We other boys were glad it was not us who had to perform this rite before such distinguished company. Not one of us was ready for the prospect.
The ritual is perceived to be a demanding trial of a person's presentation skills. A command of personal composure, vocal declamation, poetic skill, and understated ritual gesture was on show. Restraint and confidence coupled with a degree of drama was the desired effect. I recalled how we had seen our elders perform the rite at public celebrations many times, but it demands nerves of iron and a steady hand coupled with a solemn sense of theater.
Antinous bravely stepped forward from his couch, adjusted his chiton nervously, and ceremoniously guided each steward with the rite's token gestures towards a 30/70 mix of water with the wine into the krater. He then studiously spooned-in a pot of honey. He performed the ceremony with the studied intensity expected of an honored ritual.
He boldly proclaimed the traditional prayer of the poet Alkaeus in a firm voice, just as we had heard his father and our elder brothers intone at palaestra parties, family feasts, or public sacrifices.
The assembly shouted a cheery agreement to Alkaeus's call for Dionysus's great gift of the vine to man as the mixed jars were poured liberally around. I saw Hadrian, Arrian, Julianus, and others glanced towards each other meaningfully just as they did at the Hunt. They had approving smiles.
It dawned on us both how Antinous might be the centre of attention in more ways than he had considered, though we could not be sure what that attention might be.
Other than the strips of roasted boar flesh and the free flowing wines, the precise courses of food served that evening is a foggy memory. They were many, and included victuals we had never eaten previously.
Antinous and I cautiously ate oysters from the Sea of Marmara for the first time, plus out-of-season fruits pickled in honey syrup. We tasted tiny spiced game birds of an unknown breed but delicious to the taste, and sipped prized Falernian and Setian wines from Italy for the very first time.
A schedule of entertainments began. It was devised, we suspected, to amuse youngsters. Comic actors and mime artists imported from Byzantium performed amusingly vulgar excerpts from classic comedy with many rude fart jokes and eunuch jibes. They were received with howls of laughter.
Jugglers and acrobats from Mauritania performed ingenious human contortions, while barbaric dancers with lithe bodies from Gades in Hispania surged and whirled to wild drummers.
An Egyptian wizard in quaint priestly garb amazed us with inexplicable acts of plucking objects from thin air and then manipulating their utter disappearance in an instant.
A gravel-voiced bard striking a resonant lyre chanted well-known stanzas of The Iliad's battle scenes telling of bone-crushing violence and the death of heroes at Troy. Our audience chanted along with him in the more familiar citations from Homer.
Lord Arrian took the podium to read aloud a short chapter from his writings of A History of Alexander. This is his own work-in-progress, we were told, a biography of the Macedonian king describing his remarkable military strategy for victory at Issus against the Persians. We, his audience, well appreciated the intricacies of the ancient hoplite phalanx with its long sarissa-pike charge which accompanied Alexander's cavalry to victory. We applauded our national hero rousingly.
As the evening progressed and the wine warmed the blood, a silver-voiced Syrian lad whose elegant attire and fine-boned features suggested he was a member of the aristocracy not a slave or low-class entertainer, sung erotic poems by ancient Theognis of Megara. He appeared to address his songs towards the emperor.
These words shifted the mood of the occasion into a mellow place. At one point both Antinous and I wondered if there was more than laurel burning on the altar or steeped in the wine because the occasion took on a richly affective afterglow. Warm delight soothed anxious brows; we were at our ease in a place of balmy delight. It was all very agreeable.
At another time Antinous strung his trophy boar's ears and snout into an arc across his head, wearing the animal's remnants like a silly hat giving him the appearance of having piggy ears. He danced about on his couch in a comical fashion portraying the beast dying under Hadrian's knife cast. This jovial routine amused everyone heartily. Antinous had been tipsy before, but perhaps never quite as tipsy as this night, I recall. At least he was a happy drunk and yet he seemed to retain his senses nevertheless..
Thaletas, a rich man's son from Byzantium who had cavalry aspirations, found himself attracted to one of the pretty slave girl flautists. He chatted her up and had her reclining beside him on his couch feeding him wine and morsels from platters. At some point they disappeared from the party and returned after a while with Thaletas visibly disheveled but grinning from ear to ear. He had obviously enjoyed something more bodily than wine.
Another guy who was the son of an important councilor at Nicomedia had arrived with a strapping fellow a few years his senior who we all assumed was a family bodyguard. He had stood all evening behind the lad's dining couch in a protective way, though they often shared the food and drink from a common plate. As the evening progressed the two became observably friendlier to each other. When they shifted into lying side by side on the couch and being tactile with each other it dawned on the other diners that they were in fact an item.
Whispers circulated how the older guy was of quality birth, a respected ephebe captain of the Nicomedia militia, and had been the approved erastes to his younger eromenos for the previous year.
It crossed our minds how any of the younger slaves or musicians of either gender who might appeal to us were available for similar diversions. But both Antinous and I remained discreetly aloof from any lascivious behavior to ensure we didn't infringe an unspoken rule of manners in such august company.
Geta the Dacian joined me at one point to engage in idle talk while pouring generous dollops of Falernian into each other's rhytons in the rowdy, boozy, drunken Greek manner. I was sober enough, however, to recognize how Geta cleverly inserted into the conversation questions exploring the details of my relationship with Antinous. He searched to discover if Antinous and I were committed as erastes and eromenos, as mentor and pupil, lover and beloved. This was despite us being of a similar age in contradiction of the usual custom.
I neglected to reveal to Geta how, as the proposed leading partner in the mentoring role by virtue of my few months extra age, I didn't have the courage to put the proposition to Antinous. But I knew I would be devastated if Ant rejected me. If it transpired he agreed however, as I expected there was a chance he might, then I wouldn't have had the courage to approach his father for his authority too.
As the evening drew on it became apparent Caesar was calling each of the boys to his couch, one by one, for a personal chat. A secretary had delivered a small chest containing tight-rolled scrolls in ivory encasements. These were purple ribboned and bound with the small bulla seal of official documents.
Each of the six meirakia young men was summoned by Geta, and as each departed Caesar's couch after a five-minute conversation it was evident the fellow was smiling with satisfaction at what had transpired.
'Caesar awaits you, Lysias of Claudiopolis,' Geta said formally to me, throwing his glance back towards the emperor's couch. I arose and joined Caesar's company, nodding an excited grin at Antinous as I passed by.
Hadrian was relaxed and friendly.
'Tell me, Lysias of Claudiopolis, have you enjoyed yourself today?' he asked while the most senior steward filled both our rhytons. 'It's been a most engaging occasion, don't you think?'