“We were sent by a great Caesar. He told us to fulfill all your wishes, master.”
“My desires?” Marcus hesitated.
“Of course!” Benedicta laughed with a soft cooing laugh.
Theodotus at this time lit the lamp and put it on a table next to the fruit. Marcus saw a very young, twelve-year-old black boy dressed in a tunic. Benedicta turned out to be a nice girl, also young and slender. She was a little older than Marcus. He also noticed in one of the walls opposite a subtle light beating from an inconspicuous crack. Or from a hole. Someone was watching them. It was Hadrian understood Marcus.
Marcus immediately recalled the words spoken to him in the morning by Caesar about possession, about passion. Hadrian ordered him to let himself go, with his head immersed into the river of desires. But did he really want Marcus to lose his virginity in Tibur? What if it was a test? Perhaps Hadrian wants to make sure that Marcus was able to own himself in difficult moments when he was subjected to temptations that not every mortal can withstand? After all, Hadrian was almost a god, who could control passions. Even his connection with Antinous did not look mad against the background of the orderly and leisurely life that this art lover led.
Antinous could have just been a decoration, an expensive ring on the finger, which could be used for bragging to friends, as if a perfect work of art.
Meanwhile, Marcus felt the girl's fingers on his body. Her hand caressed, stroked his neck, his chest; she fell to her knees. Theodotus on the side step climbed on the bed and lay down next to him. He started kissing Marcus, cuddling him harder and harder. But Marcus instinctively distanced himself from them, from the boy and from Benedicta.
“We went to the thermae, master,” Benedicta said, thinking that Marcus was confused by the smell that usually comes from slaves—the stink of an unwashed body. “We poured odorous reed water on ourselves.”
“No, no!” Marcus muttered, resisting temptation.
He did not know why, why he had to fight, because his body had already surrendered, he felt it.
In his head there were images of Antinous, Psyche, Venus, whose naked sculptures were exhibited in the villa. In the afternoon, Marcus walked with the emperor past them, stopped, considered. Hadrian was silent and did not comment, sometimes looking closely at the young man. There were also busts of Cupids with The Amours. Naked and chubby boys buzzed cheerfully in copper pipes, calling the god Eros; Priapus with protruding phallus, which is a symbol of eternal fertility and the prevention of misfortune.
Meanwhile, Marcus observed that Benedicta has stopped touching him between his legs. She took out her wet arm from under his tunic and wiped it. She clearly did not know what to do next, whether to continue her caresses or, together with Theodotus, leave the master devastated by new sensations. The gap in the wall flashed with a bright reflection, disappeared, and the girl, as if receiving an inaudible order from Hadrian decided to leave the room. She called her little companion.
The lights go out, the curtain falls, the actors go away.
Marcus, leaned back, lay on the bed, feeling his face burning with hot fire and his body melting in a sweet languor. He handled himself. That's what he thought. He withstood the test prepared by Hadrian. But was it really true, did Caesar think so? Marcus didn't know.
Belated difference
Even before coming to Tibur, Hadrian thought about who to appoint as consuls in the new year.25 He sorted through the candidates of patricians, pondered, stroking his stalwart Molossian dog, who ran around the hall, knocking on the tiles with long claws. Hadrian left his beloved greyhound in Greece—he had many dogs at every estate. He liked dogs more than people, because compared to them they demanded nothing but their master's love.
Sometimes he wondered how glorious it would be if dogs surrounded him instead of people. Faithful, unpretentious, inexpensive, big savings for the budget of the country.
This dog's name was Gilax, which in Greek meant “barking”—the nickname Hadrian borrowed from Virgil, although he did not really like this epic poet. He took Gilax with him to hunt, at a time when others preferred to use the Molossian breed only for protection, as guard dogs. However, it was convenient to have a hunter and guard in one person.
The emperor decided on the first consul at once. Titus Vibius Varus from the venerable senatorial family had coped well with the management of Cilicia, where Caesar appointed him governor a few years ago. Now, his skills would come in handy in Rome. Good officials have always been invaluable, under any emperor.
The second candidate caused more difficulty. Which senators to choose? Who should be assigned an important post? Hadrian in the choice did not hold back anything. He recalled a time when his mad predecessor Caligula introduced a horse into the Senate building, wanting to humiliate the venerable and noble elders. But that was not Hadrian's way.
He preferred to cooperate with the Senate rather than quarrel. And although he suspected a hidden opposition inside the patricians, the discontent had been largely squashed when it had first arisen. At the very beginning of his reign, he had destroyed the conspirators, for a bad quarrel is still better than a good war.
After much deliberation, he settled on the ninety-year-old Lucius Julius Servianus.
He, though deep in age, was a mobile man, had a bright mind and a good memory. In addition, he had a lot of experience; he was appointed consul for the third time, was at Domitian, under Nerve, and now he has been under him, Hadrian. In addition to his age, Servianus also had a no less solid appearance. A huge bald head with a big forehead testified to the mind of the owner, and the wide, developed jaws spoke of the firmness of character.
Servianus took office in January, and in the summer the emperor thought he had done the right thing by appointing an elder to the site. With such a reliable person, a zealot of the foundations, but at the same time, with shaky health, there was nothing to fear for power. In addition, Servianus was a relative—Emperor Trajan married him to Pauline, the older sister of Hadrian. Almost twenty years of age difference between the spouses did not confuse anyone, although the young groom was then fifty.
He accepted Servianus.
“Welcome to you, my dear Lucius!”
Hadrian spread his arms wide and cordially and hugged the old consul.
“Thank the gods, Caesar! You look good. I've been told about your illnesses, but I didn't really believe it. I keep remembering that hunt where you hit a lion running right at us with a spear.”
The Emperor frowned for a moment—his court medic Hermogenes chatted too much—but still managed to keep a friendly expression on his face.
“I have ailments, Servianus. They pass quickly thanks to the gods, and of course Asclepius.26 Illnesses bypass me. And yet, I'm about to be sixty, the stars advise me to choose an heir. Sabina and I have no children, it's time to choose a worthy patrician, who will continue to rule the state with honor.”
“Haven't you decided on a successor yet?” Servianus decided to clarify cautiously. “I heard about the young Marcus Annius. His great-grandfather, Annius Verus, a famous man, was, like me, a three-time consul. Of course, Marcus is a worthy candidate…”
Hadrian covered his purple toga harder, fearing that the interlocutor would see blood stains somewhere. Narcissistic, insidious, charming, intelligent, and artistic—he possessed all the qualities to become great. Life often seemed to him a game, a funny charade, which could be thrown to the opponent. Then step aside and watch him decide it.
He recently planted such a riddle on the young Marcus Verus, about which Servianus spoke. He sent young slaves to him and watched from the shelter. The young man's behavior, frankly, caused him different, contradictory thoughts.
Marcus was steadfast before the temptation, he did not give up, and if not for the betrayal of the body, perhaps, would have handled himself. But still, Augustus, the highest person of the state,