"As gracious as you were when we visited you only yesterday?" Clarus interjected. "You were barely gracious then, madam."
Anna Perenna seethed.
"My lady, we have before us here a terracotta amphora," Suetonius announced for all to hear. "It is thoroughly stoppered and sealed, yet I notice a small leak from one lip. It exudes a dark substance. A dark ruddy substance. May I ask what this urn contains, madam?"
Titianus turned to his consort with a querulous expression. She fumbled a hesitant response but soon resettled into her confident, unflappable manner.
"Special Inspector, I am a priestess of the ancient cult of Anna Perenna. We have a long history at Rome. We specialize in women's matters.
We offer poultices or pessaries to ward off the risk of pregnancy. We offer herbs and medicaments to maximize a woman's fertility or give pleasure. We act as midwives in birthing; we provide love philters and talismans to attract a desired lover; we mix lubricants which arouse partners during sex; and we create paints and pastes to enhance our beauty. We make kohl paint to outline the eyes and to deflect bright sunlight; we mix powders with rich color to apply as rouge or a dusting on our eyelids, cheeks, bosoms, or buttocks. We grind precious metals to scatter as pretty glitters; and we create lip paints in tones of scarlet to make women's mouths sensual and desirable to their menfolk," she explained.
"— And so?" the biographer queried. "The urn?"
"You have in the amphora before you a preparation of secret ingredients which will shortly coalesce into a quantity of lip paint. It takes nine days to mature. Then it is ready to apply."
"What's in the preparation, priestess?"
"Why Inspector, that's a priestess's secret."
"What's in it, priestess? Tell us. We have no secrets here."
Perenna was slowly consumed with a rising vexation.
"It is a secret recipe of ochre, iron ore, and the fucus plant, with the extra coloring of tiny crimson bugs gathered from African cacti. It is all blended into the purified lard of an ass and perfumed with blossom oils. Through its nine day maturation period my cult offers prayers and ceremonies to imbue the mixture with magical power in attracting admirers. That's why it was hallowed by a votive lamp and a phylactery talisman. My clients among the elite swear by the rich color of my lip paint and its power in attracting a lover."
The biographer looked limply towards Clarus and Julianus. He continued unabated.
"Why was this urn raised high upon a ledge, priestess?"
Perenna was thoughtful for only a fleeting moment.
"The fats of the mixture are attractive to rats. The Alexandros seethes with Nile water rats in the bilges, so we keep edible things high beyond their reach."
Suetonius felt stumped again. Surisca leaned across to Suetonius to whisper in his ear.
"The locket, my lord, the locket. It means something."
Suetonius swept the leather-thonged golden locket from Julianus's arm. Perenna's manner stiffened. Both Urbicus' and Scorilo's eyes became riveted to the bubbled case of beaten gold dangling from the thong's loop. It was an ordinary bulla locket of no distinction.
"And what is this, my lady?" Suetonius addressed the priestess. She hesitated briefly.
"It's nothing, just the special prayer that infuses the lip paint with its attracting powers. It is women's secret magic. You need not concern yourself with such fanciful trivia."
Once again Surisca whispered into the biographer's ear.
"She's being evasive. It's something special."
"Strabon, good scribe, read the locket's lip-paint prayer to us," the Special Inspector instructed. "We're not averse to women's magic here."
Strabon took the locket and flicked its catch open. Inside were a small furled square of papyrus and a lock of hair. The hair was light in hue and appeared singed by flame. The scribe also noted a single word scratched on the inside of the case. His eyes widened and he glanced nervously to the biographer for permission to respond.
"Well go on, man, read the prayer," Suetonius pressed. The scribe unfolded the paper. Again, he grew concerned. He had a catch in his throat as he read aloud. "When the King of the Lionhearted Plays with his man-cub no more It's time for the lackey To restore his own pride."
The assembly in the sanctuary rustled with murmuring.
Hadrian fidgeted uncomfortably on his Egyptian high chair, but remained seated. Geta gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. Arrian's head hung low in despondency. Balbilla and the Augusta exchanged meaningful glances. Lysias and Thais grasped each other's hand more firmly. Clarus displayed increasing alarm.
"There's a tress of hair inside, pale in color, and a name is engraved on the interior, sirs," Strabon weakly called.
"What name, scribe?"
"The engraved name is Antinous."
Minds across the chamber raced to interpret the cryptic quatrain and the Bithynian's relationship to it. Why would Caesar's retired eromenos retain such a quaint phylactery? Who was the King? Who was the lackey? What was it all about?
One particular possibility dawned on some in the assembly, something unthinkable, something utterly inadmissible. Was Caesar some form of cinaedus, they wondered? Surely not?
It is not feasible for an admired Princeps to be a cinaedus, these would reason. Such behavior is not within an Imperator's lexicon of attributes. Great dishonor lies in that direction. Cinaedi are objects of derision for their lack of self-control. Surely Caesar is not a cinaedus?
Suetonius again recalled how so few of Hadrian's reported sexual exploits were with women. In fact, to his knowledge, not a single one he could remember. This was despite the tacit assumption an emperor has his unrestrained pick of life's more pleasurable opportunities, of any gender including the female.
Did this mean Hadrian's taste is strictly for his own gender? Fine. This has no real concern in Rome's phallocentric sexual code as long as the maturer contender is strictly the active partner in sex. They who penetrate are virs; those who are receptive are femina or pathicus. To take the passive role is a woman's, a youth's, or an adult pathic's contemptible fate. Even a fellator with males, or a male cunnilinctor with women, are equally unmanly in this code.
For a man to prefer these roles is to invoke the pathicus status. As a pathic cinaedus, he is a shame to his gender and Roman custom.
Suetonius realized the quatrain had added a new elliptical dimension to Hadrian's profile, and done so in full public display. The prospect now tenderly arose that it may have been Antinous who performed the male phallic function, unless the relationship had been a mutually carefree ride there for a ride back in which sexual favors were reciprocated?
Once again Suetonius recalled how outsiders are unlikely to fathom the inner mechanisms of other people's relationships.
But now it was time to determine precisely what fate had befallen Antinous.
"Priestess!" Suetonius demanded, "Show us your lip paint! Open your urn before Caesar and our assembly!"
Macedo carried the terracotta pot to the priestess and pressed it into her unwilling grasp. Perenna looked around at the surrounding assembly of observers whose eyes were fixed upon her and her pot. Reluctantly, she grasped the amphora and strained at the wax-sealed stopper, her eyes gleaming in fierce resentment. The plug broke away after some effort. She held the open urn forward brazenly towards her interrogators for inspection.
Governor Titianus beside her leaned towards the mouth of the jar and peered inside. He withdrew smartly as its odor stung his nostrils.
"Blood. Rotting blood. Pints of it. Must be several days old. Goes off quickly in this climate. Smells of a battlefield or an arena's sands. Repulsive stuff!"