'I wonder if this is the sort of thing Lord Arrian had in mind for us at the Baths yesterday? It seems to be working, Lys.'
Both youngsters sat in casual indifference to the attention generated among those around them, while people in the rows above craned their necks for a better view.
Antinous indirectly noticed an elderly man dressed in disheveled garb amble in veering paces from a doorway at the back of the theater's stage. He teetered erratically through the lines of orphaned juniors buckling on their oversized armor and weaponry.
The man was a shaggy-haired, wild-eyed fellow with rickety legs and bony flesh. He was loosely garbed in a drab tunic and scrappy broad-brim sunhat tied behind his neck. He was holding a raised object in one hand while waving the other in emphatic gesticulation as he muttered incoherently at his surroundings. He moved unsteadily across the stage area as though he was a comic mime performing a special dance for the ceremony. Yet Antinous hadn't noticed his participation earlier. For that matter, nor had I.
Antinous tugged at Lysias's elbow to draw attention. Amid the prevailing good cheer it hadn't occurred to anyone the fellow might be following a less cheerful agenda. That was until a small, thin object in his raised fist glinted a flash in the sunlight.
Both boys immediately realized the fellow's fist was holding an instrument which, as he drew closer to the assembled row of thrones, took the shape of a small knife protruding from a covering. The man was stumbling forward across the stage intently towards Caesar, whose attention was turned away from the approaching menace.
Instantly without a moment's hesitation the two Bithynians leapt from the stones to fling themselves at the fellow.
Lysias lunged head-first at the man's midriff in a wrestler's flying tackle which pounded the breath out of the old guy. Antinous simultaneously leaped high to snap an expertly maneuvered arm lock on his raised limb. He wrenched the upheld instrument from his grasp. All three toppled to the flagstones in a cloud of dust as several Horse Guards lurched forward with outstretched javelins and drawn swords. A loud collective cry went up across the theatre.
Antinous grappled the man's arm until his grip was released. The dismayed elder cried out and writhed about as Lysias planted one foot firmly on his squirming ribcage. Antinous lifted the offensive object to view.
The old man's hand had been grasping a small rolled parchment enclosing an antique fruit knife. The miniature dagger displayed a dulled point, blunted edges, and a rusty blade. On closer inspection the knife seemed too innocuous a weapon to be capable of any serious wound, except perhaps upon a piece of fruit. It was more likely to inflict nothing other than a nasty bruise on human flesh.
Nevertheless the spluttering fellow with the wild eyes had been fortunate that neither a Horse Guard's gladius blade had pierced his throat nor a Praetorian javelin skewer his entrails.
Hadrian, Arrian, Commodus, and myself, accompanied by officials, guards, and the Herodes Atticus pair, circled around the elder. Hadrian looked over the unkempt, writhing fellow whose tongue uttered words of rabid inconsequence while his body struggled beneath Lysias's firm boot. When Antinous displayed the sorry weapon for all to see I retrieved the small scroll from his grasp to unroll and read its contents.
'It appears to be a letter or document from long ago addressed to 'Philip, a hoplite of the Achaea Militia', and carries the name and title of an archon of this city,' I announced.
'Tell me, old man, are you the Philip of this document?' Hadrian demanded, waving the scroll at the struggling fellow.
The man was so visibly shaken he was incapable of a civil response. It dawned on the assembled group the fellow was not simply confused, he was thoroughly disoriented in the manner of a demented geriatric. His eyes displayed little comprehension of his circumstances while his features were visibly gaga. Saliva dribbled from his mouth.
The senior Herodes Atticus, Prefect of the Free Cities, took the scroll to read its contents.
'It seems, Caesar and friends, this fellow was once a soldier of this city. His face is vaguely familiar to me, so I guess he's a military pensioner on the city payroll. He wears no evident nameplate, branding, or the tattoo of a slave, so he's probably a freeborn citizen fallen on hard times.
The paper is in Greek, but appears to be of the time of Caesar Trajan or even earlier? The Archon listed is from very long ago. It commends him for his service to the state as a captain of hoplites. Perhaps he served in past wars or the city militia? Maybe he wished to make a petition to Caesar to improve his pension, or suchlike? If so, he chose the wrong time and way to do it,' Atticus explained.
Hadrian stepped closer to the figure lying beneath Lysias's foot and waved the pressure off him. He looked down upon the startled fellow.
'Old Soldier, what is your meaning here? What are you up to? Did you intend me some injury with your fruit knife? If so, your Last Day would have arrived very swiftly, I assure you,' he called to the stricken ancient who was straining to mouth incoherent words.
The military tribune in command of the Guards made his presence known.
'My lord, if I may, this man should be made an example of,' he stated with his sword point aimed directly at the man's throat. 'A severe public beating or even death itself is necessary to punish him and dissuade others of like mind.'
'No, no, no, no, Tribune. The fellow is plainly mad, demented, or just old,' Hadrian responded. 'He's a tired soldier whose judgment has fled him in his dotage. He's probably done this city great service in his time. But he's also probably received a hard hit on the head that's damaged his reason along the way. Let him be, and let him be unharmed as well,' he soothed. 'Talk with the city's militia to see if the man's family or abode can be traced. If he is alone in life, see to it he receives a useful adjustment to his pension so he can live his final crazed days in comfort,' Hadrian instructed. 'This the second time in a year I've been attacked by a malcontent. Remember that lunatic slave at Tarraco in Iberia last year? Release the fellow and escort him home safely so we may continue with our holy purpose here today.'
The startled graybeard was gathered up by several Praetorians and bundled away.
Hadrian meanwhile, in barely suppressed amusement, looked over the two dusty, knee-and-elbow-scraped combatants with grazed tunics kneeling on the flagstones. Commodus languidly wandered across from the President's throne to join the circle. His presence was heralded by a surge of floral fragrance.
Hadrian scanned the boys as they dusted themselves down.
'Well, my two young friends from the provinces, you performed magnificently on the stage of this theatre today, didn't you?' Hadrian said with a grin. 'I suppose I must be gratified you kept your wits about you? I might have met a fate similar to the old fellow's fruit peels or cheese rinds?'
'It was our duty, sir,' Antinous responded in polite modestly to this whimsy, 'if a bit rough on our new clothes.'
Commodus was visibly put on edge by this exchange. Hadrian continued.
'I think such observant bodyguards deserve to be kept closer about us,' the emperor jollied, 'especially through the performance we are about to witness. I am told the choristers are to sing and dance the ancient drama of Alcestis today? I invite both of you eagle-eyed lads to stay by my side through the play to watch against further assailants, and to help me translate its Attic intricacies into my Latin understanding. As students of history you are probably more familiar with Euripides than I, so you can explain his finer points to me.'
Commodus emitted an audible hiss through pursed lips.
He turned smartly on his heel, and strode off brusquely from the stage. He realized Caesar's invitation to Antinous and Lysias had displaced he and I from our privileged places behind the President's throne. He may have interpreted the gesture as implying he should stretch on the dusty tiles at the feet of the first row in his unblemished formal toga. In fairness to his patrician status, this is an unlikely expectation of a Roman senator.
No one, including Caesar, tried to s
top him departing. Even I resisted leaping to my usual conciliatory gestures, though two of the younger Romans in nearby rows accompanied Commodus in a theatrically dramatic flounce. The senator dispensed with the usual departure etiquette or permission from Caesar.
A Praetorian tribune nearby tensed ready for orders from Hadrian to act on this slur. But no order came. Instead, their departure merely raised a faint smile from Hadrian.
Suddenly drums were beating, cymbals clashing, and pipes and horns shrilled as a priest of Dionysus entered centre stage to proclaim the start of the performance. Seventeen thousand pairs of feet noisily shuffled in their seats while Antinous and Lysias accompanied Caesar to his President's chair and stood behind his shoulder like dutiful sons or honored emissaries. Their close proximity meant Caesar could mutter queries back over his shoulder to one or the other so they could respond in whispers. I too stood close by to overhear as much as was possible.
'Remind me again, Antinous, what are we hearing here today?' Hadrian asked.
'We are to hear ancient Alcestis sung, I'm told. It is a tragedy which won its Dionysia trophy for the playwright Euripides in the days during the Great War between Athens and Sparta long ago,' I heard the lad reply. He seemed to know his Greek dramas.
'And what is Alcestis all about, remind me of that too,' the emperor enquired.
'As I recall, sir,' Antinous began, 'Euripides was from a family of priests of Apollo similar to my own kinsmen. So the drama is based on the legend of Apollo when he was the lover of the mortal, King Admetus of Thessaly. Apollo rewards the king for his affection by granting him the great boon of freedom from death if he can find someone willing to die in his fated place. After searching widely, the king finds no one is willing to be a substitute for his death. Then his beautiful wife, Queen Alcestis, volunteers to do so.'
'Ah, yes, the drama of the substituted death. Queen Alcestis,' Hadrian recollected. 'And then?'
'Alcestis loves Admetus so much she believes it is her duty to die in place of her husband to permit him Apollo's gift of extended life. That's the basic story, but Euripides cleverly uses the legend to explore sensitive issues between men and women, and between freeborn and slave.
Euripides also discusses the nature of marriage, of marital love, and the generosity of women in the face of their menfolk's privileges and obsessions,' Antinous continued. 'It even asks about the nature of Love itself.'
'That sounds more Roman than Greek,' Hadrian opined. 'As a Hellene you lads probably don't realize how the people of Rome allow more freedom to their womenfolk than you Greeks do. Yet Euripides was already saying these things several hundred years ago! Amazing!'
'From memory, the play opens at the very moment the queen is due to die,' Antinous offered.
'It comes back to me now,' Hadrian muttered as Apollo, an actor wearing a silvered mask portraying the god's eternal youth and handsome features, entered the stage. His silvery costume, draped by his bow and quiver of deadly arrows, stepped solemnly into view in time to music of funereal double-pipes and a deep drum. These throbbed mournfully offstage. He traversed the stage in a unique tripping dance which specially signifies Apollo.
'Where did you learn so much about these things, Antinous, at your age? And from a distant province too!' I overheard Hadrian murmur. 'Aren't horsemanship and weapons enough for young fellows to master?'
Antinous lent forward to whisper his reply over Caesar's shoulder, which I could barely overhear.
'Sir, Lysias and I as acolytes of Apollo and Artemis were taught about the life and affairs of the Healer. Our tutor in literature, a kinsman priest of the cult, taught the young of my clan all manner of matters about the god, his rites, his many lovers of both sexes, his children, including his son Asclepius, the god physician,' Antinous responded. 'He is the sun of our lives and we praise him despite his irascible, mercurial nature.'
Silvery Apollo paused majestically at centre stage as the music subsided to allow the god to chant the opening words of ancient Alcestis. Euripides' first lines are well known to audiences across the Greek East.
The pipes and drum's throb trailed away as an expectant hush settled upon the amphitheatre.
All eyes focused on the silver mask of Apollo.
'House of Admetus!' the actor's call throatily resounded across the towering steps of spectators. As he continued this initial plea, thousands of additional voices surged to life to accompany him.
'Here I have suffered bread as common workers must endure.. yes I, a god, Apollo!' the actor declaimed.
His voice was immediately swamped beneath the engulfing roar of thousands of throats as they too enjoined Apollo's complaint of his servile status at his lover King Admetus' palace. On conclusion of the booming line the mass erupted into uninhibited self-applause. It was an uproar which registered the crowd's collective satisfaction with its own recitation of such a revered line in the presence of Caesar.
I, visibly a Dacian barbarian who had never witnessed Alcestis previously, was impressed by this unexpected enthusiasm of the Greeks. Nevertheless I was obliged to lean closer to hear Caesar's asides to his young attendants..
'You say Euripides talks of the role of women?' Hadrian threw over his shoulder as uproar resounded around the amphitheater. 'But what do you two lads know of women, eh? Have you enjoyed a woman yet, you two, or are you abstaining until your betrothal? I am led to believe some Greeks actually do so, though not many I'd wager?'
Antinous and Lysias hesitated, being taken aback by such a forward question about such personal matters.
'I confess I possess only limited experience with women,' Antinous responded, wondering if Hadrian remembered their conversation at the symposium garden at Nicomedia. 'But I am contractually betrothed to a cousin of my family who is still a child at this time,' he added. 'Perhaps we will marry when time matures or the omens are favorable.'
By now Apollo was regaling the audience with a mimed outline of the play's plot, accompanied by gentle pipes and a drone. He reported the news of how Queen Alcestis was presently undergoing her death throes to fulfill her promise to Admetus. Another actor wearing the black mask, wings, sword, and costume of Death mounted the stage, stepping across its flagstones in a magical, unearthly glide. He provoked the audience to collectively groan in fearfulness.
'I wonder who solicited this particular play for my enjoyment?' Hadrian muttered to himself perhaps too loudly, somewhat distracted by the appearance of the black robed figure. "Was it me, keen to see a famed classic? Could it have been my secretary? The empress's household? I wonder? None of these things happens entirely by accident, I say.'
He then shifted from Common Greek into his own tongue, Latin. This was possibly to test the two boys' comprehension of his exchanges or to assess their skill as students of Latin.
'Tell me, Antinous of Bithynia,' the emperor murmured low in Latin, 'how do you propose to pursue this destiny of yours? What has changed in your ambitions since our nighttime rendezvous some months ago?'
Antinous was silent for a period as he sought to respond in correct Latin to the query. The delay caused Caesar to look back over his shoulder to probe for the missing response.
I, standing some distance away almost out of earshot, was straining to overhear their conversation or was following every lip movement for a clue.
'I am flattered that you should ask, my lord,' Antinous eventually whispered in insecure but competent Latin beneath Apollo's and Death's reverberating orations. 'I believe, sir, a great deal has changed in my life. I think I am more focused on what the gods may have in store for me. There are things I must do in life to fulfill my destiny,' he carefully articulated in better-than-average student's Latin.
'I see,' Hadrian replied with an approving tone to his test, but again in Latin, 'and precisely what might that destiny be, I wonder?'
'This will depend upon the favor of the gods and the grace of my noble lord,' Antinous responded, now reverting back to Greek for ease of expression while addin
g a dash of diplomacy. He sensed Caesar's openness to informality in the exchange.
'Yet perhaps the most important of them, if I am permitted to be so forward, sir,' he whispered, his voice lowering even further for extra privacy, 'is to communicate a special message to our Princeps.'
Both Lysias and I were now alerted to strain to hear his subdued speech.
'Princeps? You mean me?' Hadrian confirmed. 'A petition you have, is it lad? I have vassals who attend to petitions, my boy. I do not welcome uninvited petitions.'
'Sir, if I may be so bold, it is a special petition for your ears only,' Antinous dared. 'It is of an intimate nature.'
I could detect Antinous was showing beads of sweat at his brow.
'Intimate? Then tell me, what is this particular petition, our tiro bodyguard with eagle eyes?' Caesar asked breezily, if dismissively. I watched Antinous inhale a deep breath to summon his courage. His hand and voice trembled as he spoke very faintly.
'The message is this,' his voice dropped to a husky whisper barely audible beneath the amphitheater's populous hum. He spoke in Latin.
'Yes indeed Caesar, I am yours.'
He repeated the statement for clarity in Greek in a croaky voice.
Hadrian's jaw stiffened. His features firmed. His manner resumed its formal Imperial mode of bearing after such an extended period of casual informality. He turned towards the stage and sat impassively in silent absorption through the remaining hour of Euripides' drama. He made no reply.
I suppose we each sensed he was calculating a magisterial response appropriate to an Imperator's comportment, or else he had simply dismissed the statement outright. After all, he had been conversing in a highly familiar manner with two foreigner ephebes of no social consequence, nil political value, no evident status or superior wealth, and from a backwoods colony at that.
The lads and I noted Caesar's fingers invest intense energy in drumming the hand-rest of the throne. Yet a sense of stillness settled upon him as Alcestis progressed.
Antinous exchanged furtive glances with Lysias. He was flushed with embarrassment. It was apparent he wondered if he had overstepped his mark and been presumptuous.
A Forbidden History.The Hadrian enigma Page 25