Адриан Голдсуорти - The Fort

They had to pause because Trajan had slowed and was showing pleasure at the story, listening as he gave instructions to the young slave to dole out more bounties to the crowd. Seeing his interest, the old senator spoke even louder. ‘So after a few more days, Caesar Augustus decides to have a game with the rogue. Next morning, instead of ignoring him, he strides right up to the little fellow and declaims a verse of his own.’

Hadrian smiled. It was a good story.

‘Maybe the man ought to have been an actor rather than a peddler of verses, for he reacts well, praising the poem to the skies. Then out with his purse, pulls the string open and pours out the contents into Caesar’s hand. Only a couple of asses there. Well, that’s why he was begging. “I wish that I had more with which to recognise your art,” he says, “but here, you must take my last coins as well as my praise and blessing!”

‘Augustus liked a joke and knew when he was beaten. Clapped the fellow on the shoulder and sent a boy to give him a full purse!’

Trajan laughed. A few began laughing at the same instant and the remainder took their cue from the master of the world. Laberius contented himself with a wry smile, but he was an especially old and trusted friend.

‘I do hope that there are no poets here today,’ the emperor declared, producing more laughter.

‘I know a good one about Priapus!’ someone shouted from the crowd.

‘Quick, give him some money to keep it to himself,’ Trajan called to the boy, the loudest instruction he had given, and there were cheers.

After a few more minutes, they were almost at the house of their host, the doors of the atrium standing open and the welcoming party visible.

‘It would be a wise gesture,’ Laberius said, and the merest flick of his eyes towards the emperor’s straight back was sufficient to show that he was not speaking solely for himself.

‘And the father’s injudicious actions?’ Hadrian asked. The elder Crassus had plotted to overthrow Nerva, the old man made an emperor by the Senate after the murder of the unlamented Domitian seven years ago, who had in turn adopted Trajan and raised him to the purple. He was now in exile, albeit a comfortable one at Tarentum rather than on some bare rock out at sea.

‘Almost forgotten and not the fault of his son. Let the youngster have a chance to prove himself and redeem the family.’

‘I see.’ Hadrian thought for a moment. The father was a fool, his plot a badly run farce easily discovered and defeated. The son certainly looked a halfwit, but with the legion dispersed in so many detachments, it should be easy enough to keep him at a distance. Stupidity was tiresome to observe in detail. ‘I daresay I could find work for him somewhere.’

‘Not too far away,’ Laberius said as if reading his thoughts. ‘As you might say, keep eyes and ears on him.’ There was clearly more, but by this time they had arrived and there was no more chance to talk for some hours.

The dinner was pleasant enough. Their host, a noted epicure, knew the emperor well and had judged his tastes nicely. The food was fine, but not so fine that it was too exotic or ostentatiously expensive. The wine was decent, some of it scented as Trajan liked, and all of it plentiful. All of the guests were men, for the host’s wife had died years before and he had never taken another. Conversation flowed easily, with much merriment and jokes at the host’s and guests’ expense. A few of those present knew Trajan well enough to mock his habit of eating too fast or his abrupt, martial way of speaking and other idiosyncrasies that the emperor himself liked to laugh at. All was perfectly balanced, as was the talk, most of it innocuous, yet to the discerning observer helping to confirm the pecking order of those nearest the princeps. Little was serious, even less important, and Hadrian as the youngest man there said less than the others as was proper, refrained from correcting a number of ill-considered statements, and listened whenever there was something that truly mattered.

Another war with Dacia seemed likely, perhaps even inevitable, for there were more and more reports that King Decebalus was violating the treaty. Sosius’ most recent letters had told Hadrian even more than the emperor seemed to know, speaking of envoys of the king ranging widely to seek allies. That letter had come weeks ago, and another was surely due. Still, experience taught that it was best to trust Sosius and let the man go about his dark business without close supervision.

‘We will prepare this summer,’ Trajan said after a question from their host about the rumours. ‘Get most of the men and stores in place by the end of the year. Then next spring I will march into the mountains again and smash Decebalus if he won’t see sense. Ought to know by now that he is no longer dealing with Domitian.’

The diners voiced agreement more or less loudly. Most of them had served with the emperor in the previous war.

Hadrian, relieved to hear that there would be a campaign before his spell as commander of the legion was up, was even more pleased when Trajan followed up by addressing him.

‘My cousin will precede us all,’ he declared, voice slightly louder than necessary and words just a little slurred. Trajan rarely spoke of Hadrian as a relation, so that too was welcome. ‘I shall expect you to take a good look at the situation and report to me. Put that nosiness of yours to good use for a change, eh?’ Trajan tapped his own nose as the company laughed, and Hadrian tried to seem abashed but good humoured.

Trajan suddenly jabbed a finger towards him. ‘Find out what that Dacian bugger is up to! That’s what I want you to do!’ He turned to his host. ‘He’s a clever bastard, you know.’

Hadrian was not sure whether the emperor was referring to him or Decebalus. After that the talk drifted away to other matters, most of them trivial. There was less and less need to pay close attention as the evening wore on. A Trajan full of wine loved to tell long stories about past campaigns.

Nature called, and Hadrian was shown by a slave girl the way to the lavatory. Noticing that Laberius had risen and was following, but pretending not to have seen the other man, Hadrian slapped the girl on the rump. She gave a little squeal, but had the subdued expression of so many slaves and even this show bored him.

There were three wooden seats, the sound of water trickling constantly from below and a strong scent from incense burning around the hanging lamp to cover almost all the smell. Laberius came in, lifting his tunic to sit alongside and soon started to talk. Hadrian wondered how often matters of state were discussed by two men defecating, but paid close attention.

The next morning Laberius went to call upon the emperor and was given a private audience, rather than being received with others obeying the same courtesy.

‘You spoke to him?’ Trajan’s voice was gruff, but then it often was. There was no sign of the after-effects of last night’s wine, even though any man must have felt them.

‘I did.’

‘And explained.’

‘As much as he need know.’

‘Good.’ Trajan had a habit of rubbing his chin. His hair was dark and thick, and Laberius knew that he often was shaved more than once a day. ‘Let’s hope the little shit can do his job.’

‘You really do not like him, do you, my lord?’

Trajan shrugged. ‘Don’t have to like him, he’s family.’

‘But he is capable,’ Laberius said, ‘and very bright indeed.’

‘Exactly. How can you trust a man as clever as that?’

‘Spoken like a Roman, my lord, if you will forgive me for saying so!’

The emperor’s laugh was rich and deep. He liked that. ‘Well, thank you, but I had better get back to work being polite.’ He clapped Laberius on the shoulder. ‘You can go back to sleep again, if you like!’