Empire (14 page)

Titus explained to Artemisia and Chrysanthe why the altar had special significance to the Pinarii. “Long before there was a city on the Tiber, and only shepherds and a few traders lived among the Seven Hills, Hercules paid a visit, passing through with a herd of oxen. A monster called Cacus was living in a cave on the Palatine, just over there, terrorizing the local inhabitants. Cacus made the mistake of trying to steal one of the stranger’s oxen—he didn’t know who he was dealing with!—and after a terrific struggle, Hercules killed the monster Cacus on this very spot. The Pinarii were living here even then, for Livius tells us that it was a Pinarius who established this place of worship—the very first altar to a god in the whole region of the Seven Hills.”

Kaeso, who had remained silent since they had stepped from the litters, finally spoke. “Hercules was not a god, brother.”

Titus looked sidelong at his brother. “Strictly speaking, while he lived he was a demigod, since Jupiter sired him on a mortal woman. But after he died, he joined the gods in Olympus.”

Kaeso snorted softly. “If you believe such nonsense.”

“Kaeso!” Titus ground his teeth. This was not the first time his brother had expressed such atheistic sentiments, but to do so in a public place, where someone might overhear, and in this of all places, with its ancient, sacred ties to their own family, was beyond decency. Titus asked Artemisia and Chrysanthe to return to the litters, then spoke to Kaeso through clenched teeth.

“You should learn when to speak, brother, and when to keep your thoughts to yourself.”

“Why? If Jupiter overhears me, will he strike me down with a thunderbolt?”

“He might do just that! Am I mistaken, brother, or has this impious attitude of yours grown worse since we arrived in Roma? I had hoped that coming here, leaving the influence of those Jewish mystics in Alexandria
behind, would bring you closer to the gods. I know that was father’s hope as well.”

“Don’t bring father into this.”

“Why not? When a man honors his father, he honors the gods, and vice versa. You seem disinclined to do either. The Alexandrians have a long tradition of allowing all manner of outlandish and even dangerous ideas to be taught, and we’ve seen the result: one has the feeling the gods abandoned that city long ago. But we are in Roma now, the heart of the world, the center of the world’s religion. This is the home of our emperor, who is also the Pontifex Maximus, the highest of all priests. The gods make Roma their home when they choose to be on earth. Why? Because no other city offers them so many splendid temples to reside in, or provides so many altars where the pious may sacrifice in their honor. And in return, Roma above all other cities has been divinely blessed. Here in Roma, you must learn to keep unholy thoughts to yourself and to pay proper respect to the gods. It’s not I who demand this, but the gods.”

“No, it’s you, Titus. Your gods demand nothing, because they don’t exist.”

“Blasphemy, Kaeso! Even your Jewish mystics in Alexandria believe in the gods, even if they favor one above all others. Didn’t their god Jehovah say to them, ‘You shall have no other gods
before me
’? You see, Kaeso, I do know something about these ideas you picked up in Alexandria, though I can’t imagine what sort of god demands his worshippers to spurn his fellow gods.”

Kaeso shook his head. “You know nothing about it, Titus. I’ve tried to explain to you—”

“I know that when a man denies the gods, he’s asking to be punished by them.”

Kaeso sighed. “I suppose we shall meet one of your so-called gods today.”

“What do you mean?”

“They say Caligula believes himself to be a god. Or a goddess, on the days he dresses up as Venus. Shall we fall to our knees and worship him?”

Kaeso’s tone was sarcastic, but Titus gave him a serious answer: “In fact, before we enter his presence, we may be required to make some acknowledgment of the emperor’s divine origins. It won’t kill you to murmur
a prayer and burn a bit of incense. Shall we rejoin our wives and get on with it?”

As the bearers made their way up the slope of the Palatine, Chrysanthe tried to lighten Titus’s mood with inconsequential speculations. Would the emperor be accompanied by his wife, Caesonia? What would she be wearing? Would their young daughter make an appearance? Titus occasionally grunted in response, but was not listening. The argument with Kaeso had unsettled his nerves. He fell prey to unwelcome thoughts. For days, ever since the summons had arrived, Titus had been telling himself that an imperial audience was a singular honor and a golden opportunity, something to longed for, not feared. Suddenly he felt nervous and uncertain about what to expect. He had heard a great many strange rumors about the emperor.

Caligula had once set sail for Britannia on a mission of conquest, then suddenly turned back and ordered his troops to collect seashells instead, which he paraded before the people and the Senate of Roma as spoils of war, claiming he had conquered the ocean itself; a tavern keeper in the Subura had told Titus this tale, and every man in the tavern had backed him up. An architect’s wife at the market told Chrysanthe that her husband had helped to build a magnificent marble stall and an ivory manger for the emperor’s favorite horse, which Caligula decked out in purple blankets and a collar of precious stones, invited to dinner parties, and addressed as “Consul.”

These stories could almost be laughed at, but others were more disturbing. Caligula had once arranged an oratory competition, and made the losers erase their wax tablets with their tongues. When Caligula fell ill, a man declared that he would gladly sacrifice his own life to save the emperor’s; when Caligula recovered, he reminded the man of his pledge and forced him to commit suicide. At a gladiator show, the number of condemned men to be slain by wild beasts fell short of expectations, and to make up the number Caligula ordered some of the spectators to be thrown into the arena. All these tales were widely told and attested to be true.

Equally widespread was the rumor that Caligula had slept with all three of his sisters, openly practicing incest and proudly claiming that he
himself was the product of incest between his grandmother Julia and her father, the Divine Augustus.

Titus did not know what to think. Claudius might have helped him make sense of such stories, but Titus and Kaeso had not seen their cousin for over a month. As Messalina’s delivery drew nearer, Claudius had become increasingly reticent and withdrawn, finally confining himself to the imperial residence and accepting no visitors, not even over the Saturnalia holidays. When the twins had received the summons to an audience with Caligula, Titus had dispatched a message to Claudius at once, telling him the news and asking to meet, hoping to receive his cousin’s advice. In response, Claudius sent only a cryptic message: “May Fortune be with you!”

The litters arrived in the gravel forecourt of the imperial house, where numerous other litters had been parked. The courtyard was crowded with idle bearers as well as messengers and slaves whose masters had business within. Though the palace had been greatly expanded since the time of Augustus, the entry for guests was still the doorway flanked by laurel trees, and the courtyard still displayed the armor of the Divine Augustus. As they walked by, Titus dared to touch his fingers to the bronze breastplate. The thrill of excitement at being in this place was so great that it almost dispelled his anxieties.

They had to present themselves to a great many retainers and pass through a great many doors on their way to being received by the emperor. Titus soon lost all sense of direction and had no idea where they were inside the sprawling complex. At last they were shown into a small but exquisitely decorated room with a black marble floor, red drapes, and gilded furniture. The mood was informal. A servant announced the two couples, then invited them to relax on couches opposite that of the emperor, who reclined on his own couch with his wife Caesonia.

As all the stories had indicated, Caesonia was of middle age, but with her large breasts and sumptuous hips she exuded a certain overripe appeal. Her henna-stained hair was coiffed to frame her face like a peacock’s fan. With a forefinger she idly toyed with her necklace of amber and lapis. Her unblinking gaze made Titus nervous.

The sight of the emperor was reassuring, at least at first. At twenty-nine, Caligula was only seven years older than Titus and Kaeso, but his
fair hair was already beginning to thin a bit. His features were plain but regular, and his expression was mild, almost vacant. He looked quite normal, Titus thought, except for his eccentric dress. Caligula appeared to be wearing not the boots for which he was named but a woman’s slippers, and the feminine gown called a cyclas embroidered with purple and gold and made of silk. In the days of the Divine Augustus, legislation had been passed outlawing the wearing of silk by men. Yet here was the emperor himself wrapped in the stuff.

“You will address him as Dominus,” the retainer had instructed them in a whisper before they entered the room. This was another way Caligula differed from his predecessors. Both Augustus and Tiberius had explicitly rejected using as a title the word by which slaves addressed their master.

The conversation began well. The twins thanked the emperor for lifting their father’s banishment. Caligula accepted their thanks and demonstrated his acquaintance with their family history and their current circumstances, noting their success in the Alexandrian grain trade despite the unfortunate treatment of their father by Tiberius.

“And so the wheel of time rolls on,” said Caligula, “and here you both are, visitors to the imperial presence as was your father before you. Welcome.”

Titus began to relax. The emperor himself was treating them with friendship and respect. What could be better? He glanced sidelong and caught his brother’s eye. Kaeso looked tense and anxious. His brother needed to learn to relax and to enjoy the benefits that Fortune had bestowed on them.

The audience was interrupted by the appearance of the emperor’s daughter. Little Julia Drusilla was followed by a harried-looking nurse who wore the vestments of a priestess of Minerva. The girl ran shrieking to her father. Titus wondered if something was wrong with the child, but Caligula seemed unperturbed. He opened his mouth and shrieked back at her, then took her in his arms as the two of them screamed with laughter. Father and daughter seemed to be playing a noisy, familiar game. Titus saw his wife and his sister-in-law smile and take an interest, as they tended to do in the presence of any child.

Little Julia Drusilla was thoroughly disheveled, with her golden hair mussed and her gown askew, and once her laughter subsided her petulant
mood returned. With a look of alarm, Caligula noted a spot of blood on her tunic.

“What’s this?” he cried.

“It’s another child’s blood,” the priestess quickly explained. “She was playing with some other children—”

“And what happened?” asked Caesonia sharply.

“They looked at me funny, so I scratched their faces!” The little girl made a fearsome face and mimicked the clawing of a cat.

“I was afraid she might blind one of them,” whispered the priestess.

Caligula examined the girl’s hands. “Look at that—she has blood under her tiny fingernails!” He sat back on the couch and clapped his hands. “Good girl! A little she-lion, you are! Well, if ever there was any need for proof that the child is mine—as was doubted by certain gossips now deceased—there’s your proof. Like father, like daughter! By all means, if the other children should offend you, don’t stand for it. Scratch their eyes out! There’s quite a thrill in drawing blood, isn’t there, little one?”

“Yes, papa.”

“Run and say hello to my guests. I’m sure the ladies want to meet you.”

Julia first approached Artemisia, who shrank back. The little girl then turned to Chrysanthe, who managed a crooked smile and held out her hand. Julia stared at the hand for a moment, then snarled and snapped at it. Chrysanthe pulled back her hand with a cry. Julia turned and ran, laughing, to her father, who seemed as amused as his daughter at the women’s discomfort. He gave Julia a parting kiss, then sent the child and her nurse on their way.

Caesonia looked at her guests and shrugged. “Children—such a distraction! Yet they bring so much joy. Does either of you have children yet?”

Artemisia blushed and looked to Chrysanthe, who had regained her composure. “No, not yet. But as my husband says, perhaps the waiting has been a blessing, since our firstborn can now be conceived here in the city of his ancestors.”

“So young, and not yet mothers,” said Caesonia. “So you both must be very tight still.”

Chrysanthe’s smile wavered. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Caesonia giggled and crooked her finger at Caligula, who leaned close so that she could whisper in his ear.

While the imperial couple conversed in a hush, Kaeso leaned toward Titus. “Let me have the amulet,” he whispered.

Titus frowned and shook his head. He defensively touched the fascinum where it lay hidden under his toga. He had won the toss of the dice that morning, as Kaeso was well aware.

But Kaeso was insistent. “Please, brother! Give it to me!”

“Why?”

“For protection.”

“From what?”

“Can’t you feel his presence?”

“Who?”

“The devil himself!”

Titus rolled his eyes, unable to believe that Kaeso was spouting yet another of the impious notions he had picked up in Alexandria, and in the very presence of the emperor. He gave a start when he realized that Caligula was addressing him in a sharp voice.

Titus’s face turned hot. “A thousand pardons, Dominus. I didn’t hear you.”

“Then listen more attentively, Titus Pinarius. I don’t ask unimportant questions, and I hate to repeat myself. But I will ask again, because Caesonia wants to know: are the two of you identical in every way?”

Titus raised an eyebrow. “We certainly have differences of opinion, Dominus.”

“I mean physically, you fool!” Caligula smiled, baring a bit more of his teeth than seemed normal.

“Yes, Dominus, we’re identical twins, as you can see. People remark on our similarity all the time.”