Vestinus innocently sipped his wine and picked at a fig or two after his quietly catapulted incendiary device had lobbed.
Suetonius had to quickly find a way back into his opinions.
"Catamite is a bit hard, isn't it, Julius? Trajan had dozens of similar liaisons, and he was applauded. The relationship isn't one of those castrated marriages of Nero's or incestuous couplings of Caligula. It's even been of four years duration, good grief! There's a definite affection between them that fits the classic Greek custom, so the boy's no cheap gigolo or harlot on-the-make. By Jupiter, they've been together longer than many legal marriages manage these days! Even Sabina approves of the lad. It's the height of respectability! So what's this about a 'Western Favorite'?"
"I think at Rome Hadrian had been seeing a great deal of Commodus again recently before this tour. That's Senator Lucius Ceionius Commodus, the well-known playboy aristocrat," the secretary offered. "Surely you know of him? Some colleagues joke he's Hadrian's western Empire favorite, while Antinous is the eastern favorite," the Secretary offered.
"Senator Commodus is rather profligate, sybaritic, and hopelessly spoiled, but still very good-looking. I think he brings a dash of wildness and frenzy into Caesar's staid sense of duty. Hadrian's relationship with Antinous is more measured, more composed, less frenetic. Yet Commodus is also five years older than Antinous, which contradicts the convention. He's no real match in the looks department, either. Antinous is a classic who becomes more striking with each passing month. Until today, that is, I suppose. Commodus also has the bloodlines, wealth, status, and connections for political advancement, if not the necessary talent."
"So you are suggesting Antinous might have had good reason to suicide?" Suetonius tried to clarify. Vestinus was offering far more than they had expected.
"I don't know if the boy would suicide, or if some other malevolence was at play? Perhaps he simply went for a night-time swim in the river and got into trouble. It happens. The Nile is not a bath-house pool, you know. People drown in it every day. Yet there've been many odd things happening in recent times which make one wonder."
Vestinus ceased suddenly. He realized he might have overstepped an imaginary line somewhere. Suetonius tried to respond as nonchalantly as possible, as though it was impromptu.
"Odd things? What sort of odd things, Julius?" he chanced.
Clarus shifted forward to hear. Vestinus mulled his words carefully.
"Well, there's been a lot going on. There's the competition from the Western Favorite, which I'm sure the lad found intimidating. Then there are people in his own circle who I wonder about. Lysias of Bithynia, for example, his friend of his own age. Does he have reason to be jealous of Antinous? Or that young courtesan Thais, if that's what she is? Or the woman Julia Balbilla who travels with Sabina? Or — ?
Then there's the business with Pachrates, the Egyptian priest we saw earlier. Both Caesar and the lad took a close interest in this charlatan and seem utterly entranced by him. All I see is a clever trickster with a bag of magical trinkets and a line in fast-talk. 'Beware priests selling religion', I say.
Then there's the Nile itself. The river has had a bad season since July; it hasn't risen to the necessary height for large harvests, so the locals are claiming it's the emperor's fault. Too much water or too little are equal disasters in this strange land.
Apparently emperors and pharaohs are not supposed to travel on the Nile during its flood season, it's a bad omen. It brings bad luck. These people are very superstitious. They see omens everywhere, even more than we Romans. And then of course there's Caesar's cough too — "
Vestinus fell silent abruptly. He had said too much.
"Caesar's cough?" the biographer asked as casually as his racing mind could manage. "What about Caesar's cough? Hadrian has long had a mild chest or throat complaint; it's nothing important, is it?"
Vestinus measured his words carefully.
"I am unsure of that, Tranquillus; I am unsure of that indeed. Nowadays he coughs up spots of blood. We are forbidden to talk of it, but it's true. Even his physicians are concerned. But we must not go down that path, Tranquillus, it's forbidden. It gives ambitious discontents big ideas, ideas usually with a huge cost in human life attached."
Much scuffling was heard down the tent corridors. Guards shouting loudly in Latin and Greek alternated by rough accents in the local Demotic dialect sounded nearby. Tribune Macedo stomped into the chamber followed by guards manhandling two peasants struggling with wooden leg shackles.
Macedo's men pushed the two Egyptians to the floor and stood over them. The frightened peasants in their rags, reed sandals, and tattered leather jerkins, looked around the marquee at the ageing men in togas. Macedo saluted.
"The are the two peasants who found the body of Antinous this morning."
Clarus, Vestinus, and Suetonius looked over the duo. They weren't promising material, but at least they were unharmed.
"Does anyone here speak their language," the Special Inspector asked. One of the attending Praetorians stepped forward and saluted.
"Centurion Quintus Urbicus, sir. I am based at Alexandria with Governor Flavius Titianus as an officer of his Guard. I was born at Lambaesis in Numidia and have served with Prefect Turbo in Mauretania. So I know a little of the old languages of Africa and Egypt," he stated with military precision.
"Well, you might translate for us, if you can," Suetonius said. "First, tell them we must have the truth from them or else all sorts of horrible things could happen to them. They'll believe that, I'm sure!"
Praetorian Urbicus spoke in a stumbling way to the Egyptians. From watching their faces carefully reading his lips to follow his misshapen version of the local dialect, it was clear they nevertheless understood what he was saying. They blanched suitably.
Vestinus called quickly to his steward nearby. He explained.
"This man's name is Strabon, my freedman secretary. Strabon specializes in speed dictation. He records testimony verbatim in his special code onto wax notebooks. He later transcribes these in ink onto papyrus. He's good, and he's fast."
Suetonius posed his first questions as Strabon readied with his stylus and waxpad. Urbicus attempted a simple translation, shaping his words hesitantly to be reasonably faithful to his speakers.
"Ask them, Centurion — What are your names? Where are you from? What is your trade? Who is your master?" Suetonius demanded in his best authoritative tone. The Praetorian's translation followed the peasant's responses closely.
"We have no master, great lords," Urbicus interpreted. "We are free tenants of temple land. We are registered by law to our Nome at Besa. My name is Ani; his name is Hetu. We are catchers of fishes and netters of birds. We are cousins. We live with our families in a hut outside the town wall of Besa. Besa is the village near to this city of great palaces. We are worshippers of the god Asar, so we are Asar's servants."
Urbicus added as an aside, "The god they call Asar is the one we call Osiris, the husband of Isis."
"Tell us how you found the body," Suetonius asked. Urbicus translated.
"At dawn of this first day of The Festival of Isis, great lords, we went to the river's edge to untie our fishing boats, as we do every day. It was first light, so early indeed only one other boat was on the river. We were intending to catch red-billed ibis from nests in the river wetlands, but certainly not sacred ibis which is forbidden. Red-billed ibis are good eating. Today, the first day, is the day when Asar dies. In two days time Asar will be reborn. There will be many pilgrims who mourn and praise Asar's death over these days, so the ibis will fetch good prices for the feasting on the day of Asar's resurrection."