found these bits of awesomeness long after I conceived the book's plotline, as I was in the midst of writing the final battle. Needless to say, I screamed with joy when I discovered them. Augustus really did historically burn a vast quantity of books, and personally and specifically censored the Sibylline Oracles. I took a few wild, thoroughly enjoyable leaps in imagining the creation of the Sibylline fragments, and the literal nature of them.

The historian Nicolaus of Damascus is a real character, with the outlines of his actual biography roughly as Zelig-ish as they are portrayed here: philosopher to King Herod's court, tutor to Cleopatra's children, and at some point biographer of Augustus. I've reorganized his chronology somewhat. The 144-volume History of the Universe, mostly lost, is an accurate description of Nicolaus's work—though the secrets that might have been loosed in that 144-volume set are my invention. There are scraps of Nicolaus's work on Augustus still extant, mainly dealing with the boyhood of Octavian, and I consulted those when researching this book.

The outlines of the biography of Selene, Cleopatra and Antony's daughter, are depicted with significant poetic license here—but she did travel to Rome along with her two brothers after her parents' deaths. Alexander Helios and Ptolemy Philadelphus disappear without explanation from the historical record soon after, and most historians guess that they both died of childhood illness. I don't think it's a huge leap to imagine a sinister fate for the sons of Antony and Cleopatra in Augustus's Rome. Cleopatra Selene, on the other hand, remained loyal to Rome, and was eventually married, with a large dowry provided by Augustus, to the young African King, Juba II. Interestingly, Juba had, as a three-year-old child, walked in Julius Caesar's triumphal procession into Rome after Caesar's own Alexandrian idyll—the one that put Cleopatra on the throne. Selene reigned as queen of Mauretania (today's Algeria), loyal and subservient to Rome, and died in A.D. 6. The epitaph Augustus recites to Cleopatra in the epilogue is by Crinagoras of Mytilene, a famed Greek poet who lived in Rome as a court poet. So it's quite possible that said epitaph was indeed commissioned by Augustus to memorialize his one loyal “daughter.”

Speaking of: A sidenote on daughters, and a storyline I couldn't manage to squeeze much of into this book, to my great sorrow. Julia, Augustus's only child, eventually fell in love with Mark Antony and Fulvia's orphaned eldest son, Iullus, sustaining a long affair with him (during her marriage to Marcus Agrippa, and later to Tiberius), which led to her banishment by her father, and to Iullus's execution. As well, there were rumors of her other activities, some of them involving illicit dancing and ritual in temples, and perhaps a plot against Augustus's life. Augustus died without blood inheritors, having banished not only Julia, but her daughter as well. One of his final acts was to order the execution of his last grandson, Julia's son. Personally, I suspect this might've had something to do with Augustus's suspicion that the bloodlines of his grandchildren had been tainted by his daughter's infidelity with Mark Antony's son. Regardless, Antony's line would eventually inherit the empire. The emperors Claudius and Nero were both descendants of Mark Antony and Fulvia's remaining Roman daughters.

Usem, the Psylli, is drawn from classical history. He belongs to a tribe referenced both in Plutarch (brought to examine Cleopatra after her death) and in Herodotus, and his tribe is famous both for their relationship with serpents, and for going to war against the Western Wind. In classical sources, the tribe loses the war, and is buried beneath sand dunes. However, their reappearance later, in Cleopatra's time, intrigued me, so . . .

Chrysate, the witch of Thessaly, is a creature drawn from my nightmare imagination as well as from a variety of classical sources (including Medea, who by tradition is from Thessaly, and certainly did some famous child-sacrifice. The ingredients and procedure for Chrysate's youth spell are taken from Ovid's Medea), as are many of her spells, though there is no historic link to Augustus. The price for drawing down the moon really is a sacrificed child, or one of the witch's own eyes.

Auðr, the seiðkona, is based in Norse history and mythology (see stories of Freya and the Norns, as well as many tales more historically based, about the
völva
and
seiðkona
—two words for the same kind of sorceress and seer) as are her distaff, and her powers over fate and memory. I was also inspired by the Germanic tribe of the Cimbri and their female seers, gray-haired women dressed in white, who accompanied the men into battle. The Cimbri were known to the Romans as early as the second century B.C. as a “piratical and warlike folk,” and written about by Strabo. Though the lands north of England, in this book the birthplace of Auðr, were unknown to the Augustan-era Romans, and filed under “Oceanus,” I couldn't resist bringing my seiðkona into the fray.

In A.D. 365, there was an undersea earthquake and major tsunami that caused many of the buildings in Alexandria, including Cleopatra's Palace, to slide deep beneath the harbor. By the eighth century, further earthquakes (though Alexandria is not on any known fault line) had destroyed much of the ancient city. At the time of this writing, the buildings of Cleopatra's Palace have been discovered, but archeologists (and other interested parties) have long been searching for Antony and Cleopatra's tomb, thus far without success.

One of the few confirmed images of Cleopatra extant today is in Egypt at the Temple of Dendera, commissioned by Cleopatra, but completed by Octavian after her death. On its facade, a life-size image of the queen exists. In it, she travels with her son, Caesarion, to deliver an offering to Isis. Her son is accompanied by a small figure representing his
ka
.

Cleopatra, on the other hand, travels alone, unaccompanied by her soul.

Really.

—MDH, November 2010
Seattle, Washington

E
very writer has a Greek chorus of advisors, drinking partners, brainstormers, barnraisers, and ghosts, and mine may well be even larger than most. After my last book, someone published a review of my acknowledgments, claiming (I kid you not) that I was “too thankful” to too many people. Bullshit. When it comes to making a living off imaginary worlds, there is no such thing as being too thankful. Libations and sacrifices to:

Michael Rudell, a great reader/matchmaker, just as much as he is a great lawyer. I'm lucky enough to be represented by that rare thing, an agency full of people who would all be fantastic desert island companions: David Gernert, whose raucous laughter, endless appetite for pages, and raconteur-ing rock the publishing world. Stephanie Cabot, with her dry wit, warmth, and excellent classics geekiness. Rebecca Gardner, for bright ideas and Greek food, along with Will Roberts for foreign rights. My editor, Erika Imranyi, for buying and editing this great big, wild monster of a book, along with Brian Tart and everyone at Dutton for supporting its journey from scribbles into actuality. John Power and Steve Twersky, ongoing believers
and
accountants, which is saying something. Lisa Bankoff, who out of pure goodness said nice things about
Queen of Kings
all over town. Simon Taylor, who got spectacularly giddy over this book and then bought it for the UK marketplace. All the other foreign editors, who
got
this book and bought it.

Let it be said publicly: Without all the friends who contributed willing ears, belief, and alcohol, this novel would not have gotten written. I'd been working for several years on another book, which I backburnered when I got the first tiny, mad kernel of the idea for
Queen of Kings
. I owe thanks to all the people who not only listened to me shriek about the travails of that other project for years but who encouraged me to write
this
one, after all the hours they'd spent patiently comforting me through something else.

Don't think you're done comforting me, friends, Romans, countrymen. This is a trilogy.

I couldn't be more fortunate if I had a magic lamp and a million wishes. Thanks to: Zay Amsbury, Mark Bemesderfer, Chris Bolin, Stesha Brandon, Ed Brubaker and Melanie Tomlin, Tom Bryant, Matt Cheney, Thea Cooper, Kate Czajkowski, Laura Dave, Caitlin DiMotta and Duffy Boudreau, Kelley Eskridge and Nicola Griffith, Lance Horne, Dayna S. Kalleres, Greg Kalleres, Hallie Deaktor Kapner, Doug Kearney, Jay Kirk, Park Krausen, Joe Knezevich, Josh Kilmer-Purcell, Thomas Kohnstamm and Tábata Silva, Erik Larson, Hana Lass, Ben McKenzie, Jenny Mercein, Michaela Murphy, Ruth McKee and Brian K. Vaughan, Samantha Temple Neukom, Leslie and Mark Olson, Rebecca Olson, Amanda Palmer, Matthew Power and Jessica Benko, Steven Rinella, Kim Scott, Sxip Shirey, Jennie Shortridge, Ed Skoog, Garth Stein, and Danielle Trussoni.

The extraordinary Martin Epstein (who should certainly also appear in the friend category), Deloss Brown, and Carol Rocamora at NYU all took my brain and filled it with classics, Shakespeare, and spectacular choruses, back when I was twenty years old. Things had to shake around for a while, but I'm quite sure this book is in part the result of their groundwork. As for my personal Library of Alexandria, many highlights are mentioned in the Historical Notes and Chorus sectors, but Jonathan Carroll, Angela Carter, Michael Chabon, Isak Dinesen, Rikki Ducornet, Neil Gaiman, Mark Helprin, Stephen King, Madeleine L'Engle, Ursula K. Le Guin, George R. R. Martin, China Miéville, and Peter Straub deserve special mention for writing books that continue to blow my mind and remake it. All their (diverse) writing informs mine. Go read their books. You will not regret it. And: I must thank one band most especially for this book. I've never been a metal fan. Ever. But as I wrote
Queen of Kings
, I discovered Iron Maiden. This book was written to a soundtrack of equal parts The Mountain Goats, The National, Iron Maiden, and Stevie Nicks's “Gold Dust Woman.” There it is.

My family have all been victimized by crazed midnight phone calls in which I recite speeches by Cicero and restructure a book they haven't yet read. Once again, I'm wildly lucky, both in the people I'm related to and in the people I married into. Huge love and gratitude to Adriane Headley, Mark Headley and Meghan Koch, Molly Headley and Idir Benkaci, the Lumpkin family, the Moulton family, and the Headley family, my son, Joshua Schenkkan, and my daughter, Sarah Schenkkan (Guys, you're upgraded. You're my stepkids, yeah, but you're my family, and I claim you), the Schenkkan/Rothgeb family. And the chorus of shades: my grandparents R. Dwayne and Marguerite Moulton, and my dad, Mark Bryan Headley. I miss you. I wish you could each have a copy of this book.