Serapeum and crossed two blocks to the Temple of Baal-Ahriman, which was thronged
with worshippers, sightseers and idlers. It seemed that the inaugural festivities were still in progress. People danced to the clanging of cymbals and the rattle of sistra, the wailing of flutes and the thumping of drums. Many lay inert, worn out by their sanctified exertions.
Incense burned in huge bronze braziers all over the temple and its courtyards. It was needed, too. Fifty bulls produce a great deal of blood when they are sacrificed, far more than the gutters and drains of the temple were designed to cope with. The incense deadened the smell and kept down the flies a bit. The heads and hides of the bulls were mounted on stakes, facing inward toward the temple.
Like most Egyptian temples, it was rather cramped inside, what with the thick walls and the usual forest of squat pillars. At the utmost end was the statue of the seated god. Baal-Ahriman was about as ugly as a god can get without turning viewers to stone. His head was that of a lion that appeared to suffer from some form of leonine leprosy. The body was that of an emaciated man with withered female breasts, a little difficult to discern because he was still wearing his cloak of bulls’ testicles. The flies were especially numerous in this inner sanctum.
“You have come to pay your respects to the great Baal-Ahriman?” I turned to see Ataxas, still draped with his snake.
“A Roman official always gives due respect to the gods of the lands he visits,” I said. I took a pinch of incense from a huge bowl and tossed it onto the coals that glowed in a brazier before the disgusting thing. The resultant puff of smoke did very little to allay the stench.
“Excellent. My Lord is pleased. He harbors only the greatest love for Rome, and would like to be numbered among the gods worshipped in the greatest city in the world.”
“I shall speak to the Senate about it,” I said, mentally vowing to start a major war before allowing his ghastly death-demon to set a diseased paw within the gates of Rome.
“That would be splendid,” he said, beaming greasily.
“Am I to understand,” I inquired, “that the god is soon to speak to the faithful?”
He nodded solemnly. “That is true. Upon several occasions of late, my Lord has come to me in visions and has told me that he will soon make himself manifest among his worshippers. He will speak forth in his own voice, requiring no intermediary.”
“I take it, then, that he will speak oracular pronouncements, which you will then interpret for the ears of the vulgar?”
“Oh, no, Senator. As I have said, he will require no intermediary. He will speak plainly.”
“Since his original home was in Asia,” I hazarded, “I presume that he will speak in one of the Eastern tongues?”
“My Lord has now made his home in Alexandria, and it is my belief that he will therefore speak in Greek.”
“And the subject of his pronouncements?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Who may know what is the will of a god, until that will is made manifest? I am but his priest and prophet. Doubtless my Lord shall say that which he deems meet for men to hear.”
Typical priestly prevarication.
“I shall look forward to his advent among men,” I assured the scoundrel.
“I shall send word to the embassy should my Lord tell me that he is preparing to speak.”
“I would appreciate that.”
“Now, please be so good as to come with me, Senator. I am sure that you have not yet seen much of our new temple.” Taking my arm, he gave me a tour of the building, explaining that the papyrus-headed capitals of the pillars were symbolic of Lower Egypt, as lotus capitals symbolized Upper Egypt. I already knew this, having taken the Nile tour, but I wanted the man in a forthcoming mood.
We passed through the back of the temple into the rear courtyard, where a feast was in progress. Great carcasses turned on spits over glowing coals. Like so many thoughtful gods,
with worshippers, sightseers and idlers. It seemed that the inaugural festivities were still in progress. People danced to the clanging of cymbals and the rattle of sistra, the wailing of flutes and the thumping of drums. Many lay inert, worn out by their sanctified exertions.
Incense burned in huge bronze braziers all over the temple and its courtyards. It was needed, too. Fifty bulls produce a great deal of blood when they are sacrificed, far more than the gutters and drains of the temple were designed to cope with. The incense deadened the smell and kept down the flies a bit. The heads and hides of the bulls were mounted on stakes, facing inward toward the temple.
Like most Egyptian temples, it was rather cramped inside, what with the thick walls and the usual forest of squat pillars. At the utmost end was the statue of the seated god. Baal-Ahriman was about as ugly as a god can get without turning viewers to stone. His head was that of a lion that appeared to suffer from some form of leonine leprosy. The body was that of an emaciated man with withered female breasts, a little difficult to discern because he was still wearing his cloak of bulls’ testicles. The flies were especially numerous in this inner sanctum.
“You have come to pay your respects to the great Baal-Ahriman?” I turned to see Ataxas, still draped with his snake.
“A Roman official always gives due respect to the gods of the lands he visits,” I said. I took a pinch of incense from a huge bowl and tossed it onto the coals that glowed in a brazier before the disgusting thing. The resultant puff of smoke did very little to allay the stench.
“Excellent. My Lord is pleased. He harbors only the greatest love for Rome, and would like to be numbered among the gods worshipped in the greatest city in the world.”
“I shall speak to the Senate about it,” I said, mentally vowing to start a major war before allowing his ghastly death-demon to set a diseased paw within the gates of Rome.
“That would be splendid,” he said, beaming greasily.
“Am I to understand,” I inquired, “that the god is soon to speak to the faithful?”
He nodded solemnly. “That is true. Upon several occasions of late, my Lord has come to me in visions and has told me that he will soon make himself manifest among his worshippers. He will speak forth in his own voice, requiring no intermediary.”
“I take it, then, that he will speak oracular pronouncements, which you will then interpret for the ears of the vulgar?”
“Oh, no, Senator. As I have said, he will require no intermediary. He will speak plainly.”
“Since his original home was in Asia,” I hazarded, “I presume that he will speak in one of the Eastern tongues?”
“My Lord has now made his home in Alexandria, and it is my belief that he will therefore speak in Greek.”
“And the subject of his pronouncements?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Who may know what is the will of a god, until that will is made manifest? I am but his priest and prophet. Doubtless my Lord shall say that which he deems meet for men to hear.”
Typical priestly prevarication.
“I shall look forward to his advent among men,” I assured the scoundrel.
“I shall send word to the embassy should my Lord tell me that he is preparing to speak.”
“I would appreciate that.”
“Now, please be so good as to come with me, Senator. I am sure that you have not yet seen much of our new temple.” Taking my arm, he gave me a tour of the building, explaining that the papyrus-headed capitals of the pillars were symbolic of Lower Egypt, as lotus capitals symbolized Upper Egypt. I already knew this, having taken the Nile tour, but I wanted the man in a forthcoming mood.
We passed through the back of the temple into the rear courtyard, where a feast was in progress. Great carcasses turned on spits over glowing coals. Like so many thoughtful gods,
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