"Honorable Senator, I defer to your noble station and your wisdom, but you asked the truth of us under threat of legal imposition. Caesar's cough is not a matter which passes by uncommented at Court," the Syri muttered low. "There are those whose future hangs upon such a cough, not least of whom are we ourselves. It's a matter of concern to all. If Caesar became, say, indisposed or fared even worse, then the careers and livelihoods of a large number of people will be suspended until political stability is re-established.
But more importantly, Senator and Special Inspector, are you aware of the cough evinced by Lucius Commodus as well?"
"Commodus too?! The successor designate?"
"Yes, gentlemen."
Suetonius, Clarus, Strabon, and even Surisca were stirred at this revelation.
"The Western Favorite, Caesar's likely successor, also displays an infirmity which is not-to-be-discussed?" Suetonius confirmed.
Aristobulus nodded sagely.
"It is so. Commodus now possesses a hack which, to my ear, sounds extremely similar to the same dry rasp Hadrian was emitting some years ago. I hesitate to suggest they're a related phenomenon," Aristobulus proposed. "Besides, I'm convinced the Bithynian youth knows these things too; he's closer to their source than we are, and he's smart."
The chamber hung heavy with consideration.
"Yet you have not told us how you think these things can lead to a drowning?" Suetonius reminded his company. Phlegon took up the theme.
"On arriving at Alexandria the travelling Court was consumed by its respective obsessions. The bordellos of the Rhakotis and Canopus pleasure quarters received a huge influx of randy clients, while the various exponents of the city's competing ideologies received invitations to dinners.
Hadrian and Antinous were no different. Caesar's passion for foreseeing the future and understanding Fate had him summons experts in Egyptian astrology or had him attending the Serapeum with its priestly adepts of Serapis.
Serapis, this patron god of Alexandria, is extraordinary in that he knits the contending races and gods of Egypt together into a single veneration. Hadrian admires this cohesive facet of Serapis. Our times call for cohesion and unity yet our many diversities pull us apart. The eccentricities of religion are fatal without tolerance, so Hadrian is consumed with his search for an answer which unifies.
Meanwhile Antinous was exploring questions of life after death. I should know, I accompanied him on his excursions into that city's labyrinth of magicians, mystics, and wonder workers."
"The drowning, the drowning, Phlegon," Suetonius reminded the flighty Asian.
"Well, on one occasion we were visited by a man known as Marcion of Sinope in the Christian sector of the city. This Greek is a leading philosopher of one particular school of the Christian superstition," Phlegon offered with a curl of the lip. "This superstition is everywhere these days. Many people regard it as sorcery, sinister and seditious, and deserving of being curbed. They're magicians who pursue eternal life, people say. They worship an executed felon who resurrected from death, they claim. They drink blood at rituals. That's sorcery plain and simple!
But like the Judaeans, they're a volatile lot. They argue against each other fiercely as competing sectarians often do. They have many differing sects and leaders, and don't agree with each other.
This fellow Marcion had assembled a group of fellow fanatics to meet with Antinous. Antinous possesses no legal power yet his closeness to Caesar exerts its own charisma. They were eager for an opportunity to display their allegiance to Rome and have Antinous make a good report to his imperial companion. Leaders of the sectarians were among the group, though I sensed that they differed vehemently on issues of their cult.
The most vocal one, Marcion of Sinope, practices the ascetic, austere teachings of a Christian mystic named Paulus of Tarsas executed in Nero's time. Another, Basilides, is an Egyptian Greek who's expert in the many competing texts of the Christians. Then there was an articulate young fellow named Valentinus, also an Egyptian, who proclaims a complicated philosophy of a gnostikos mystic. His is a fantastical panorama of angelic Archons and a Creator Demiurge among levels of being in the heavens, and so on interminably.
There are many similarities to Judaean teachings, except the Chrestus cults are open to we Romans. They don't demand painful circumcision of the penis or quaint rules of diet and habit as the Judaeans do, but they do demand asceticism. Antinous was eager to hear their views on the afterlife, which they offer plentifully. I suspect their perspectives colored the boy's attitude to life, and perhaps even to drowning."
"In what way, Carian?" Suetonius asked, showing increasing interest.
"The Christians offer a teaching that's all sweetness and light. They paint quite an appealing picture of their odd beliefs," Phlegon expounded. "They claim to show a path from the miseries of life and from sin, which is a type of intense self-punishing guilt about infractions of their ascetical code. But you have to die first to benefit, it seems. However the End of Time is approaching soon anyway. So unlike we Romans, it's not about how to adjust to living life in this world, it's about the promise of an After-Life-To-Come. It's very focused on death and being resurrected someday by their god.
Antinous was given a copy of their most important scripture The Teachings of the Twelve Apostles, known to Greeks as The Didache. It offers a hundred maxims on how you should live your life, which to them means how to prepare for death. It aims to avoid sin, yet they detect sin and fornication absolutely everywhere. They're obsessed!
Their special Savior was a man called Iesous, some sort of Judaean rabbi and wonder-worker crucified as a rebel at Jerusalem a century ago before we destroyed their capital. They claim this sorcerer was their God enveloped in the rabbi's flesh, somehow.
But the important bit for Antinous was the superstition's emphasis on an afterlife. Like the followers of Zoroaster and Egypt's Osiris, they promise their worshippers a resurrection after death followed by some sort of eternal existence. The rest of us are doomed to eternal suffering. It's a compelling philosophy which Antinous took to heart."
"Do you think he believed this pernicious superstition?"
"Well, there's a downside to their teachings which I doubt Antinous could uphold. Their moral code is extreme. They have a low opinion of wealth, of trading, they abjure lending at interest, or being rich, as his family are.
Their executed Savior proclaimed an eccentric sort of freedom similar to the austerities of the followers of Diogenes who reject family, career, fame, the Imperium, and so on.
All their sects forbid 'fornication', which they say is an offence against their Father's laws. Their teachers say we Romans are all harlots and live whore's lives. They particularly condemn relations between unmarried people, adultery, divorce, and same-sex relationships. It's very other-worldly and austere. I'd say a young hot-blood like Antinous with fire in his loins would find such demands difficult in the extreme. Rome will never endorse such asceticism."
"But do you have more to offer about the Favorite's death? Do you know what happened on the night before last?" Suetonius probed. "When did you last see or speak with the youth?"
"No one seems to know how he died, gentlemen, but there's already much talk around the encampment of its aftermath," Aristobulus offered.
"Aftermath? Saying what?" Clarus demanded. Aristobulus was hesitant.
"Well, it's said there have been shadowy men with knives searching the tents for people close to Antinous. The lad's school chum Lysias and the freedwoman Thais have disappeared, they say," the astrologer murmured. "No one knows where. A steward of their household was murdered overnight, but it's not been made public yet. It's hard to keep secrets here, though many try. Shrouded men have also been seen in the nearby village searching for someone else, but I have no idea who.