very bold of you. I would never have dared to choose an avian augury. I did the safe thing and went with lightning. The smart thing as well, or so I thought, since lightning auguries are usually more highly respected. But you outshone me today, Claudius!”
Claudius pursed his lips, nodded, and hummed thoughtfully. His head twitched to one side. “Yes, well, I suppose I did, even though, as you say, lightning augury is the most highly esteemed of all forms. Why do you suppose that is?” With the examination behind them, his stutter had momentarily abated.
“As the magister taught us, lightning and thunder come directly from Jupiter,” said Lucius.
“Ah, but birds are the messengers of Jupiter, so why should avian augury not be as prized? No, I think lightning augury is more impressive because a flash of lightning cannot possibly be fabricated by mortal men, while anyone might arrange to release certain birds from a certain area at a certain time.”
Lucius frowned. “Are you saying those vultures were deliberately released?”
“Oh, not for Romulus, surely, and certainly not for Great-Uncle. Butfor me—who knows?” Claudius shrugged. “Thanks to my obvious shortcomings, Great-Uncle can foresee no higher station in life for me than to be an augur. I twitch too much to find glory as a warrior. You saw me drop my lituus today; imagine me dropping a sword on the battlefield! I st-stutter too much to make impressive sp-sp-speeches in the Senate.” He flashed a sardonic smile; was he stuttering on purpose? “Since this is as far as I shall go, Great-Uncle is determined that everyone should acknowledge my competence at augury, if at nothing else. Three vultures would have sufficed, don’t you think? Great-Uncle always overdoes these things! When the two vacancies opened in the college, why do you suppose he chose to allow you to enlist, Lucius?”
“I know my father did everything he could to promote me and to win the emperor’s favor. He was surprised he succeeded, considering my youth—”
“Ha! Great-Uncle approved of your admission to the college for only one reason: he wanted to make me an augur, and so be done with me, and he wanted another candidate my age to enter alongside me, so that I shouldn’t stand out so much. You weren’t made an augur despite your age, Lucius, but because of it! But the important thing, cousin Lucius, is that our examinations are over, and now we are augurs. Augurs for life! But what is that you’re wearing?”
Claudius referred to the amulet on Lucius’s necklace. It had slipped outside his trabea and the gold shone brightly against the purple wool.
“It’s a family talisman.”
“Where did it come from? What does it symbolize?”
“I don’t really know,” Lucius confessed, with some chagrin. Claudius was such a scholar and so steeped in his own family’s history that he was never at a loss to explain even the most arcane bits of ancestral lore.
Claudius came to a halt, reached for the amulet, and studied it closely.
Lucius had seen such a spark in his friend’s eyes before, during their studies together—the excitement of the devoted antiquarian in the presence of an intriguing puzzle. “I think, Lucius—yes, I th-th-think I may have s-some idea of what this is. I’ll have to do a bit of research. . . .”
“Come along, my fellow augurs,” said Lucius’s father, catching up with them. “We’re almost there.” Like Lucius, he had never been inside the imperial residence, and he was flushed with excitement.
They entered a courtyard first, no grander than that of any house of moderate wealth, except for the trophies on prominent display in the center of the yard. On a wooden stand was displayed the emperor’s personal armor, including his sword, ax, helmet, and shield.
“See how they gleam,” whispered Lucius, “as if they’ve just been freshly burnished!”
“Yes, I believe there is a slave who performs that duty daily,” said
Janwillem van de Wetering