Empire by Steven Saylor Page A

under penalty of death. If you wish, you may take your wife and children.”
    “And my mother?” Lucius looked about. Where was his mother? Probably in her bed; she had been in poor health ever since Lucius’s father had died.
    “And your mother,” said Sejanus sweetly. “Do you have a preference for your destination?”
    Lucius felt numb with shock. The twins wailed. “My grandfather had friends in Egypt. I have investments in Alexandria,” he said dully.
    Sejanus nodded. “Egypt is good. Egypt is a possession of the emperor, rather than a province under senatorial jurisdiction. It will be easier for my agents to keep an eye on you there.”
    Sejanus rolled the scroll tightly and handed the horoscope back to the Praetorian who had brought it to him. “Burn this immediately. Collect all the other documents and take them with you. Call off the search. We’re finished here.”
    In moments, the soldiers were gone. Except for the crying twins, the house was silent. Gradually, the slaves began to emerge from their hiding places. The women surrounded Acilia, trying to comfort her and the babies. The men approached Lucius, but he waved them away.
    Lucius walked into his study. The room had been stripped of every scroll and scrap of parchment, not just the few items pertaining to astrology but all his business documents as well. How was he to settle his affairs without his financial records? Even his small collection of plays and poetry had been taken. He found himself staring at the row of empty pigeonholes that had contained the many scrolls that made up his copy of Titus Livius’s history, a gift from Claudius, which he had never read. How was he ever to read it now? Of course, there would be copies of Livius’s work in Egypt. Alexandria was famous for its books; Alexandria was the home of the Great Library. . . .
    He shook his head in disbelief. The last few moments had destroyed his life, yet already he had begun to accept his Fate.
    He walked through the house like a man in a dream. He found himselfin his bedroom—the place where he had first coupled with Acilia, where Kaeso and Titus had been conceived, where Acilia had given birth. Even this room had been ransacked. The trunks and cabinets had been thrown open, the clothing scattered across the floor. The bed had been overturned. The cushions—into which he had sighed with pleasure when coupling with Acilia, wept with joy at the birth of his sons, breathed the essence of his dreams while he slept—had been cut open, as if Sejanus thought they might contain some terrible secret.
    On the floor lay a silver box with its lid pried open. Among the scattered pieces of jewelry was the gold fascinum.
    Lucius knelt and picked it up. He clutched it tightly. He whispered a prayer to the ancient god who had watched over his family from its very beginnings.
    “Fascinus, god of my ancestors, watch over me. Watch over my sons. Bring us back someday to Roma.”

    Ten frantic, tormented, sleepless days later, Lucius was ready to leave the city.
    True to his word, Sejanus had not confiscated his property, but had insisted that Lucius sell his beloved house. Lucius had done so at a considerable loss. His financial records, after being thoroughly scrutinized, had been returned to him, as had his copy of Titus Livius’s history, along with several other valuable scrolls. The documents had all been tightly rolled and carefully packed away in round leather book-boxes of the sort called capsae.
    Lucius stood with his family and the slaves they were taking with them on a dock at the riverfront, waiting to board the boat that would take them down the Tiber to Ostia, where he had secured passage on a trading vessel bound for Alexandria. The smell of the waterfront reminded him of the tavern where Euphranor had arrived with news of Augustus’s death. Where was that tavern? Not far, he thought. Turning around and looking beyond a stack of crates filled with his family’s belongings,