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“Ass?” Domitia said in confusion. “Why is he looking?”

“He finds a strange, perverted inspiration in it, and then writes poetry. However, they do generally turn out quite decent and can be read in society.”

Sabina paused and made a sign for one of the slaves. The slave quickly came up with a tray on which there were glasses of cold wine diluted with water.

“And such a man—is my husband!” the Empress remarked, drinking wine, though without the former hysterical break. “And what have you, dear Domitia? You haven’t found a mate yet, after all, enough time has passed since Annia’s death?”

“No!” Domitia shook her head. “I don't think I need anyone. I give all my strength to the correct upbringing of my son, teach him the old Roman traditions. It's a good thing his great-grandfather Regin helps me with that.”

“But, right, are you entertained with slaves? Let's admit it!” Sabina smiled, believing that the topic with Hadrian could be closed and move on to the little things that were sweet for the woman's heart.

In response, Domitia also smiled.

“How can I not! Doctors advise sleeping with men for health and hygiene purposes.”

She looked involuntarily again at the sturdy muscular slaves, diligently doing their job. The fans moved, not ceasing, a pleasant breeze invigorating the warmed skin. After following her gaze, Sabina chuckled:

“A little later, let's go to my pool and cool down. And we'll take these with us to have fun.”

Marcus, who was fascinated by reading, did not pay attention to the conversation between his mother and the Empress. His table was near the bust of writer and stoic philosopher Lucius Seneca. The flabby, white, marble head of Nero's tutor didn't like Marcus. It was a cold lifeless face, empty eyes without pupils. He tried not to look at him, for the thought of how he could someday become the same, frozen in marble or bronze with dead empty eyes.

Over the years he had grown, transforming into an angular, clumsy boy with a long, pointed chin and curly hair. Only his eyes, the big convex eyes, the living soul, in which curiosity did not disappear, remained the same.

Fragments of words from the conversation between the mother and the empress reached him, but he did not attach special importance to them. The tangled relationship with Sabina brought their family a benefit that could be wisely applied by climbing up the imperious ladder of Rome. Priest, questor, prefect, consul. Life seemed straight, like the Appian Way near Rome, it led to the due respect, fasting, and glory of those who impeccably followed Roman laws.

Marcus was already fourteen, he had a whole life ahead of him. He believed that with due diligence and sufficient mental stress, he would achieve everything his mother and great-grandfather had prepared him for. He wouldn't let them down!

He would not let Emperor Hadrian down.

He, Marcus, saw Hadrian looking at him in their first meeting. He was six years old at the time, but he remembered Caesar's attentive affectionate gaze, his benevolent smile, his soft muffled voice, like the cautious roar of a leopard. Marcus heard a similar growl when his great-grandfather Regin took him with him to the Flavium Amphitheatre, where gladiators fought each other every day and killed thousands of wild animals. Leopards growled quietly, restrainedly, but menacingly enough to scare the enemy.

Hearing the name of Antinous, Marcus immediately remembered the young man, so beloved by Hadrian, their first meeting in the palace of the emperor. One day after returning from the East, Marcus wished to see Caesar. No one then knew what the reason for his curiosity was, no one assumed that the emperor saw in Marcus not just a boy from a noble family, but a future ruler of Rome. Perhaps this option prompted him an innate intuition? Or a long-drawn horoscope? Anyway, Marcus was brought to Palatine—Hadrian lived in this palace.

And then Marcus noticed a young man who was walking slowly in the stola 18 on the hall, lazily descending to the bed near Hadrian. Antinous looked surprisingly feminine, possessed a certain melancholic beauty, and if Marcus had not guessed from some signs in front of him that this was a man, he would have mistaken him for a young blossoming girl.

“Marcus, come over, meet Antinous!” Hadrian commanded softly but commandingly.

Antinous suddenly rose from the bed, going over to Marcus and putting his arms over his shoulders. The boy felt the spicy aroma of incense, which soaked into Antinous's clothes, his skin, his hair. It was the fragrance of the East, Syria or Egypt. Marcus once smelt a similar aroma in a shop with Egyptian goods, where he often went with his mother.

“Greetings Marcus Annius Verus!” Antinous said melodiously, his voice was high, ringing, as the boys say, until nature makes them more grown-up.

“Be healthy, Antinous!” Marcus replied with the usual Roman greeting. Not knowing how to behave with Hadrian's favorite, he was embarrassed and stepped back a step. But Antinous laughed, “Don't be afraid of me, Verissimus!”

“Why should I be afraid of him?” the boy, who knew nothing about adult relationships, thought with surprise. Then, of course, he found out what the matter was, but back then he didn't know anything about it. “I'm a Roman citizen, and he's just a freedman.”

In little Marcus, his mother has already brought up a sense of pride in belonging to the great Roman people. How could it be otherwise?

Rome was a huge, majestic city-state, extending to the West and East, North and South, covering the entire Mediterranean Sea. This vast civilization lived by the strict, logical laws established by the Roman mind. The Romans believed that inside man lives a genius who guides and protects everyone. The genius of Rome had guarded the city all these years, almost a thousand years.

How many bitter, tragic moments were there when the fate of the Roman people hung in the balance. Sabinians, Carthage, Gauls, Parthians, Germans. But Rome survived, it rose, developed, brought peace and culture to other nations and therefore a proud formula “Civis Romanus sum!” 19 meant much more than belonging to a powerful state. It meant living in a civilized world.

Marcus saw Antinous several more times, and then learned that the young man had drowned in the Nile, while Hadrian traveled near the town of Canopus. The emperor's grief was inconsolable. The city of Antinople arose in Egypt, and in the sky rose a bright star and the emperor's confidants assured that the noble soul of Antinous had ascended to the sky.