'Why, Antinous, it is Senator Commodus. He's a close friend of Caesar,' was the reply in a restrained whisper. 'He arrived from Rome recently and is residing at Caesar's villa.'
I suppose in the eyes of Antinous and Lysias the young senator was a revealing exponent of the current high-fashion at Rome. The senator displayed it with the studied, urbane, supercilious confidence seemingly ingrained in Rome's patrician class.
Hadrian did not wear a toga nor his Imperator's military cuirass, but was dressed in Greek attire. Both his tunic and mantle, however, were of an opulent Tyrian purple trimmed in finely embroidered golden eagles as befits an emperor who is to act as president of The Great Dionysia. He wore no other decorative devices other than a simple wreath of natural grapevines encircling his head. This was a leafy corona heralding spring, symbolic of the cult of Dionysius and the joyful fruits of the vine.
Taking his stand on steps above the courtyard with Arrian and Commodus behind him, Caesar patiently awaited the thirty-odd attendees in the yard to file past and make their proper obeisance. Both Antinous and Lysias followed the others by bending their knee to the yard's gravel while bowing their head in unison and crying Hail Caesar!
Hadrian stepped forward and raised the two Bithynians to stand upright before him.
'Rise, young friends, and welcome. It's a pleasure to see you again,' he stated loudly so all could hear, while glancing back at Commodus with a nodded acknowledgement.
'Geta,' he instructed me nearby, 'ensure Antinous and Lysias of Bithynia share our company closely today. Make sure they and Senator Atticus accompany me close through the procession, and remain close throughout the day's festivities. There's much to discuss between us after all this time.'
I beckoned the three to one side so I could assign them a special position in the cortege.
Beyond the villa gateway a stream of Athenian citizens crowded the street accompanying a larger-than-life-sized wooden effigy of the god Dionysus held aloft by sturdy men. They were led by two youths who, traditionally, were ambiguously dressed in women's attire. Arced boughs of vine leaves and springtime plants were being waved in the air while several huge, pronouncedly-erect wooden phalluses were trundled by teams of acolytes and choristers. Floral garlands symbolizing the arrival of spring adorned the cavalcade, while drummers and tambourine players beat-up a lively noise above the throng.
Spotless black bulls were led by priests of the cult bearing their sacrificial sledgehammer, knives, blood bowl, and flaying tools. Caesar's party fell in behind the musicians as the entire swarm veered gaily towards the looming crag of the Acropolis a mile distant.
On arrival at the open-air Temple of Dionysus at the base of the steep slope beneath the Acropolis many of the women dispersed leaving the males to witness the ritual slaughter of the bulls with the portion-offerings to the god. The effigy of the deity, whose weathered timbers and faded paints told of having witnessed several hundred offerings of the annual Dionysia, was lifted carefully to the stage of the Theater of Dionysus nearby. The theater is a concave stone slab amphitheater rising up the slope of the hillside with a marbled semicircular stage fronting its base. Dionysus was placed prominently on the stage in view of the sixty ascending rows of stone ledges for seating an audience.
On this day at least seventeen thousand persons, of whom only a fraction were women or older children, were clustered together in its concave arc. Several score of Athens' flamboyant hetaerae courtesans in attention-grabbing decolletage, extravagant hairstyles, and exotically inventive face paints, accompanied by their high-paying clients, were attending this first performance day of the year's Dionysia week
The throng of spectators appreciate how this festival is one of the few occasions in the civic life of Athens where citizens, women, freedmen, foreigners, slaves, or even children are permitted to participate in judgment on performances by mass ovation. With many of the festival's dramas possessing discernable parallels to current political life, the applause, jeers, or shrill catcalls could convey popular opinion to the city's rulers with clarity. Century by century, Athens' rulers had wisely listened to the massed ovation of the audience, or to any distinct lack of it.
The row closest to the stage is a line of marble thrones. The central chair is designated to the High Priest of Dionysus at Athens with Hadrian's beside it as the year's President. The remaining thrones seated other priests, the city's Archon, councilors of the city, and senior members of Hadrian's retinue.
Thirteen judges representing each of the city's thirteen deme 'tribes' sat at one wing to umpire each new competing play. The judging panel assessed the quality of the drama and the responses of the audience with equal measure.
Arrian too sat close by Hadrian, as did the elder Herodes Atticus. Elegant Commodus was not seated but stood behind Caesar's shoulder in a close place of favor, while others arranged themselves in nearby positions. Horse Guards and Praetorians hovered discreetly at the end of each of the rows rising up the high amphitheatre, while the Athens Militia policed the upper rows.
I guided Antinous and Lysias to sit or stretch on the stones at the feet of the first row near to Caesar, an agreeably casual arrangement for young men held in high regard, fronting Herodes Junior's chair. I myself stood beside Commodus behind Caesar's presidential throne within earshot of the surrounding conversations.
The Bithynians youngsters were fascinated by the sartorial finesse and skittish manner of the young senator whose opalescent skin has rarely seen direct sunlight. His choice of a formal toga at an event where more relaxed dress predominated showed a degree of hubris. Commodus's voguish persona sparkled and tinkled and effused amid the theater's noisy swarm of earthy Greeks, his glittering twitter almost overwhelming Caesar's imperial gravitas.
The patrician's sprightly manner was visible to all sixty rows. It was the flashy banter and studied fluttering of a noble Roman dandy.
Perhaps, the two wondered with alarm, these were the Court manners and public style of educated gentlemen-of-quality at Rome? Yet they noticed how despite Caesar appearing to be amused and entertained by the bright young thing's vivacity, he — our most lofty of Romans and ultimate arbiter of public taste — did not emulate the senator's display. Nevertheless Commodus made himself the sparkling center of attention.
Suddenly Antinous had a useful idea. I observed he turned to comment laconically to his friend seated beside him on the paving at the rim of the stage floor.
'Don't you feel it's very hot here, Lys?' I could hear at a distance.
'Hot?' Lysias responded quizzically. 'What do you mean? No, not especially, Ant.'
The spring sunshine of Athens was diffuse that day, but not especially intense now the rainy season had passed. Yet neither Lysias nor I sensed the sun was especially bothersome.
A ceremony of the endowment of weapons and armors to thirteen orphans was underway. The thirteen, each barely into their teen years and slight of build, displayed their upper torsos to the assembled spectators while the donations of armor were being fitted and strapped across their bird-boned frames. This display of bare skin had given Antinous food for thought.
'Yes, Lys, I think it is hot today. I need to cool down a little.'
Antinous began to untie the cloth bows at the arms, shoulders, and midriff of his tunic. The folds of the upper half of his chiton dropped away to reveal the full extent of his bare torso lying beneath the diagonal swathe of his himation mantle. Antinous's broad shoulders, cut chest line, orbed abdomen, and tanned muscles were exposed to public view. It was a conspicuously buff vision.