The Hadrian Enigma - A Forbidden History (63 page)

“
Or possibly Caesar via an agent, if he’s party to sacrifice and sorcery?” Surisca murmured carefully. Clarus was disturbed by such talk.

A figure appeared at the courtyard accompanied by Secretary Vestinus. It was Geta. He had overheard the final comment.

“
You hold Caesar to be under suspicion, colleagues? But you forget too many others. The empress Vibia Sabina, for example? She would do anything to upset our Caesar on principle,” Geta proposed. “Perhaps she hired renegade Nubian freebooters to create mischief with her husband’s loved one? Or the security chief Tribune Macedo on behalf of Senate forces in Rome, such as his master Turbo, the Praetorian Prefect? Or a faction of the Senate, or an ambitious Legion commander or two?

Or even me? After all, I’m the closest to both our Caesar and the dead lad. Perhaps I have some hidden advantage to gain?”

Geta’s and Surisca’s eyes locked momentarily. A message of welcome flashed silently between them. Suetonius felt immediately cuckolded once again, but continued nevertheless.

“
But do you have a motive, Dacian?” Suetonius smoothed. “In what way could you possibly benefit from the death of the Bithynian?”

“
Enough!” Clarus demanded. “Our time is running out. You called for Geta. He stands before you, Suetonius. Make your enquiries.”

The biographer gathered his wits about him.

“
You know all those of the Household well, Geta. You know their personalities and habits. We have received a puzzling message whose coded terms we cannot interpret. We wish you to hear the message and for you to offer your view on who it best describes in the Household or its hangers-on.”

The Special Inspector turned to Strabon.

“
Read the Oracle’s message. Read his words. Let Geta decide who it identifies or what the message is being communicated.”

The scribe delved into his collection of wax notebooks and drew the recent block from his basket. He scanned his scratchings on the wax and began declaiming its notation out loud.

“
The son of Apollo ascended to the sun. The sun incinerated the youth. The wild forces of Eros overcame the measured power of Aphrodite. A hidden secret unleashed the chaos of Eros so stalking wolves could devour their prey.”

Geta suddenly sat bolt upright. “Stalking wolves?” he exclaimed. Strabon continued.

“
The son of Apollo bled into Darkness. Stalking wolves sipped his blood. The son of Apollo made an offering at the altar of his brother Asclepius. He offered his only true spoils to the altar, his life. Wolves devoured the spoils with relish. A wolf’s sword exacts its revenge. A she-wolf’s delusion drinks it fill. But the path to the sacrificial altar was smoothed by a king’s secret.”

“
A wolf’s sword?! Revenge?! A she-wolf drinks blood?! A king’s secret?” Geta exclaimed with increasing panic.

“
On a journey of justice, identify the She Wolf. Apprehend the wolves. Send them to the
Underworld of an alien god.”

“
The Underworld! An alien god?!” Geta was rising slowly from his seat, alarmed.

“
The Baal of the East who came to the West. The Drinker of Blood. The Wolf Deity ...”

Strabon’s reading was drowned by Geta’s cry of “The Drinker of Blood!” but he continued nevertheless. Geta groaned a mighty howl as he staggered to his feet. The group was rigid in bewilderment at his action. Surisca drew to his side to steady the man’s faltering steps. Strabon continued.

“
Fire purifies. The son of Apollo rises with the dawn, when the king’s heart bursts with anguish.”

Strabon put down the wax tablet as all eyes settled on the Dacian who was standing supported on the Syri’s arm. He was seriously distressed.

“
The Baal of the East!
Where did you hear these words?! Who spoke them to you?!” he demanded.

“
Quiet, Geta. Settle down. Take it easy,” Suetonius soothed. “We’re here to ask you what you know of this strange message. We want you to tell us the meaning of these words or the persons they may be referring to. We’re at a loss to shed light on the thing.

Who are the wolves? Who is the She Wolf? Why is the god of healing, Asclepius, in this? Who is drinking blood? What blood? Why? We believe it all has something to do with the death of Antinous.”

Geta fell into a chair nearby and held his head in his hands. Surisca discreetly tried to comfort him. He muttered to himself in a foreign tongue, possibly the language of The Getae people. He turned to Suetonius to offer answers.

“
Your message is from a dire enemy of Zalmoxis. Zalmoxis is
the Baal of the East who came to the West
. Zalmoxis is my holy forebear of many generations ago. I am said to have the blood of Zalmoxis streaming my veins. The faded tattooed circles upon my face are the insignia of this heritage.

The god Zalmoxis lives in his Underworld of the dead. He awaits his Dacian devotees in his Underworld. They join him in the infinite Night of Zalmoxis and his eternal shaman’s dance. In life Zalmoxis is worshipped with blood, the fluid of life. Like a forest’s stalking wolf we Dacians sacrifice chickens, sheep, steers, and horses for Zalmoxis to savor their fresh blood. The Getae drain an animal’s life-blood in ritual adoration and drink it as strengthening food.

In war it is the blood of the enemy that’s sipped. The blood of captives is drained from their living bodies and venerated and consumed directly by the devotees, or indirectly by Zalmoxis via the putrefaction process. Such blood gives the Getae the wild strengths of a wolf. The Getae are Wolf Warriors. Like wolves, we suckle on blood.”

“
So, who is the wolf and She-wolf of the message? Are you the wolf whose sword has exacted revenge?” Suetonius ventured daringly.

“
No, Suetonius, I am no Wolf Warrior. I do not drink blood. I am no stalking wolf.

Long ago I may have fancied I would revenge my dead father’s memory. I swore an oath to my father before he killed himself how I would revenge his death by killing the loved one of the king responsible. At that time it was Caesar Trajan. I was a child. I knew nothing of the world, of life and death, war, or revenge, let alone happiness and love.

But since those days I have seen ways to live other than the
Way of the Wolf Warriors
and death-hungry Zalmoxis. The cruel law of wolves, blood feuds, blood revenge, savage living, and eager death, have been overtaken by the Roman way of living peacefully with others to enhance
this
life, not idolize death and the afterlife. At Rome even condemned criminals are given an opportunity as gladiators for extended life, for a while.

Under Hadrian, Rome’s way of using man’s ingenuity to grow harvests, press oil and wine, build fine edifices, have cleansing drains and sweet drinking water, public facilities to stay clean of body, to enjoy sociable company at the Forum or at the Baths or in happy festivals, becomes our priority. Under Hadrian even war is constrained by sealed borders with barbarian invaders, and by sensible laws within those borders. This allows energy to be invested in peace and productivity. My childhood oath to revenge the disorders of my heritage has faded beneath the attraction of gentler goals and happier ways.”

“
Then who are the wolf and the She Wolf? Who still drinks blood? Who still exacts revenge? Who killed Antinous
like a stalking wolf
?” the Special Inspector asked.

“
I don’t know, Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus,” Geta responded. “Yet these people, whoever they are, are still among us somewhere. If we mistakenly seize the wrong contenders then we will have revealed our suspicions. This will unwittingly place Caesar’s life at risk from the real offenders. We must not do that. I have too much respect for our Caesar and will protect him to the end. Long may he live!

Instead, we must set a trap so the stalking wolves reveal their crimes from their own mouths. They must confess their conspiracies aloud for all to hear before witnesses. Otherwise they will await another opportunity to stalk and kill.

In saying this to you, my final purification occurs and my child’s oath of revenge is finally erased. The burden of a lifetime is discarded. I am free of Zalmoxis at last!”

Geta’s hand reached up to another hand lying across his shoulder. He grasped Surisca’s knuckles and held them firm. The cuckold in Suetonius felt his stomach churn.

“
Are Lysias and Thais protected safe within the Imperial Household, Dacian?” Suetonius queried. “We understand ruffians were seeking to kill them?”

“
Yes. Quaestor Julianus is protecting them at the Companion’s stables. They will rejoin your group at the assembly before dawn.”

“
When do you think Caesar will demand our report on Antinous’s death?” Clarus enquired. “He told us it is to be by dawn today, no later.”

“
I have no idea, Senator. He hasn’t mentioned your investigation. Dawn is to be the Bithynian’s memorial, plus the inauguration of the new city of
Hadrianopolis
. But everyone who’s anyone is summoned to attend. It is likely to include the
stalking wolves
.”

“
But Geta, how will we determine who are these wolves and the She Wolf?” Suetonius asked helplessly.

“
Use your wits, Special Inspector. Caesar relies on your intuition and perceptiveness,” he said. “We must identify and destroy the stalking wolves. We must uncover what actually happened to the young Bithynian.”

CHAPTER 30

B
razier cauldrons raised high on iron tripods cast shimmering flames into the night sky. They flickered and flared above the wide expanse of the Imperial Household’s reception platform. Pre-dawn mists clung close to the earth snaking in thin, meandering drifts.

A dais draped in scarlet cloth was surmounted with the emperor’s personal standard while gilded stools and chairs awaited the arrival of their Imperial occupants. Rows of Horse Guards and Praetorians in polished uniforms glinted beneath the flickering light.

Ghostly shapes swathed in black wools or silk shawls emerged from the darkness of the surrounding lanes and alleys preceded by lantern-bearers. The figures streamed in mourning’s deep solemnity to their appointed stations around the platform. Few spoke except for an exchange of murmurs accompanied by a restrained nod here and there.

To one side stood a high palanquin with stalwart Egyptian bearers at respectful attention. The waspish Pachrates and his thickset associate Kenamun were arrayed in majestic leopard-skin mantles above their starched linens, and adorned with bracelets, chains, and jeweled ornaments. They brandished ornate scepters of office while methodically flicking insect whisks of bleached horsetails as they stood before the bier. A brace of Nubian temple guards stood watch nearby with glistening, long-bladed assegais shining beneath the brazier light.

The four-posted palanquin supported a sumptuous bed of white blooms exuding a potent scent. The pale figure of Antinous lay along the bier atop his white cloak, his arms crossed to each shoulder in the Egyptian style, in seeming relaxed repose.

He was dressed in his silvery parade-ground hunting uniform of leathers inlayed in white enameled decors. His white-crested
Companions’
helmet in the Attic style and silver cavalry mask won as a trophy at the Trojan Games of Athens, were stowed to one side. His
gladius
sword and dagger lay belted at his right hip as befits someone disposed to left-handed action. A finely-worked silver filigree corona wreathed blond coarse-chopped locks.

Suetonius noted there was no jewel on his hand, especially not the vivid
lapis lazuli
Abrasax
ring gifted by Hadrian.

Only the unhealthy pallor of skin’s complexion suggested Antinous was other than taking his ease. His powdery hue confirmed it was certain to be eternal. Six Egyptian canopic jars, three along each side sealed with sculpted stoppers in the shape of the goddess Isis, attended him in his eternal slumber.

Suetonius, Clarus, Strabon, and Surisca approached from Vestinus’s chambers led by
Companions
’ grooms holding torches high. Thais and Lysias followed close behind. Lysias was holding Thais’s hand.

Both gasped at their first sight of the palanquin and its occupant.

Thais distractedly continued walking towards the funerary carriage but Lysias drew her back by one elbow and a gentle squeeze. Suetonius detected tears welling at the rim of her eyes, and perhaps Lysias’s too. Neither had seen their friend since the memorable day prior to his death. The spectacle of his eternal repose unsettled them.

The
Augusta,
Vibia Sabina, with several female courtiers accompanied by Julia Balbilla and a brace of Horse Guards, approached from a laneway leading from
The Dionysus
moored offshore. The band of women moved collectively as a cabal of somber, shrouded black veils.

Sabina took her seat in a high-backed matron’s chair on the dais with Balbilla standing a pace off nearby. Both demurely retained their head cover in such a public place.

Suetonius cast his eyes around this taciturn, brooding ensemble. He made mental notes of several of the attendees in the light of the recent testimonies. Here, he contemplated, were the governing elite of Rome with their assorted hangers-on, all arrayed in rank order in an improbable silence in the desert’s deep dark several hundred miles distant from any real centre of civilization.