George Gardiner - A Forbidden History.The Hadrian enigma

"No, Suetonius, I am no Wolf Warrior. I do not drink blood. I am no stalking wolf.

Long ago I may have fancied I would revenge my dead father's memory. I swore an oath to my father before he killed himself how I would revenge his death by killing the loved one of the king responsible. At that time it was Caesar Trajan. I was a child. I knew nothing of the world, of life and death, war, or revenge, let alone happiness and love.

But since those days I have seen ways to live other than the Way of the Wolf Warriors and death-hungry Zalmoxis. The cruel law of wolves, blood feuds, blood revenge, savage living, and eager death, have been overtaken by the Roman way of living peacefully with others to enhance this life, not idolize death and the afterlife. At Rome even condemned criminals are given an opportunity as gladiators for extended life, for a while.

Under Hadrian, Rome's way of using man's ingenuity to grow harvests, press oil and wine, build fine edifices, have cleansing drains and sweet drinking water, public facilities to stay clean of body, to enjoy sociable company at the Forum or at the Baths or in happy festivals, becomes our priority. Under Hadrian even war is constrained by sealed borders with barbarian invaders, and by sensible laws within those borders. This allows energy to be invested in peace and productivity. My childhood oath to revenge the disorders of my heritage has faded beneath the attraction of gentler goals and happier ways."

"Then who are the wolf and the She Wolf? Who still drinks blood? Who still exacts revenge? Who killed Antinous like a stalking wolf?" the Special Inspector asked.

"I don't know, Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus," Geta responded. "Yet these people, whoever they are, are still among us somewhere. If we mistakenly seize the wrong contenders then we will have revealed our suspicions. This will unwittingly place Caesar's life at risk from the real offenders. We must not do that. I have too much respect for our Caesar and will protect him to the end. Long may he live!

Instead, we must set a trap so the stalking wolves reveal their crimes from their own mouths. They must confess their conspiracies aloud for all to hear before witnesses. Otherwise they will await another opportunity to stalk and kill.

In saying this to you, my final purification occurs and my child's oath of revenge is finally erased. The burden of a lifetime is discarded. I am free of Zalmoxis at last!"

Geta's hand reached up to another hand lying across his shoulder. He grasped Surisca's knuckles and held them firm. The cuckold in Suetonius felt his stomach churn.

"Are Lysias and Thais protected safe within the Imperial Household, Dacian?" Suetonius queried. "We understand ruffians were seeking to kill them?"

"Yes. Quaestor Julianus is protecting them at the Companion's stables. They will rejoin your group at the assembly before dawn."

"When do you think Caesar will demand our report on Antinous's death?" Clarus enquired. "He told us it is to be by dawn today, no later."

"I have no idea, Senator. He hasn't mentioned your investigation. Dawn is to be the Bithynian's memorial, plus the inauguration of the new city of Hadrianopolis. But everyone who's anyone is summoned to attend. It is likely to include the stalking wolves."

"But Geta, how will we determine who are these wolves and the She Wolf?" Suetonius asked helplessly.

"Use your wits, Special Inspector. Caesar relies on your intuition and perceptiveness," he said. "We must identify and destroy the stalking wolves. We must uncover what actually happened to the young Bithynian."

Brazier cauldrons raised high on iron tripods cast shimmering flames into the night sky. They flickered and flared above the wide expanse of the Imperial Household's reception platform. Pre-dawn mists clung close to the earth snaking in thin, meandering drifts.

A dais draped in scarlet cloth was surmounted with the emperor's personal standard while gilded stools and chairs awaited the arrival of their Imperial occupants. Rows of Horse Guards and Praetorians in polished uniforms glinted beneath the flickering light.

Ghostly shapes swathed in black wools or silk shawls emerged from the darkness of the surrounding lanes and alleys preceded by lantern-bearers. The figures streamed in mourning's deep solemnity to their appointed stations around the platform. Few spoke except for an exchange of murmurs accompanied by a restrained nod here and there.

To one side stood a high palanquin with stalwart Egyptian bearers at respectful attention. The waspish Pachrates and his thickset associate Kenamun were arrayed in majestic leopard-skin mantles above their starched linens, and adorned with bracelets, chains, and jeweled ornaments. They brandished ornate scepters of office while methodically flicking insect whisks of bleached horsetails as they stood before the bier. A brace of Nubian temple guards stood watch nearby with glistening, long-bladed assegais shining beneath the brazier light.

The four-posted palanquin supported a sumptuous bed of white blooms exuding a potent scent. The pale figure of Antinous lay along the bier atop his white cloak, his arms crossed to each shoulder in the Egyptian style, in seeming relaxed repose.

He was dressed in his silvery parade-ground hunting uniform of leathers inlayed in white enameled decors. His white-crested Companions' helmet in the Attic style and silver cavalry mask won as a trophy at the Trojan Games of Athens, were stowed to one side. His gladius sword and dagger lay belted at his right hip as befits someone disposed to left-handed action. A finely-worked silver filigree corona wreathed blond coarse-chopped locks.

Suetonius noted there was no jewel on his hand, especially not the vivid lapis lazuli Abrasax ring gifted by Hadrian.

Only the unhealthy pallor of skin's complexion suggested Antinous was other than taking his ease. His powdery hue confirmed it was certain to be eternal. Six Egyptian canopic jars, three along each side sealed with sculpted stoppers in the shape of the goddess Isis, attended him in his eternal slumber.

Suetonius, Clarus, Strabon, and Surisca approached from Vestinus's chambers led by Companions' grooms holding torches high. Thais and Lysias followed close behind. Lysias was holding Thais's hand.

Both gasped at their first sight of the palanquin and its occupant.

Thais distractedly continued walking towards the funerary carriage but Lysias drew her back by one elbow and a gentle squeeze. Suetonius detected tears welling at the rim of her eyes, and perhaps Lysias's too. Neither had seen their friend since the memorable day prior to his death. The spectacle of his eternal repose unsettled them.

The Augusta, Vibia Sabina, with several female courtiers accompanied by Julia Balbilla and a brace of Horse Guards, approached from a laneway leading from The Dionysus moored offshore. The band of women moved collectively as a cabal of somber, shrouded black veils.

Sabina took her seat in a high-backed matron's chair on the dais with Balbilla standing a pace off nearby. Both demurely retained their head cover in such a public place.

Suetonius cast his eyes around this taciturn, brooding ensemble. He made mental notes of several of the attendees in the light of the recent testimonies. Here, he contemplated, were the governing elite of Rome with their assorted hangers-on, all arrayed in rank order in an improbable silence in the desert's deep dark several hundred miles distant from any real centre of civilization.

Governor Flavius Titianus and his consort Anna Perenna stood to one side on the official dais accompanied by a cohort of Alexandrian Praetorians. The consort's ashen face-paint and bleached powders with striking kohl outlines and scarlet highlights pierced the night's gloom. Centurion Quintus Urbicus, stood ahead of his troop to one side of the consort, his fish-scale armor, crested helmet, and weapons glinting beneath the flames.