“If there’s no other business this morning, then I’m ready for my lunch,” said Hadrian.
As the various courses were served, the emperor called Marcus to his side.
“What do you think of my ideas, Pygmalion?”
“I’m not a statesman, Caesar.”
“Perhaps not, but your grandfather was. Who knew? I had to check twice to be sure that the Pinarius who gave that speech before Nero and the Senate was indeed your grandfather. That took nerve. You can be proud of the blood in your veins, Pinarius.”
“I am, Caesar. Thank you for inviting me here today, to hear the words of my grandfather.”
“Yes, I thought you might enjoy that. How goes work on the statue?”
“It proceeds well, Caesar, and quickly. Very soon I’ll be ready to unveil it for you.”
“Very good!” Hadrian looked at Antinous, who was sitting next to Phlegon, scrolling through The Book of Marvels. “I can hardly wait to see it.”
At last, Marcus was ready for the emperor’s visit to the workshop.
Apollodora was with him, overseeing the slaves as they cleaned and tidied the place and decorated it especially for the occasion. Marcus had assured her that such preparations were unnecessary. “It’s a workshop: it’s supposed to be cluttered and covered in marble dust. The emperor knows that.” But Apollodora had insisted that all must be perfect. If Hadrian was pleased – and of course he would be – this could at last be Marcus’s opportunity to ask for a special favour: the return of his father-in-law from exile.
Apollodora had insisted on bringing along four-year-old Lucius as well, saying that the boy should be there to see his father’s proud moment. No doubt she also thought that the sight of Lucius might move the emperor to be merciful to the boy’s grandfather.
As the hour for the visit drew near, Marcus was increasingly fretful. Not only would Hadrian be judging his work, but Marcus would have to put the delicate matter of his father-in-law to the emperor, with his wife’s happiness hanging on the outcome. Marcus stood before the statue a final time, studying the sensual curves of the naked body, the tilt of the head, the faraway look, and the elusive smile. Without a doubt, this was the finest and most beautiful thing Marcus had ever created. He reached for a sailcloth and threw it over the statue.
There was a sound from the vestibule. Amyntas came running. “Master-”
“Yes, I know, the emperor is here.”
“He’s left his retinue in the street. Only Antinous is with him.”
“Well? Show them in!”
The emperor and Antinous entered. Marcus stood next to the draped statue. Apollodora stood nearby, with little Lucius beside her.
No one said a word. Hadrian smiled and gave a slight gesture with his hand, to indicate that Marcus should proceed.
Marcus pulled aside the sailcloth. The statue was unveiled.
Hadrian approached the statue. He slowly circled it, looking it up and down. His face was expressionless.
Antinous was smiling; he seemed pleased with his image. Of course, the statue offered no surprise to him, since he had seen it at every stage of its creation.
In his mind, Marcus rehearsed the little speech he had prepared: Caesar, you recently saw fit to praise the plea my grandfather made, asking for clemency to be shown to even the lowliest of men. I also have a plea to make, which only Caesar can grant. I ask that you show mercy and forgive ness to -
“A mistake,” said Hadrian. He had concluded his full circuit of the statue and stood in front of it, staring at it. There was no expression on his face.
Marcus blinked. The utterance was so abrupt that he was not sure he had heard it correctly. “A mistake, Caesar? If some tiny flaw remains, an area where I failed to smooth the marble sufficiently…” said Marcus, though he knew every inch of the statue was perfect.
“No. The entire idea was a mistake.” Hadrian’s tone was frigid. He averted his eyes from both Marcus and the statue. “The fault is mine, Marcus Pinarius, not yours. I should never have expected that you, or anyone else, could do the thing I desired. I understand that now.”
“Caesar, if the pose of the statue is not to your liking, or if the tilt of the head-”
“Nothing about the statue is to my liking. By Hercules, look at Antinous! And then look at this… this travesty.”
Trembling, Apollodora stepped forward. “Caesar, it’s a true likeness.”
“What would you know? You might as well be blind. And so might you, Marcus. You possess a certain skill, yes. This is the image you intended to shape, I’m sure. But you have no eyes to see. This… thing
… is not Antinous, not even a vague approximation. Am I the only one who can see him?”
Hadrian turned his back on the statue, as if disgusted by it.
Apollodora looked desperately at Marcus. “Husband, do it!” she whispered.
“Now is not the time,” he said through clenched teeth.
But Apollodora had staked so much on this meeting that she could not let the chance go by. She rushed to Hadrian, even as he was departing, and dropped to her knees. “Caesar, we have a favour to ask. My father, in Damascus – he longs to return to Roma. If you could forgive him – we beg you!
Hadrian shuddered. He waved his hand dismissively, turned away from her, and walked on.
Following him, Antinous looked over his shoulder and cast a parting glance at the statue. To Marcus, the face of the youth and the face of the statue were mirror images, perfectly alike in every way.
At the doorway to the vestibule, Hadrian stopped and collected himself. He kept his eyes averted. His voice was strained but calm. “You will return to work on the temple, Marcus Pinarius. There is still much you can accomplish there. But you will destroy this abomination, and everything to do with it. Do you understand? As soon as I’m gone, you will destroy every model and burn every drawing. You will break this statue into pieces. You will grind the pieces to dust. No one must ever see it.”
AD 129
Work continued on the Temple of Venus and Roma – with the huge columns at last in place, the true massiveness of the structure was becoming evident – but on this day Marcus was at work at different site, out on the Field of Mars, where Hadrian had decided to rebuild a neglected ruin called the Pantheon.
The original structure, a temple dedicated to the great gods, had been erected by Agrippa in the reign of Augustus. Damage caused by fire in the reign of Titus had been repaired by Domitian. Another fire, caused by lightning, virtually destroyed the temple while work was under way on Trajan’s Column and Forum, and with those enormous projects claiming all available resources, the rebuilding of the Pantheon was neglected. For almost twenty years the Pantheon remained in ruins, a cordoned-off area in the bustling heart of the Field of Mars. Passing the familiar eyesore one day, Hadrian suddenly saw it afresh. The limitations of the site were such that any rebuilt temple would have to be nearly square in shape. It was hard to imagine an aesthetically pleasing temple no deeper than it was wide – essentially a cube. But what if the rebuilt temple was circular – or indeed, as Hadrian perceived in a flash of inspiration, spherical? Here at last, the emperor realized, was the project to which he could give full expression to his fascination for domes – the “giant gourds” that Apollodorus had derided. The rebuilt Pantheon would be unique, a sphere within a square, surmounted by a dome of almost inconceivable size. The challenge of constructing such a dome had defeated engineers in the past, but Hadrian insisted that it could be done, and had charged Marcus with doing so.
The emperor’s expression of confidence in him had surprised Marcus, who had been badly shaken by Hadrian’s rejection of the statue. But not once had Hadrian ever reminded Marcus of his displeasure on that occasion, and Marcus was determined to show the emperor that his trust was well placed. Fired by Hadrian’s enthusiasm, Marcus and a team of engineers had conceived new ideas for making such a vast dome feasible – making the concrete thinner near the top, using coffers to lessen the mass, and using an oculus, an eye-like opening at the top, to admit light and further reduce the weight. Marcus was determined that his efforts should not disappoint the emperor. He often wished that Apollodorus were with him to offer advice and help oversee such a hazardous but thrilling enterprise.