Claudius laughed. “I see you’ve followed my advice and taken up the study of astrology. As Bolus writes in Sympathies and Antipathies, every student of astrology must sooner or later confront the paradox of Fate versus Fortune. If Fate is an inexorable path laid before us by the stars, from which no divergence is possible, then what good is a prayer to Fortune or any other deity? Yet men call upon Fortune all the time and in every circumstance. It is our nature to propitiate the g-g-gods and ask their blessing, so there must be some utility in doing so, despite the inescapable nature of Fate. It is my opinion that our personal destiny is like a broad pathway. We cannot go backwards or leave the path or change the destination, but within the pathway we can execute small twists and turns. In those circumstances we are able to exercise choice, and the favour of the gods can make a difference.”
Lucius stared into the middle distance and nodded.
Claudius sighed. “I see by your face, Lucius, that not one word I’ve said makes sense to you.”
Lucius laughed. “To be candid, Claudius, my study of astrology has not gone especially well. It’s not like augury. I didn’t particularly like spending all that time with the magister, but I did enjoy the instruction he gave us, because the science of augury makes perfect sense to me. Augury was perfected by our ancestors, it served them well, and it’s our duty to continue the practice, so as to maintain the gods’ favour for ourselves and our descendants. But astrology…” Lucius shook his head. “Naming the planets, categorizing their effects on human behaviour, and the rest – it all seems rather arbitrary to me, as if some long-dead Babylonian simply made it up. And as you say, if Fate exists, what point is there in knowing what the future will bring? Unlike you, Claudius, I’m not sure that augury and astrology can be reconciled. I think a man must believe in one or the other.”
“In that respect, at least, you are in agreement with Uncle Tiberius.”
“It was thoughtful of you, Claudius, to obtain the emperor’s birth information for me, as well as those two horoscopes. The older one, cast by Scribonius at Tiberius’s birth, I was able to decipher fairly well. But the more recent horoscope, by Thrasyllus – well, it made no sense to me at all. I simply couldn’t follow his calculations. And his description of Tiberius’s character – a humble man, reluctant but compelled by Fate to assume great responsibility – may be accurate, but I couldn’t see how it followed from the casting.”
“It could be that Thrasyllus, sifting among the d-d-data, delivered a reading in accordance with the image Uncle Tiberius wishes to project.”
“You mean he told the emperor what the emperor wanted to hear.”
“The fact that an astrologer may be devious does not negate the science itself, Lucius. Uncle Tiberius is probably as great a puzzle to Thrasyllus as he is to the rest of us. We have an emperor who refuses to wear the laurel crown, or to take any of Great-Uncle’s titles – no Augustus, no Father of His Country, no Imperator after his name. But neither d-d-does he seem likely to restore the Republic – he says the whole lot of senators are ‘fit to be slaves.’ Is Uncle Tiberius truly a humble man, thrust into prominence by circumstance, not to mention the ambitions of my grandmother? Or is he merely striking a pose, as Great-Uncle did when he styled himself the humble public servant who wanted nothing more than to serve the state?”
“Studying the stars may give an answer to Thrasyllus, but not to me,” said Lucius. “I simply have no aptitude for astrology.”
“Ah, well, I had thought to set you on the p-p-path, but it was not to be. Smile, Lucius! I just made a joke about Fate.”
“And you had no choice but to make it.”
Claudius nodded and looked across the garden, where Acilia was speaking to her mother. “If free will exists, then you certainly made a fine choice for a bride. Acilia is very b-b-beautiful.”
“She is. And I love her. It’s a curious thing: my father chose to court the Acilii because they had money, but now that’s irrelevant, thanks to the fortune I inherited from your uncle. I am free to marry for love.”
“Lucky man! Nowadays, most people marry for the tax advantages. Great-Uncle was determined that everyone should pair up, settle down, and breed, so he punished the unmarried and childless with taxes. He made life easier for the married man, and easier still for the man with children. You can get started on that tonight!”
Lucius joined him in gazing at Acilia. In her white robe and yellow veil, lit by moonlight and lamplight, she seemed to glow softly.
“At this time next year, I could have a son,” he said, awed by the enormity of it. “Do you remember, Claudius, when Augustus showed us those baby shoes?”
“Baby shoes?”
“When we spoke to him in that upstairs study, he showed us a pair of your nephew’s shoes.”
“Ah, yes, the baby shoes my brother sent as a keepsake. Little Gaius has grown since then. He’s big for a four-year-old, and quite the warrior. Germanicus tells me the boy has his own pair of miniature army boots, the caliga worn by soldiers. How the troops love to see the boy on parade. Caligula, they call him, ‘Little Boots.’”
“Your older brother has done well. He’s lived up to his name.”
“He has, indeed. His first task was quelling the unrest in the ranks when Uncle Tiberius reneged on the bonuses promised by Augustus; only Germanicus’s popularity with the troops prevented a wholesale uprising. We learned a lesson there, about where the real p-p-power behind the emperor lies – not with the Senate, but with the legions. Germanicus not only rallied the troops on the Rhine, he led an invasion deep into German territory and avenged the disaster of the Teutoberg Forest. Two of the lost eagle standards were retrieved, and he’s vowed to take back the other as well, even if he has to pry it from the dead hand of Arminius.”
“Everyone in Roma is talking about his success.”
“The people now love him as much as his troops do. Almost certainly Tiberius will have to award Germanicus a triumph when he returns to Roma. Imagine the pomp and glory, all the German slaves and captured b-b-booty on display, the acclamation of the legions, and little Caligula riding beside his father in the chariot, wearing his tiny army boots!”
Lucius touched the fascinum at his breast. “And beneath the chariot will be the sacred fascinum of the Vestals, to ward off the gaze of the envious.”
“The envious in this case being Tiberius,” said Claudius under his breath.
Lucius lowered his voice. “Does he see Germanicus as a rival?”
“Who c-c-can say?”
“If Tiberius feels threatened by your brother, what does that mean for you, Claudius?”
“Perhaps I should c-consult my horoscope.”
Lucius suddenly felt uneasy. For many years, under Augustus, power in Roma had been a settled affair; whether a man liked it or not, everyone knew his place. But in the aftermath of Augustus’s death, the future of the city and the individual destinies of its people seemed uncertain.
But for himself, at least in the short term, Lucius could foresee only happiness. The opportunity to serve Augustus had made him a wealthy man and delivered to him the bride he had longed for. His friendship with Claudius had brought him into the outer circles of the imperial family, close enough to enjoy certain privileges but not so close as to provoke the fear and jealousy of powerful men. To be sure, his study of astrology had led him to a dead end, but his love of augury was greater than ever. What did it matter that the new emperor placed his trust entirely in astrology?
The current fascination with Babylonian stargazing might be only a passing fashion, while augurs would always be needed and respected in Roma.
At last, after much celebration, the last of the guests departed. The slaves disappeared into their rooms for the night. While Acilia withdrew to the bed chamber to make ready, Lucius walked alone from room to room, taking inventory of his surroundings. Claudius had said the house was lovely, and it was. Lamplight softly illuminated the walls, freshly painted with images of peacocks and gardens, and fell softly on all the beautiful objects Lucius had purchased to make the house worthy of Acilia: the lamps and tables, the chairs and rugs, the dining couches and draperies. What a great deal of furniture was required to fill a house, and how expensive it all was! How could anyone who had not received an inheritance afford it? Lucius knew he was a very lucky man.
He entered the bedroom where Acilia awaited him. With trembling fingers, he untied the Hercules knot that secured the purple sash around her waist and removed her bridal robe. Beneath, she wore a brief gown made of shimmering fabric so sheer that he could see right though it. She unpinned her hair, and the honey-coloured tresses fell almost to her waist. He stood rooted to the spot, simply gazing at her, wishing he could stop time. What moment could be more perfect than this, balanced between the deep satisfaction the day had brought him and the exquisite pleasures of the night to come?
