A bronze lifesize statue of Hadrian stood on a pedestal to one side with an arm upheld in salute while nursing his staff of office in the crook of the other. Hadrian's familiar stance as a heroic commander whose bare-headed thick-cropped curls, close-shaved beard, and embossed cuirass decorated with victor's medallions, gave authority to his mute presence.
His cuirass displayed an image of the goddess Athena of Athens protecting the infants Romulus and Remus of Rome, with a portrait of Antinous's profile embossed on one of his hip lappets. This struck Suetonius as an intriguing statement of the emperor's priorities. It spoke of Greek culture nourishing Roman values while his Greek paramour observed from the close proximity of his hip.
The detachment reached the inner circle of protection for the emperor. He was now to be defended by his Horse Guards. This elite corps of cavalry from across the Roman world serves directly at the emperor's side. The officers are identified by their scarlet cloaks and a high scarlet crest on their helmets, as well as their ethnic variety. Their mixed races display the Empire's true diversity.
Three Horse Guards and two Scythian archers stood shiftily about while a senior officer was seated at a camp table sorting papyrus sheets. As he did so Suetonius became aware of the sound of muffled moans being emitted from within the tent complex. They were the cries of pain usually associated with some unfortunate person having information extracted by due legal process, meaning torture.
Hadrian is not known to wield torture to any degree, though his Prefect at Rome, Marcius Turbo, is readily disposed to its efficacy.
The Horse Guard officer arose to smartly salute. Suetonius and he recognized each other, though the biographer could not recall the German's name. The accompanying Praetorian stood to attention before the more-senior officer and informed him of the summons and delivery as instructed. The German turned and smiled warmly to the biographer.
"Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus, I Scorilo, a Decurion of the Horse Guard, salute you."
At last someone was speaking to the biographer as a human being.
"I am instructed to escort you to the emperor's quarters. Senator Septicius Clarus and others of the Imperial Household await you."
Aha, Suetonius thought, a friendly name at last. Clarus, his patron, to whom he owed his entire good fortune and utter allegiance after Caesar himself, will know what this is all about.
The decurion led Suetonius into the marquee complex. It dawned on him the muffled cries coming from somewhere deep in the labyrinth were not those of a torture victim but of someone sorrowfully sobbing. In fact it was a male person weeping in deep anguish.
As they progressed through chamber after chamber, sitting rooms, map rooms, shrine alcoves, armory stores, dining alcoves, small reception halls, and small courtyards, the sobbing grew louder. Suetonius realized the cries were being emitted by a voice he recognized.
The pained voice was that of Hadrian.
Scorilo guided Suetonius into a large reception chamber where several notables were gathered and where the moans were even more pronounced. They were heard from behind nearby drapes.
No one conversed. They stood in clusters staring distractedly at the shiny floor tiles beneath them. The cries had thoroughly intimidated them.
Suetonius spied Septicius Clarus seated at a table littered with uneaten food and empty wine goblets. The grouped individuals included some known to him and others unknown.
To one side hovered the Easterners dressed in chiton tunic and slung mantle whose primary language was Greek. These included the Governor of Pannonia, Flavius Arrianus of Bithynia, a personal friend of the emperor. Arrian is a wealthy Greek from Nicomedia. Accompanying him was Phlegon of Tralles, a freed slave historian whose extravagant literary fantasies were popular with Hadrian. Polemo of Smyrna, a sophist and master of heroic speeches, stood beside Aristobulus of Antioch, the court astrologer who had been in Suetonius's party that morning. It was probably Aristobulus who had revealed his whereabouts to the Praetorian messengers.
At another side stood the Latins. Flavius Titianus, Hadrian's appointed Governor of the province of Egypt; Julius Vestinus, a Gaul who was the current Secretary to the emperor; the eunuch Favorinus of Arles, a teacher of rhetoric; and Alcibiades of Nysa, Hadrian's chamberlain who was Greek but who too had been accorded Roman citizenship.
At the table with wine cups before them sat Suetonius's patron, Septicius Clarus accompanied by the Praetorian Tribune, Lucius Macedo, commander of the security forces for the Egypt tour. The Praetorian Prefect, Quintus Marcius Turbo, remained at Rome to maintain order at the seat of Empire.
Suetonius reflected on how this modest tented chamber in the desert wilds by the River Nile four hundred miles south of the city of Alexandria contained the cream of Hadrian's inner circle. Except three, that is. These three were his wife, Vibia Sabina the Augusta; his factotum Geta the Dacian; and the much-cherished freeborn Bithynian Antinous.
In another corner stood a man whose presence made the hair of Suetonius's neck rise on end.
'Pachrates' was a corrupted name in Greek for an Egyptian priest whose name in the local dialect was unpronounceable. Pachrates or Panchrates was a close translation into Greek. He was one of the shaven-bodied, kohl-eyed, leopard-skin swathed, linen-skirted priests of Egypt. The priest is reputed to work miracles, call upon demonic powers, inflict spells, and influence destiny, all for a fee. Preferably a large fee.
Pachrates is of an indiscernible age, seeming eternally old, even very ancient, as befits his profession. His features had his race's distinctive characteristics of a flattish nose, swarthy skin, thick lips, and dark eyes. His eyes penetrate his surroundings with incisive clarity, and project an icy chill. This had always disturbed Suetonius on the few occasions he saw him attending Hadrian's entourage. Yet he had heard how Hadrian and Antinous had found the priest's magical arts to be impressive, if not remarkable.
By Pachrates' side was a younger priest in similar vestments indicating high status. Both were bedecked in beaded chains, amulets, talismans, and bracelets depicting the Eye of Horus, the crucifix ankh, and other exotic symbols. Each wielded an impressive staff of ebony, gold, and ivory. They kept watchfully to themselves while the sobs echoed from within the nearby chamber.
Clarus and Macedo rose to greet Suetonius. He did not kiss Clarus' toga hem as he might at a morning patron's assembly; it might have seemed overly ostentatious in this company. Clarus took his arm in a friendly greeting anyhow. He whispered low to his ear.
"Welcome. Our men found you, yes? As you can hear, we have a crisis on our hands."
Suetonius nodded knowingly, eyes wide in apprehension.
"You've heard the news? Antinous is dead."
Macedo and Clarus looked deeply at the biographer as though he might know something about it.
"Great Caesar is supremely distressed."
This could readily be heard from the nearby chamber.
"I've only just learned of it," Suetonius lied. "May I ask in what manner?" he whispered. "Was it honorable?"
This question poses the primary issue in a Roman death. Is a death noble, is it honorable, is it worthy of the deceased's character? Is a death praiseworthy? Anything less is either an act of spite by the gods or a careless mismanagement of one's fate.
Clarus leaned forward to murmur in his ear.
"The boy was found at the Nile's edge this morning tangled in the reeds. He has apparently drowned. Some fishermen came across him, they say, underneath their boat as they were setting out from their moorings. The tide stream had swept him to the river bank. They raised the alarm. We have them under guard until we sort out what has happened. They will meet torture to test their truthfulness."
It was Suetonius's turn to lean forward to ask the most obvious question. "So how did Antinous come to be in the river in the first place?"
Both Clarus and Macedo glanced towards each other knowingly.
"That might be your chore to find out," Macedo confided.
The sobbing from within ceased. Moments passed in frozen silence as those in the marquee eyed its entrance. Eventually Geta, Hadrian's personal assistant, emerged from within.
"Gentlemen," Geta uttered softly in his barbarian-intonated Latin, "Caesar awaits your company. This moment now might be opportune. Caesar is, is, is… composed."
Geta is not Hadrian's secretary nor major-domo, let alone a servant or slave. He fulfills a more important but undefined role. He turned and strode back to the chamber entrance. The four patiently followed.
Beyond a veiled vestibule lay a larger inner chamber where only a single multi-lamp candelabra cast illumination across a dim space. Incense burned in a brazier emitting its lazily wafting coils into the dark cavern. Remote in the gloom, Hadrian was seated upon a chair, doubled over, holding his sides with crossed arms and swaying rhythmically. He was dressed in a crumpled under-tunic furled in a purple cloak trimmed with gilded eaglets.
His hair was disheveled, his feet bare. He was quietly snuffling into the cloak's folds. He had put aside his sobbing for a while. Even in the somber light the five intruders could see he was pale, with red rings beneath his eyes.
Across the chamber within range of the faint glow lay a large open divan. It was enveloped from above by a sheath of gossamer mosquito netting. Water was being finely sprayed onto the nets by a beefy Nubian slave who was simultaneously wafting a voluminous ostrich feather fan at the filmy drape. The fan's faint breeze on the dank net aimed to cool the air around the bed beneath. In the dry, warm Egyptian climate this is sometimes an effective way to cool a sleeping person.
Lying face upwards on the divan was a well-proportioned young man. He was utterly naked as though lazily indulging himself in the hot room of a public bath house. It was Antinous.
He was immobile, yellowingly pallid, crinkle-skinned from water exposure, and quite visibly dead. Even at his distance from the screened bed, Suetonius detected how river parasites may already have devoured the eyeballs beneath the young man's lids and nibbled at the edges of his extremities. His pallor was unusually waxen and drawn.
A depression in the divan indicated where Hadrian had been lying beside his friend, probably weeping. To one side on the tiled floor lay an ornate set of ceremonial armors and weapons. The white enamel inlays of the workmanship reminded Suetonius how their owner had been the Bithynian lad. It was his formal horse parade uniform as a Companion of the Hunt, Caesar's hunting team. Antinous was a championship horseman.
Geta and the four stood before their ruler in silent respect. Hadrian took some time to concede the group's presence. Geta took the initiative.
"May I speak, Caesar? Senator Septicius Clarus, Suetonius Tranquillus, Secretary Vestinus, and Tribune Macedo, are present as instructed," he offered in a low voice.
"I see that, Dacian!" the emperor hissed back.
Geta bowed courteously and moved back a step from the group, undismayed by the reproach.
Hadrian grudgingly looked to the five. He paused to recall his motive for their attendance. He spoke hesitantly. They each wondered at what might transpire.
"Gentlemen, you see before you my hurt. Antinous is no more."
He waved tiredly toward the bed where the Nubian continued to fan the sprayed netting. The five hung their heads in respectful solemnity.
"I don't know what has happened," the emperor continued. "All that is evident is he drowned in the river sometime last night or this morning. Perhaps it is a misadventure? Perhaps a youngster's high-spirited lark? Perhaps something more? No one seems to be able to tell me. No one!"
He glanced accusingly at Geta, who stood with head low.
Hadrian rose slowly from his seat, grasping his purple cloak tightly around him. The warm night air flowing through the marquee's overhead vent into the open sky required little additional clothing, yet he distractedly held the cloak close about him. A sea of stars blanketed the black heaven above. Caesar trod slowly in the direction of the divan. The five paced quietly behind.
"It is my instruction to you, gentlemen, to investigate this matter," he muttered as they approached the bed with its immobile figure. As he turned towards the group his voice firmed and rose in greater authority.
"It is my instruction you will explore every avenue of enquiry. It is my demand you will interrogate every person who has been associated with my companion in recent days.
You will check and correlate his movements, his actions, and his conversations with others. You will deduce the precise details of what has happened in the life of my friend, who are his friends, who are his enemies, or if any have reason to engage in foul play."
His voice had returned to its natural command as the Great Caesar of the civilized world.
"You will assemble whatever evidence is necessary to establish the time of death and the manner of his death. But the purpose of your enquiry is to inform me of the reason why Antinous of Bithynia has died.
Has there been an ulterior motive for his end? Was his death noble? Was his death base? Did he die a hero's death? Or has his life been usurped by dark forces? Was it by his own hand, or by another's? And you will report back to me with this information in the form of your testimonials, documents, or reasons within two days. Two days only. This is my command."
As Hadrian communicated his commission Suetonius drew closer to the nets suspended over the figure on the bed. He looked closely at the details of the young man's once-fine body and sculpted features. Antinous had certainly been handsome and even in death it was evident. At least until now. But in the balmy night's air, regardless of the watered nets and the most imperious of an emperor's commands, natural corruption would proceed swiftly.
Soon bloating would be evident. His features would distend, split, erupt, corrupt, and disintegrate before his companion's eyes. Even an emperor cannot command otherwise.
While he listened to Hadrian's instruction Suetonius noted and memorized certain interesting features of the figure. The particularly severe shaggy cut of the youth's hair, the meager outline of a beard with sideburns showing he was no longer a strapping meirakion youth, the many scratches around his midriff, a slashed incision evident in his left wrist, and rose-colored blemishes of various sizes at several places across his throat.
Suetonius had never noticed blemishes of any sort on Antinous previously. His skin possessed the clarity of youthful health. He wondered if, in this desert climate, the first blooms of decay were already underway.
Hadrian paused at the bedside to part an opening in the dank netting. He now resumed a Caesar's authority.
"Hear me then, and act accordingly! Item One: This commission will be formalized under Imperial seal immediately by my secretary. That's for you to attend to, Vestinus.
Item Two: Septicius Clarus, you have served me at an earlier time as my Prefect of the Praetorian Guard, my right hand second-in-command. Your record of service had been exemplary, despite serious accusations by the empress Vibia Sabina resulting in your dismissal. It is my will that you assume responsibility as magistrate for this commission to endow it with legal authority.
Three: You will have unrestricted monetary and resources made available to you. That's for you, Vestinus and Macedo, to effect immediately.
Four: Suetonius Tranquillus, in acknowledging your learned experience at the Bar of Rome, I appoint you to the duty of Special Inspector of this commission. Also, as my former Chief Secretary, it is my will you retain records of this enquiry and report your results to me within two days.
Five: Clarus and Suetonius, a fee of one hundred thousand sesterces will be paid to each of you to perform this commission. This fee will only be paid if you deliver as contracted within the two day limit, at one hour before sunrise precisely.
If you fail to meet this deadline I will re-open the charge against you of the offence of laesa-majestas against the empress, a treason and capital offence. Your lives may be forfeit. The investigation starts immediately. That means now gentlemen!"
Hadri
an dropped his cloak to the floor and parted the nets to look closely at his deceased companion on the bed. The group sensed he was forcefully suppressing a hidden torment deep within.
"However, there are two people you cannot interview. They are myself, your Caesar, and Caesar's wife, Vibia Sabina Augusta.
You are permitted to interrogate any member of the Court, Guard, or Sabina's retinue as you see fit, but neither I nor the empress. Sabina is above your station and commission. Besides, you already have that history with her which is impolitic, as you both know. To date we have been lenient about that matter, but be warned."
All five of the group bowed in acknowledgement, possibly with discomfort. Suetonius and Clarus both knew what Hadrian was referring to, so both stomachs churned.
A gleam appeared at one eye. A tear was forming. He grew haggard.
"Clarus and Suetonius, you will want to know why I depend on you after all these years. It is because I trust you, and I trust your forensic skills. Especially, Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus, I trust your capacity for explorative detail, just as you have done in your Lives of the Caesars. You appear to seek no favors from anyone, while both of you nowadays are independent from the factions of influence of Court. This may be an essential factor in enquiring into the death of my companion. I rely on you and that independence."
Suetonius coughed modestly at this unexpected flattery and its generosity, with its unofficial title of "Special Inspector". A hundred thousand sesterces would also be a timely contribution to his ramshackle finances, he thought, despite the two-day timeframe and its threat of a fatal indictment. Nevertheless he gathered his wits sufficiently to submit a request of his own.
"My Lord Caesar," Suetonius braved, "may we have access to the body for a physician to inspect to determine the nature or time of death?"
Hadrian's face fell.
"No, not at all!" he declared.
This is a man who knows death very intimately. Yet the notion of an autopsy of his beloved repelled him.
A Forbidden History.The Hadrian enigma Page 4