'Tell me, Antinous of Claudiopolis, what else do you know of Alexander? Who was Alexander's most important comrade? Name some of his Companions.'
The question seemed to both Antinous and I to be a further simple schoolboy's test.
'His strategic comrades, my Lord, were great heroes,' Antinous proposed. 'Lysias, my friend here, and I would probably name from among his Companions his general Cleitus as his worthiest comrade. He saved Alexander's life at the Battle of Issus and always spoke the truth, despite the king's eventual drunken murder of him.'
I was hugely flattered to be included by Antinous in this erudite summary. Yet Antinous continued.
'But for me, of course, it was his Commander of the Companions and fellow prince, Hephaestion, who was most important. Their great friendship sings across the ages and enters our hearts even today, my Lord.'
Antinous is a fond admirer of the Greek heroic classics. Unlike Alexander he doesn't keep a copy of The Iliad under his pillow, but he has several precious scrolls of such books in his personal chest.
Hadrian and Arrian shared a further meeting of eyes. It contained a coded message beyond our understanding. Hadrian then changed the subject.
'Where did you two lads learn to cleave to mountain ponies with such mastery? You must teach us your skills,' he stated with perhaps excessive flattery. 'It was a sight to behold. Your mounts are unique creatures and deserve their own reward. Tonight you and your friends here can serve us your hunt victim grilled on a spit to celebrate your victory. My household will provide the entertainments, and we will dedicate the spoils to the Goddess Artemis herself.'
'But my Lord, if I may speak,' Antinous interjected. He had recovered his civil tongue at last, but spoke out of turn without permission. 'It was not I but you who brought down the beast. I was merely your attendant-at-arms, your page. The actual kill was certainly yours.'
Antinous had retrieved sufficient of his senses to offer this polite diplomacy. I guess Hadrian and Arrian noticed it was expressed without any of the cloying deference of a courtier, which was probably a novelty for them.
'That's very modest of you, lad,' Hadrian offered, 'I praise your tact. But in truth I merely fulfilled its destiny, a destiny resolved by your good scouting, chase, and strike. You deserve your award for your skill and courage. Tonight we will assign you its ears and snout as tokens of your victory. Be proud of your feat, my boy. Each of us here are proud on your behalf, and we rejoice in the day's adventure with you.
Antinous blushed deeply again. I think I blushed too.
Hadrian then turned to Arrian, Julianus, Geta, the Praetorians, and the others who had assembled. He regaled us with a message we grew to appreciate later.
'There's fine talent here among these Greeklings in Bithynia, I see. We must inspect their credentials more closely. If this province is to have a new generation of trained statesmen and administrators, or military officers and governors, we must seek out those worthy of the honor with diligence. Perhaps tonight we will test their quality?'
The assembled hunters slapped their swords against their breastplates in noisy accord while we youngsters looked around to each other with swelling pride.
I noticed Arrian smiling calmly to himself in a manner which suggested he was very pleased indeed with the day's work."
Lysias ceased his recollection and reached for his goblet to sip some wine. He looked reflectively to the floor tiles and shuffled his feet. He had disappeared into a private reverie.
CHAPTER 9
"So, did something unusual happen at the celebration feast?" Suetonius asked.
"Yes, there were intimations of what was to follow," Lysias responded.
"Then tell us about it. But remember, time is passing."
"We six meirakia guys with our attendants were freshly spruced and dressed in our finest attire," Lysias began. "Our status as the guests of honor heartened us sufficiently to cope with so intimidating a social event. After all, it was an Imperial Symposium.
Were we expected to engage in learned displays of rhetoric or philosophical debate? Would it be an ordeal in classical education or a test of scholarly knowledge? Or would it be a wild drunken revel matching our own young men's monthly gatherings in our respective communities?
The hunt victim had been skinned, gutted, cleansed of vermin, dowsed in olive oil and garam sauce, scattered with herbs, plugged with garlic, and slung straddled on a roasting spit above hot coals to be rotated in splashes of basting juices and wine.
When we had assembled at our dining couches, each with an attendant in tow, a horn sounded a fanfare. The barbarian Geta led a column of men from within the marquee into a handsomely gardened dining arena. Hadrian was last in the procession, taking his place at his central couch and adjusting his garments to recline as a signal to everyone to relax. He was again attired in a simple Greek tunic and mantle.
Incense fumes drifted languidly across the dining arc of a dozen or so couches as Arrian saluted Caesar in the crisp manner befitting a senior commander. He had been delegated by Caesar, the host, to be the Leader of the Symposium.
He stepped forward to the centre of the amphitheatre's podium. He took his position as two young girl flautists and a tambourine-thumping boy intoned the opening chords of the symposium's formal prologue. The chords silenced the enthralled assembly of courtiers, we ephebes, the various attendants, and officers of the Guard.
'Hail Caesar! And welcome honorable guests,' Arrian declaimed. 'In this year of the one hundred and fifty-sixth anniversary of the victory at Actium by Caesar Augustus against the enemies of Rome, we salute you.
On behalf of the People and Senate of Rome we celebrate that victory tonight. We regale among us the descendents of our Greek allies of Mantinea now resident at Bithynia who fought at Actium with Augustus in that triumph. In remembrance of Augustus's victory over his enemies by his appeal to Apollo as his special god, we offer praise too to Apollo Paean for that decisive conquest.'
It was now Caesar's cue to participate. Hadrian strode briskly from his couch to the sacrificial altar to one side of the podium. A priest of Apollo in ceremonial garb topped with a fresh laurel-leaf diadem raised a platter piled with the primary organs of the boar killed earlier in the day. As Hadrian intoned the offering in a declamatory style the priest tossed handfuls of laurel, the special favorite of Apollo, and pieces of the flesh into the altar's flames. The mixed smokes rose up to please the god in the heavens.
The melding odors of musky incense, burning laurel, and roasting flesh drifted across the garden arena in a mouth-watering haze. Servants delivered a basket piled high with laurel wreaths interlaced with sprays of wild grasses to adorn each celebrant, accompanied by garlands of blossoms to drape around the shoulders.
Hadrian's clear voice silenced the assembly. He intoned the awarding prayer.
'Blessed siblings, Apollo and Artemis, Our golden Lord of Healing and the Lady of the Hunt, receive these spoils of a choice young boar which Antinous of Claudiopolis killed in your honor. Hail to the victor, Antinous! — And now bring out the food and wine!'
Stewards and slaves appeared from surrounding marquees with goblets, rhytons, large mixing kraters, jugs of wine or water, platters of olives, dried fruits, nuts, figs, wild herbs, and local cheeses.
'Antinous of Claudiopolis, hero of the hunt, as victor you are inducted to do us the honor of mixing our wine!' Hadrian announced to everyone's surprise, especially Ant and I.
Three senior servants approached Antinous offering separate jugs of wine and water for a ceremonial blending into a larger krater bowl. Antinous was utterly startled by this unexpected duty. No one had warned him he would be obliged to perform the ceremony.