Read The Nero Prediction for Free Online Page B

sunrise and so wheeled vehicles were banned from the city (they were only allowed to operate at night, Lucius explained to me) but the streets were jammed with pedestrians, most of them in a hurry, and litters bearers, led by armed slaves, barging their way through the mob.
    “Here it is, the Forum of Augustus!” he announced as we entered a splendid rectangle which looked like it was at least 130 yards by 100. Running along its long sides were colonades two stories high that housed hundreds of niches, each one populated by a larger-than-life statue, every one painted in the vibrant colors of life. At its center there was a huge statue of a man riding in a triumphal chariot, no doubt Augustus himself.
    “Well, what do you think?”
    “Splendid, dominus,” I said and meant it. “The statues, are they all your relatives?”
    He frowned because he thought, correctly, that I was teasing him. “No, not really, although in a sense they are. I’ll explain.” He pointed at a statue, larger than the rest that occupied a niche near the top end of the structure. “Here’s the man who began it all, Romulus, founder of Rome.”
    The figure, dressed in a rustic robe, carried a spear. At his feet were objects that were painted the color of gold and jewel ornaments, vases, plates, ornamental weapons – anything worth stealing. “What’s all that stuff around him?” I asked.
    Lucius frowned again, this time at my stupidity. “His loot of course. He killed an enemy commander in man-to-man combat. That’s his reward.”
    Opposite Romulus was another large statue dressed in robes a Greek prince would wear. He was carrying an old man on his back and leading a boy by the hand. He and Romulus seemed to be staring each other down with their glassy eyes. “Who’s that?”
    “Aeneas. That’s where I come into it. He’s the Trojan who fled to Italy. That’s his father he’s carrying his father on his back, you must know the story. He founded my family,” Lucius said very matter-of-fact. “See those statues all the way down from him? Those are all my ancestors in order of succession.”
    Instead of colonades with niches, the top end of the rectangle, where we were standing, was a garish temple decorated with red marble and battle scenes carved in high relief and covered with gold leaf.
    “What on earth is this?” I asked.
    “Why? Don’t you like it? It’s the temple of Mars the Avenger, celebrating the revenge Augustus took on the assassins of his father Julius Caesar.”
    “I thought Augustus was Caesar’s grand-nephew.”
    Lucius frowned for a third time and I decided I better stop teasing him. “Of course, but Caesar adopted him so he was his son, even you should know that.”
    Careful to sound more respectful, I pointed at the figure in full armor, flanked by two women, who stood guard in the pediment, the 20 foot high triangle created by the pitched roof and the top of the purple, fluted pillars supporting it. “Dominus I know that’s Mars. But who are the ladies?”
    The boy squinted and for the first time I realized that he was nearsighted. “Mars was the father of Romulus, Remus too, of course, but he doesn’t matter. The one on his left is Fortuna, goddess of fortune and the other one’s Venus, or it could be the other way around. Doesn’t matter, Fortuna is there because we’re very fortunate. Venus is the ancestor of my family, the Julian family, and therefore she’s my great-great - oh, I’ve forgotten how many greats there are – grandmother. Come, let’s go see my great-great-great-, whatever, uncle Julius Caesar.”
    There he was, the butcher who murdered a million Gauls in his quest for plunder, lean and hungry still. Somehow the sculptor had captured Caesar’s ruthlessness and his restlessness. It seemed that he was itching to come alive and kill millions more.
    Slowly, reverentially, Lucius led me into the upper branches of the Julian family tree. Augustus who had fed Cleopatra to her asp