Child of the Sun

by Kyle Onstott

  Their daily wagers as to their ability to achieve numerical superiority added zest not only to Antoninus’s participation but to that of the soldiers, who laid wagers on the side and eagerly supported their partisans. Antoninus and Cleander adopted the colors of the Roman racing corporations, Antoninus as a Green and Cleander as a Blue. Soon, to make the sport more interesting, Zoticus recruited two soldiers who were willing to trade the rough life of the barracks for the greater comforts of the palace and these two additions were known as Red and White.

  In addition to Zoticus, whom he considered his husband, and his slave Cleander, whom he called “sister,” Antoninus also made a confidant of one Aurelius Eubulus who was also from Emesa and had all the vices of an Emesene. This Eubulus Antoninus dispatched to the furthermost ends of the empire to recruit promising youths who could compare with Zoticus. To this end, he carried a gold and ivory replica, which was to be his standard of measurement. Eubulus was to meet Antoninus in Rome with his raw levies and this was another reason why Antoninus was particularly anxious for the winter to pass.

  The pink drifts of almond blossoms were covering the barren hillsides when the long procession, part imperial, part sacred, and part military, finally started out from Nicomedia overland to Rome. Antoninus rode in his big chariot, driven by Zoticus, with Cleander crouched on the floor beside them. Then came the high wheeled covered Roman carts which separately carried Soaemias, Julia Maesa, and Mamaea with Alexianus. Comazon rode next on horseback, followed by the mounted Praetorians with the sun flashing on their gilded uniforms. The lumbering wagon, drawn by ten white mules, which bumped along behind them contained the sacred stone phallus of Elah-ga-baal, and finally the dusty line of foot soldiers, four abreast, heavily shod but in light marching armor. In the rear were the baggage trains, the camp followers, hucksters, whores and the general rag-tag and bob-tail which followed the army. Advance units with baggage trains were ahead so that camps could be prepared in advance for the night.

  Whenever the route took them through towns or cities, the most imposing palaces and the best houses were always set aside for the imperial family’s use, and sometimes surrounded by this temporary peace and comfort, Antoninus insisted that the stay be prolonged several days to which all willingly agreed. The roads were not the paved military roads of Rome and were either ankle deep in dust or mud, depending on the weather; as the high-wheeled carts were unsprung each mile covered was an agonizing ordeal.

  Each night the shrine to Elah-ga-baal was set up in the centre of the camp, but many nights Antoninus was far too exhausted to participate in the nightly sacrifices which he willingly abandoned to a coterie of priests from the temple in Emesa who accompanied them. The long days in the chariot, under blaze of sun or pelt of rain, were so tiring that Antoninus, contrary to his usual practices, oftimes desired nothing more than a rub-down with a steaming towel and a quick anointing of his tired limbs by Cleander, before seeking instant slumber in the protecting arms of Zoticus.

  The days, however, were not. entirely without pleasure or excitement. The great charioteer, Gordius of the Greens, had been drafted from Rome to teach Antoninus, and under his expert tutelage, Antoninus became a proficient charioteer. Every day he transferred from the big, commodious traveling chariot to a lighter racing one and, in competition with Zoticus or some volunteer from either the guards or the army, raced over the roads. Antoninus was fair in his racing as he was in everything else, unless he was possessed by one of his malicious rages. Although he always wanted to win and was disappointed when he didn’t he would not accept challengers who allowed him to win just because he was Caesar. It had to be a hard fought race and, if he lost, he was more than happy to reward the winner with a substantial purse of gold or any valuable ornament which he happened to be wearing.

  The long caravan progressed over the hills and mountains of Thrace, across the fertile valleys and hills of Moesia, through both upper and lower Pannonia and finally into the boot of Italy. Antoninus’s reputation and preferences had preceded him, and at every stopping place there was some prepossessing volunteer, publicly acclaimed by the town fathers as a local champion to rival the world famed Zoticus. Often Antoninus availed himself of them and their willing services, but just as often he merely examined them to satisfy his curiosity, too tired to more than admire them, and turned them over to the voracious Cleander. None of them compared with Zoticus.

  By July they arrived at Rome and the long journey was nearly over. Just outside the gates of Rome, a permanent camp was set up so that preparations might be made for an elaborate processional to enter the city. Here Antoninus received the August Fathers of the Senate and he proclaimed the most important pronunciation of his entire reign. He granted complete amnesty to all senators, officials and freedmen of Rome whether or not they had supported Macrinus. Such a magnanimous gesture was unheard of. Previously every Emperor had ruthlessly slaughtered the friends of his predecessor.

  Rome rejoiced, and those who had feared they faced either death or exile came out freely in support of this new Antonine. This decree was the keynote of Antoninus’s entire reign. It was to be a reign of peace throughout the Empire—a reign without wars or bloodshed. The Pax Romana extended to all corners of the Empire. Every Roman, from the white togaed Senators to the humblest freedman was able to walk the streets without fear, and to seek his bed at night with the certainty that he would awaken in the morning.

  Antoninus abolished the hated corps of informers which had flourished under Caracalla. He trusted every man, granted immunity to all and asked only that the Romans love him and adopt a religion of love and understanding. Rome under Antoninus reached the peak of glory—a glory she was never to know again. Antoninus was the summit which had been reached by a long, weary road from the Divine Julius, and after Antoninus it descended through the tortuous paths until the glory of Rome was swept away by the invading barbarians.

  The preparations for his entry into Rome were most elaborate, for Antoninus was determined that the reception would far exceed any triumphal procession that Rome had ever seen. Although the Senate had not voted him a triumph, it mattered little to Antoninus. He would have one anyway. He was the principal actor in a vast pageant and nothing should dim his stellar role. He took unto himself a list of fanciful titles which he did not bother to ask the Senate to confirm. He made himself Consul and Tribune of Rome, and appointed those whom he liked to important posts. Quadratus, a burly young freedman from Nicomedia, who nearly rivaled Zoticus, became Praefect of the Night Watch. Maxentius, an ex-slave from Moesia, one of the local paragons encountered along the way, was made Praefect of Sustenances, and Hellenus, who had been a dancer in the theatre of Antioch, became Praefect of the Palace. The absent Eubulus, still sending conscripts for Antoninus’s pleasure army from the far reaches of the empire, was made Pro-Consul of Illyria, in absentia.

  Strangely enough, these youths with nothing but their physical proportions to recommend them, proved themselves far more qualified to perform their official duties during Antoninus’s reign than the grafting Romans who had purchased the offices by bribes under former regimes. The Roman worthies sneered at these new appointments but in their anxiety to please the new Antonine, they fawned at the feet of peasant, slave, and actor.

  It required a week for the preparations for the triumphal entry and to prepare the large donative which was to be given to the senators, their wives, the Roman plebs and the army. But the preparations were finally terminated and Antoninus rose early on the morning of July 11th to prepare himself. The road leading into the city, and the Via Sacra inside the gates, had been sprinkled with yellow sand in which gold dust was mixed to give it a sumptuous brilliance.

  Antoninus was determined that he, his god, and his lover would be the centre of all eyes. It was not only his own introduction to Rome but that of his religion and the man, Zoticus, who to him was the embodiment of his religion.

  The procession formed in the camp and progressed in its triumphal m
arch to the gates of the city, where it halted for its final arrangements under Antoninus’s careful supervision. He descended from his litter, where he had been propped up rigidly on cushions so as not to disturb his robes or his jewels, that he might oversee the final details.

  The recruits which Eubulus had garnered from the four corners of the Empire, together with the conscripts which had been added during Antoninus’s journey, were to lead the march, each with a long brazen trumpet which would proclaim the procession. That none of them knew the least thing about trumpets or how to play them made little difference to Antoninus—their physique was impressive, their short linen tunics were revealing and their voluptuous male beauty would easily offset the caterwauling which they produced on the horns. Surely they would set the Romans in a mood to appreciate what followed.

  That which followed was Antoninus himself, starkly alone so that no eye would be able to miss him. But instead of walking forward, he had proposed to walk backwards so that his gaze would never leave the sacred stone of Elah-ga-baal which immediately followed him. It would be impressive. The Roman Caesar, supreme lord of all creation, walking backwards along the sacred way, looking neither to the right nor to the left, ignoring the plaudits of the crowd, his eyes riveted on the relic of his god and his god’s incarnation. For Zoticus was to drive the chariot that held the sacred stone.

  Antoninus had chosen a dramatic costume for himself and an equally dramatic one for Zoticus. Other Caesars might be content with the stark Roman toga or the purple robes of Empire. Not so, Antoninus! His long Syrian robe of thick white silk was heavily encrusted with rubies—the fiery stone of the sun. On his head, he wore a foot-high diadem of tier after tier of rubies, and other rubies encircled his neck, his arms, his waist and his ankles. The weighty costume made it difficult to walk when one faced in the direction he was going. To walk backwards in this heavy mass of silk, gold, and jewels was almost impossible but none could gainsay him.

  Six white horses, harnessed abreast, drew the chariot with the sacred stone and Zoticus, as the driver of the chariot, represented the godhead. He wore only the scantiest wisp of gold tissue around his loins which left no doubt as to his qualifications for his world-wide reputation. The remainder of his superb body was gilded and on his head, he wore a resplendent gold helmet whose branching rays of beaten gold extended in a wide circle of flashing light around his head. The effect of the whole was barbaric and breathtaking—the backward walking Caesar in his flashing robes, the six milk-white horses, reined to a slow walk, the gold and ivory two-tiered chariot with the gleaming beauty of Zoticus in front and the grim black phallus of Elah-ga-baal on a raised platform in the rear.

  All this had been Antoninus’s personal contribution to the triumph. What followed after had been left to Julia Maesa who rode with Soaemias in another equally resplendent chariot. Then came Eutychianus Comazon with his gold-armored Praetorians, the new officials that Antoninus had appointed, and behind them rank after rank of legionaries all in spotless new uniforms and shining armor.

  But even in the most carefully organized plans, there is always some insignificant thing that remains unforeseen and this happened during Antoninus’s backward march along the Sacred Way. Instructions had been given that every inch of the way should be thoroughly raked and swept and spread with sand, that not the smallest pebble remain. Antoninus had insisted on wearing the fragile, high-heeled sandals which were worn by Syrian Priests at their ceremonies and he was aware of the difficulty of walking in them, especially walking backwards. Burdened by his heavy robes and the towering diadem, not being able to see where he stepped, Antoninus of course encountered the only pebble on the path. He stumbled, vainly tried to regain his balance as the heavy diadem slipped forward over one eye. He would have fallen in a struggling array of silk and jewels, had not a strong hand reached out to save him. This strong hand supported him until he was safely back on his feet, the diadem once more in position and then, for one fleeting second, before he resumed his backward march, Antoninus had the opportunity of seeing who had saved him.

  Antoninus considered himself, and rightly so with his experience, a connoisseur of male beauty. He had already had a rare opportunity to make a comprehensive study of handsome men for he was in daily contact with Zoticus, Cleander, Quadratus, Maxentius and Hellenus—men who had been carefully culled from all the Empire and represented the epitome of masculine beauty. Furthermore, Antoninus had had the flower of the Legions that were stationed in the East; he had the representatives of the various towns and cities through which he had passed and but recently he had examined and passed comment on the company of personal guards which Eubulus had rounded up. But in that one fleeting second that he looked at his rescuer, all his former conceptions of male beauty were swept away.

  No antique Greek statue nor even the marble replicas of Hadrian’s beautiful Antoninus could compare with what Antoninus saw. The golden curls were in a careful disarray which tempted his hands to ruffle them even further. The smooth white skin was softly tinged by the gold of the sun but not enough to hide the underlying rose of the cheeks. The eyes of dark violet were large and ingenuous—eyes that inspired confidence and trust. They were eyes that lighted a flame of love in Antoninus’s heart. There was a chiseled perfection in the Grecian nose, the subtle bow of the lips and the firm roundness of the chin that seemed almost unbelievable. The whole face, so frankly open, so honestly appealing, and yet so boyish was a direct contrast to the sensual, almost obscene beauty of Zoticus. Here, mingled together were the youthful beauty of Apollo, the boyish charm of Eros, the forcefulness of Mars, the strength of Hercules, the lithe fleetness of Mercury and the grave intelligence of Jupiter, all heightened by the gleaming radiance of Elah-ga-baal.

  Had not the eyes of all Rome been on him, Antoninus would have stopped the procession, merely to ascertain the identity of this golden youth and where he could later be found. But, the procession was advancing, the horses were coming nearer and Antoninus was powerless. He fastened his eyes on the blond youth as long as he could distinguish him in the milling crowd, neglecting his adoration of the sacred stone in the chariot and the driver who had always been paramount in his affections. The eyes stared back at him, and Antoninus fancied he saw the same strange longing in them that he knew must be so readily apparent in his own.

  For the rest of the way, the pomp and ceremony of the procession became nothing more than tinsel to him. He could not forget the face he had seen. When the trumpeters ahead had finally reached the Palace and had halted before the towering entrance, Antoninus showed himself for only a moment on the uppermost step, accepting but briefly the plaudits of his subjects, then disappearing into the shadowy reaches of the palace.

  Alone he walked the porphyry halls, alone he ascended the broad marble stairs, and alone he stood on the marble-pillared balcony that surrounded the perystilium below. Suddenly he realized where he was—he was in Caesar’s palace, the Golden House of Nero. He was lost, he did not even know, in this vast labyrinth of marble and ivory and gold, where his own apartments were. Apparently he was alone in the palace. No one had come to attend him. He spied a large brazen gong and beat upon it with a hammer. Soon there was a sound of running feet, and several slaves came running towards him. They must have recognized him from his elaborate robes for they knelt upon the pavement.

  “I am Caesar,” Antoninus whispered, still dazed by his experience in the procession and awed by the vast magnificence of the palace. “Where are my apartments?”

  An old man got up off his knees and advanced with bowed head.

  “If the great Caesar will precede me.”

  “Nay, he will follow you.” Antoninus brushed aside formality and trailed the old man down the stairs, through other halls, courtyards, rooms and pillared porticoes until they at length arrived at a pair of massive double doors of black ebony, with hinges and latches of gold. The man struck the doors and they slowly parted. Antoninus entered, cheered by the familiar face of Cleande
r that greeted him.

  The slave came running across the room to flutter around Antoninus.

  “How beautiful you look, great Caesar. The robes become you and the new carmine I used for your cheeks has just the right glow. Your bath is waiting, shall I undress you?”

  “I tire of being Caesar, my sister. The bath can wait. There is something else far more important. Tell me, whom do we know who is well acquainted with Rome.” He took off the weighty diadem and tossed it on the bed. “Quick, think fast. Who among my train is not a stranger here?’’

  Cleander shook his head. “Quadratus is from Nicomedia, he knows not Rome. Neither does Maxentius nor Hellenus. Your Zoticus entered Rome today for the first time. If only Eubulus were here.”

  “But he isn’t. He is in Britain. Think, you whorish slut. Use your head for something else besides your pleasure. There must be somebody in the suite of the Emperor of Rome who knows this accursed city.”

  “I have the answer. Gordius! He who came from Rome to teach you to drive a chariot. He is the favorite of the Greens. He must know all Rome. He should be here now, down in the stables, for he was to drive your racing chariot in after the procession was over . . .”