Antinoos and Hadrian

by R G Berube

  My mind is a museum of many rooms, each containing a multitude of artifacts, separate and tenderly guarded and each, my claim to having lived and loved. Every recollection has been cherished, protected in anticipation of the proper time to have them known.

  Throughout the centuries, the ground has relinquished pieces of ancient marble, long buried by purpose, purge, or chance. Like my thoughts, these have been hidden in dark places. On a Grecian hillside, many years ago, a near-perfect sculpture came to light and its radiance and quality spoke boldly of a lad who looked out upon the world with unseeing eyes. Mount Parnassus looms above a verdant valley. Delphi lays cradled against its side. It was there that I stood with Hadrian on the steps of the ancient temple and gazed with wonder at the surrounding hills and at the far Bay of Corinthos. I understood why only the Gods could have inspired such construction! It was there also, long forgotten until discovered by a farmer's plow, that a chipped and stained stone figure was unearthed.

  Below the sacred Temple of Apollo and past the shrines built to hold the treasures of still more ancient states, another building stands. It is of a more recent time built to house the artifacts that speak of the essence of what that sacred sanctuary symbolized. In a corner of the museum, set aside by itself, stands the statue of a young Greek arrested in a moment in time; pensive and about to move forward in pursuit of some purpose. The figure displays a serenity of face and body. Yet there is a melancholy air about the eyes that look down, seemingly deep in thought. The marble figure, like so many others unearthed throughout the centuries, bears a remarkable resemblance to the living being it represents. The figure commands attention for it was fashioned by an artisan whose hands were guided to mark a moment lived.

  I stand alone. All clothing and symbols of my station, put aside. One foot is firmly planted while the other, slightly bent, prepares to take the final step toward the murky water. It is a time of reckoning, when little else lays open to me. Before I had taken the first milk from my mother's breast, before even my first breath, my foot had already moved upon the path to the water's edge!

  An old man's words filled with seeing, were given to a child who thought him too mysterious and removed to be taken seriously. This was the beginning of a succession or portents demanding recognition. Grandfather introduced the theme, although not comprehended until some years later that would be the fountainhead of an ultimate offering.

  Bithynia was steeped in mysticism. I turned to the stars and know this. Happenstance is but an illusion, an offering of the Gods meant to appease and tease men into believing they have control of their own destinies! For much of my life I held the belief that what lay ahead could be divined and with some element of intervention, fate could be changed. I searched the heavens and listened to those who claimed to have a knowing in these things.

  As we approached Egypt I felt the attraction of its mysteries as though beckoned by a powerful force. Hadrian had faith that he would come to know the answers he so desperately sought. I had hope for more!

  The Imperial Party had made its way from Jerusalem to Gaza and from there, Sabina and her retinue boarded ships for Alexandria. Hadrian chose to journey to that destination on horseback in order to ascertain the condition of the land and its people.

  Following the ancient road that held to the coastline, I observed evidence of the land's productivity. Egypt had been a major supplier of grain for the Empire. It held great responsibility. It bore this weight reluctantly and of late, the population had begun to experience hardship. Egypt's primary source of income had been drastically reduced by the drought, as evidenced by the parched soil and constant taste of dust. As we rode, the serious problems existing in spite of the break in the drought that had occurred in the western regions of Africa several months before, became more obvious. A large barge met us at Pelusium, to transport us to Alexandria. Sailing close to the irregular coastline, Hadrian was able to see for himself that the condition of the land was no better than that observed since Jerusalem.

  The Nile flows from deep within the African continent. It branches into numerous smaller subsidiary rivers and streams near Heliopolis, and these add their deposits of silt to the expansive delta that fans into the Mediterranean. Further west along the coast, Alexandria occupies the lowlands beyond Canopus.

  I had thought Palmyra to rival Athens. In truth the surrounding desert with its oasis and Palmyra's buildings had overpowered me with beauty. But Alexandria rose from the land like a majestic queen with flowing robes, bold, bedecked with jewels, and painted like a courtesan. Athens was a city of quiet thought, peaceful and subdued in its daily life and commerce. Alexandria teemed with vitality and effused with a multitude of languages. Although Greek was the principle tongue and the speech of government, so many other languages and dialects were spoken that I was in awe of how well everything seemed to be understood.

  This region had long been witness to the ancient tradition of human sacrifice; and an age-old ritual begun by Osiris. His legend was not lost to me! Murdered by his brother, Seth, his body was dismembered and the pieces thrown into the Nile, the penis and other parts eaten by fish. He was resurrected by his wife and sister, Isis. In memory of the god, mortal men who have met their death by drowning in the Nile have been honored through the ages. These victims have been considered god-like and sacred, and are witnessed by the shrines I observed along the river's banks.

  Alexandria, a city that never slept and one which seemed to attack all senses was, for me, a place of removed contemplation. While all about me the excitement of court filled each day with duty and events, I restrained myself, engaged with some fearful conflict that pressed every element of my being to present myself to the Emperor without causing him undue suspicion of what I was about to do. That my life had taken on another aspect and that it was of little value as a mortal thing, was something I had come to realize months before, at Eleusis. Life's essence had been breathed into me not for my own gratification, but as a means of giving life to another. I found myself questioning little of the destiny I had come to realize. I only sought an answer to when this destiny would find its time! But there were forces unknown to me and others who played their part of which I had no knowledge who also seemed to be destined to the same ends. The gods being fickled ensure fate by creating other possible options, when if chosen, lead to the same conclusion.

  Many were the thoughts sought to justify my mood. Nearing twenty, I had given way to youth. Soft lines and fair skin had been replaced with muscle and the beginning of hair where men show maturity. My body had become built through the hardships of military revues and constant riding. I challenged myself in every way, striving to show my best to the one whose opinion I most valued. Seldom was I made to feel I had given less than what Hadrian had come to expect. He was my mentor, protector, and lover. I owed him all and held myself accountable to the debt.

  No longer a boy, the man who stood before him was more of an equal. I suspected resentment and sensed a change in our relationship. Yet still passionate

  in our love making, his excitement obvious as soon as he touched me, there existed a subtle difference. I became occasion for questioning.

  “Do I still excite you?”

  “And why would you not?”

  “Look,” I said, standing before him, “I am not the boy I was in Claudiopolis!”

  Hadrian laughed ironically, “And I am not the man to whom you showed an attraction in Claudiopolis! Now you see one older with gray and thinning hair. Remember when this stomach was firm? We have changed, Antinoos!”

  His response went to the core of my fear.

  “You have begun to grow a beard,” he noted, taking my hand and bringing me closer into the lamp's light.

  “Like yours,” I said, hoping he would not think me foolish. My former curls, the full head of hair Hadrian had loved so much to stroke, had been shorn in favor of the more popular military style. “It pleases you?”

  “What are you up to?” He searched my face
for an answer.

  “I am eight years older, Hadrian. I am what you see!”

  “And in your heart you worry that I will no longer find you attractive? Yes, I can see that it is an issue with you. Have I given you indication of losing interest? How little you trust me, Antinoos!”

  Each suspicion of Hadrian's loss of interest had pressed me to make changes in my appearance, instead of trying to retain the old. To the same degree that I mistrusted my power to hold his desire, I boldly adopted new ways, as if to tempt him to prove my doubts.

  “You knew my interest, that day in the garden?”

  “Keenly,” he said, “Your eyes never left me, except for when I returned your gaze. The connection was instantaneous, Antinoos. I knew you would be mine and that from you, there would be no objection. The matter of your parents' approval was simply in the presentation. Your mother recognized the advantages. Your father suspected my motives.”

  We had seldom spoken about that time and the manner of the arrangement. “And what was his reaction?”

  “He was cautious in questioning the Emperor. This I knew. I promised that nothing would be required of you that was not fully of your agreement. This allayed his fear.

  “Now, what must I do to allay your fears”

  “You have not been yourself,” I answered, “There is no one for whom I care for more. My only purpose is to be of use to you! Through you I have lived a richer life than would have been possible in my homeland. I know what I mean to you, Hadrian. At least I think I know!

  “I was about to say that I have no fear of you leaving me. It would be a lie. I do fear becoming less in your eyes, and of loosing you.”

  “I know that you worry, Antinoos. I am ill. Of that I have no illusion. Your welfare is not lost to me. There is more purpose for being in Alexandria than to appease the populace and of brining peace.

  “You have seen the land! Two seasons have passed without the expected rains. There had been some hope when the skies filled with clouds, last year. Word was carried that the Emperor had interceded. In Egypt, I am the Pharaoh, the Living God. It is I who will be accountable should the Nile fail to overflow. Three seasons of drought will bring starvation here, and all about the Empire the empty granaries of Egypt will be felt!

  “This ancient land holds many secrets. There are those who are knowledgeable in the art of magic, who hold powers that I must come to have. What accord shall I receive from these Alexandrines when my word will not bring what is most needed? How can I hope to influence them into peace among themselves if I fail to show my power as Pharaoh and Emperor?”

  I listened without interruption. Hadrian spoke as if addressing the gods forgetting, it seemed, that I was there. His eyes were focused in the distance and his body paced. For some moments silence filled the room. Then he suddenly turned and faced me, his visage filled with dread.

  “You must help me, Antinoos!”

  “Tell me what it is I must do.”

  “Heliopolis is but a few days distance. Go there. Find the mystic, Pancrates. Prepare him to meet me. There are scared rites which can allow visions of what is to come. He will guide me!”

  “When shall I leave?”

  “Prepare yourself. Lucius Commodus arrives on the morrow and he will take you there.”

  “But why are you not coming?”

  “We have just arrived. There are formalities which must be observed. Dignitaries must be accorded their due if I expect their cooperation when the time comes for their need. You have changed, it is true. So have your duties! You represent me now, Antinoos. Hold your own with Commodus but allow him his station! I love him as a son and like a son, he will inherit his father’s legacy!”

  Try as I might to keep my mind clear of jealousies I could not avoid the reality of Lucius Commodus. Now twenty-nine, he was not so far removed from me in age. Hadrian had been keeping company with him more than in the past. I tried to convince myself that the business of state was the cause.

  “My love moves me to do your bidding, Lord!”

  At this time an event occurred that heightened my growing conviction that destiny could not be avoided. Word reached the Emperor that Libya, a city west of Alexandria, was being terrorized by a ferocious lion. I faulted the gods for their redundancy with omens and signs. Hadrian looked at the situation as a challenge, convinced he was being given another chance to prove himself. This beast held a terrible reputation for being cunning, fearless, and of amazing size. The Emperor was pressed with urgency to assist in the problem as surrounding communities were being devastated and in near-panic. Heliopolis was delayed. Preparations were made for a hunt and a small band of his most faithful companions were equipped to face several days in the field. The Emperor had vowed not to return without having laid the beast at his feet. As in Antioch, Hadrian was happy to leave the stifling atmosphere of Alexandria, where once again tongues had begun to wag in criticism and ribald obscenities of the Emperor’s appetites and habits. I was the brunt of the rude stories, and graffiti had begun to appear in the bazaars. Lucius’ name was linked with a long line of amoral Roman Emperors whose habits were deemed deplorable. It seemed that much of the Emperor’s benevolence was overshadowed by his relationship with prostitutes who buy a life of luxury by selling themselves to the Emperor’s pleasures. August was intensely hot. Wearing the desert dweller’s light clothing, we rode out of Alexandria filled with excitement for the hunt. Bronzed and weathered by the sun, little distinction could be drawn between our band and that of the local tribes.

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Quae Nunc Abilis In Loca, Autumn 130 A.D.

  “There will be little time when the beast attacks, Antinoos. It will come suddenly. Keep your head and give no sign of fear; the horses are trained to hold their ground in the face of a charge. Aim your thrust carefully and move away quickly.”

  Every nerve of my body was attentive to all sound and movement. I obeyed Hadrian’s directive and remained behind to cover him. Riding swiftly, we followed expert trackers of local origin, who knew the animal’s habits. Behind us followed three javelin bearers who had difficulty keeping pace. In spite of his years and illness, Hadrian seemed little affected by the activity and I took heart with his agility, thinking he might be regaining his strength. Daylight had begun to wane. Hadrian feared the hunt would have to be abandoned until the following day. But soon, the first signs of the animal were noted by the edge of a small waterhole. Nearby we found its kill, a large water-buffalo so huge it gave indication of the lion’s size. Its tracks led into a range of foothills and the valley floor below had already gone into shadow with the crest of the ledge above our heads still in bright sunlight. The wind carried a light scent of sage and it favored us, blowing in our direction. So much noise was being made by our attendants that Hadrian instructed them to remain behind, as we rode higher. Each armed with a javelin, spear, and long-knife we urged the horses forward along the narrow trail which was actually a cascade that carried runoff from the rains. It wound sharply upward and became too treacherous for horses. Borysthenes and Catapult were left in the care of Athenoseos. The path was uneven and covered with sharp rocks that made footing extremely dangerous. My knees and hands were already bloody resulting from several falls due to loose shale. I began wishing the Emperor had left the beast alone to menace the countryside as it wished!

  “Caution,” Hadrian warned, concerned with the noise I made. “Smell the air, Antinoos. I suspect its lair may be about. Keep alert to the Bedouin. They will give sign if the animal is spotted.”

  Suddenly a silence fell upon the scene and I saw ahead, the tribesmen frozen in motion. One man raised an arm to beckon us forward. I followed Hadrian and placed each step where his had fallen and moved myself in the same manner. Reaching the trackers, I saw before me a large oval of flat ground at the mouth of a cave. Before it lay the most beautiful of animals, a great cat whose hide was the color of honey and its black mane framed fierce eyes and a muzzle of large teeth. From behin
d us came the sound of the bearers struggling to come nearer. The cat rose, roared, and leaped to a ledge above its lair, covering an unbelievable distance. Then it was gone! Hadrian exclaimed a series of profanities and turned quickly to run for Borysthenes. I followed, knowing his intention was to circle the animal on the other side of the hill. Keeping hold of the weapons and managing to get myself upon Catapult, surprised me. I noted the expression in Hadrian’s eyes and knew that I and the lion were now in his challenge. We reached the other side of the ridge, now bathed in the sun’s last remaining light. Hadrian rode toward a growth of tall reeds. Within the thicket the sound of the lion’s frantic movements could be heard.

  “It has run into swamp, Antinoos!” We were joined by several others.

  “The animal has little place to escape,” one of the men called to us. “This swamp is extensive and deep. It must come out!”

  Suddenly the huge cat bounded through the reeds some distance to our left and I followed in pursuit. I could hear the sound of Borysthenes close behind. The lion moved in beautiful grace, its muscles and sinews showing force and power. Leaning forward, I urged Catapult to full speed, its eyes bulging with excitement and exertion. I fully appreciated Catapult’s quality and training. Another mount would have frozen with fear of the animal’s scent and thrown its rider forward. She responded to every command. Before I could reign, the lion came to a stop, turned and faced us, its gigantic head low and menacing – its face, more beautiful still. I charged, spear aimed. With amazing speed the cat raced forward, mouth open. The air was rent with its roar. In full gait, it charged on. I brought Catapult to a stand and waited. The lion moved with such swiftness that it soon appeared too close for me to have time to make my throw. As if detached from myself, I watched my arm move forward to aim as my other arm moved away from my body for balance. It occurred to me that I could be mortally wounded and realized I had no fear, thinking only that the lion would be slowed enough by my thrust and would allow Hadrian a proper aim and kill. I could serve my purpose! My spear was thrown followed by two javelins. The cat was pierced clean through before it reached me. Leaping from my mount, I withdrew my knife to administer the final blow. Suddenly the lion rose and its face was so close that I felt its hot breath and smelled its odor. About to pounce in spite of many wounds, the beast foamed at the mouth and it seethed with fury. But it made no move forward. Such was its fate, for Hadrian’s spear had come from behind and cleanly entered its chest at the heart. Hadrian moved past me and coming upon the beast as it lay in its death-throws, he drew his knife across the lion’s throat, spilling blood upon himself and the surrounding ground. Hadrian faced me, his eyes glazed, sweat beaded on his brow. He was breathing heavily and blood from a deep wound in his arm dripped from his fingers. I rushed to him and tore a piece from my clothing, pressing my fingers on the artery above the wound to slow the flow. Athenoseos had been with the attendants and he ran forward, tying the bandage as I continued applying pressure. The animal lay dead at our feet. My life had been saved by the Emperor’s speed and accuracy. Realizing what he had done, I was stunned at his calm. Hadrian’s wound took many weeks to heal. Where there had been five scars, there were now six to show his meeting with the regal beast. He would in time, have a memorial coin struck to commemorate the event. This medallion would show the massive beast lying dead, the Emperor’s foot placed on its head in victory. The Bithynian would be shown standing close, intimating position and intimacy. The Pythia’s prophesy had been fulfilled but still, a star was yet to shine.