He had disappeared out of my mind after the Lupercalia. There was no force on Earth that 
could come between me and my Father.
  My brothers all had good luck. They married well, had children and came home from the 
hard wars in which they fought, keeping the boundaries of the Empire.
  My youngest brother, Lucius, I did not like much, but he was always a little anxious 
and given to drinking and apparently also to gambling, which very much annoyed his wife.
  She I loved, as I did all my sisters-in-law and my nieces and nephews. I loved it when 
they descended upon the house, these flocks of children, squealing and running rampant 
with "Aunt Lydia's blessing," as they were never allowed to do at home.
  The eldest of my brothers, Antony, was in potential a great man. Fate robbed him of 
greatness. But he had been most ready for it, well schooled, trained and most wise.
  The only foolish thing I ever knew Antony to do was say to me very distinctly once that 
Livia, Augustus's wife, had poisoned him so that her son, Tiberius, would rise. My 
Father, the only other occupant of the room, told him sternly:
  "Antony, never speak of that again! Not here, not anywhere!" My Father stood up, and 
without planning it, put in perspective the style of life which he and I lived, "Stay 
away from the Imperial Palace, stay away from the Imperial families, be in the front 
ranks of the games and always in the Senate, but don't get into their quarrels and their 
intrigues!"
  Antony was very angry, but the anger had nothing to do with my Father. "I said it only 
to those two to whom I can say it, you and Lydia. I detest eating dinner with a woman who 
poisoned her husband! Augustus should have re-established the Republic. He knew when 
death was coming."
  "Yes, and he knew that he could not restore the Republic. It was simply impossible. The 
Empire had grown to Britannia in the North, beyond Parthia in the East; it covers 
Northern Africa. If you want to be a good Roman, Antony, then stand up and speak your 
conscience in the Senate. Tiberius invites this."
  "Oh, Father, you are much deceived," said Antony.
  My Father put an end to this argument.
  But he and I did live exactly the life he had described.
  Tiberius was immediately unpopular with the noisy Roman crowds. He was too old, too 
dry, too humorless, too puritanical and tyrannical at the same time.
  But he had one saving grace. Other than his extensive love and knowledge of philosophy, 
he had been a very good soldier. And that was the most important characteristic the 
Emperor had to possess.
  The troops honored him.
  He strengthened the Praetorian Guard around the Palace, hired a man named Sejanus to 
run things for him. But he didn't bring legions into Rome, and he spoke a damned good 
line about personal rights and freedom, that is, if you could stay awake to listen. I 
thought him a brooder.
  The Senate went mad with impatience when he refused to make decisions. They didn't want 
to make the decisions! But all this seemed relatively safe.
  Then a horrible incident occurred which made me positively detest the Emperor 
wholeheartedly and lose all my faith in the man and his ability to govern.
  This incident involved the Temple of Isis. Some clever evil man, claiming to be the 
Egyptian god Anubis, had enticed a highborn devotee of Isis to the Temple and gone to bed 
with her, fooling her completely, though how on Earth he did it I can't imagine.
  I remember her to this day as the stupidest woman in Rome. But there's probably more to 
it.
  Anyway, it had all happened at the Temple.
  And then this man, this fake Anubis, went before the highborn virtuous woman and told 
her in the plainest terms that he had had her! She went screaming to her husband. It was 
a scandal of extraordinary flair.
  It had been years since I had been at the Temple, and I was glad of it.
  But what followed from the Emperor was more dreadful than I ever dreamed.
  The entire Temple was razed to the very ground. All the worshipers were banished from 
Rome, and some of them executed. And our Priests and Priestesses were crucified, their 
bodies hung on the tree, as the old Roman expression goes, to die slowly, and to rot, for 
all to see.
  My Father came into my bedroom. He went to the small shrine of Isis. He took the statue 
and smashed it on the marble floor. Then he picked up the larger pieces and smashed each 
of them. He made dust of her.
  I nodded.
  I expected him to condemn me for my old habits. I was overcome with sadness and shock 
at what had happened. Other Eastern cults were being persecuted. The Emperor was moving 
to take away the right of Sanctuary from various Temples throughout the Empire.
  "The man doesn't want to be Emperor of Rome," said my Father. "He's been bent by 
cruelty and losses. He's stiff, boring and completely in terror for his life! A man who 
would not be Emperor cannot be Emperor. Not now."
  "Maybe he'll step down," I said sadly. "He has adopted the young General Germanicus 
Julius Caesar. This means Germanicus is to be his heir, does it not'?"
  "What good did it do to the earlier heirs of Augustus when they were adopted?" my 
Father asked.
  "What do you mean?" I asked.
  "Use your head," said my Father. "We cannot continue pretending we are a Republic. We 
must define the office of this Emperor and the limits of his power! We must outline a 
form of succession other than murder!"
  I tried to calm him.
  "Father, let's leave Rome. Let's go to our house in Tuscany. It's always beautiful 
there, Father."
  "That's just it, we can't, Lydia," he said. "I have to remain here. I have to be loyal 
to my Emperor. I must do so for all my family. I must stand in the Senate."
  Within months, Tiberius sent off his young and handsome nephew Germanicus Julius Caesar 
to the East, just to get him away from the adulation of the Roman public. As I said, 
people spoke their minds.
  Germanicus was supposed to be Tiberius's heir! But Tiberius was too jealous to listen 
to the crowds screaming praise of Germanicus for his victories in battle. He wanted the 
man far from Rome.
  And so this rather charming and seductive young general went to the East, to Syria; he 
vanished from the loving eyes of the Roman people, from the core of the Empire where a 
city crowd could determine the fate of the world.
  Sooner or later there would be another campaign in the North, we all figured. 
Germanicus had hit hard at the German tribes in his last campaign.
  My brothers vividly described it to me over the dinner table,
  They told how they had gone back to avenge the hideous massacre of General Varus and 
his troops in the Teutoburg Forest. They could finish the job, if called up again, and my 
brothers would go. They were exactly the kind of old-fashioned patricians who would go!
  Meantime there were rumors that the Delatores, the notorious spies of the Praetorian 
Guard, pocketed one-third of the estate of those against whom they informed. I found it 
horrible. My Father shook his head, and said, "That started under Augustus."