“So, what transpired after the Bithynian had been assaulted?” he asked. “How did Hadrian respond?”
Geta was specific in his recollections.
“I will try to recall the events as I believe they occurred, gentlemen. I myself witnessed much of the action. It was a challenging situation. We who were close to Hadrian protected him from the reality of his former paramour’s waspish nature. Antinous too had resolved to avoid blame or retribution, which tells us something about the lad’s nature and generosity of spirit.”
Geta sipped his wine thoughtfully and returned to his testimony.
“Who did this thing, Antinous?’ Caesar asked with concern. ‘Did Herodes kill him where he stood?’
Hadrian had lifted the dressing attached to the Bithynian’s cheek and peered at the wound beneath.
‘No. They were merely drunken ruffians,’ Antinous said. ‘They were in high-spirits at the festival, I suppose,’ he explained.
‘How many were they?’ Caesar continued.
‘There were three of them, my lord, masked for the festival.’
‘Where? In my enclosure, or in a public space? Did these assailants offend my hospitality?’ the emperor garbed in the Tyrian purple tunic asked threateningly. He was still crowned with a corona of woven grape vines. He fumbled at the fibula on his shoulder to release the cloak and drop it to the floor, and tossed the corona like a child’s quoit onto a chair’s upright.
One of the two Horse Guards accompanying him performed the unmilitary duty of collecting the fallen robe and laid it over a chair while a household servant scurried to offer assistance.
‘It was public space. I was scouting the Acropolis plateau by myself. I’ve never seen such a beautiful space before in my life. It is remarkable, Caesar. I’d been making my obeisance to Athena Parthenos in her cella of the Parthenon. I then spied the Temple of Rome and Augustus a little further on. The three attacked me within the Temple’s sanctuary,’ Antinous explained.
‘At a temple to all things Roman, including my own ancestors! So Herodes had been wisely following behind you, had he? I’d obliged him earlier to watch over you two neophytes. The Dionysia has been known to get out of hand in this city. So, did he arrest the hooligans?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Herodes has the authority of the City Watch at his command, he can prosecute uncivil behavior and inflict immediate punishment by his own judgment,’ Caesar continued. ‘For their insult to someone under my protection I’ll demand the ultimate penalty. But how did the ruffians manage to damage you as they have? Was this an intentional mutilation?’
‘My lord, it was foolish of me to wander unaccompanied on such an occasion,’ the young man tried to remonstrate. ‘I’ll know better in future. I’m lucky they didn’t do me greater damage, really.’
Antinous had been resting upon a couch after the revel in Herodes’ villa’s andron. Herodes had delivered the two Bithynians to his villa a few blocks from their own house at Melite, and a similar distance from the palatial villa of the Imperial Household of Caesar himself.
Herodes had summoned his family’s personal physician, a highly regarded Judaean trained at Pergamum, who had carefully cleansed and anointed Antinous’s wound with special unguents, and applied a clean dressing adhered with purified mastic. He said the wound was not deep enough to require stitches, much to everyone’s relief. In addition to the risk of corruption, which even simple wounds can induce, stitches would have left a permanent scar across his face.
After ensuring Antinous was comfortable, and after sharing wine, Herodes had asked Antinous if he objected to Lysias staying overnight with him at the villa. Lysias would sleep in the men’s quarters with Herodes, and Antinous could bunk down on a couch in the andron, the villa’s meeting chamber.
Antinous had no problem with the arrangement, especially as Lysias was obviously agog with his unexpected opportunity. Herodes had thought of everything.
‘I’ve sent a messenger to Hadrian’s chamberlain and the Dacian, Geta, telling them where you can be found. I mentioned your misadventure, though I haven’t mentioned who the offender was. I think tonight you should sleep here and not risk the drunkards or desperates of Athens,’ Herodes counseled. ‘I’m sure Caesar will send for you when your presence is required. Meanwhile, Lysias and I will retire to our own pleasures, hopefully with his friend’s blessing?’
Lysias looked towards Antinous in a faintly pained, querulous way, as eager hounds do when seeking a favor. The carnal intentions of the couple were obvious, yet Lysias seemed compelled to seek some tacit acknowledgement from his friend that this was acceptable behavior. Antinous simply nodded with an amused smile. He thought maybe, at last, Lysias would be properly deflowered or achieve whatever else was his body’s desire.
In fact he privately considered his friend’s choice of partner to be a highly worthy one. Herodes was older by five or six years, but his behavior was readily approachable by the usual lofty standards of city notables or senators. By the standards of a desirable erastes, such an accomplished companion was optimum. The man possessed confidence and charm coupled with a fine physical presence.
After more wine and small talk into the night, the two departed for their sleeping quarters with much tipsy shoulder-hugging and slap-happy body-contact. Herodes certainly had a predilection towards Lysias’s butt, Antinous observed. A manservant scurried after them to provide rugs and chamber comforts for a late night sojourn.
Antinous made himself comfortable on a couch and tried to ignore the smarting sting across his left cheek. The villa fell into silence as its lamps burned low. Occasional bursts of laughter and whoops of joy echoed remotely in the night Was it through the thick walls of the men’s sleeping quarters, Antinous wondered?
An hour or two later the clatter of horses’ hooves on the courtyard paving stones and some gruff talk at the entrance portal was followed by booming knocks at the iron-reinforced, bolted doors. It announced the arrival of Caesar and his attendants. A steward unbarred the doors as Hadrian silenced his Horse Guard companions to late night quiet.
‘I shall summon my master, Great Excellency,’ the steward of slaves enquired with much nervous bowing. ‘He would wish to personally welcome you to his home.’
‘No, let him sleep, man. I am informed the Bithynian named Antinous is on these premises?’ Hadrian declared.
‘Yes he is, my lord. He is within, in the andron chamber,’ the steward hesitantly indicated. ‘He too might be sleeping. Shall I summon him to you, my lord?’
‘No.’
The emperor tossed his riding gloves and a voluminous fur mantle over a bust of an antique philosopher as he spied Antinous across the atrium’s space standing by a warming brazier at the andron doorway. Even in March Athens can be cold at night.
He strode through the foyer followed by his guards and walked up to the young man raised on a step or two above the foyer’s mosaic floor. Antinous promptly began the body actions of the obligatory obeisance ritual’s genuflections. Hadrian halted the action mid-performance by grasping his arm in one hand.
‘Bring wine and cups,’ he commanded the steward. ‘Four! Ensure it’s good wine!’
A slave pattered off into the interior of the villa while the chief steward discreetly stood to one side. The two Horse Guards took their ease some distance away, their helmets under their arms but with their hands at permanent readiness on their sword hilts.
Caesar stepped up into the andron for a closer search of the dressing attached to Antinous’s cheek. He began his interrogation of the wound’s origin and its inflictor.
When the servant returned with the refreshments, Caesar poured four cups and offered one to each Guard.
‘Scorilo, Godron, your chores are complete for the night, you are now off-duty. Let us salute the day’s achievements, but acknowledge its deficits too,’ he declared as he offered the fourth cup to Antinous. All four raised their cups in cheer and drank deep. ‘To Dionysus!’ the Guards mut
tered.
‘I heard of your injury, lad, so I came as soon as I completed my obligations. Show it to me.’
He gingerly raised and peeped beneath the mastic-held dressing. Antinous suppressed a wince as the emperor’s fingers nudged the tender flesh nearby.
‘You’ve been fortunate I think,’ Caesar offered from his long experience of inspecting many a wound, from the slightest surface scratch to the most abject butchery. ‘It’s shallow, an incision not a score, so it will heal quickly if the physician keeps it closed and clean. He knows his trade, that physician of the Herodes family. But the slice will leave a definite scar on your features, Antinous. It’s a shame to see such pristine flesh marred by an everyday reality. Is this your first war wound, lad? I’m certain it won’t be your last.’
Antinous already knew how Hadrian carried a dozen wounds of varying magnitudes on his frame, including a visible scar across his forehead which was never depicted on the many life-sized statues of him in public squares.
Caesar’s proximity to Antinous drew their eyes together. A silent message passed between them. Caesar coughed mildly and drew back. He turned to the two Horse Guards swallowing their wine.
‘You are dismissed for the night, men. Scorilo, ensure an exchange of watch covers this villa in the usual way, I’ll be staying here overnight,’ he instructed. ‘On your return to the Household villa inform Geta and the Chamberlain of my intention. Tell Geta to collect me here at first light. No later, Scorilo. It’s a busy schedule tomorrow.’
Antinous gulped. This was unexpected. Was he prepared for an overnight assignation? It had been some hours since he last washed and spruced. After an evening’s Dionysian partying was he sweet smelling enough for an impromptu encounter? Especially, he contemplated, one likely to negotiate the physical terms of a liaison which could confirm or refute its viability?
He recalled he still owed a bodily debt to Hadrian, and perhaps now was the time that debt would be called in? This was a daunting prospect.
The two guardsmen saluted and withdrew. Herodes’ steward became apprehensive.
‘My Lord, you will be sleeping at this house tonight?!’ he asked in escalating panic. ‘We are not prepared to a suitable standard for such a great honor! My master will be dismayed, great sir!’
‘Yes, I’ll be sleeping here. I’ve slept in far less comfortable places, I assure you. Bring cushions, rugs, and lamps. More wine too. And some fruit.’
‘Certainly, Excellency!’
‘And then go back to your bed and give us some privacy, fellow.’
After a few moments of frenetic activity delivering the necessities, the steward drew together the four hinged leaves of the cedar shutters of the andron.
Hadrian and Antinous were alone at last.
‘You told me earlier today you are now mine? Explain yourself.’
‘It is so, Caesar, if it is your wish,’ Antinous replied nervously, bowing his head politely. ‘It was as I promised five months ago at Nicomedia. I keep my promises.’
‘Yes, you held to your oath, Ant. I am impressed. Take note, I will call you ‘Ant’ when we are together, as I am told your intimates do,’ Caesar proposed. ‘Tell me about your relationship with Lysias of Bithynia. Are you lovers? Are you an erastes and eromenos?’
‘No, no, my lord! By Apollo, we are good friends, childhood friends. We know each other well and respect each other. We were raised together, and our fathers were friends before us,’ Antinous explained.
‘Do you sleep together or have sex together?’ Caesar asked.
Antinous thought this an odd query well beyond personal familiarity.
‘We’ve slept side-by-side, body-to-body together very often since childhood during sleepovers and on hunts or militia bivouacs, like most boys do. Just as we wrestle body-to-body at the palaestra. These things occur between friends. But it’s only recently that we’ve sported together once or twice, and then only to give quick relief to our urges. But in matters of Eros our tastes are dissimilar. To start with, I don’t think either of us finds our own generation appealing, as most of our friends do,’ Antinous explained.
‘Tell me, Ant, what do you mean by ‘you are mine’? What is it you want? What is your motive in submitting to my gestures at Nicomedia? Were you simply obeying my command? Do I intimidate you? Are you afraid of me as Caesar? Explain yourself. There are those in my retinue who suspect you,’ Caesar declared. ‘They say I should whip you to reveal your true motives.’
‘What do I want? If you forgive me sir, I wish to deliver myself entirely into your intimate regard. Do you intimidate me? No, you have shown me a generosity which dispels all such fear. It is as you explained in the moonlight at Nicomedia. I will conform to your will as your eromenos, sir, your student of life. I hope to spend my final education in your company and under your patronage and tutelage, sir, just as you yourself proposed on that remarkable night.’
Hadrian eyed the sturdy meirakion before him with hesitancy. Antinous continued.
‘May I speak freely, sir? I’ve never known a man of such substance before, my lord. Not only as Great Caesar, which is remarkable enough, but as a man who understands the nature of the world and men’s ways so completely. I am overjoyed to be shown respect and friendliness by such a noble presence, my lord,’ Antinous uttered breathily. ‘I am amazed at my good fortune. I am certain I am not worthy of it.’
‘But in what way are you mine?’ Caesar persisted in cool precision.
‘What little I am, sir, is entirely yours,’ Antinous responded, ‘in body, heart, and spirit. I wish to engage fully with your person in all its dimensions, wherever they lead, within my status. My arete is yours to mold.
If it’s a respectful companion, a page, a squire, or your cupbearer you seek, I am eager to comply. I am yours to forge.
If it’s Eros you desire, sir, my being and my body are entirely at your disposal. Your gesture to me of sexual satisfaction at Nicomedia was as a lightning bolt to me that night. I had never been so intoxicated in another’s company previously, my lord. I was powerfully turned on by the occasion. Is this a fault or failing?
However, sir, if it’s a lover you seek, as you told me under the cloudy stars that night, then you should know how I too am seeking a companion in life. I too crave closeness with someone special in my eyes. It amazes me how the one person in the world whose very presence stirs my emotions so dramatically appears to return a similar favor to me.
I cannot say I know what love is, sir, but I find I am swept with sensations of which I have no previous understanding. I ache with needs I have no control over. Do I speak out of order, sir? Is this childish talk unworthy of an eromenos?’
‘Indeed, you speak with remarkable lucidity. Your command of ideas is excellent, Ant. But I still wonder at your motives, or those of others behind you.’
Antinous’s voice lowered.
‘Sir, the day of the Hunt when you knifed the boar which threatened my safety and then patiently unfurled my fingers from the impaled lance, was a day of revelation to me,’ Antinous murmured softly. ‘No one before in my life has taken the trouble to combat such a threat on my behalf, and then follow with equally gracious attention to my fears and excitement.
You might not believe it to be true, sir, but I ejaculated spontaneously beneath my tunic as you unwound my hands from the lance’s shaft. I came excitedly without control, my bloodstream was so surging, so enthralled. My tunic was stained, though I managed to hide it from everyone I hope.
Later unexpectedly that same night when again you aroused my horniness beneath the moonlight, I felt myself falling headlong into an abyss of excitement. It was a driven urge I had not experienced previously. Am I being irrational, my lord? Is this foolishness? Does this offend? My body’s sensations are seriously in debt to your goodwill and touch.’
Hadrian smiled calmly.
‘Did the physician provide you a nostrum to ingest, Ant?’ he asked. ‘Your tongue is loosened charmingly.’
/> Antinous shook his head.
‘No, my lord, only wine. I always speak from the heart, or else I don’t speak at all.’
Hadrian was moved to act. There had been enough talk.
‘I am told, Ant, how it is traditional for an erastes to confirm his homage to an eromenos by gifting a token of his intentions? A weapon or other small gesture is the custom I’m told.’
‘You have already supplied fine gifts in the form of treasures and our Latin tutor, Thais of Cyrene,’ Antinous reminded his company. ‘These have been extremely adequate tokens, sir, without par.’
‘That’s so, Ant. However I’m reliably informed it’s also the custom to offer a catch of game, such as a hare or wild fowl, as proof of an erastes’ skills as a provider. It’s usually something edible or life sustaining, a leftover from ancient trials of proof. Is this true?’
‘So I’ve been told too,’ Antinous responded, wondering where this quirky conversation might be leading as no crowing cock or wild game was in sight.
Hadrian took a small cloth purse from his belt. He stripped off the leather tie and emptied its contents into his hand. A single object fell onto his palm.
It was an elegantly carved intaglio signet ring of deep blue lapis lazuli in a setting of silver. Delicately engraved into the vivid azure stone was a cockerel, a farmyard rooster with a high cock’s comb. Yet this bird was depicted with a human body and legs represented by two twisting snakes. It had words inscribed around it in an archaic script.
‘I have been carrying this jewel for two years now. It was found for me in my domains at Antioch where the most precious magical amulets and talismans circulate from across the East and Egypt. This ancient find is a rare blue stone named lapis lazuli carried from a distant land named Bactria. It has been carved on both sides with special charms and blessed by Magi of the East at rituals invoking exotic gods. It is supercharged with magical spells for the wearer’s protection and eternal life.
I acquired this ring with its mysterious cockerel to offer at the appropriate occasion as my erastes’ token to my chosen companion, in place of a living cockerel. Unlike a live fowl, this ring offers unique protection against illness, misadventure, and even death, it is claimed. This surely is the most one human can offer to another -- health, safety, and eternity? My chosen companion is to wear it always.’
The Hadrian Enigma - A Forbidden History Page 29
