Queen Cleopatra felt great enmity---
royal, self-righteous, roiling wrath---toward me
but was not able to successfully
arrange for my demise. Lord Antony
forbade it as he found my skills of use
to him. Even Octavian retained
my services: I am King of the Jews;
I built their temple and raised Caesarea
Maritima----the Roman Capitol
of this Kingdom. How, then, should I be the
foil of an infant, who---not quite two years
old---is titled (in some old Prophet's tome)
God's chosen ruler. I have long disdained---
as old fools' wishes---ancient prophecy.
So I chose stern, ruthless expediency,
acting upon my own authority.
The speed and skill of my own mercenary
soldiers provided an extraordinary
and always merciless effiency.
In Bethlehem, each grieving family---
parents, siblings, kinfolk---shed many tears
of grief that will remind them of their fears
of me and the Herodian dynasty.
(I learned a thing or two from Ptolemy
Soter.) Now, no concern for Bethlehem
distracts me from my business. I intend
to choose the best of my soldiers, and send
them in pursuit of those reprobate three
who travel with strange stars' light in their eyes,
and came to speak of the nativity
of that child and his holy destiny---
as if they thought to cause me consternation.
They have escaped, but I will apprehend
and charge with treasonous conspiracy,
and maybe even cheap chicanery.
Judging them guilty, I will transport them
in chains, sackcloth, and ashes back to Rome.
I hope that such a good gift will surprise
Octavian Augustus, bringing some
additional mirth to his celebration
of his great and historic victory
over the Empire's foes at Actium.
Time to dine now: my royal plate is full.
J-9thxciv
[*/+/^]
Author's Notes/Comments:
I have tried to make this poem dense with historical references---the kind of poem that, during my Senior year in high school, I dreamed of writing (along with love poems to BlueShift).
Cleoptatra sought at every opportunity to have Herod murdered or executed because he had advised her lover, Mark Antony, that she was a whore. Mark Antony, Consul of the Roman Empire, protected Herod, even to the point of Cleopatra's exclusion of Antony from her bed for a good six months. After Octavian defeated Antony and Cleopatra at Actrium (to which the poem's last line alludes), Herod was accepted into Octavian's employ, and was promoted to be King of the Jews.
Ptolmey Soter was chief field commander to Alexander the Great; and, upon Alexander's death, inherited Egypt as his share of that empire. He established a dynasty that built the Great Library, the Museum, and the Lighthouse on Pharos. Cleopatra was the last of his descendents to rule Egypt; Kaisarion, her son, was the last of his descendents to live---that we know of.
The three Magi, were, in my opinion, three Romans who had incurred Octavian's wrath---Kaisarion (Cleopatra's son by Julius Caesar), Vergil (who wanted to destroy his own epic poem, The Aeneid, which Octavian planned to used for propoganda purposes; and did), and Cornelius Gallus, a Roman administrator who dabbled in love poetry and exceeded his own authority during his administration of the conquered province of Egypt. I believe that God spared these three from the Emperor's anger, and sent them, as representatives of the Roman Empire, to greet and welcome the child Jesus. We know that Herod's intention to apprehend them and return them to Rome failed, as the Apostle Saint Matthew's Gospel tells us they return to their own country.
According to the scholars whose work I studied, Octavian Augustus celebrated, annually, the anniversary of the Battle of Actium, by which he achieved sole dominance over the Roman Republic and its Empire.
