men and women whom he could only assume were sharing the apartment. The members of Kaeso’s cult seemed to celebrate poverty, living communally and indiscriminately sharing what little they possessed.
One of the strangers, a white-bearded man in a tattered robe, joined them. His eyes fixed on Titus’s trabea. “This fellow is a brother? An augur?”
Kaeso smiled. “No, brother, he’s not one of us. This is my twin, Titus Pinarius.”
The stranger gave Titus another look and laughed. “Well, I should have known! Yes, I see the resemblance now. Shall we give you some time alone, then? The brothers and sisters will leave you for a while.”
The men and women shambled out of the apartment. To Titus, each one looked shabbier and more disheveled than the last. The stairway creaked under their weight.
“Do we look that different now?” said Kaeso, when they were alone. Certainly, to a casual observer, the twins no longer resembled each other as closely as they once had. Kaeso had long hair and an unkempt beard and did nothing to make himself presentable, while Titus, conscious of the public nature of his work and fastidious by nature, was shaved by his barber daily and was regularly groomed by his slaves at the public baths. When was the last time Kaeso had visited the baths? Titus wrinkled his nose.
Kaeso sensed his disapproval. His tone was sharp. “So, brother, why have you come to see me?”
Titus was equally sharp. “‘Brother,’ you call me? It seems you’ve found others more worthy of being called your brother.” When Kaeso made no answer, Titus regretted his harsh tone. “Does there have to be a reason for me to visit you?”
“Brother, we see each other so seldom, I suspect you must have some cause to be here.”
Titus sighed. “In fact, I do have a reason. I suppose it’s too much to ask that you keep this to yourself. The decree will become public soon enough, but I’d rather it didn’t get out that I gave anyone advance notice.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do you still call yourself a follower of Christ?”
“It’s not what I call myself. It is what I am.”
Titus shook his head. “You must know how much trouble your people have been causing in the city. Last month there was a riot in one of the Jewish neighborhoods-”
“Caused by the intolerance of certain Jews who do not approve of those among them who follow Christ.”
“All this squabbling among the Jews! Can Jews do nothing else? In Jerusalem, people say there are stonings every day, because these Jews slaughter each other over the least religious disagreement. If indeed any of them can be called religious, since they refuse to acknowledge the gods-”
“The Jews worship the one and only god, as do I and the other followers of Christ.”
“But if you are not a Jew, Kaeso, how can you be a Christian?”
“Brother, I have explained all this to you before. While there are some who argue to the contrary, it is my belief that a follower of Christ does not need to be a Jew, and therefore does not need to be circumcised.”
Titus winced. “Don’t tell Claudius that. He’s convinced that all this fighting is strictly a matter of internecine squabbling among the Jews, with no Romans involved. That’s why he’s decided to ban the Jews from the city. That’s what I came to tell you.”
“What?” Kaeso was aghast. “Where does he expect them to go?”
“Back to Judaea, I suppose. Let them take with them all this squabbling about one god and circumcision and Christ, and leave the good people of Roma in peace.”
“Why are you telling me this, Titus?”
“Because I would hate to see you and your wife mistakenly rounded up and deported to Judaea, you fool! Which just might happen, if you insist on spouting impious ideas and keeping company with fanatical Jews.”
“But surely if I offer proof of my Roman citizenship-”
“That should be enough to protect you. Or you can always demonstrate that you haven’t been circumcised,” Titus added, with a shudder of disgust. He looked sidelong at his brother. “You aren’t… circumcised… are you, Kaeso?”
Kaeso raised an eyebrow. “No, brother. In that respect, we are still identical.”
Whether it was intended to or not, the remark recalled to Titus their audience with Caligula. He could think of nothing more to say. It was Kaeso who broke the uncomfortable silence.
“Thank you for telling me, Titus. At least I can warn some of my Jewish brothers about the emperor’s intentions and give them time to prepare. It may lessen their hardship.”
“I thought you welcomed hardship.” Titus surveyed the squalid surroundings – the filthy sleeping mats, the threadbare coverlets, the scraps of food on the floor, a cracked clay lamp that smelled of rancid oil.
Kaeso shrugged. “In the kingdom of the wicked, it is inevitable that men must suffer – for a little longer, anyway.”
“Please, Kaeso, don’t start talking about the end of the world again.”
“It’s not too late for you, Titus – if you act quickly. The end is very near. Christ taught that his second coming would be sooner rather than later, and to those who have eyes to see, the signs of the approaching end of days are all around us. The veil of this suffering world will be ripped away. The Heavenly City will be revealed. If your so- called science of augury and that useless stick you carry had any power at all, you would see this yourself.”
“Don’t insult me, Kaeso. And don’t insult the gods. I came here as a favour to you. I may no longer think of you as my brother, but I honour the memory of my father, and you are my father’s son-”
With a high-pitched squeal, a rat scurried out of the bedding and over Titus’s feet, so quickly that he didn’t have time to jump back. His heart leaped to his throat. He had had enough.
“I have to go now, Kaeso.”
“Off to perform an augury? Every time you deceive others by waving that stick and counting birds, you do the work of Satan.”
Titus could barely contain his anger. Why had he bothered to come? He turned his back on Kaeso and left without saying another word.
The house where he had been called to perform an augury was on a quiet street in one of the better parts of the Esquiline Hill. Like many Roman houses, this one presented little more than a blank wall to the street, but the entrance was quite elegant, with white marble steps and an elaborately carved door. Titus had been promised a substantial fee, and it looked as if the occupant could well afford it.
But, from the moment he stepped inside, Titus felt uneasy. The slave who opened the door for him gave him a wolfish leer, which hardly seemed appropriate, then vanished. The vestibule had no niches for the ancestors, but instead displayed a small shrine to Venus with a little statue of the goddess surrounded by smoking incense. Peering into the house from the vestibule, Titus caught a glimpse of a laughing girl as she ran across the atrium. The girl was blond and almost naked, wearing only a sort of loincloth about her hips.
He was left alone in the vestibule for what seemed a long time. At last a female slave arrived, saying she would escort him to her mistress. Titus was almost certain it was the same girl he had seen run across the atrium, now attired in a sleeveless blue tunica that fitted her rather tightly and left most of her legs exposed.
He followed the girl, not sure what to think. They passed through a beautifully furnished room decorated with statues of Eros and Venus. The wall paintings depicted stories of famous lovers, and some of the images were quite explicit. The slave led him down a long hallway, past several closed doors. From the rooms beyond, Titus heard what could only be the sounds of people making love – sighs, groans, whispers, a slap, and a high-pitched giggle.
He had been told that this was a private residence. Could he possibly have arrived by mistake at a brothel?
“This is the house of Lycisca, is it not?” he asked the girl.
“It certainly is,” she said, leading him into a dimly lit room decorated in shades of orange and red. “That is my mistress’s name. And here she is.”
Amid the deep shadows and the amber glow of lamps, reclining on an elegant couch, dressed in a gown so sheer that it appeared to be made of gossamer, was the emperor’s wife.
Titus was speechless. He had seen Messalina occasionally over the years, but always in the presence of her husband and usually at some official event. Claudius’s sudden elevation had been followed a month later by the birth of their son, Britannicus, and since then Messalina had presented herself as a model Roman wife and mother,
