The Hadrian Enigma - A Forbidden History by George Gardiner Page A

CUB
    NO MORE
    IT IS TIME FOR THE CUB
    TO LOCATE ITS OWN PRIDE.”
    The weak pun on ‘pride’ might have been intentional, if artless, Suetonius thought. All three of the group grasped its basic message, though there was no way to know if it was in Antinous’s own hand or another’s.
    “ Strabon, keep this wax-pad safe and away from heat until we can identify the writer,” Suetonius instructed. The scribe wrapped the tablets in a cloth and placed it securely within his shoulder basket of tools and pads.
    Clarus then turned to one of the other entrance portals. He heard a sound beyond. The others followed as he tentatively moved through another vestibule outside Antinous’s bedchamber. A further smaller bedchamber extended beyond the vestibule.
    They entered hesitantly. Lying close to the tented wall in the shadows lay a curled figure. It had its back to the visitors. The figure was quietly heaving, huddled against the felts.
    Strabon raised the chamber’s single lamp and played its light onto the bundle of fabric. The bundle realized there was company present and slowly turned towards them, wiping its eyes as it did so. Once again they had intruded into the private space of someone displaying eyes red from weeping.
    It was Lysias of Bithynia, the school-chum friend of Antinous.
    Lysias was already a man. At twenty-four years of age he displayed manhood’s razored bristles, a sturdy athlete’s body, pronounced bone structure, and bright intelligent eyes showing the benefit of well-nourished ancestors. Nevertheless, where many men his age were already senior officers in the Legions slaughtering barbarians at the frontiers or hunting down and crucifying gangs of Judaean bandits in Palaestina, here was this sturdy youth lying curled against a tent wall with his eyes red from weeping.
    “ Come, come, come, lad,” Suetonius called, half in rebuke, half in sympathy, “this is no way for a man of honor to act. Lysias of Bithynia, I believe?”
    They awaited a response. After a few moments the figure turned towards them, wiping his eyes as he shuffled upright. The fellow stumbled clumsily to his feet.
    “ Lysias, son of Lysander of Claudiopolis at Bithynia-Pontus. I travel under the patronage of Antinous, son of Telemachus of Claudiopolis, who is the special companion of Caesar Hadrian. I am a freeborn member of the landholding class of Bithynia and a captain of the Claudiopolis Militia. At your service.”
    He spoke Latin with only a hint of a Greek accent, the audible outcome of a good education at both Nicomedia and at Athens.
    “ Your tears, I assume, are for your former patron Antinous?” Clarus probed, perhaps somewhat unnecessarily. Lysias’s lip trembled.
    “ Yes,” he said simply.
    “ We are Senator Septicius Clarus, a magistrate to the Imperial Household, while I am Suetonius Tranquillus, Special Inspector into the death of Antinous. It is our duty under the seal of Caesar to investigate the circumstances of the Bithynian’s death.”
    “ On behalf of Caesar?!” the youth declaimed daringly. “You mean Lord Caesar does not know?!”
    Clarus and Suetonius were startled by the provocation.
    “ Caesar has delegated this enquiry to us. We are obliged to interview you on the matter, as we are to interview all those involved with the deceased who might know something of the manner and reason for the youth’s death. We possess the authority of law and its instruments of interrogation.”
    Clarus was hinting not so delicately at the range of options open to their investigation, without actually mentioning the fiercest possibility. Suetonius coughed politely, to distract them from any mood of threat which might arise. Not formally being a citizen of Rome, Lysias was potentially subject to the more brutal forms of interrogation.
    Suetonius interceded. “I understand you are -- you were --boyhood friends together?”
    “ Antinous and I have known each other since early childhood; we have