"Tessararius Danaos, are you sure the man lying upon the bier was the fellow who said he was Lysias of Bithynia three evenings ago? He was the man you permitted to travel to the governor's barque at Lady Perenna's invitation as recorded in your log?"
"Yes, sir. Indeed, sir. I am sure, sir. Am I mistaken somehow?"
Suetonius and Clarus looked to each other. Lysias had not been lying. He had not visited The Alexandros three evenings ago. It was just as he had protested earlier. The person presenting himself as 'Lysias' had been Antinous, impersonating Lysias for a reason of his own. He did so with a written invitation of authority from the priestess Anna Perenna inscribed in Lysias's name. What could this mean?
The Special Inspector asked a question aloud for all to hear.
"Look again at your papyrus sheet, Danaos. The visitor you know as Lysias was unaccompanied by others at the time. But will you read the name of the person or persons who preceded or followed him?"
Suetonius had already recalled the names from his earlier inspection of the records.
Danaos drew the sheet closer to his sight and fingered the column of names written in his own Greek alphabet scratchings. His finger paused at a name.
"Yes, sir. The youth Lysias was preceded by Quintus Urbicus, a centurion of the Alexandrian Praetorian Guard, the governor's security unit. They both travelled together in our runabout gondola to the The Alexandros to attend the Lady Anna Perenna."
A flutter of whispers swept the assembly. Suetonius raised a finger for quiet.
"And again, Tessararius, have you noted the name on your list following after the person you know as Lysias? Did he too travel to The Alexandros? What was this person's name and, and what time of day would it have been?"
The clerk returned his finger to the sheet and followed it down the column.
"Yes, the dead man over yonder was followed by a senior officer of the German Guard. One Scorilo, a decurion of the Horse Guard. The three were boated to the governor's barque together. The time, you ask? It was then dusk. Night was quickly approaching. I recall it well. My shift was to finish in only four hours."
The assembly shuffled in its place.
"Very well, Danaos, I wish you to now look over the sheets for that same night and the following day to tell me when these three visitors returned from The Alexandros?" the Special Inspector asked. He had remembered the discrepancies noted the previous day.
The tessararius pored through the subsequent sheets of papyrus. Several names were listed as coming or going, including the governor's party's return at high sun the following day, but Danaos could find no reference to either Lysias or Urbicus departing the vessel at the wharf. He then spied Decurion Scorilo's name on a second sheet recording his departure from The Alexandros four hours after dawn the following day.
"My subordinate has been a fool or greatly remiss, masters! Neither the youth Lysias nor Centurion Urbicus are listed as departing the governor's vessel, yet the German decurion is registered when he departed four hours after dawn the next day. My subordinate will be punished for his omissions, masters!"
"They might not be omissions, Tessararius. Your subordinate may have been quite accurate in his record. I think I begin to understand the situation," the biographer muttered. He turned to the gathering and its ruler. He now possessed a greater perception of the issues.
"We have several contradictions in these testimonies here, Caesar. Firstly, we have a clerk's record of a 'Lysias' visiting The Alexandros. This turns out to be an impersonation by Antinous for a reason as yet unknown, and we have two guardsmen who accompany the youth to the barque. Yet neither Antinous nor one of the two guardsmen appears to have later returned from the vessel, unless our records are in serious error?
In the meantime we know some dire fate befell Antinous. He appears to have been seriously wounded and bled to death, and either fallen overboard or been placed in the Nile. Meanwhile the highly-regarded centurion who had accompanied him happens to be one of a troop of guardsmen who incidentally stumble upon two fishermen as they discover the body of the youth the following morning in the river's edge. These coincidences strike me as unlikely."
Suetonius allowed a few moments to pass to let that information settle in. He then raised further contradictions.
"Caesar, I need not remind us how both Centurion Urbicus and Decurion Scorilo has told us here only moments ago how they spent the entire night at a troops' celebration of The Isia from that same dusk until the following dawn. Yet the testimony here proclaims to us they were in widely diverse places at the very same time.
Centurion Urbicus says he was at an all-night party, while these papyrus records claim he spent the night aboard The Alexandros. He also managed to be by the riverside at the time Antinous's body was hauled from the Nile.
Separately, we have depositions taken from Decurion Scorilo declaring how he performed Guard duties at Caesar's welcoming banquet for Senator Commodus throughout that very same night. Yet he appears magically to have been in three places at precisely the same time – at an all-night party for the troops, onboard The Alexandros, and as a Guard officer attending the welcoming banquet. These competing facts are a great mystery and enigma, my lord."
Both Urbicus and Scorilo stood motionless, undisturbed by the sardonic observations. Urbicus eventually cleared his throat to speak.
"My lord Special Inspector, may I speak? These records are obviously a blatant forgery! Not only were we entertained all night at Caesar's party for his troops, those sheets from the jetty are inconsistent and bear poor witness. I piss on their inaccuracies and those who would slander senior, proven officers of Caesar's Guards. It's an offence against our honor! I will pursue the offender for blood satisfaction!"
The centurion's stern accusation shifted the atmosphere considerably. Suetonius became fearful of how the swiftness of judicial favor could shift ground so easily. He was determined to probe deeper before Urbicus or Scorilo wriggled off the hook.
"The letter of authority, the invitation from Lady Anna Perenna, was this retained, tessararius, to confirm at least one of these claims?" Suetonius asked, swiftly subsiding into desperation.
"No, great lord, only my notation was entered on the sheet telling it had been sighted. The youth Lysias, if that's who he was, took it with him. But the writing was definitely in the hand of the Lady. I have sighted My Ladyship's invitations often," the clerk confirmed. He was now confused about the real identity of 'the youth Lysias'. Governor Titianus glanced to his consort at the unexpected implication of many invitations.
"The Lady Anna Perenna," Suetonius articulated rhetorically to the gathering, "just who is the Lady Anna Perenna? Tell us, priestess of Rome, who you are, what was your original name prior to adoption by your cult, and where were you born? What is your origin?"
Perenna smiled in a confident manner which disconcerted her interrogator. She responded in an untroubled, even disparaging, manner.
"My dear Special Inspector, why should you ask? I am who I am. I am Anna Perenna at Alexandria, nothing more, nothing less. Frankly I do not know the answers you seek."
Suetonius turned towards Geta the Dacian who had been beside Caesar's throne. The mess of Hadrian's discharges had been cleansed away by the Egyptian workers. Geta's clothing and personal bearing too were adequately restored to cleanliness.
"Geta of Dacia, tell us, does the woman Anna Perenna remind you of someone? Do you see a resemblance? Don't you feel you might know might this woman?"
The biographer was taking great risks punting upon such similarities. Geta stood apart with a quizzical expression.
"No, I don't Suetonius. I have no idea what you mean."
"Look at yourself and at Perenna. Don't you see a resemblance? Coloring, height, facial features, your accents, even the marks upon your cheeks? There are many coincidences. Too many coincidences. It screams at us."
"You see things I don't see, Special Inspector. Yes, there are accidental resemblances. But they are not substantial. What are you getting at?" the Dacian asked his interrogator.
Hadrian began to be aware of the biographer's meaning. He interrupted the conversation.
"Are you asking, Inspector, is Geta related by blood to the priestess? Are Perenna and Geta somehow of the same family?"
Suetonius nodded sheepishly. Hadrian turned to the Dacian.
"Tell him, Geta. Tell him of your past and your origin," the emperor encouraged.
"My lord, I don't know what you mean. My past is buried in my distant childhood. I've long forgotten it. I have difficulty recalling anything from my earliest years. My life and memory really begins at Rome when I entered your Household. What preceded that time is lost to a great degree."
Hadrian turned to Suetonius. He spoke tiredly but pointedly.
"Special Inspector, I shall tell you. Our friend Geta is of the royal line of Dacia. He's the son of the Decebelus who Trajan triumphed over when Geta was only a child. I served as a commander of Legions under Trajan. It was a hard fought, cruel war.
Geta's original name was Dromichaetes, Prince of Dacia, along with a long litany of native titles and splendid honors. If this is your intended implication, he had a sister of a similar age and appearance named Estia, who he now barely remembers. Estia and Geta were very alike in their features, being of the same parentage.
Geta and his sister were assigned to me as war hostages. Such hostages can be useful to Rome when re-establishing a sympathetic aristocracy in a conquered land. But I assure you, Tranquillus, Estia is not Anna Perenna, if this is your meaning?
Geta's sister Estia was entered into my sister Domitia Paulina's household to be educated as a proper Roman lady. Despite my sister's fond affection and care for Estia, the girl died of a child's ague before she was ten years of age. I supervised her funeral. We didn't tell Geta. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. So there is no blood relationship between Geta and the priestess Perenna, despite any physical similarities you may detect."
Caesar had put an end to that speculation.
The biographer was disconcerted; he was running now out of options. He looked across to the Quaestor, Salvius Julianus, for new inspiration.
"Senator Quaestor Julianus, you have something to show us. I think it's time to explore your discovery."
Julianus strode across to Clarus and the biographer. He was carrying a large globular shape under his cape. He lowered the object to the flagstones of the sanctuary and withdrew the cape. A sturdy terracotta urn with a waxed stopper stood upright before the assembly. Suetonius sensed how Perenna imperceptibly quivered at its sight. Urbicus and Scorilo stirred momentarily as well.
"Quaestor, please explain where you acquired this amphora," the biographer asked.
"At your behest, Special Inspector, I and my lictors representing my legal authority attended The Alexandros after those summoned here by Caesar had departed prior to dawn.
We approached the cabin assigned to Anna Perenna, who was already journeying with the Governor to Caesar's marquee. Her cabin was firmly locked, so we were obliged to break entry.
It appears to be a sort of workroom or apothecary's laboratory. I impounded the objects you requested on behalf of your investigation. One is this amphora containing an unknown substance which was high upon a ledge sanctified by a votive lamp. Another was a locket on a leather thong draped around the urn's neck. I've brought two other objects I felt were meaningful, which my lictors retain nearby."
Perenna whispered sharply into the Governor's ear. Her anger was audible.
Suetonius continued his questioning.
"My Lady Anna Perenna, priestess of Rome, do you recognize the objects which stand here before us? Are these your property?"
The priestess's reply was snappy.
"You have no right, Troublemaker, to break into my private quarters to steal my possessions. In Egypt we cut a hand, an ear, and an eye from those who thieve! You should have asked my permission first. I'm sure I would have been gracious to you in your search."
"As gracious as you were when we visited you only yesterday?" Clarus interjected. "You were barely gracious then, madam."
Anna Perenna seethed.
"My lady, we have before us here a terracotta amphora," Suetonius announced for all to hear. "It is thoroughly stoppered and sealed, yet I notice a small leak from one lip. It exudes a dark substance. A dark ruddy substance. May I ask what this urn contains, madam?"
Titianus turned to his consort with a querulous expression. She fumbled a hesitant response but soon resettled into her confident, unflappable manner.
"Special Inspector, I am a priestess of the ancient cult of Anna Perenna. We have a long history at Rome. We specialize in women's matters.
We offer poultices or pessaries to ward off the risk of pregnancy. We offer herbs and medicaments to maximize a woman's fertility or give pleasure. We act as midwives in birthing; we provide love philters and talismans to attract a desired lover; we mix lubricants which arouse partners during sex; and we create paints and pastes to enhance our beauty. We make kohl paint to outline the eyes and to deflect bright sunlight; we mix powders with rich color to apply as rouge or a dusting on our eyelids, cheeks, bosoms, or buttocks. We grind precious metals to scatter as pretty glitters; and we create lip paints in tones of scarlet to make women's mouths sensual and desirable to their menfolk," she explained.
"- And so?" the biographer queried. "The urn?"
"You have in the amphora before you a preparation of secret ingredients which will shortly coalesce into a quantity of lip paint. It takes nine days to mature. Then it is ready to apply."
"What's in the preparation, priestess?"
"Why Inspector, that's a priestess's secret."
"What's in it, priestess? Tell us. We have no secrets here."
Perenna was slowly consumed with a rising vexation.
"It is a secret recipe of ochre, iron ore, and the fucus plant, with the extra coloring of tiny crimson bugs gathered from African cacti. It is all blended into the purified lard of an ass and perfumed with blossom oils. Through its nine day maturation period my cult offers prayers and ceremonies to imbue the mixture with magical power in attracting admirers. That's why it was hallowed by a votive lamp and a phylactery talisman. My clients among the elite swear by the rich color of my lip paint and its power in attracting a lover."
The biographer looked limply towards Clarus and Julianus. He continued unabated.
"Why was this urn raised high upon a ledge, priestess?"
Perenna was thoughtful for only a fleeting moment.
"The fats of the mixture are attractive to rats. The Alexandros seethes with Nile water rats in the bilges, so we keep edible things high beyond their reach."
Suetonius felt stumped again. Surisca leaned across to Suetonius to whisper in his ear.
"The locket, my lord, the locket. It means something."
Suetonius swept the leather-thonged golden locket from Julianus's arm. Perenna's manner stiffened. Both Urbicus' and Scorilo's eyes became riveted to the bubbled case of beaten gold dangling from the thong's loop. It was an ordinary bulla locket of no distinction.
"And what is this, my lady?" Suetonius addressed the priestess. She hesitated briefly.
"It's nothing, just the special prayer that infuses the lip paint with its attracting powers. It is women's secret magic. You need not concern yourself with such fanciful trivia."
Once again Surisca whispered into the biographer's ear.
"She's being evasive. It's something special."
"Strabon, good scribe, read the locket's lip-paint prayer to us," the Special Inspector instructed. "We're not averse to women's magic here."
Strabon took the locket and flicked its catch open. Inside were a small furled square of papyrus and a lock of hair. The hair was light in hue and appeared singed by flame. The scribe also noted a single word scratched on the inside of the case. His eyes widened and he glanced nervously to the biographer for permission to respond.
"Well go on, man, read the prayer," Suetonius pressed. The scribe unfolded the paper. Again, he grew concerned. He had a catch in his throat as he read aloud. "When the King of the Lionhearted Plays with his man-cub no more It's time for the lackey To restore his own pride."
The assembly in the sanctuary rustled with murmuring.
Hadrian fidgeted uncomfortably on his Egyptian high chair, but remained seated. Geta gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. Arrian's head hung low in despondency. Balbilla and the Augusta exchanged meaningful glances. Lysias and Thais grasped each other's hand more firmly. Clarus displayed increasing alarm.
"There's a tress of hair inside, pale in color, and a name is engraved on the interior, sirs," Strabon weakly called.
"What name, scribe?"
"The engraved name is Antinous."
Minds across the chamber raced to interpret the cryptic quatrain and the Bithynian's relationship to it. Why would Caesar's retired eromenos retain such a quaint phylactery? Who was the King? Who was the lackey? What was it all about?
One particular possibility dawned on some in the assembly, something unthinkable, something utterly inadmissible. Was Caesar some form of cinaedus, they wondered? Surely not?
It is not feasible for an admired Princeps to be a cinaedus, these would reason. Such behavior is not within an Imperator's lexicon of attributes. Great dishonor lies in that direction. Cinaedi are objects of derision for their lack of self-control. Surely Caesar is not a cinaedus?
Suetonius again recalled how so few of Hadrian's reported sexual exploits were with women. In fact, to his knowledge, not a single one he could remember. This was despite the tacit assumption an emperor has his unrestrained pick of life's more pleasurable opportunities, of any gender including the female.
Did this mean Hadrian's taste is strictly for his own gender? Fine. This has no real concern in Rome's phallocentric sexual code as long as the maturer contender is strictly the active partner in sex. They who penetrate are virs; those who are receptive are femina or pathicus. To take the passive role is a woman's, a youth's, or an adult pathic's contemptible fate. Even a fellator with males, or a male cunnilinctor with women, are equally unmanly in this code.
For a man to prefer these roles is to invoke the pathicus status. As a pathic cinaedus, he is a shame to his gender and Roman custom.
Suetonius realized the quatrain had added a new elliptical dimension to Hadrian's profile, and done so in full public display. The prospect now tenderly arose that it may have been Antinous who performed the male phallic function, unless the relationship had been a mutually carefree ride there for a ride back in which sexual favors were reciprocated?
Once again Suetonius recalled how outsiders are unlikely to fathom the inner mechanisms of other people's relationships.
But now it was time to determine precisely what fate had befallen Antinous.
"Priestess!" Suetonius demanded, "Show us your lip paint! Open your urn before Caesar and our assembly!"
Macedo carried the terracotta pot to the priestess and pressed it into her unwilling grasp. Perenna looked around at the surrounding assembly of observers whose eyes were fixed upon her and her pot. Reluctantly, she grasped the amphora and strained at the wax-sealed stopper, her eyes gleaming in fierce resentment. The plug broke away after some effort. She held the open urn forward brazenly towards her interrogators for inspection.
Governor Titianus beside her leaned towards the mouth of the jar and peered inside. He withdrew smartly as its odor stung his nostrils.
"Blood. Rotting blood. Pints of it. Must be several days old. Goes off quickly in this climate. Smells of a battlefield or an arena's sands. Repulsive stuff!"
A mournful groan rumbled across the chamber while the priestess Perenna stood her ground in fierce feral belligerence. A defensive stoop descended upon her posture as her eyes blazed from behind their mask of ashen pallor.
"What blood, Perenna? Whose blood? The youth Antinous?" Suetonius called in an increasingly pained voice.
The priestess raised the jar high and hurled it bodily across the space towards him. The urn flicked splashes of wine-colored, viscous slush as it hurtled downwards and crashed to the flagstones at Suetonius's feet. Its terracotta shell fractured into a dozen shards as its contents splayed-out across the granite. Once again a ripely-sour stench exuded through the sanctuary.
Titianus raised a slight finger gesture to Tribune Macedo. The Praetorian commander nodded to his cohort nearby. The guards stepped forward and positioned themselves around the priestess.
"Whose blood, Perenna?" Suetonius repeated. "Whose is it?"
The priestess struggled and hissed vehemently at all around her but spoke no words. Julianus called aloud to his lictors. One delivered some objects which had been concealed out of sight. They were a bronze basin stained with a dark-colored dry scale, and a similarly stained bronze surgeon's scalpel. He held them before him to display to all.
"These were lying behind a curtain. They look recently used. There were two more terracotta amphorae, also containing fluid," he offered as he stared at the dark ooze spread across the flagstones.
Several in the assembly realized Antinous's very life itself lay spilled out onto the temple stones.
Thais and Lysias walked hesitantly to the pool of dark muck and lowered themselves to their knee at its edge. Thais was quietly weeping. Lysias was visibly mortified. He dipped one fingertip in the pool to examine its consistency. He fell to sobbing.
"Antinous?", he called aloud plaintively, his pain audibly startling the assembly. Hadrian raised himself from his seat, his eyes wide and fixed upon the pool of sludge across the granite.
"We have one further matter to address, Great Caesar!" Suetonius declared aloud.
"What could that possibly be, Inspector?" Hadrian replied in rasping tones redolent of abject despair.
"I wish you to ask one of your Guard for an inspection of their purse, Caesar."
"Their purse?" Hadrian asked impatiently. "Why so, Tranquillus? What's important about a purse?"
"I wish you to command Decurion Scorilo to open and empty the contents of his belt pouch to our view."
"Decurion Scorilo of the Horse Guard? Must I ask one of my most senior and best officers to degrade themselves here, Inspector? Your enquiry is getting out of hand, Tranquillus!"
"I believe I must ask, my lord. It is necessary. If I am mistaken in my reasoning you can dismiss me from your service and prosecute me for the insult, Caesar."
Hadrian faced toward Scorilo and gave the order.
The tattooed German was initially hesitant, but then unlaced the purse-pouch at his sword belt. The investigating team's hearts were in their mouths, with their eyes on the pouch. Had Suetonius erred in his gamble?
"Show us the contents, Decurion," Hadrian instructed. Macedo moved forward to have a closer view and announce the findings.
Scorilo poured baubles from the pouch onto his large, broad, warrior's hardened palm. He silently offered the items to view. Macedo read out the list of debris.
"One gold aureus, two silver denarii, some bronze coins, two ivory dice well-worn, a bone toothpick, a small ball of black resinous substance wrapped in a leaf, and a man's jeweled ring. The ring!" he repeated excitedly. "Quality silver; well worked; set with a deep blue lapis lazuli stone carved with the figure of the deity Abrasax, I think. It is surrounded by mystic symbols and antique inscriptions! We have seen this ring before!"
Hadrian rose bolt upright. His eyes had cleared, his stoop dispersed, and his physical energy was restored.
"Scorilo! My protector Scorilo! Where and how did you attain that jewel? How did you come by Antinous's special gift from me? You are no thief, are you? Surely not? That ring is a rare magical talisman of great value. Do you rob the dead? Account for yourself, Decurion!"
Scorilo remained firmly silent. Anna Perenna's voice began to rise to a shout from her guarded position. The priestess's cries were becoming feverish with recklessness.
"Scorilo! Brother Scorilo!" she crowed loudly. All heads turned abruptly from the decurion to Perenna and back again.
"Brother, the time for Zalmoxis has come! It is over! The oath is fulfilled! Zalmoxis will reward us for all eternity. The Iron King's loved one is sacrificed. His life blood was forfeit! We have tasted that blood. The God has absorbed his victim's arete from his gore. The gore is now putrid, it has been absorbed. It's over and done. We too can now go to the Underworld of Zalmoxis and join our ancestors at last!" The priestess was exultant.
The assembly broke into uproar.
"Will someone explain to me what is happening here!?" Hadrian bellowed over the cacophony. Geta stepped forward and assumed vocal command of the assembly.
"Silence all! Stand in place! Listen!" he commanded in the stentorian style of his father's distant memory. "The truth now comes to me! I see into my remote past as a child at Dacia.
The woman Perenna and the guardsman, Scorilo, are sister and brother. I see into my childhood days. These two are the daughter and son of the high priest of Dacia, old Dicineus the Sacrificer, who was my father's advisor. I see the woman called Anna Perenna when she was a child my own age. We were acolytes of Zalmoxis at the killing of Iron People captives. I forget her name but I recall her zest for the killings.
Her priestly father Dicineus and his family relished the sacrifices. She too had the marks of Zalmoxis tattooed on her face, the insignia of the priestly class and its bloodline. Her brother Scorilo was much older. He was already a young Wolf Warrior proven in combat. He was one of my father's fiercest bodyguards and has the victor's tattoos to prove it. He was one of the horsemen who escorted my father and mother, with my sister Estia and I, into the forests of Dacia to escape the pursuing Iron People.
Who are the Iron People? The Iron People are us, we Romans. I too am now an Iron Person. I too am a Roman.
My father discharged his guards to allow them to flee before the enemy could overtake us. But he demanded an oath of revenge, the oath to Zalmoxis. He sent my mother, his queen, and then himself to Zalmoxis. Before he killed himself he demanded we swear an oath to destroy the Iron People king's loved ones too, in reparation to Zalmoxis. It was a fearful oath of dire consequences!
I too swore it. I was very young. I swore to kill the Iron People king's loved one too, in vengeance. But I failed in my oath, I am pleased to say. The children of Priest Dicineus the Sacrificer did not! They killed the king's loved one, Antinous."
Geta slumped against Caesar's throne, exhausted.
Hadrian spoke in a disbelieving voice to Perenna and Scorilo.
"Is it true you are the children of Dicineus, that murderous priest?"
Neither responded.
"The Bastarnae were one of the tribes of the Dacian Confederation, yes?"
Again silence.
"Is it true the blood on the stones here is that of Antinous?" he asked further. Again no response.
Hadrian grew gray with distress.
"Why, Dacians, why? Why would you bleed such a gracious man, such an innocent, for your pointless obsession?" Hadrian's eyes were riven with pain.
Perenna struggled ineffectually in her captor's grip, her eyes wild, her body writhing with feverish energy. The kohl lines had begun to melt down her cheeks in her body heat; the ashen powders of her face were corroding from her skin; the hue of her oiled lips was smeared across her mouth. In her disorder she projected the energy of a wild forest creature or ghoul seething with savagery, an alien demon bent upon havoc.
Suetonius, Clarus, Strabon, and Surisca whispered together as one, "The She Wolf."
"The oath is fulfilled!" Perenna cried aloud across the sanctuary, her haughty disdain resounding off the temple stones. "The loved one of the Iron People's ruler has been sacrificed to the god of the Dacians! His face was daubed in his own blood! We dipped our fingers in his gore to lick and taste his arete. We drained his carcass of its arete to offer to Zalmoxis the life-juices of the precious loved one of the Iron People's King!
Our priestly father's strangling at Rome is revenged. The Decebelus's honor is restored. The blood debt of our warriors in the arenas of Rome is paid. The faithful devotees of Zalmoxis have exacted bitter retribution!"
Perenna, or whoever she was, was spiraling into delirium.
"How did you persuade Antinous to participate in his own slaughter, priestess of Zalmoxis," Suetonius called to the deranged creature before him.
"The fool was a willing victim! His desire was urgent. He craved to exchange his lifeforce for the lifeforce of his erastes, this King of the Iron People. This king is diseased, he told us. The king is affected with a dropsy of the internal humors. He is dying, he bleated in tears. He wished to give the king renewed life, his youth's fresh life! He wished the Imperium to receive his hero's gift and to exchange his years of health for the king's declining lifespan!"
The assembly was enthralled by the escalating frenzy.
"The youth had witnessed those wizards who claim to revive a beheaded man. He knew how return from the Land of the Dead was feasible with the proper sorcery. At least that's what he thought. He was taught Queen Alcestis had been brought back from Hades' grasp by Hercules. He had been taught the heroes who sacrificed their lives in antiquity's wars live on eternally at the Isle of Achilles across the Black Sea. He learned how the followers of Chrestus revere their executed founder because he was magically reborn, resurrected to life again. And he saw with his own eyes how Great Alexander Divus lies intact still after four hundred years, preserved by a potent magic.
This year's Isia was his opportunity to become Osiris, restored from death to life. He took his opportunity. I used his need and his love for his erastes, and told him how Anna Perenna too can exchange the energies of one life for another by her incantations. I said she too can revive the dead. He believed me, the fool…"
"Cease talking, Hagne!" Scorilo suddenly called to the priestess. "They'll indict you for murder or worse. The penalty is vile, Sister. Cease now!"
Surisca whispered to Suetonius and Clarus, "Is the Bastarni guardsman then the wolf?"
Perenna continued unabated. She was on a roll.
"The boy wanted it! He pleaded for it! He was impelled to exchange the surging lifeforce of a healthy youth with the fading energies of his imperial erastes. He wouldn't cease his pleading. He said he was so utterly indebted to Caesar and committed to Caesar's cause as ruler!"
Hadrian slumped heavily back into his throne, disconsolate. He was overwhelmed by her words.
"So you helped him to do it, Hagne?" the Special Inspector asked coolly as Strabon scribbled speedily at his notebook. Suetonius used the barbarian name Scorilo had called. "Tell us Hagne, how was it done, priestess of an alien god? Tell us all."
The woman began burbling with zealous, righteous enthusiasm.
"Brother Scorilo and Centurion Urbicus had befriended the youth for our purpose. They taught him tricks of swordsmanship and other warrior's skills. They persuaded him to come to The Alexandros to my sanctuary to effect the transfer. He was to come under another name to deflect attention. I wrote an invitation note in the name of one of his friends, Lysias, to ease him past the sentries without his real identity being noted. He suspected nothing, he was so trustful of us.
He was to wear his ceremonial uniform beneath his cloak, this was to be a formal rite of great majesty. He did so without fear. He believed how in nine days after his journey through Hades' domain he would be restored to life, but at the cost that his youth's lengthy lifespan would be exchanged with Caesar's shorter span. Meanwhile, Caesar would live and rule!"
The woman was trembling in exultation and fervor. She was triumphant.
"Why would Antinous believe such a thing? He is no fool!" Suetonius called.
"Fool? Love is a great persuader. Fools do remarkable things for the sake of Love!"
"And then?"
"We performed a ceremony honoring Rome's Anna Perenna of old, and the youth voluntarily drank my infusion of opion and kannabis in wine. He believed it to be my magical potion to effect the transfer of energies. He swiftly drifted to sleep.
My brother and I then performed a rite to Zalmoxis and burned a lock of the victim's hair for the God to receive as smoke signaling his impending spiritual presence.
I lanced his wrist veins, inserted a surgeon's bleeding spigot to siphon, and proceeded to drain him as our priests do when they slit the throats of offerings. With time, our basin collected enough blood for three amphorae jugs.
Blood is the food of Zalmoxis. Blood carries the arete of a man.
I anointed the victim's face with his own blood, the ultimate insult of the God. Over the following days Zalmoxis consumes his entire arete by fermenting the blood to an odious filth. This is our way."
The woman's delirium was assuming a dire maenadic aspect. There were vestiges of some ancient ritual frenzy betrayed in her behavior. She had become a wild creature.
"And, Hagne, what more --?" Suetonius resolutely pressed.
Perenna/Hagne assumed a soberly circumspect demeanor.
"It was nothing personal, just honor's revenge," she smiled.
A crushing silence now weighed the sanctuary.
"The lad died. It was late at night. Pressing out the blood for Zalmoxis had taken much time. While it was still dark, Scorilo and Urbicus tumbled his body through a starboard port into one of the Alexandrine runabouts roped at the stern readied for sailing.
I stored the amphorae for consecration to determine if I had inherited my father's power of regeneration of the dead. Priest Dicineus, my father, had been a practitioner of theogia. He tested many victims, but with what success is unknown to me. I aspire to similar prowess. I was to devote nine days to the necessary incantations and rites. But now we'll never know, will we?
At the very earliest light we three pushed off to sail the craft downstream to an inlet close to Urbicus's tents. The two placed the body at the river's side where we knew it might soon be discovered. There was already movement about, so Urbicus stayed at the inlet to rejoin his detachment. Scorilo and I eventually maneuvered the runabout back to The Alexandros. The rest is known to you. Our victory was complete."
"You've told us about Scorilo and yourself, but why was Urbicus involved?"
Hagne of Dacia, nee Anna Perenna of Rome, laughed a raucous, quavering laugh whose shrillness spoke of triumph and insult. The She Wolf was savoring her kill.
"Urbicus is one of my inamoratas. The poor darling will do anything I ask. And all for a little bodily titillation. But I keep him on a tight rein, the dear. Those Mauritanians and Numidians, they'll do anything for sex. The desert wilds of Africa must be very lonely at night."
Suetonius glanced to Urbicus standing nearby. The soldier was flush with anger, but his restrained eyes stared straight ahead in impassive soldierly discipline. Escape from the sanctuary was not feasible; a Scythian archer would bring him down with a single shaft.
"Why you, Centurion? Why did you participate in this mad venture? You're a man of good sense," the Special Inspector probed.
Urbicus stood utterly motionless and silent.
Governor Titianus broke the intensity of the atmosphere. He had quietly distanced himself from his consort who was stooping in her craven, seething manner nearby.
"Macedo, take the Horse Guard decurion into custody. And take too the woman Hagne or Perenna or whoever she is, I no longer know.
Secure the brother and sister in the woman's chamber aboard The Alexandros. Make sure they're isolated, restrained, well guarded, and carry no weapons for self-harm. I will access them there for intimate interrogation. Afterwards, Caesar will decide what to do with them at his leisure.
Take Urbicus and strip him of his Praetorian regalia. Imprison him in the camp guardhouse. He will meet military justice in due course."
Suetonius noticed Titianus's eyes and Urbicus's eyes met for a fleeting moment. It carried a subliminal message, he thought. It was a message he sensed he might never interpret.
Hadrian slowly rose from his throne and stood silently, imperially, looking to the bier and its sad, pallid burden. It dawned on the entire assembly it was time to stand upright and be attentive under Caesar's presence.
The Augusta rose in silent respect, Geta stood tall, and the dispersed individuals returned to their protocol order. Only Macedo's officers were moving about as they stripped Scorilo and Urbicus of their weapons and strapped shackles to their wrists.
A hush settled upon the sanctuary. Hadrian spoke carefully, thoughtfully, as his words reverberated off the ancient stones.
"It is time to leave this dark place and this dark affair. It is to be formally recorded here under my authority how Antinous of Bithynia died by falling into the river. Nothing more. The subject of the method of his death and its perpetrators is under prohibition. They do not exist. Let our documents record nothing further of the matter. It is forbidden on pain of exile.
Suetonius Tranquillus and Septicius Clarus, you have fulfilled your commission. In return you will be awarded one hundred thousand sesterces each, as promised, and be absolved of the previous charge of laesa majestas against the empress, my wife Vibia Sabina.
For Suetonius Tranquillus a new indictment of laesa majestas against my honor will be raised. Its details will be formulated and addressed at my leisure. We move on. Hear all!
I proclaim my edict before you here at this dawn of the Third Day of the Festival of Isis. Secretary Vestinus, Quaestor Julianus, Prefect Governor Titianus, and officers of the Household hear my command and enact it immediately.
The honor of the youth Antinous of Bithynia is to be restored. The omen divined by the Priests of Amun of the youth's divine status as Osiris Reborn is to be written into law at Egypt and proclaimed to the Empire. As Pontifex Maximus I ordain Antinous to attain Divus status before the eyes of all the Empire. He is to be celebrated accordingly.
The priests of Amun are to honor his Divus status with appropriate rites. A sufficient endowment is to be assigned to this priesthood to institute his adoration in perpetuity as a Protector of Youth, a Guardian of Healing, and a Defender of Birthing.
Temples and shrines are to be erected across the Empire to celebrate his virtues and values. Statues and portrait busts, issues of coins and medallions, plus public festivals are to be created in his honor. Youth Games are to be announced in select cities in his name, and funded with desirable prizes."
A tear formed at Hadrian's eye. His lip trembled faintly. He continued.
"I announce here how the city at Middle Egypt we were to inaugurate today in my honor by the name of Hadrianopolis is now relinquished. It is cancelled.
Instead, I announce the inauguration of the new city of Antinoopolis. It is to be the liturgical centre of the cult of Antinous Divus at the place where he fell into the river and today's miracles have occurred. The new city is to be peopled with Romans and Greeks, mainly discharged Legionaries. They will be provided with free land and seed here. This will encourage immigration.
A mausoleum housing the eternal remains of Antinous Divus will be erected at Antinoopolis to be the focus of the new city and attract pilgrims to its miracles and rites. Memorial statues of Antinous Divus are to be crafted plentifully for dissemination across the Middle Sea.
His arete will be celebrated at Antinoopolis just as in life he had recommended Caesar's be celebrated at this place. Hail Antinous! And hail to the foundation of Antinoopolis!"
Hadrian collapsed to his chair to rest. A rumble of chattering voices swept across the assembly, slowly surging to burst into enthusiastic applause. Cries of Hail Caesar! and Hail Antinous Divus! were shouted. They were accompanied by stamping of feet, rattling of swords on shields, and shrill whistles by the troops.
The priest Pachrates strode across the stone flagging and struck the granite slabs loudly three times with his staff. A hush resumed. Pachrates was beaming. Things had turned his way at last.
"Great Pharaoh! Hail to you! We too hail Osiris Reborn, the youth Antinous reborn in the guise of Antinous-Osiris! Now, Caesar, witness the light of Amun-Re on this Day of Antinous, Divine Healer and Protector of the Young, risen like Apollo Phoebus as a sign of restored vigor to the Great Pharaoh Hadrian and his Empire!"
As he uttered his praises he thrust his ceremonial scepter high towards the eight high cedar doors arcing between pillars behind the sanctuary. The priests stationed by the doors began chanting a deeply sonorous incantation. At Pachrates' cue, united as one, they swung open the heavy cedar portals facing the chamber with a single mighty heave. It permitted a shimmering blaze of morning sunlight to flood into the stony interior.
During the debacle with Hagne and Scorilo the sun had fully risen beyond the eastern ranges opposite the temple. Its shining luminosity now swamped the broody gloom of the sanctuary with brilliant splendor. All eyes were enchanted by the intensity of the vision. Rows of priests rattled their systra and banged their cymbals or tambours to a crescendo as they completed their chant. Pachrates finalized it with a prayer of praise.
"Hail Amun-Re, the Hidden God who reveals Himself in Light and in all other deities, and reveals Himself in Antinous-Osiris Reborn!"
The central statue of Osiris as Serapis stood in sharp silhouette against the morning brightness. Its long shadow fell meaningfully through curling incense clouds across the bier supporting the dead Bithynian. Pachrates and Kenamun threw their priest's staffs to the stones with a resounding clatter as each of the assembled clerics fell to their knees to prostrate themselves in reverence to the new incarnation of their deity lying upon the bier.
Hadrian rose slowly, tiredly, exhaustedly from his throne. He paused thoughtfully and muttered something half-voiced towards the assembled onlookers.
Many in the chamber missed his words, but Suetonius, Clarus, Surisca, and Strabon heard clearly. Thais and Lysias too caught the phrase, while Geta's response indicated he too had apprehended the remark. The Augusta turned in reaction while Arrian stood motionless in grave solemnity. They had heard him intone feebly, even reluctantly:
"Love is something to be pitied in a Caesar. Pitied."
Hadrian signaled to his retinue with his eagle-tipped baton of office to dismiss the assembly. He clasped his puke-soiled toga folds about himself and lunged unsteadily towards the entrance corridors followed by his staff and soldiers. He paused by the bier to look upon the face of his departed companion as the morning sunlight flared across the youth's calm features.
Caesar lingered for an instant seemingly frozen in eternity. He then averted his eyes to move speedily away. Duty called. The business of governance beckoned. The Empire waited impatiently. Sentiment will be postponed to some other time.
Suetonius again detected the glint of moisture at his eyes as the Princeps passed by.
Yet, the biographer wondered to himself, is it really true love is something to be pitied in a Caesar?