Free Empire by Steven Saylor Page A

Altar of Hercules long before the city of Roma was founded.”
    Claudius opened his eyes wide, overwhelmed by his own erudition. Talking made him thirsty. He swallowed the wine in his cup and ordered more. “The Pinarius family is very ancient, even more ancient than my own. My ancestor, the Sabine warlord Appius Claudius, arrived relatively late in Roma, in the first years of the Republic. But you Pinarii were here before the Republic, before the kings, even before there was a city, in the days when d-d-demigods like Hercules roamed the earth. And that ‘little trinket’ that hangs from your neck, dear Lucius, is a direct link back to those days.”
    Lucius looked down at the fascinum, duly impressed but still a bit dubious. “But, Claudius, we’re not even sure that this
is
a fascinum.”
    “Lucius, Lucius! I have an instinct for such things, and my instinct is n-never wrong.”
    “Is that what history amounts to?” asked Lucius. “Looking through old lists and scraps of parchment, making genealogies, connecting odd facts, and then leaping to conclusions based on guesses or instinct or wishful thinking?”
    “Exactly! You put your finger on the very essence of history!” said Claudius with a drunken laugh. Lucius had never seen him so inebriated, or so relaxed. It occurred to him that Claudius had stuttered very little since they had arrived at the tavern.
    “To be sure, Lucius, history, unlike divination, is an inexact science. That is because history deals with the past, which is gone forever and which neither gods nor men can alter or revisit. But divination deals with the present and the future, and the will of the gods, which has yet to be revealed.
    Divining
is
an exact science, provided the diviner has sufficient knowledge and skill.”
    Claudius glanced at the entrance and gave a start. He sat upright and his eyes grew wide. “Like a messenger in a p-p-play, arriving at the appropriate moment!”
    The newcomer was Euphranor. Entering the dark room from the bright outdoors, he did not see them until Claudius called and waved to him.
    “Looking for m-m-me, Euphranor?”
    “Actually, no. I just arrived in the city and I need a drink.”
    “Then j-j-join us.” Claudius made room on the bench and patted the spot beside him.
    Euphranor sat with a wince. “Saddle-sore,” he explained. “I’d prefer to stand, but I’m too exhausted.” His cloak and tunic were covered with dust.
    “What n-news, Euphranor?”
    “For the love of Venus, man, let me have a drink first!” Euphranor called for the serving girl and downed two cups in rapid succession. He stared blearily at Lucius and his father and seemed reluctant to speak.
    “Go on, Euphranor,” said Claudius. “You can speak freely. Surely you remember Lucius Pinarius. The other fellow is his father.”
    Euphranor closed his eyes for a long moment, then spoke in a voice just above a whisper. “I’m the first to arrive with the news, so not a man in Roma knows this yet. The emperor is dead.”
    “Numa’s balls!” whispered Claudius. “Now we
all
need another drink!” He waved to the serving girl. “When, Euphranor?”
    “Five days ago.”
    Claudius and Lucius exchanged glances. Augustus had died exactly one hundred days after the lightning strike.
    “Where?”
    “In the town of Nola.”
    “That’s just east of Mount Vesuvius. Why has it taken so long for the n-n-news to reach Roma?”
    “The delay was by order of Tiberius.”
    “But why?”
    Euphranor grunted. “I can only tell you the sequence of events. Augustus died. Tiberius gave strict orders that no one was to make the news public until he allowed it. Some days later, a messenger arrived with news that young Agrippa is dead—”
    “The emperor’s grandson?” said Lucius’s father.
    “Killed by the soldiers guarding him on the island where he was in exile. After that message arrived, Tiberius told me to ride to Roma as fast as I could and deliver the news to the imperial