Empire by Steven Saylor

charge of unauthorized possession of the emperor’s horoscope—a treasonable offense. If I bring that charge against you, there will necessarily be a very extensive investigation, and no one can say where that might lead; think of your friends, Pinarius. And the penalty is not only death for you, but confiscation of your estate; think of your wife and sons.
    “Second choice: a simple charge of practicing astrology without the emperor’s knowledge. In that case, you will be exiled from Italy, your destination to be determined by me, and only those materials that relate to the practice of astrology will be confiscated from you.”
    Lucius looked at Acilia. She gazed back at him, trembling and terrified. Titus and Kaeso, sensing her distress, began to wail again.
    “This is outrageous!” Lucius whispered. “My father was a senator. My grandfather was a nephew and heir to the Divine Julius, a cousin of the Divine Augustus—”
    “While Tiberius was merely the stepson of Augustus? Is that what you’re saying? Are you questioning the legitimacy of the emperor’s claim to power? Are you asserting that you have a better claim?”
    “No!”
    “Is that why you possess a copy of the emperor’s horoscope? To discover on which days he is most vulnerable, so that you can plot his downfall and take his place?”
    “Of course not! I told you already . . .” Lucius fought to control his shaking. “I’ve never been disloyal. I’ve never spoken against the emperor.Never! Why did you come here today? What made you think you’d find something incriminating?”
    “You were on the list,” said Sejanus.
    “What list?”
    “The list of men to be watched.”
    “But why? For what reason?”
    “For knowing too much, I suspect. That’s usually the reason. And sure enough, here in your house we have found the means for gaining knowledge that might be used against the emperor.”
    “But this is madness. I told you, I’m not an astrologer. I am a respected member of the college of augurs, a public servant of the Roman state. I loyally serve Tiberius, just as I served Augustus—”
    Lucius fell silent. Suddenly he understood. He had answered his own question. Why was this happening? Because he was an augur; because he had served Augustus;
because of the lightning omen.
His role in that singular event had seemed to bring Lucius a happy destiny—confirmation of his skills as an augur, closer friendship with Claudius, an inheritance from the emperor that had changed his life. But now his part in that singular event had led to this catastrophe. Had Augustus died on the appointed day because of Fate—or because of human intervention? Livia and Tiberius must have known of the prediction: they knew everything that happened in the imperial house. Lucius had long suspected that one of them, or both, had a hand in Augustus’s death. He had never spoken of such a possibility, not even to Claudius. But Tiberius was no fool. The emperor was taking drastic action to eliminate every possible threat to his rule—his rival Germanicus, every astrologer in Italy, the unfortunate men on the mysterious list mentioned by Sejanus—and Lucius was among those who might know too much.
    Sejanus was right: Lucius should consider himself lucky if he could escape with his life and his fortune intact.
    He stared at the document that Sejanus clutched in his hands. Why had he not burned the incriminating horoscope of Tiberius long ago? Lucius had been a fool to keep it. But would burning it have made any difference? If Sejanus had not discovered the astrological documents, he would have found some other way to incriminate Lucius.
    “You finally seem to have run out of words,” said Sejanus. “Have youanything more to say? No?” He raised his voice. “Lucius Pinarius, you are guilty of practicing astrology without the authorization of the emperor. You have ten days to settle your affairs in Roma. After that, you will board a ship and leave Italy,