The Hadrian Enigma - A Forbidden History (9 page)

Hadrian encouraged the boy to be receptive to friendliness. The lad learned quickly.

However, the young Wolf Warrior’s names and titles were difficult to pronounce in Latin. Hadrian abbreviated the name into something more easily pronounced. Among the florid list of attributes Dromichaetes proclaimed in the Greek
patois
of his native tongue was the name for the Daci Tribes of his homeland. This word was “Getae”. Hadrian identified these two repeated syllables in the staccato flow of consonants and gutturals babbled by the princeling but which no longer possessed any consequence in the new era ruled by Rome.

‘
Getae? Yes, so I will call you Geta,’ he said with ready satisfaction to the child chained at his feet. ‘You are of The Getae, so I will call you Geta.’

This leading senator, general, praetor, and tribune of Rome inaugurated his personal beckoning call for the stripling chained at his feet. It was to be “Geta”. The list of privileges and distinctions forged in ancient wars by the boy’s father and his father’s fathers before him, were now compressed into these two tight syllables. Eventually Dromichaetes came to understand the symbolism perfectly.

But his oath to Zalmoxis on behalf of his father also continued to ring through his mind night-by-night, day-by-day, month-by-month. His father’s shame was seared deep into his very heart.

‘
Revenge me, my son!’ resounded through his mind. ‘By Zalmoxis, kill the Iron People King’s loved ones just as his soldiers killed me and mine! Kill his loved ones too, in honor’s revenge, my son!’

Geta had begun to adapt to his new world and his new status in life as well as his new name. Yet a single memory lingered. It was an image of that bony orb shedding flecks of decayed flesh as it bobbed and bounced and skidded down the steep incline of the
Scalae Gemoniae.
He could hear the surrounding throng shout and cheer and hiss as it descended.

One day, the boy mused to himself, he too would find an opportunity to deprive the Iron People’s king of a loved one. Then the oath to Zalmoxis would be fulfilled and his father’s honor appeased for all eternity ---.”

Tiberius Claudius Maximus’s report sent a chill through Suetonius and his staff at the Imperial Secretariat. In the gloomy high-columned marble arcades of the Secretariat flanking the Palatine slope at Rome the cavalier’s tale was deemed worthy of storing against future eventualities. But that was many years ago.

Now in Egypt as Caesar’s
Special Inspector
, Suetonius recalled the testimony and its covert threat. He wondered at its relevance a quarter century later in understanding today’s Geta of Dacia, who is now a grown man in his thirties? How much of that threat has survived so long a period, he wondered?

CHAPTER 4

J
ulius Vestinus’s chambers were dressed in the stately style expected of the emperor’s primary secretary. Busts of his patron Hadrian, the empress Sabina, the former emperor Trajan, various ancient philosophers of Greece or heroes of Rome, along with plaster face masks of Vestinus’s own ancestors, cluttered the space.

Vestinus was a generation in age beneath Suetonius, yet already the pressures of his job were evident in his features. Vestinus was the second incumbent as Hadrian’s secretary since Suetonius’s dismissal eight years earlier, so the biographer could easily appreciate the rigors of his chores. He would be a busy fellow at all sorts of hours and not always thanked for it.

Vestinus would also be party to numberless details about the management of the Empire, its ever-drifting politics, who was currently in favor, who was on a slippery slope out, and who might be absolutely doomed.

But it also crossed Suetonius’s mind how Julius Vestinus could already know more about Antinous’ death than it would be politic to disclose? Suetonius sized up his target and began the investigative journey as he sipped some wine.

“
I say, Julius, this is a good drop you have here. Falernian, yes? I’m surprised it’s traveled so well. Here we are in the Egyptian desert miles from any real civilization, and we have the pleasure of real Falernian.”

Suetonius could see Vestinus was flattered by the comment, as he expected. The biographer knew how power and influence are sometimes expressed more impressively by discreet gesture than by grandiose display.

“
Was Antinous much of a drinker himself, do you think?” he added perfunctorily, hoping to widen a door on this subject. “Did wine have anything to do with his death, I wonder?”

Vestinus paused for a considered moment

“
Not that I was aware of, Suetonius. He seemed to enjoy wine, but I don’t recall him ever being drunk. It’s often wiser to drink wine than risk local water when traveling. I only occasionally saw him tipsy, yes, but never drunk. Not in my presence, anyway. He was very sporty, so I think he tried to keep a clear head for the hunt or for his athletics. He was young and lively after all.”

Vestinus had loosened up a little. Falernian, even when watered, moves tongues swiftly.

“
Well, what do you think has happened here, Julius?” Suetonius asked as casually and innocently as he could manage.

Vestinus firmed up on him.

“
Well, that’s for you to find out, isn’t it Tranquillus. I haven’t a clue. Try someone else.”

He had shut down. Clarus interceded.

“
But you must have an opinion, Julius? You’ve been close to Caesar and the lad for several years now, you must intuit something about this unhappy event?”

Vestinus shuffled from boot to boot.

“
I think things haven’t been going well for the boy, really,” he advanced distractedly. “You know, he’s not a 
meirakion
anymore, is he? They’ve been together now for almost five years, isn’t it? He was approaching his twenty-fourth birthday, though you’d never know it to look at him. It was next month, I believe. But he’s reached the age where that relationship is no longer tenable. At least not in the way such liaisons are supposed to proceed in the Greek custom. The mentor-cum-mentored balance was rapidly becoming one of two seniors. The convention deplores that. The accusation of
cinaedus
was on the horizon.”

Suetonius and Clarus looked to each other at the ease of information now flowing, Falernian assisted. Vestinus continued.

“
For example, if you look closely at the young man you can see he has a light down on his cheeks. Because he is so fair-haired it is barely noticeable. But it’s already a beard really, and I guess he shaves it quietly on the sly. Sometime soon, even in a blond, it will be an obvious beard, obvious to everyone.”

Vestinus paused to see what effect these observations were having.

“
It’s never been discussed in my presence,” he continued, “but I’d say Hadrian believes it’s not appropriate for a Caesar to be partner to someone who has entered full manhood. Perhaps he thinks it’s not seemly? It suggests something about the nature of the relationship that breaches the code of honor. It is one thing for a mature man to be attracted to a handsome youngster, but it’s questionable for the same man to be attracted to another mature man. Especially a Caesar. Though Rome has enough such partnerships. I have spoken too much already ---.” Vestinus trailed off.

“
But what are you suggesting?” Suetonius dared to continue. “Do you think Antinous committed suicide because his time as Caesar’s lover was up? But why? Being the emperor’s Favorite would be a marvelous way to enter maturity. Think of the influence and connections and wealth the lad has acquired in his years with Caesar.”

“
Perhaps that’s not how Antinous saw it? I suppose the boy knew Hadrian could never adopt him as his official son, even though the relationship seemed a father-and-son sort of thing some of the time. Neither the Senate, nor the Army, nor the people, would ever accept a non-Roman candidate despite his popularity .. especially someone they believe is fundamentally Caesar’s catamite. That’s where the ‘
Western Favorite
’ comes in ….”

Vestinus innocently sipped his wine and picked at a fig or two after his quietly catapulted incendiary device had lobbed.

Suetonius had to quickly find a way back into his opinions.

“
Catamite
is a bit hard, isn’t it, Julius? Trajan had dozens of similar liaisons, and he was applauded. The relationship isn’t one of those castrated marriages of Nero’s or incestuous couplings of Caligula. It’s even been of four years duration, good grief! There’s a definite affection between them that fits the classic Greek custom, so the boy’s no cheap gigolo or harlot on-the-make. By Jupiter, they’ve been together longer than many legal marriages manage these days! Even Sabina approves of the lad. It’s the height of respectability! So what’s this about a ‘Western Favorite’?”

“
I think at Rome Hadrian had been seeing a great deal of Commodus again recently before this tour. That’s Senator Lucius Ceionius Commodus, the well-known playboy aristocrat,” the secretary offered. “Surely you know of him? Some colleagues joke he’s Hadrian’s
western
Empire favorite, while Antinous is the
eastern
favorite,” the Secretary offered.

“
Senator Commodus is rather profligate, sybaritic, and hopelessly spoiled, but still very good-looking. I think he brings a dash of wildness and frenzy into Caesar’s staid sense of duty. Hadrian’s relationship with Antinous is more measured, more composed, less frenetic. Yet Commodus is also five years older than Antinous, which contradicts the convention. He’s no real match in the looks department, either. Antinous is a classic who becomes more striking with each passing month. Until today, that is, I suppose. Commodus also has the bloodlines, wealth, status, and connections for political advancement, if not the necessary talent.”

“
So you are suggesting Antinous might have had good reason to suicide?” Suetonius tried to clarify. Vestinus was offering far more than they had expected.

“
I don’t know if the boy would suicide, or if some other malevolence was at play? Perhaps he simply went for a night-time swim in the river and got into trouble. It happens. The Nile is not a bath-house pool, you know. People drown in it every day. Yet there’ve been many odd things happening in recent times which make one wonder.”

Vestinus ceased suddenly. He realized he might have overstepped an imaginary line somewhere. Suetonius tried to respond as nonchalantly as possible, as though it was impromptu.

“
Odd things? What sort of odd things, Julius?” he chanced.

Clarus shifted forward to hear. Vestinus mulled his words carefully.

“
Well, there’s been a lot going on. There’s the competition from the Western Favorite, which I’m sure the lad found intimidating. Then there are people in his own circle who I wonder about. Lysias of Bithynia, for example, his friend of his own age. Does he have reason to be jealous of Antinous? Or that young courtesan Thais, if that’s what she is? Or the woman Julia Balbilla who travels with Sabina? Or ---?

Then there’s the business with Pachrates, the Egyptian priest we saw earlier. Both Caesar and the lad took a close interest in this charlatan and seem utterly entranced by him. All I see is a clever trickster with a bag of magical trinkets and a line in fast-talk.
‘Beware priests selling religion’
, I say.

Then there’s the Nile itself. The river has had a bad season since July; it hasn’t risen to the necessary height for large harvests, so the locals are claiming it’s the emperor’s fault. Too much water or too little are equal disasters in this strange land.

Apparently emperors and pharaohs are not supposed to travel on the Nile during its flood season, it’s a bad omen. It brings bad luck. These people are very superstitious. They see omens everywhere, even more than we Romans. And then of course there’s Caesar’s cough too ---”

Vestinus fell silent abruptly. He had said too much.

“
Caesar’s cough?” the biographer asked as casually as his racing mind could manage. “What about Caesar’s cough? Hadrian has long had a mild chest or throat complaint; it’s nothing important, is it?”

Vestinus measured his words carefully.

“
I am unsure of that, Tranquillus; I am unsure of that indeed. Nowadays he coughs up spots of blood. We are forbidden to talk of it, but it’s true. Even his physicians are concerned. But we must not go down that path, Tranquillus, it’s forbidden. It gives ambitious discontents big ideas, ideas usually with a huge cost in human life attached.”

Much scuffling was heard down the tent corridors. Guards shouting loudly in Latin and Greek alternated by rough accents in the local Demotic dialect sounded nearby. Tribune Macedo stomped into the chamber followed by guards manhandling two peasants struggling with wooden leg shackles.

Macedo’s men pushed the two Egyptians to the floor and stood over them. The frightened peasants in their rags, reed sandals, and tattered leather jerkins, looked around the marquee at the ageing men in togas. Macedo saluted.

“
The are the two peasants who found the body of Antinous this morning.”

Clarus, Vestinus, and Suetonius looked over the duo. They weren’t promising material, but at least they were unharmed.

“
Does anyone here speak their language,” the Special Inspector asked. One of the attending Praetorians stepped forward and saluted.

“
Centurion Quintus Urbicus, sir. I am based at Alexandria with Governor Flavius Titianus as an officer of his Guard. I was born at Lambaesis in Numidia and have served with Prefect Turbo in Mauretania. So I know a little of the old languages of Africa and Egypt,” he stated with military precision.