A Forbidden History.The Hadrian enigma

by George Gardiner

  "The son of Apollo ascended to the sun. The sun burnt the youth. The wild forces of Eros overcame the civil power of Aphrodite. A hidden secret unleashed the chaos of Eros so stalking wolves could devour their prey."

  The group looked among each other, mystified.

  "If that is 'why', Si-Amun, then how did Antinous die?" Suetonius asked, faintly unsettled by talk of wolves devouring their prey.

  Another long pause prevailed as feathers and systrum rustled, shimmered, and rattled.

  "The son of Apollo bled into Darkness. The stalking wolves sipped his blood."

  "Are you saying Antinous was murdered, Great Oracle?"

  Again a pause of rustles and rattles.

  "The son of Apollo made an offering at the altar of his brother Asclepius. He offered his only true spoils to the altar, his life. Stalking wolves devoured the spoils with relish."

  "Asclepius?" Clarus exclaimed. "Why Asclepius, Apollo's son and the god of healing? Are you certain?"

  Suetonius dismissed the query; he felt he was close to some answers.

  "Who is the murderer, Great Oracle? Who killed Antinous?" Suetonius called aloud with quavering emotion. All held their breath after a long period of rustling passed and then ceased.

  "A wolf's sword exacts its revenge. A she wolf's delusion drinks its fill. But the path to the sacrificial altar was smoothed by a king's secret."

  "Wolves. She wolves. A king's secret. Where are we in all this?" Clarus groaned plaintively.

  Si-Amun's voice responded immediately in crisp Common Greek.

  "On a journey of justice for the king. Identify the She Wolf. Apprehend the wolves. Send them to the Underworld of the alien god."

  "Who is their god?" Clarus asked, realizing to identify the deity might identify the malefactors.

  Si-Amun expelled a loud cry of pained anguish. His body trembled violently. His voice quavered with emotion.

  "The Baal of the East who came to the West. The Drinker of Blood. The Wolf Deity."

  The group looked to each other, utterly perplexed.

  "How will we punish the murderer or murderers, Great Oracle of Amun?"

  Pause.

  "Fire purifies," came the simple response. "Fire purifies!"

  "What of Antinous? Will Antinous return from Hades?" Suetonius dared to propose, atypically, illogically, unexpectedly. Is resurrection on the agenda? The pause was brief, the voice clear.

  "The son of Apollo rises with the new dawn, when the king's heart bursts with anguish. Self-knowledge renews his soul."

  The rustle of feathers and systrum ceased. Everyone in the chamber was silent.

  Si-Amun slowly toppled from his stool to the pavilion floor. His feathered headdress fell from his face revealing his shaven scalp and features streamed with beads of sweat. His mouth was drooling spittle while his hands quivered finely by his side.

  "Is your Oracle alright?" Suetonius asked Kenamun as Surisca tried to help raise the ageing man from the beaten earth floor. He was reviving from his drug trance.

  "He puts his all into it," was Kenamun's simple answer. Suetonius delivered a small gold coin from his purse into Si-Amun's sweaty palm.

  "Well, what do we make of that?" Clarus asked when the four had departed the Egyptian pavilions. "It was quite a show. Did you get a full record, Strabon?"

  The scribe nodded.

  "What do you think he was telling us?" Suetonius queried. "Was it all nonsense, or was there some truth to it? Surisca, what do you think, you know the ways of these people?"

  "I know very little of the Amazigh tongue of the desert barbarians," she responded, "but I've picked up some words and phrases from clients of the Libyan Desert. Their unusual language and bloodline are found in many places across the African provinces."

  "And, so?" Suetonius queried.

  "I don't think the priest Kenamun was translating the Oracle's words at all. I think he was imposing his own views upon the Oracle's pronouncements."

  "You mean he deceived us?"

  "No, not at all," Surisca explained. "I think he was giving us his inside knowledge of what may have occurred, but disguised as the Oracle's insights. In fact, perhaps he was giving us a view he would be afraid to communicate directly. Perhaps he knows more than he tells? Or else he aims to deflect our investigation away from Pachrates towards other suspects."

  "How so?"

  "The oracle talked of stalking wolves and a she wolf. What or who are these wolves? Where are they?" she queried. "Is this a deception, or is it code for some group among your travelers?"

  "Kenamun told us earlier he wondered at the absence of blood in Antinous's veins. He said the fellow did not die by drowning, he died of blood loss despite being found beneath the Nile. Yet the Oracle's words spoke of a she wolf drinking his blood? Of a wolf's sword exacting revenge? Where is this bizarre wolf pack? There are no wolves in Egypt," Clarus was evidently as perturbed as anyone.

  "He tells us to identify the She Wolf. A female. How do we identify this beast?" Suetonius asked rhetorically. "We have to ask those who mixed with the youth. We have to ask Lysias, Julianus, Geta, Arrian. Is Thais the She Wolf? Is that possible? But Thais is no wolf creature, I am sure!"

  Surisca submitted some thoughts.

  "The women in the dead youth's circle appear to be few in number. There is Thais, yes, but there is also the woman Balbilla.. there is the empress, the Augusta… there is the priestess Anna Perenna. Is there anyone else? Is one of these the She Wolf? If so, which?"

  A few moments elapsed. They then responded in unison with a single name.

  "Anna Perenna."

  CHAPTER 29

  "Welcome back, even if so late at night," Secretary Vestinus offered politely through sleepish eyes. "You realize it is now two hours before dawn?!"

  "It's two hours before dawn and we've not been to bed!" Clarus snapped.

  "The entire Household will soon start to come to life to meet Caesar's summons," Vestinus said. "He's called everyone of quality to assemble an hour before dawn. No excuses."

  A muted cornu sounded as troops calling the hour echoed from watch to watch.

  "We need to see Geta the Dacian. We have something important to discuss with the fellow. Can you have someone summon him here?" Clarus enquired.

  "Better. I'll do it myself. While you wait you should freshen up and take some nourishment. You will need to, good people, because Caesar's project today could be a lengthy one," the dour Ab Epistulis advised. He clapped hands for service.

  Slaves escorted the three males to a washhouse to attend to their toilet, while Surisca was led by a serving girl to a separate women's chamber to spruce.

  Suetonius and Surisca were the first to return to Vestinus's courtyard. They now exuded fragrant oils announcing refreshed cleanliness. They were greeted by a table spread with edibles beneath the dancing light of flaming torches burning into the night sky.

  "Surisca, my dear, it seems how for the third occasion on two days and nights I am not to partake of your charms and arts, whether I like it or not?" the Special Inspector lamented. "Another night has passed and I am no closer to the promise of your sensuality than anytime earlier."

  Surisca affected a demure manner with her face downcast in shame.

  "Master, it has not been my purpose to deny you your purchased pleasures. Have I been remiss in this? Should I return your fee to you? You have been so patient."

  "No, no, my dear. It's just the way things have turned out. And I assure you, you have more than earned your fee with your perceptions about aspects of our enquiry. Perhaps with interest!"

  "You flatter me, master," she offered modestly.

  "When this imbroglio has passed, Surisca my dear, and hopefully before Caesar demands my head be removed, I hope to reward you in a more worthwhile way for your endeavors with us here. I wish to assist you to pursue your chosen future for your contribution to our searches. Tell me, my dear, what is your greatest desire for the future?"

  The Syrian
hetaera was smitten silent for a few moments. No one had ever before asked her such a generous-minded question. No one was interested. Except perhaps one single person, she recalled. She stumbled her honest reply.

  "I think, master, I wish to leave my trade before I am too old to attract custom or am afflicted with a deadly pox. I hope to devote myself instead to creating beauty aids and perfumes for market. I already know the crafts of their manufacture; but I need the capital to buy the necessary tools and time to create sufficient stock and to rent a suitable trading shop. I have monies stored away securely, but it is only half the sum I am likely to require. You see, I have thought through this matter well during many long nights satisfying a client's pleasures."

  Clarus and Strabon returned to the courtyard.

  "What about marriage? A husband? A family?" Suetonius continued. "Does this appeal to you?"

  Surisca grew clouded in her response.

  "Very few men seek the companionship of women of my profession, my lord. My trade breaks trust. Though there are those who wish to live off the earnings of such as I. But here in the East a woman loses her wealth when she falls under a husband's aegis. I have worked far too hard and long for my wealth to be so easily acquired by another. I've heard it said women at Rome possess greater freedom of property ownership in retaining their wealth in marriage? Is this so, master?"

  Clarus intruded on this pragmatic conversation.

  "Where are we with our investigation?" he demanded. "What have we learned? In an hour we join Caesar's assembly, and we're likely to have few opportunities to interview others after his ceremony. So we're back to: Why did Antinous die? And: was it an accident, suicide, or murder?"

  "Well, what do you think yourself, Septicius?" Suetonius asked.

  "I don't really know. It's very complicated and I sense we're missing something essential. Two days and nights is insufficient time."

  "But, cui bono? Who benefits from the death?" Suetonius probed.

  "Other than a mysterious pack of 'stalking wolves', it seems no one except the Bithynian himself benefits. Perhaps he's died in an act of sacrifice," Clarus proposed.

  "Or possibly Caesar via an agent, if he's party to sacrifice and sorcery?" Surisca murmured carefully. Clarus was disturbed by such talk.

  A figure appeared at the courtyard accompanied by Secretary Vestinus. It was Geta. He had overheard the final comment.

  "You hold Caesar to be under suspicion, colleagues? But you forget too many others. The empress Vibia Sabina, for example? She would do anything to upset our Caesar on principle," Geta proposed. "Perhaps she hired renegade Nubian freebooters to create mischief with her husband's loved one? Or the security chief Tribune Macedo on behalf of Senate forces in Rome, such as his master Turbo, the Praetorian Prefect? Or a faction of the Senate, or an ambitious Legion commander or two?

  Or even me? After all, I'm the closest to both our Caesar and the dead lad. Perhaps I have some hidden advantage to gain?"

  Geta's and Surisca's eyes locked momentarily. A message of welcome flashed silently between them. Suetonius felt immediately cuckolded once again, but continued nevertheless.

  "But do you have a motive, Dacian?" Suetonius smoothed. "In what way could you possibly benefit from the death of the Bithynian?"

  "Enough!" Clarus demanded. "Our time is running out. You called for Geta. He stands before you, Suetonius. Make your enquiries."

  The biographer gathered his wits about him.

  "You know all those of the Household well, Geta. You know their personalities and habits. We have received a puzzling message whose coded terms we cannot interpret. We wish you to hear the message and for you to offer your view on who it best describes in the Household or its hangers-on."

  The Special Inspector turned to Strabon.

  "Read the Oracle's message. Read his words. Let Geta decide who it identifies or what the message is being communicated."

  The scribe delved into his collection of wax notebooks and drew the recent block from his basket. He scanned his scratchings on the wax and began declaiming its notation out loud.

  "The son of Apollo ascended to the sun. The sun incinerated the youth. The wild forces of Eros overcame the measured power of Aphrodite. A hidden secret unleashed the chaos of Eros so stalking wolves could devour their prey."

  Geta suddenly sat bolt upright. "Stalking wolves?" he exclaimed. Strabon continued.

  "The son of Apollo bled into Darkness. Stalking wolves sipped his blood. The son of Apollo made an offering at the altar of his brother Asclepius. He offered his only true spoils to the altar, his life. Wolves devoured the spoils with relish. A wolf's sword exacts its revenge. A she-wolf's delusion drinks it fill. But the path to the sacrificial altar was smoothed by a king's secret."

  "A wolf's sword?! Revenge?! A she-wolf drinks blood?! A king's secret?" Geta exclaimed with increasing panic.

  "On a journey of justice, identify the She Wolf. Apprehend the wolves. Send them to the Underworld of an alien god."

  "The Underworld! An alien god?!" Geta was rising slowly from his seat, alarmed.

  "The Baal of the East who came to the West. The Drinker of Blood. The Wolf Deity…"

  Strabon's reading was drowned by Geta's cry of "The Drinker of Blood!" but he continued nevertheless. Geta groaned a mighty howl as he staggered to his feet. The group was rigid in bewilderment at his action. Surisca drew to his side to steady the man's faltering steps. Strabon continued.

  "Fire purifies. The son of Apollo rises with the dawn, when the king's heart bursts with anguish."

  Strabon put down the wax tablet as all eyes settled on the Dacian who was standing supported on the Syri's arm. He was seriously distressed.

  "The Baal of the East! Where did you hear these words?! Who spoke them to you?!" he demanded.

  "Quiet, Geta. Settle down. Take it easy," Suetonius soothed. "We're here to ask you what you know of this strange message. We want you to tell us the meaning of these words or the persons they may be referring to. We're at a loss to shed light on the thing.

  Who are the wolves? Who is the She Wolf? Why is the god of healing, Asclepius, in this? Who is drinking blood? What blood? Why? We believe it all has something to do with the death of Antinous."

  Geta fell into a chair nearby and held his head in his hands. Surisca discreetly tried to comfort him. He muttered to himself in a foreign tongue, possibly the language of The Getae people. He turned to Suetonius to offer answers.

  "Your message is from a dire enemy of Zalmoxis. Zalmoxis is the Baal of the East who came to the West. Zalmoxis is my holy forebear of many generations ago. I am said to have the blood of Zalmoxis streaming my veins. The faded tattooed circles upon my face are the insignia of this heritage.

  The god Zalmoxis lives in his Underworld of the dead. He awaits his Dacian devotees in his Underworld. They join him in the infinite Night of Zalmoxis and his eternal shaman's dance. In life Zalmoxis is worshipped with blood, the fluid of life. Like a forest's stalking wolf we Dacians sacrifice chickens, sheep, steers, and horses for Zalmoxis to savor their fresh blood. The Getae drain an animal's life-blood in ritual adoration and drink it as strengthening food.

  In war it is the blood of the enemy that's sipped. The blood of captives is drained from their living bodies and venerated and consumed directly by the devotees, or indirectly by Zalmoxis via the putrefaction process. Such blood gives the Getae the wild strengths of a wolf. The Getae are Wolf Warriors. Like wolves, we suckle on blood."

  "So, who is the wolf and She-wolf of the message? Are you the wolf whose sword has exacted revenge?" Suetonius ventured daringly.

  "No, Suetonius, I am no Wolf Warrior. I do not drink blood. I am no stalking wolf.

  Long ago I may have fancied I would revenge my dead father's memory. I swore an oath to my father before he killed himself how I would revenge his death by killing the loved one of the king responsible. At that time it was Caesar Trajan. I was a child. I knew nothing of the world, of life and death, war, or
revenge, let alone happiness and love.

  But since those days I have seen ways to live other than the Way of the Wolf Warriors and death-hungry Zalmoxis. The cruel law of wolves, blood feuds, blood revenge, savage living, and eager death, have been overtaken by the Roman way of living peacefully with others to enhance this life, not idolize death and the afterlife. At Rome even condemned criminals are given an opportunity as gladiators for extended life, for a while.

  Under Hadrian, Rome's way of using man's ingenuity to grow harvests, press oil and wine, build fine edifices, have cleansing drains and sweet drinking water, public facilities to stay clean of body, to enjoy sociable company at the Forum or at the Baths or in happy festivals, becomes our priority. Under Hadrian even war is constrained by sealed borders with barbarian invaders, and by sensible laws within those borders. This allows energy to be invested in peace and productivity. My childhood oath to revenge the disorders of my heritage has faded beneath the attraction of gentler goals and happier ways."

  "Then who are the wolf and the She Wolf? Who still drinks blood? Who still exacts revenge? Who killed Antinous like a stalking wolf?" the Special Inspector asked.

  "I don't know, Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus," Geta responded. "Yet these people, whoever they are, are still among us somewhere. If we mistakenly seize the wrong contenders then we will have revealed our suspicions. This will unwittingly place Caesar's life at risk from the real offenders. We must not do that. I have too much respect for our Caesar and will protect him to the end. Long may he live!

  Instead, we must set a trap so the stalking wolves reveal their crimes from their own mouths. They must confess their conspiracies aloud for all to hear before witnesses. Otherwise they will await another opportunity to stalk and kill.

  In saying this to you, my final purification occurs and my child's oath of revenge is finally erased. The burden of a lifetime is discarded. I am free of Zalmoxis at last!"

  Geta's hand reached up to another hand lying across his shoulder. He grasped Surisca's knuckles and held them firm. The cuckold in Suetonius felt his stomach churn.