The Death of Antinous || bxb ✔︎

DUM VIVIMUS VIVAMUS

When a messenger arrived from Rome with a letter, they knew the news could not be good. It was bad but unsurprising. Plotina had succumbed to her illness and died. Hadrian's grief over the death of his adoptive mother was quiet but profound. She was more than a confident and a friend to him, she was an ally who had been instrumental in helping him ascend to power and stay there. Flattery and praise were easy to come by for the Emperor but loyalty was rare.

Sabina's handmaidens grabbed her arms as she fell to her knees and wept. She had a strained relationship with her aunt. Perhaps she was weeping for the relationship they might have had if Plotina cared more about her niece than she did staying in Hadrian's good graces.

For Antinous this day marked the end of one life and the beginning of his own. While he stayed by the Emperor's side in his bedchamber, he sent Orodes down to the guards' barracks with a message. This message brought joy instead of sorrow and it only contained a single word: tonight.

"I've decided to participate in the Eleusinian Mysteries," Hadrian said after hours of contemplative silence.

These were the most sacred and secret religious rites of ancient Greece. Socrates, Plato and Aristotle had all been initiated. Antinous didn't know much about the Mysteries. Participants took a vow of silence. But he did know that they involved visions and conjuring the afterlife.

Hadrian grieved like a philosopher, in the abstract, reminded of his own mortality and desperate to find meaning in existence.

"I hope it brings you comfort," Antinous said.

He now had a purple bruise on his cheek where Hadrian struck him. A reminder to them both of the mark on their relationship.

"Do you?"

"I always admired Plotina's poise."

"It was not your feelings about Plotina I was questioning."

His plan was to slip out at night after Hadrian had taken valerian root to fall asleep. The Emperor had difficulty sleeping as of late. The physician prescribed it when nothing else worked. If anyone asked him why he was out of bed, Antinous planned to tell them he was going for a moonlit swim, which he had done often enough since arriving in Athens. He hoped this wouldn't arouse suspicion.

He only wished Leonides could be as subtle.

In the banquet hall that evening the feast was a somber affair on account of everyone's grief. Everyone but Commodus that is, who didn't particularly care for Plotina since the Emperor sometimes valued her advice more than his.

They ate lamb whose life was sacrificed to the gods that morning and an otherwise modest Greek meal of barley, olives and goat cheese. It pained Hadrian greatly that he would not be in Rome to participate in Plotina's funeral rites. At no point did it occur to him that Antinous had suffered the same fate and worse when he concealed the news of his mother's death. The irony was entirely lost on him.

It was Roman tradition to wear a dark toga, the toga pulla, when mourning. They were all draped in fabric black as charcoal. Commodus had his slaves toil all day painting marigolds black so he could wear them in his hair. He preferred bright colors but never missed an opportunity to make a fashion statement.

Leonides was standing behind the banquet table. Antinous could feel the soldier's breath tickling the back of his neck. He prayed Leonides was not smiling. When someone cleared their throat Antinous jumped and accidentally knocked over a cup of wine, a situation that was made worse when Leonides dove down like an eagle to catch it.

"Good reflexes," Commodus quipped.

"Yes," Remus added slyly, "you must be watching him very closely."