“I promise!” replied Commodus, and Marcus put on an iron ring, simple, unadorned on the girl's hand, simultaneously noticing that her palm was as cold as ice. He did not know either Fabia or her father, but the custom allowed him to wait a few years before the wedding, and therefore Marcus treated the event quite calmly. If it was Hadrian's will, that was the way it would be.
Sitting in a Great Circus near his mother, Marcus saw on a vast human sea surrounding him. The first rows were entirely white, for at the races from noble people were required to be only in toga. Today Marcus was also in white, because a year ago he had already received a toga of masculinity. Above them, on the higher tiers sat commoners in a bright and colorful outfit. This human sea was noisy, rustle, buzzing, waiting for the beginning of races, and a beautiful sunny day, which promised to be hot, was in full swing. Upstairs, on specially stretched cables, as hard-working ants crawled slaves, unwrapping fabric, which should create a shadow from the scorching rays of the celestial luminary.
In the Great Circus, where horse races were held, more than a hundred thousand spectators were placed. It was located in the valley between Aventine and Palatine, had three tiers of seats and was surrounded by a high wall. For a few dozen, if not a hundred years, the building of the Circus has changed more than once. It was rebuilt by Octavian and restored by Trajan after the fire. Emperor Claudius ordered marble laid in the horse stalls. The distance-limiting pointers, around which the charioteers made their turn in the four-horses-race, turned from stone to gold.
Horse races have long aroused the interest of the city's residents.
They saw frantically galloping horses with sweat-sloping sides, which were skillfully driven by muscular, strong men. They were captured by the accompanying passion and risk, sometimes deadly, as the charioteers often flew on turns right under the hooves of other people's horses. Finally, the strongest impression was made by the charioteers themselves, who could in certain circumstances become heroes of Rome, and they were them when they received the wreath of the winner and left the Circus at the gate, similar to the triumphal arch. All this led the audience to go wild.
Men rated the thoroughbred horses based on quickness, admired the ability of riders to deftly manage with heavy quadrigas. And women kept their eyes on the charioteers, who risked everything to become winners and earn a triumphal wreath. Their blood, their death, their victory was so exciting and exhilarating that many of the matrons and unmarried women were inclined to have an affair with these intrepid, daring people.
Cheering for the people’s favorites was easy, it was only necessary to choose one of the colors of the tunics of the rider, in which they carried on quadrigas past the stands. At first there were two colors: red and white. Then green and blue were added. Fans divided Rome into factions, forcing citizens to argue to hoarseness and often leading to clashes.
Emperors also did not shy away from horse races. They say Nero was a supporter of the Greens, and Octavian liked white.
A traditional ceremony had already taken place, which was led by the consul Ceionius. He marched in a purple toga embroidered with palm branches, above his head, a state slave carried a golden oak wreath. Around him were numerous clients and relatives, in the middle of which Marcus noticed his future wife, Fabia, and her younger brother, Lucius. They were used to such ceremonies and kept quiet and were not as frightened by large crowds of children shyly clinging to their parents. The procession was called pomp, and according to the established custom took place before each race.
But here the tedious pomp ended, Ceionius took his place over the gates, releasing quadrigas. Meanwhile, special wagons drove through the arena, from where slaves poured water from barrels and scattered everywhere sand, so that the eyes and nostrils of horses were not clogged during the race. Marcus noticed that the water was not simple, but saffron. The water gave pleasure to the floral sweet smell of the senators sitting in the front seats, almost short of reaching the upper rows. Really, why would they? Plebs will cost!
Everyone was waiting for the sign of Ceionius, allowing chariots to take their seats at the start, but the consul somehow hesitated, causing a disgruntled murmur of the crowd.
“I heard that Geminas—favorite of Ceionius is participating in the races,” said Faustina of the mother of Marcus Domitia. He is from the Green Party.”
Faustina the eldest was excited today; she looked with interest at the rows, where the audience of her circle—notable patricians, their wives, people who once held the posts of magistrates and former consuls.49 Sometimes she nodded to acquaintances, sometimes, for the most part men, shot flirtatiously smiles. Today, Faustina was alone. Her husband Titus Antoninus did not like mass spectacles. A devotee of calm and silence, he retired to Lanuvia, where he had a large farm estate, to indulge there the joys of village life.
Soon, all found out the reason for the hitch with the start of the race. Vibia Sabina appeared in the imperial box and the whole Circus stood up to greet her.
“I didn't know Sabine was going to be there,” Faustina said. “They said she's been unwell lately.”
“Yes, she has terrible headaches,” Domitia confirmed. “We don't see each other very often now, but thank the gods, it still gives us protection at court.”
Marcus looked at the imperial lodge and saw Hadrian's lonely wife. From afar he could not see her face, but from the figure of Sabina, as it seemed to him, there was a deep sadness. She was alone, without Hadrian, cold and motionless, like the celestial Juno in the temple, for which there are no human squabbles, hopes, and experiences. Only clouds, only the sky, only the sun. And he, Marcus, was sitting among people, alive, noisy, and restless. It's easy to get lost in this gathering, but it didn't feel lonely. They act as one—the crowd and he, and Sabina apart from them.
But he saw her a year ago, when she was swimming naked with Domitia. She had not yet an old body, she had elastic breasts, a flat, taut belly and there were two Nubian slaves, always ready to serve. She was still alive, not of marble as she was now.
“Is it really power which makes people so cold and lonely? No, it's not for me! I don't want to be like her,” Marcus thought, “I don't want to sit alone in the imperial box, when there are so many earthly joys and pleasures around. And all life lies ahead.”
“As I heard, Sabine didn't like the emperor's choice very much,” Faustina continued. “I'm talking about Commodus. We all hoped that Hadrian would stop at our Marcus, but for some reason, he appointed Ceionius to his son. She didn't tell you the reason?”
“No, my darling!” Domitia replied. “But it's Augustus's decision. We're going to have to be content with Marcus being part of the Ceionius family. After getting engaged, he often invites Marcus to himself, wants to get to know each other closer.”
“Closer?” Faustina snorted derisively. “I'm afraid that this dandy and reveler Commodus can pass on bad habits to Marcus. Ceionius always has Ovid lying on the bed with his “Science of Love,”50 and he often quotes him to the place and out of place.”
“Commodus probably wants to impress. But how do you know everything?”
Faustina grinned pointedly. “I've been to his house. But there's nothing between us.”
“Knowing you, I would be surprised,” Domitia could not resist the stinging remark.
“No, I was with another man. What's the big deal? You can't blame me for bad behavior. My Titus has one boredom. Only talk about the harvest, and the price of grain, and about the drought. But I'm not old enough to lock up with him in Lanuvia.”
“But what about Titus, will he ever know?”
“He's already guessing. But it's forgiving. He is so generous, my Antoninus, that's why I don't divorce him like some matrons who have swapped several husbands. Have you heard of