No one had come. No one wanted to be seen saying farewell to an exiled enemy of the imperial house – no one except Claudius.
The twin held by his mother began to cry. Yes, it was Kaeso, as Lucius had thought; he could recognize the boys more readily by their cries than by their faces, which were truly identical.
Slaves began to load the crates into the cargo hold of the boat. Lucius and Claudius were in the way. They stepped to the edge of the dock and stood side by side, staring at their distorted reflections in the water.
“It may be that your exile is a g-good thing. Who can say?”
“A good thing? To leave the only city I know, the only home I’ve ever had? The idea of raising my sons anywhere else is unspeakably bitter to me, almost unbearable.”
“No, Lucius, hear me out. Tiberius is increasingly detached. He gives more and more authority to Sejanus. The situation in Roma can only grow worse. For the first time in my life, I’ve begun to fear for my own survival. The atmosphere around Tiberius is so clouded with suspicion, even a fellow as harmless as myself m-m-might become a target.”
“What will you do, Claudius?”
“I intend to disengage from public life as much as p-p-possible. Grow root vegetables at my country house. P-p-pursue my antiquarian studies. Get drunk with my low-life friends. As soon as you leave, I intend to head back to the tavern and get even drunker than I already am.”
The stack of crates had vanished. Packed inside one of them was Lucius’s trabea and his lituus.
The boat was ready to cast off.
His mother stumbled on the gangplank. When Lucius caught her, he was shocked at how little she weighed. He wondered how she could survive the journey.
Claudius stood alone on the dock and waved as they departed, then turned around and went back to the tavern.
Lucius gazed at the buildings passing by. He knew every street and rooftop of this part of the city, between the Tiber and the Aventine, though he was more used to looking down from the top of the hill; the view was strange, looking up from the river.
Scanning the skyline, he happened to spot his house, high on the crest of the Aventine. But it was not his house any longer; the new owners were standing on one of the balconies, waving to their neighbours across the way. Lucius gazed at the sight and knew how the lemures of the dead must feel, watching the living from the shadows.
Titus and Kaeso both began to cry. Would they cry all the way to Alexandria?
The boat sailed on. On the shore, temples and houses gave way to warehouses and rubbish heaps, and then to open fields. The city disappeared from view.
As clearly as if a god had whispered the knowledge in his ear, Lucius knew he would never see Roma again.
PART II
TITUS AND KAESO THE TWINS
“Impressive? I suppose. But so is Alexandria,” said Kaeso Pinarius, surveying the heart of Roma from the summit of the Capitoline Hill.
The Temple of Apollo atop the Palatine dominated the skyline; adjacent to the temple, the imperial complex had been much built up since the time of Augustus and presented a jumble of tile rooftops, aerial gardens, and colonnaded terraces. Directly below was the Forum with its procession of grand edifices along the Sacred Way, from the Senate House to the round Temple of Vesta and beyond. To the north and east lay the other hills of Roma, and nestled among them the concentration of towering tenements, some as tall as seven stories, in the crowded Subura.
“Impressive? It’s incredible! Alexandria simply can’t compare. Nor can any other place I’ve seen.” Kaeso’s twin brother, Titus, could hardly contain his enthusiasm. At the age of twenty-two, Titus could not claim to have travelled the world, but their late father had once taken them on a trip to Antioch, and he and Kaeso had stopped in several cities, including Athens, on their journey to Roma. “In Alexandria, all the streets are laid out in a grid. Every corner is like every other. It’s so regular and boring. But Roma is all hills and valleys and streets as jumbled as a pile of serpents, and huge buildings everywhere you look.”
Kaeso nodded. “Yes, it’s a mess.”
“It’s magnificent!”
“‘Magnificent’ would describe the Temple of Serapis in Alexandria, or the Great Library, or the Pharos lighthouse, or perhaps the Museum-”
“But none of those can rival the Temple of Jupiter,” said Titus. He looked over his shoulder and up at the grand structure with its immense columns and pediment roof surmounted by a gilded statue of the greatest of the gods in his quadriga, glimmering under the slanting light of a bright November sun. Titus turned in a slow circle, taking in the view in every direction, enchanted by the sinuous course of the shimmering Tiber, awed by the sheer immensity of the city. “Surely, brother, this is the most magnificent sight on earth.”
“Father certainly thought so. How he loved to reminisce about his beloved Roma!” Kaeso sighed. “If only he were still alive, to be here with us today.”
Titus nodded. “He was supposed to be here. He would be here, and so would mother, if the fever hadn’t taken them last year. Fate was cruel to our parents, Kaeso. More than anything, they wanted to return to this city. At last the opportunity came – and then Fortune snatched it away. But Fate has been kinder to us, eh, brother? We are finally home.”
“Home?” Kaeso shook his head. “We were babies when father and mother fled from the city. We have no close kin here, except the Acilii, who severed all ties with our mother. Father’s parents died before we were born-”
“Not Grandmother Camilla. She died on the journey to Alexandria. Don’t you remember?”
“I remember father telling us that, but I have no memories of her.”
“I do, I think.” Titus frowned.
“I don’t. And I have no memories of Roma, do you? We were babies when we left. We grew up in Alexandria. Alexandria is our home.”
“ Was our home, Kaeso. We were born Romans, we have always been citizens of Roma, and now we are truly Romans again. It’s what our father wanted. Thanks to Claudius-”
“Did I hear my name? Being spoken k-k-kindly, I hope.” Claudius was nearby, stooping over to peer at the sculptor’s mark on a statue of Hercules. He straightened, groaning a bit – at fifty, his back was suffer than it once had been – and ambled towards them. One of his toes had developed a blister from walking, but he bore the pain with a smile. The sons of Lucius Pinarius and their wives were taking their first tour of the city, and it was his pleasure to act as their guide.
“I was reminding Kaeso of how grateful we should be for all you’ve done,” said Titus.
“I only wish I could have arranged for you and your father to return to Roma long ago. I thought it might be possible when Tiberius p-p-put Sejanus to death. Can that have been nine years ago? How the time flies! But getting rid of that treacherous viper didn’t make Tiberius any less unreasonable; if anything, Uncle became more suspicious and fearful than ever. Two of my nephews he put to death for plotting against him, locking them away and letting them starve to death, even as he indulged his every appetite – and not just for food.”
“What do you mean?” said Kaeso.
“In his declining years, Uncle decided to followed his impulses, no m-m-matter where they might lead.”
“His impulses?” said Tiberius.
Claudius glanced over his shoulder. His young wife and the wives of the twins were taking a rest, sitting on the steps of the Temple of Jupiter while their attendant slaves stood by. The three women smiled and waved, then went on with their conversation. No one else was close enough to hear. Why had he brought up the subject of Tiberius and his appetites? The fact was, Claudius needed to unburden himself. For years, he had had no one to whom he could speak in an unguarded way, not even his slaves, who either could not be trusted or upon whom he did not wish to thrust the responsibility of keeping his secrets. Looking back, he realized that there had never been anyone to whom he could speak with utter freedom except his dear friend and cousin Lucius Pinarius. Since the twins had arrived in Roma, Claudius found himself confiding in them more and more, as once he had confided in their father.