The Hadrian Enigma - A Forbidden History

by George Gardiner

  Father would then disown me utterly or have me killed outright, and I wouldn’t blame him. My inheritance, for what it’s worth as a second son, would be forfeit. And my betrothed bride Deianira, the baby cousin I’ve only met once, would have the dowry oath cancelled. It would be as death to me!’

  My friend with his fading summer tan of golden skin and his shock of blond hair protested aloud. Silence prevailed for some moments while the flames crackled and snapped.

  ‘Lys, tell me, is it really important to have an erastes?’ Antinous muttered moodily. ‘Am I missing something? Do you feel you need an erastes in your life?’

  There was another long pause. I wasn’t sure of the answer, but in this brooding fireside exchange approaching sleep now hovered languorously in the air.

  ‘It depends on who it is, I suppose,’ I replied reluctantly. ‘Most of our rat-pack have already paired-off with some guy with good connections or fighting skills who has been approved by their father. Others have done so on the sly with fuck-buddies because the approval might not be forthcoming for the guy they’re keen on. The rest of the lads are still playing around, showing-off their pecs and abs at the palaestra, or flirting with anyone who takes their fancy.

  But being with your own erastes has its advantages, I guess? It gives a fellow real status. At least you can walk the street hand-in-hand proudly with a true friend,’ I offered chirpily. ‘Not only are you viewed as the alpha males of your generation, you’re quietly getting your rocks off together while everyone pretends not to notice. Girls-for-pay are no ongoing substitute, they have no conversation, they’ve never been taught to read or write, they know nothing of a man’s world, their trade obliges them to be unfaithful, and they’re probably lice-ridden or poxed to boot. Their last customer was probably your worst enemy at the palaestra, so you’re probably swimming in that guy’s pool. Yuck!’

  ‘Yet I sometimes feel a loss not having someone close, Lys,’Antinous reckoned. ‘My family, our tutors, our slaves, our school chums are all good company, including you too Lys. I love you all, but being really close to someone special would be different. Even closer than we are. And it’s not just about sex or status. It’s about having a friend. Even something more than a friend. Someone really special. Someone who returns your concerns, who knows you well, who shares your life just as you do theirs.’

  My schoolchum trailed off thoughtfully.

  ‘Isn’t that what they say your wife will be when she eventually gets to know you, even if it takes ten years?’ I suggested. ‘Yet if one of us does take an erastes, Ant, surely it should be someone we feel at ease with, don’t you think? Someone you can rely on. Someone who’s there for you,’ I concluded, inserting a barely veiled plea for my own cause. But it didn’t wash with him.

  He had turned away from the fire and tucked himself beneath the mantles and horse back-cloths to lie curled for body warmth. He gave no reply as daydreams and ambitions swept both our minds. My eyelids too now drifted closed as we pressed together for warmth. The fire’s glow ebbed low as the chill in the air deepened. Sleep rapidly descended.

  From here on I must speak chivalrously, gentlemen. You can make of it what you will. Yes, I am proud of my ardor, of my passion, of my intensity. I too am flesh and blood. So I will speak honestly to you.

  To achieve warmth against the mountain air I found myself pressing closer to Ant’s dozing trunk. I huddled close against his warm flesh and his thick mane of honey-pale hair. My arms arced around him to bind him closer. Yes, I could sense the hard tissues beneath his tunic, feel the places where bone meets bone, where bone meets skin, and where rounded flesh melds into one’s own contours. It is a pleasing, comforting sensation.

  I could study by the light of the flickering fire the shadowy outline of the nape of his neck with its graceful downward flow and blond mane. To me his shoulders’ breadth, his neck muscles, and even his nape’s hairline had a sculpted beauty all their own.

  I could smell the residue of olive-oil rub lingering on his skin while the hunter’s sweat smarted saltily from his tunic. His body had its own fresh scents which I long ago identified and recognized for the special aroma which is him.

  While holding fast to him for warmth in the chill, I was close enough to savor his pulsing heart. I could match my breathing rhythm with his inhalations. To be so closely intertwined with flesh and blood you respect, you greatly admire, is deeply satisfying. His natural honesty and clarity of insight added to the appeal of his sleek form and tight muscularity.

  It soon dawned on me how an unanticipated erection pressing against his frame was matched by his own member nudging my fist furled lazily by his crutch. In our sleepy, wined state we both delayed horny action, I guess, purely to enjoy the treat of being bound so close to each other’s flesh. Do I need to remind you, gentlemen, what an intoxicating sensation it is to be so intimate with someone you idolize?

  Sometime during the course of the night, propelled by vivid dreams and arousing imagery, a discharge of moisture was implanted excitedly between one set of crossed thighs. A surge of the Elixir of Eros accompanied by ecstatic shudders and sighs was ejected onto a thigh’s flesh at a tunic’s hem. It followed an extended, unhurried, period of grasping togetherness. The thrilling emission induced swooning calm. Yes, gentlemen, it felt pretty good. I’m sure you know what I mean?”

  The group including Surisca heard-out Lysias’s account in rapt silence.

  “Later, the other companion was patiently, lovingly, coaxed to emit a similarly elated discharge. Rapid breathing and suppressed moans accompanied the heady rush of fulfillment. Yes, our natural appetites had been satisfied. Youth’s driven sensuality had been shared between two friends in honor, gentlemen. I for one cherish only pride and strength in this.

  The night’s silence then fell once more as the campfire’s flickers declined to dawn’s drifting wisps.

  Guys will be guys, we all know sirs. After all, Antinous and I were the closest of friends. We were companions. I for one found my buddy to be utterly unselfish in sharing his body’s needs and favors.

  You see, our hunter’s trek into the forests of the Pontine Ranges delivered more than a herd of renegade horses or a harvest of extra edibles to augment a season’s limited diet. Our journeys cemented an unspoken, bodily bond between we two Sons of Apollo.”

  Lysias lapsed at last into silence and stared broodily at the floor while toying at a rug with his foot.

  The group watched on silently, transfixed by the candor of his testimony. Each of the men recalled long-forgotten episodes from days of old when their lives seemed more audacious in their possibilities.

  The woman Surisca had heard nothing new at all.

  CHAPTER 8

  “We too should be thinking about sleep,” Clarus muttered at last. “We must prepare ourselves for the morrow’s interviews. Then we should continue our interrogation of Lysias, followed by a select list of others. More than half a day of Hadrian’s two-day allowance will have passed by dawn.”

  Secretary Vestinus had quietly rejoined the group during Lysias’s testimony.

  Suetonius looked around at his companions. They were visibly tired already, except perhaps the lovely Surisca seated silently behind him. She seemed as bright-eyed as ever, probably due to her youth and because her professional duties would normally run late into night.

  The Praetorian officer Quintus Urbicus remained standing at attention while his two junior officers stood at ease by one of the chamber entrances.

  Vestinus spoke. He was long experienced in working late into the night on his master’s bidding.

  “I have cleared four chambers in apartments immediately beyond these offices to accommodate your staff, Clarus,” he stated in proper protocol to the most senior of the investigation.

  “They’re not especially glamorous due to being workrooms or storerooms until only hours ago, but I’ve had folding beds delivered to each chamber along with some basic furniture. I suggest Suetonius shares the
largest with you, Clarus, as sleeping quarters, with the remaining team scattered among the other three.

  The four chambers open onto a communal space which you may wish to utilize as an interview room, or whatever. It’s not grandiose, but it’s convenient.”

  “You are most kind, Julius Vestinus,” Suetonius soothed as smoothly as he could, “but I might prefer to share one of the bedchambers with my personal assistant, Surisca of Antioch. I don’t mind which room, Julius, any will do. Perhaps Senator Clarus will take the larger chamber for himself?”

  He made a point of deferring to his honored patron while at the same time putting his tag on Surisca for the duration. He deceived no one.

  “Whatever, whatever, Special Inspector,” Vestinus muttered with a raised eyebrow. Clarus politely confirmed the arrangement with a tired nod.

  “All I need is sleep,” he announced wearily. “It’s been a long day, and tomorrow will be even longer. We should consider, Suetonius, the list to be interviewed and what chores to pursue in the interim.”

  Suetonius turned to the Praetorian, Urbicus.

  “You heard from the two fishermen earlier how they saw a vessel sailing the Nile at first light. They said it was neither a local vessel nor river folk they recognized. I require, Praetorian, that you return to the fishermen at tomorrow’s first light to take them on a search of the moorings at Besa to locate this mysterious vessel. They will recognize it, I’m sure. I want to know whose boat it was and who were its sailors so early at dawn on the day of the lad’s death? However, Praetorian, neither the owner of the craft nor its sailors are to know of our enquiry; it is to remain secret at this time. I want this information within three hours of dawn.”

  Urbicus nodded, saluted briskly, and was preparing to depart with his two officers. Suetonius guessed they would probably take a nap before their dawn duties, but he could see Urbicus was intent on prosecuting his search promptly.

  Surisca raised a finger to politely interject.

  “Master,” she whispered deferentially, “may I speak?”

  The assembled group was startled by her lapse of protocol, but

  Suetonius found himself nodding approval to her under Clarus’s glare.

  “Forgive my presumption, master, but do you have a description of the boat or its boatmen? Did the fishermen describe the craft?” she asked softly.

  Suetonius confirmed her voice had a much deeper, more somber tone than the flighty girlish trills displayed at The House of the Blue Lotuses. The transformation had definite appeal.

  Surisca continued.

  “If it is not a vessel known to fishermen at Besa and Hermopolis, it could be one known to those of us elsewhere on the Nile. I have travelled widely on the river, and most of the worthier craft possess owner’s markings for easy identification. Disputes over theft and ownership are commonplace.”

  Unprompted, Strabon immediately began rummaging through the large basket whose folded waxpad notebooks were secured in its bowl. He pulled one from the pile, opened its covers, and scanned his notation scratches.

  “The fisherman Ani said --- ‘it was a strong timber vessel, well made and costly,’ Strabon read aloud, ‘--- perhaps it was a boat sailed by priests from upstream for The Isia, or a boat belonging to Pharaoh’s .. that is, .. Caesar’s people. It was painted the color of the sky and possessed the Eye Of Horus upon its prow.”

  “Painted the color of the sky and possessing the Eye Of Horus…,” Surisca repeated. “If I’m not mistaken this describes a craft belonging to the priests of Amun at Memphis. I have performed at Memphis on many occasions and sailed the river nearby often. The priests of the Old Religion, who are thought very wealthy, have been my clients. They pay well, but are not gracious in their behavior. Amun has temples on both banks of the Nile at Memphis and elsewhere, so the priests do much sailing to communicate between their properties.

  At Memphis they paint their boat and mule carts, and even the gates of their compound, sky-blue to ward off evil, and are marked with the Eye Of Horus to denote their ownership. At Thebes upstream from here their possessions are white, but with the same Horus marking. I’d say the boat described here belongs to Amun’s priests at Memphis.”

  Suetonius’s mind tried to comprehend Surisca’s term ‘performed at Memphis’ in its possibilities, but he recalled how Surisca was also a dancer and flautist so he desisted. Her profession was her own business, though clients who were not ‘gracious’ had a prurient interest.

  “And here at Besa or Hermopolis? Where do they congregate?” the Praetorian Urbicus asked.

  Suetonius let this further protocol lapse pass because it was the next logical question anyway. Urbicus’s prompt initiative boded well for the investigation’s time-pressured enquiry. Heads turned towards Surisca for her reply.

  “Amun does not have much property at either Besa on the east bank, or Hermopolis on the western, because the Old Religion is deemed heretical and idolatrous by the devotees of the Greek cults. At Hermopolis, a town the locals call Shmun, they favor Serapis. Their fanatical followers will fight to the death between themselves. They will kill each other and eat the other’s livers and hearts to argue a fine point of doctrine,” Surisca said.

  “They ruled this land at the time of the Old Pharaohs. They had the ancient rulers under their thumbs. Their god Amun was the major deity before the Greeks and Romans came. Their riches are still very great but carefully hidden.

  When Caesar Augustus took Egypt from the last Greek ruler, Queen Cleopatra, and confiscated the best river land as his own property, Amun’s wealth and influence declined, I’ve been told. They lost most of their best plantations, their source of wealth, but retained their temple compounds with their influence over the peasants but costly upkeep.

  However since the violent expulsion of rebellious Judaeans at Alexandria in the days of the previous Caesar, Trajan --- I am told Judaeans were once a quarter of the city’s population --- these priests have been buying up available property at cut-rate prices. They’re hungry for political influence to re-establish their cult, so owning property is the best path to wealth and influence.

  Nowadays in Besa they reside at the small, very ancient temple outside the town by the riverside. The temple lies on high ground above an inlet adjacent to where Caesar’s two barques are moored. It’s hard to find, it is so well hidden in the palms.”

  “Where did you learn all this history, woman?” Clarus enquired with astonishment.

  Surisca hung her head demurely, as befits a mere woman.

  “The wisest of my trade keep an eye of such matters, my lord. We must be prudent stewards of our own hard-earned wealth, and so we follow such things,” Surisca replied.

  Urbicus looked to the group for new instructions.

  “Centurion Quintus Urbicus,” Suetonius commanded, “search for such a vessel with the two fishermen. If you find the vessel, confirm the boat’s owner and report on who was sailing this craft on the night or morning of Antinous’s death. Report to me no later than three hours after sunrise tomorrow.

  And, Praetorian, do not wear your Guard uniforms, dress in more informal clothes which will not arouse suspicion. Blend with the lower orders, Centurion.”

  Urbicus saluted and swept away accompanied by his two troops.

  “Thank you, Surisca,” Suetonius proffered as graciously as he could. “You’ve earned your keep already.”

  The courtesan smiled weakly at this unlikely prospect.

  “Julius Vestinus,” Suetonius called, “your staff will be in a position to make contact tonight with each of the following list of people to make them available to us at hourly intervals tomorrow for interview. They should be in the following order ---

  First, Lysias immediately after sunrise. Perhaps Geta the Dacian at one hour after sunrise. Senator Arrian of Bithynia at two hours after sunrise, and the slave Thais of Cyrene at three hours after sunrise, so we can get a grasp on the entire situation. Other names are likely to arise in the course
of our interviews. This should give us coverage of the important people in Antinous’s life, and perhaps even his death.

  Julia Balbilla of the empress’s household at The Dionysus moored offshore can join us at high sun, with the Master of the Hunt, Salvius Julianus, or the Egyptian miracle-worker Pachrates waiting until soon after. We will probably have others to follow, but we must move speedily.”

  Surisca once again raised a timorous hand. The biographer nodded.

  “Did you say Pachrates the Egyptian priest, master?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Yes, Surisca, I did,” Suetonius said. By acknowledging her familiar name he had tacitly acknowledged she was now a person, not a functionary of no status or particular gender.

  “Why, my dear? Do you know something of this priest?”

  “I know things about him, master, from my trade,” she replied. But then she became silent.

  “Tell us, my dear,” Suetonius prompted, “what do you wish to say?”

  It seemed Surisca had resiled abruptly from making a comment about Pachrates.

  “Come on, my dear. Feel free to talk.”

  “I am mistaken, my lord, I confused the name with another. Please forgive me, master.”

  But Suetonius didn’t think she was deceiving anyone in the chamber. They each realized she was hiding something of interest. Clarus interjected.

  “Woman, if you have something to tell us, then tell us. Otherwise hold your tongue or do not speak,” he commanded in his booming magisterial tone.

  Clarus was likely to consider Surisca an uneducated foreigner of zero social status, plus a mere woman at that, who offended the proper pecking order of knowledge.

  “We’ll talk later,” Suetonius said to Surisca with an evasive wink to ease the rebuff.

  Lysias began to rise from his chair.

  “Am I to be discharged, my lords, from further interview tonight?” he asked politely. Suetonius shook his head.

  “No, Bithynian. We have barely begun. We must continue your interview to learn all we can about your deceased friend. Time presses upon us.”