Giving (he)r address from the rostra in the Roman Senate, Battakes was dressed in (he)r finest raiment. (S)he wore a long red stola embroidered with golden flowers, precious gems adorned (he)r fingers, and around (he)r neck hung a necklace accommodating a temple shaped amulet etched with images of Cybele standing between Hermes and Zeus; a head taller than they, the Goddess was blessing them. Also Battakes wore a golden crown, in appearance nearly identical to the miter bishops would wear in a future time. Exquisitely waved, (he)r hair framed (he)r delicately painted face. The audience was deeply impressed by (he)r oriental splendor.

As (s)he spoke (he)r words were sonorous and as Rome was engaged in another of its interminable wars Battakes promised, ``In the Punic wars the Goddess was the benefactor of Rome. Her presence was with every soldier, strengthening their arms, multiplying their strength, and thus insuring victory. Still Cybele rides in every chariot, carries every arrow to its target, directs every sword to deadly cause. Rome will be victorious and reign supreme once more and, until Rome deserts the Goddess, she will reign above all other nations.'' The senators hastened to promise yet another temple to Cybele pledging that the Mother of the Gods would always have a home in Rome.

Battakes answered, ``In the passage of time Rome will turn her face away from Magna Mater, and when she does it will signal the fall of the Roman State. Even now there are factions besieging the Mother's Holy City of Pessinus. We ask that legions be sent to safeguard the sacred precincts against plunder and terror by those who defame our practices.''

A certain plebeian tribune, by name A. Pompeius, with a small band of his friends, raised a cry against Battakes. Approaching (he)r they jeered at the resplendent figure of Battakes. ``You are repugnant to us. You lay with other men. You adorn yourselves as women in the guise of priestesses. You're no more than beggars, scavenging from the gain of others; giving nothing in return. We would banish all of you from Rome. Begone, get yourself from this place before we do you harm.''

``I will go,'' (s)he answered, ``but the Goddess will cast her gaze on you. You will come to regret the words you spoke this day.''

Battakes left the rostra and returned to (he)r apartments in the temple on the Palatine. Then it came to pass, on the following day, that A. Pompeius took to his bed with a fever. A few days later he was dead.

In (he)r ceremonial departure speech Battakes spoke of a new wind, ugly and cruel, blowing across the land. As (s)he spoke the awe and respect of the audience was immense, ``Today the Goddess walks in our hearts and Rome is supreme. Someday, too soon, Rome will withdraw her love from the Great Mother. She will cast aspersions on her priestesses, rebuking and reproaching us. In that day a new god shall ascend over Rome, a wrathful god, a god of hate and war, a god who demands the end of our Lady of Dindymus and all who follow her. Our temples will be burned, we will be cast out, murdered in our beds and then, Rome too will fall. Her splendor shall turn to ashes.''

Then, (he)r mission accomplished, Battakes took (he)r leave returning to (he)r responsibilities in Pessinus. Two years later, Roman law changed to allow certain classes of citizens, if they should desire, to transform themselves in the manner of oriental Gallae. One hundred forty years later, Claudius removed all restrictions on Roman citizens wishing to dedicate themselves to the service of Cybele. And then, later still, came the ``one true'' God, and his followers who destroyed everything that stood in their path.

Author's Note: I have been told that the telling of these tales offends some sensibilities, that I malign a religion and distort history. I admit to neither assertion. Few liberties are taken with historical possibility, even probability. I caution those who believe my tales misrepresent; review the agony created by the hideous distortions leveled against gender-variant people, our heritage, when rendered at all, vilified. If, in the correction of these atrocities the reality I offer offends ... I make no apology. A grievous wrong was done and grievous should be the shame.