A Forbidden History.The Hadrian enigma

by George Gardiner

'I am desirous, Master, of performing well in your service,' she responded with a courteous, if slightly too obsequious, genuflection. Her response was spoken in pure Latin. It possessed an exacting pronunciation redolent of a native speaker of the patrician class. No Bithynian intonation was evident.

  'May I take the liberty of offering this first lesson in conversational Latin, master?' Thais said with a tinkling laugh.

  It was uttered with a lively gaiety which brought a smile to everyone's lips despite her faintly patronizing tone and a worrying lack of proper servility. It seemed Slave Thais had learned the habits and lifestyles of her masters too well at the Prefect's palace at Cyrene.

  Antinous and I realized at last it had been a most unusual day and night.

  CHAPTER 12

  "So does it end there?" Clarus asked, yawning. It was now very late and the seniors of the group were inclined to catch some sleep. Only Surisca and Lysias seemed fully awake.

  "No, not at all, my lord," Lysias uttered brightly. "There was then the matter of Ant's father learning of Caesar's desire to be erastes to his son."

  "I see. So?" Suetonius asked, "What did his father have to say about it?"

  The group settled back in their seats to continue hearing the testimony. Lysias again sipped wine before returning to his reminiscences.

  "As his best friend, I accompanied Antinous to his family villa at Polis. The interview was held in the portico atrium where the men of the family meet for consultation. Antinous was obliged to formally seek paternal permission from his Father for the proposal."

  "And — ?" the Special Inspector enquired. "What did his father say?"

  "I sensed some ambivalence in Telemachus, so the occasion proved to be very memorable.

  'My son, Antinous,' Telemachus opened in his rasping voice, 'the time has come for you to go out into the world to complete your education and weapons training now you have entered the older age-class of a meirakion warrior.'

  This wiry old soldier with gray skin, grayer hair, and dulled eyes announced it in a breathy voice. He carried his left arm as a crook; his muscles stiffened due to a war wound long ago. His speech too was slightly afflicted. Telemachus was probably much younger than his visible years conveyed, but some war infirmity had aged him prematurely. He had served Rome well in the many campaigns of his youth.

  I, with Antinous's elder brother and the senior steward of the House, stood impassively before their paterfamilias seated upright in his high chair in the atrium court. I was always a welcome guest at Ant's home, always.

  'As the head of our House I, with your elder brother here as well as your deceased mother too I'm sure — if she were here, bless her shade! — with your extended family across Bithynia, your community, your tutors, and many others of good will, all encourage you on your journey. We will watch your progress from afar, and make regular sacrifice to Apollo and to his virgin sister Artemis to defend you from harm.

  My son Antinous, you have received from us the blessings of a provident upbringing, proper discipline and tutoring, plus the foundation of a healthy body. You have been inducted into the code of honor which guides Hellenes to noble deeds to bring glory to our House, and brings dishonor, defeat, and death to our enemies.

  You have displayed your worth as a member of our family, clan, and to our city council. You display the courage and martial skills expected of a future member of the town's militia, where you are likely to receive a commission on return from your studies.

  You must now complete your education and advance to full adulthood. Someday soon you will sacrifice your first beard cuttings to Zeus as proof of your maturity. It will then be time for you to assume the joys and obligations of matrimony. In this too we will offer our supports, and we trust you will breed sons to project our seed, our arete, into the distant future to deliver our lineage to future generations. You must be the master of your own fate in this matter.

  Lysias too, on behalf of your deceased father Lysander, I offer the same advice to you. Your mother has asked me advise you.

  You both are now to go out into the world to drink of life at the font of Hellene culture at Athens. Letters of introduction and financial arrangements have been completed through the offices of Bithynia's proxenos ambassador at Athens by Arrian of Nicomedia.

  Provision has been made for your and Lysias's education under the tutorship of the Academy of Secundus of Athens, whose school is renown. Accommodations at Athens and membership of the Kynosarges Gymnasium have been negotiated on your behalf.

  You have received awards of scholarships to the College of Imperial Administration, generously endowed by your admirer Imperator Caesar Hadrian. Praise be to Caesar! This gesture in honoring you both is a token of your worthiness in the eyes of others. It is a remarkable boon. This now brings me to a matter of very great consequence.

  A private letter conveyed to me by Caesar's Proconsul to Asia, Serenius Granianus, has enquired if I as your Father offer my authority for your special engagement, Antinous, with the Imperial Household in the station of Friend to Caesar until your maturity.

  The role of 'Friend' is outlined under the terms of the traditional Erastes/Eromenos relationship of the Hellenes. It is for your further education in Greek and Roman customs, in the Latin language, courtly manners, and the procedures of Roman Law. It is for mastering the hunt and the prosecution of warfare, while sharing the companionable society of distinguished men of the Imperium. It means you would enter within the Imperial Household under the emperor's protection for its duration. You are entitled to include friends such as Lysias within your personal household under Caesar's patronage.

  This is an extraordinary honor for a young man's advancement. Are you aware, my son, of the munificence of this endowment to a Greek of non-Roman origin? Also, son, are you aware of the implications of the role as eromenos to such a noble supplicant?

  I am obliged to respond promptly to the Proconsul with my opinion. But importantly, my son, do you yourself accept these terms? You must think upon this and respond to me here today prior to my permission. I will be guided by your desires.'

  Telemachus paused for breath, took a sip of wine from a chalice, and observed his son's response with keen intent. The previously dulled, ageing eyes glinted with the intelligence and confidence of the man at an earlier period of life. Antinous took his time to reply in the hushed chamber.

  'Father, I believe I do,' Antinous responded cautiously. 'My tutors and companions have long prepared me for the prospect of a role as an eromenos. Among my friends, including Lysias here, we have discussed such matters often since childhood. But I had not expected a suitor to be one as noble as Great Caesar.'

  I noticed Telemachus shifting uneasily in his seat.

  'To receive the favor of the emperor is a remarkable boon,' Telemachus continued, 'but it has obligations to be carefully weighed. In addition to your exposure to the uppermost echelon of Roman life, the role of 'Friend' in Caesar's private contubernium possesses remarkable opportunities. However, it also has equally remarkable obligations.

  Do you appreciate the extent of the demands to be made upon you by Caesar as your erastes, Antinous? I do not wish to give my permission to you unless it is your firm desire to become a Friend of Caesar and to freely accept such a notable mentor.'

  The older man scrutinized his son with some intensity, I recall. He continued his queries.

  'I am your father, Antinous. You are the fruit of my seed and, along with your elder brother, carry the seed of this House and our line into the future. I wish to ensure your well-being, son, with your personal confirmation of this proposal if it suits your temper.

  It may surprise you to learn how in recent times I have received two submissions from suitors of quality for the honor of being erastes to you. Though they were newly-bearded, unmarried young fellows of the land-owning class a few years older than you who are probably known to you from the palaestra yard, I nevertheless rejected their proposals. They were petitioners of an un
satisfactory quality for my son. I did this even without discussing them with you.

  However, Antinous, a proposal from Caesar seems an exemplary opportunity to your benefit, and one in which I have difficulty detecting fault. Do you agree?'

  There was a thoughtful pause.

  'I am proud and flattered, Father,' Antinous uttered with not a little calculation, "that Caesar has taken an interest in my character and welfare. My single day's exposure to his company at Nicomedia proved our Princeps to be a most generous gentleman. He was very attentive to those of us there, and to me especially, with openness I found disarming in so great a noble.

  Nevertheless I request your opinion, Father, of his proposal and your advice on what you expect of me? I request your instruction about the terms of this relationship, as a father expects of a dutiful son.'

  Telemachus again shifted uneasily in his seat.

  'You and your friend Lysias are very young men, Antinous, barely out of childhood though already of a military age," he said. "At your age I was already serving as a junior officer with the Greek auxiliaries to Trajan's legions at Dacia.

  Over the coming few years both you and Lysias will mature towards man's complete status. You will learn what it is to be a man who takes initiatives in life, who possesses focused drive and consummates his ambition by effective action in a warrior's way. It is the dynamism of being male, both physically and spiritually. It is training in a way of life which separates us of the Hellene elites from the craven races beyond the Black Sea and our borders. They are slaves to their masters.'

  As he continued his brow darkened. Telemachus drew himself forward towards the four men standing before him.

  'Among the Hellenes the optimum virtue is arete, the pursuit of excellence. In Homer or Socrates or Aristotle it is arete which infuses the Greek view of life. Arete is goodness, arete is achievement, arete is manly excellence, arete is when our actions rise above the conflicts of life and we achieve high honor. Arete propels our Olympic Games. Arete drives Greeks to Victory! Arete is life! The spirit of arete is the most important facet of the training of youths to full manhood,' the ageing soldier and farmer proclaimed with intensifying emotion.

  'In days long ago our forefathers told that a man's masculine power, his arete, is carried in his life fluids. His living blood, sweat, and semen convey the masculine energies. Especially, they said, his semen, which is the source of his regenerative powers. Semen propels the seed of life of a man, and conveys within it a man's domination of his world. Our physicians say a man's semen, when sown into the body of a woman, nurtures and ripens and grows in her nourishing moistures until it blooms and fruits into a newborn child. Preferably a son.

  Likewise, those ancients said, when it is planted in the body of a youth it nurtures and grows spiritually. The arete ripens into masculine traits worthy of participating in the society of mature men, for deeds of courage, honor and decisiveness.

  The ancients said a student, an eromenos, partakes of his trainer's — the erastes' — male energy by ritually absorbing his vital spirit and vital fluid. By intimately relating to his erastes over time, the eromenos is imbued with the erastes' gift of the power to pursue excellence, to achieve victory, to be a leader of his people, and also in the breeding of straight-limbed sons. He learns how to act like a man in the competitive arena of life.

  In return the younger man shares his friendship and his body's perfection with his erastes in both spiritual and physical ways. This has long been the way of the Hellene elites, my son. It has a noble pedigree over many generations.'

  His listeners were deathly silent.

  Antinous fumbled for an appropriate response. He was made apprehensive by such a candid exposition of the eromenos' role.

  'I think I understand, sir, and I salute the heritage,' he waffled. 'But, Father, I humbly seek your advice on an aspect of this matter which concerns me and remains barely spoken among my tutors and peers. It is a clouded matter. It is this. Women and even young girls who have attained menarche are said to enjoy and delight in the reception of the male seed from a worthy partner, their husband. We are told their bodies are created to desire their husband's dominion and penetration so as to nurture his seed into living offspring, our sons.

  They display a Nature-given satisfaction with his lust, just as we see among all the farmyard and forest creatures around us. But does an eromenos seek and enjoy penetration by his erastes? Is this the understanding of the tradition? In truth, Father, I do not think I would enjoy such an imposition upon my body or willingly succumb to another man's domination readily — even so great and noble a man as Caesar! What is your advice on this issue? It is a concern for me.'

  Telemachus sat impassively for some moments, his eyes resting upon his troubled son.

  'Yes, this is certainly a question for a worthy eromenos,' he said. 'You are correct to raise the matter, to be frank. It's an area where polite fictions may prevail.

  Yet you already know how it is natural for men to be driven by Aphrodite's urging or her child Eros's impulses? It is natural and proper for men to be hot blooded and lustful, especially the young. The urge to inject seed is common to all male creatures. The urge to receive seed by a male is less obvious, though it too exists among many creatures around us. We see it in the farmyard or forest more often than we recall, and there are many among us disposed by temperament to its appeal. However, for an erastes and his eromenos there is a subtle dispensation about the matter.

  In the times since our forefathers it has been held how receipt of an erastes' semen need not be bodily, Antinous, it need not penetrate the body physically. Several ancient philosophers of the Hellenes have even proposed it should be entirely spiritual, not a bodily invasion aroused in the heat of lust. But 'spirituality' is an ambiguous term of uncertain meaning.

  For the mutual expression of Eros among the wellborn a mode of intimate friction between the thighs has been given the tacit sanction of the Greeks. It is not talked of readily. As an eromenos you need not have your body's integrity and your personal honor compromised, if this is how you view such relations. Personal regard and intimacy can be shared without abject submission or penetration. You both retain your pride and there is no shame to either you or your relationship, meanwhile an erastes' and an eromenos' satisfaction can be gratified. Do you understand?'

  'I see, Father,' Antinous said with lingering doubt. Telemachus continued.

  'In this way the elites of the Greek world have reconciled their suitor's passion yet found ardor and solace with honor,' the old soldier continued. 'Think of Achilles and Patrocles, or the heroic tyrant-killers Aristogeiton and Harmodius, or King Alexander of Macedon and his Prince Hephaestion, where no shame is known, only glory. Yet it's also true how fierce emotion too can erupt between friends under certain circumstances, with its fulfillment consummated vehemently. Eros toys with us interminably, while we mortals are only flesh and blood.'

  The four men stood silently immobile lost in wonder.

  'For example I recall, Antinous, my own great friendship when two years prior to your age while serving in Dacia with an erastes companion of noble bearing and toughened military skills. His name was Hippothales of Nicaea. He shared his fighter's spirit and his arete with me, a callow youth from the wilderness back blocks of Bithynia. We shared pains, joys, sweat, spittle, blood, and each other's body in close encounter often. Yes, Antinous.

  He died bravely at Salinae in Dacia while defending me from a fierce barbarian ambush. We each here today should be eternally thankful, thanks be to Apollo Protector. I often pray for the comfort of Hippothales' shade and make offerings or pour libations of wine to his great honor.

  Some years later when my beard had matured and my fighting skills were far better-honed, I became an erastes successively to two younger ephebes. This was prior to my marriage to your mother, Antinous. It was through a long, hard campaign fought on the plains of Pannonia.

  It may come as a surprise to you to learn how L
ysias's father, our heroic Lysander of Claudiopolis, was the second of these two meirakia young men. Our mutual friendship of that time has been the source of the close bond between our two houses long after Lysander's death at Pannonia.'

  Telemachus then turned to me standing by Antinous. I was instantly alerted, even alarmed, at what might follow.

  'Your father Lysander,' he announced to my astonishment, 'who was my greatest friend ever and four years my junior, died in brave combat with front line Greek auxiliaries of the Legion II Adiutrix under the command of Hadrian himself. This was many years before Hadrian's elevation to the purple after Trajan's death.

  Lysander was cruelly overcome by three Sarmatian Jazyges madmen warriors, one of who he destroyed with his pilum lance while the other two fell to my blade. But the damage was already done. Lysander was mortally wounded. He took two days to die despite my every care and precaution against corruption in his wounds.

  Your father's death, Lysias, was a calamity for me from which there has been no recovery. Ever. After all, at that time I was the noble and handsome Lysander's erastes. I was his friend-in-arms, his weapons trainer, his advisor, his protector, and his true companion. We were a team. We covered each other's back in battle. We fought side by side in drunken brawls. We bound each other's scrapes and wounds. We shared food. We often slept for body warmth beneath the same blanket. We talked together of our future families at Polis and of the sons to come. Your father knew me better than I know myself, Lysias.

  After that fatal battle it was I who retrieved Lysander's body from the communal pyre for the dead to bury him with proper military honor in a field at Pannonia. It was I who dug his grave deep beyond the reach of carrion creatures, who sewed his wounds so his body was of one piece again, who licked the blood from his torn flesh to cleanse him and to absorb his arete.

  It was I who anointed his well-formed shape with sweet oils, and who wrapped his nakedness in my own best cloak for burial. It was a nakedness well known to me.