Empire - Saylor Steven (читать полные книги онлайн бесплатно TXT) 📗
“No? Didn’t Suetonius send you a personally inscribed copy of his imperial biographies?” Was there anything Hadrian didn’t know, thanks to the vast network of imperial spies?
Marcus cleared his throat. “Yes, Suetonius sent me a copy – but I didn’t ask for it, and I swear I’ve never read it.”
“No? You should. It’s not bad. Rather smutty, but I suppose the salacious details are what keep most readers scrolling forward. Ah, but I think your son has finally arrived.”
They turned at a sound from the vestibule. Amyntas entered first, looking a bit shame-faced from fear that Marcus would blame him for the delay. Before he could speak, Apollodora swept into the room, wearing her best stola. She had never forgiven Hadrian for the death of her father, but in his presence she had been careful never to show a trace of bitterness. She was followed by Lucius, who at eleven was very big for his age, almost as tall his father. Lucius’s green eyes and fair hair had come from Marcus, but his build seemed to have come from his grandfather Apollodorus.
Glad to leave behind the emperor’s unsettling revelations about a Christian relative, Marcus proceeded with the unveiling. He strode to the statue and pulled away the sailcloth.
Hadrian seemed to see the statue as if for the first time. He gazed at it for a long time, then reached out to touch it. Marcus saw on his face the same expression of awe he had displayed when he first saw the Melancomas statue, long ago.
“You captured him, Pinarius,” Hadrian whispered. “You’ve done the impossible. Now you must do it again.”
“Again, Caesar?”
“We must make more images. Each slightly different, so as to capture different aspects of his divinity, but all as true to life as this one. They can serve as models to the others who will make images of him all across the empire. Are you up for it, Pinarius?”
“Nothing would please me more, Caesar,” said Marcus, with a quaver in his voice. The prospect of dedicating his time and talent to the creation of more such images – which to Marcus were as much an expression of devotion to his dream-god as to Hadrian’s beloved – filled him with happiness.
“I’m glad your son is here today,” said Hadrian. “To show my gratitude, I want to offer a very special opportunity to young Lucius. Recently, casting horoscopes, I discovered a curious fact: your son was born on the very same day as one of my proteges, Marcus Verus. Since the boys are exactly the same age – almost to the minute – I propose that we introduce your Lucius to young Verissimus-”
“Verissimus, Caesar?”
“I call Verus that sometimes. He so loves Truth that I can’t resist punning on his name. Well, if Lucius and Verus are compatible, the two can be educated together.”
Marcus looked at Lucius, who seemed a bit overwhelmed at this idea. “I fear my son might be at a disadvantage, Caesar. I’ve tried to provide good tutors for him, but his education thus far could hardly have rivalled that of your protege.”
Hadrian smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m not expecting Lucius to provide competition in the fields of scholarship. Verus has a prodigious intellect; sometimes the breadth of his knowledge surprises even me. But Verus also loves every kind of sport. He could use a companion his own age for boxing, wrestling, ball games, riding, hunting, and so forth. What do you say?”
It occurred to Marcus that his son might be more than a match for young Verus in any sort of athletic competition; Lucius was uncommonly big and strong for his age. Marcus looked to Apollodora, whose eyes were wide with excitement. Despite her bitterness against the emperor, she could see what a tremendous opportunity was being offered to their son. At the age of eleven, Lucius Pinarius would be admitted into the innermost circle of the imperial court.
Lucius was too young to wear a toga, but he did own a very finely made tunic that Marcus deemed suitable for his meeting with Verus. Apollodora fretted that the boy’s recent spurts of growth had rendered the long sleeves a bit too short, but Marcus told her not to worry. “They’re not as fussy about such things at the House of the People as you might think,” he said.
“The House of the People?” Apollodora laughed. “No one but you calls it that anymore, husband.”
“No?”
“I’m pretty sure all that pandering to the common folk ended when Plotina died.”
“I stand corrected. Well, then, Lucius, are you ready for our visit to the House of Hadrian?”
A courtier met them at the entrance to the imperial palace at the appointed hour and escorted them to a lush garden with splashing fountains. It was here, for the time being, that the statue of Antinous had been installed. On a stone bench beside the statue sat Hadrian with the boy Marcus Verus, who was his distant cousin and a great-great-grand-nephew of Trajan. The curly-headed Verus had a prominent nose and a small mouth. He had been brought up in the most rarefied atmosphere imaginable, surrounded by philosophers and scholars of great renown, and he carried himself with a composure beyond his years.
Hadrian introduced Verus to Marcus and his son. When Lucius expressed his honour at such a meeting, as his father had coached him to do, Verus shook his head. “The honour is mine, to meet a fellow my own age whose grandfather was a friend of the great Apollonius of Tyana.” He turned to Marcus. “Did your father have many tales to tell about Apollonius?”
“As a matter fact, no day passed without his recitation of a story about Apollonius. My father called him Teacher, and was greatly devoted to him, in life and in death.”
Verus looked genuinely excited. “You must share those stories with me! They should be written down.”
“Alas, my hand was meant for a chisel, not a stylus,” said Marcus.
“But you must dictate those stories to a slave. The people who actually knew Apollonius are almost all dead now-”
“Adorable, isn’t he?” said Hadrian, who reached out to muss the boy’s hair. Verus responded with a very boyish roll of his eyes. “I’m thinking someone should sculpt him at this age. Perhaps you could find time to do it, Marcus, though I hate to interrupt your work on the next statue of Antinous.”
“It would be my pleasure, Caesar.” Marcus looked at the boy and envisioned at once the expression he would try to capture in stone – a mixture of innocence and wisdom, sophistication and guilelessness.
“I understand that your father was also a close friend of the late
…” The boy hesitated and looked to Hadrian for guidance.
“Verissimus realizes that you cannot yet have heard the news, which arrived just this morning by imperial courier,” said Hadrian. “Epictetus is dead.”
Marcus drew a breath and lowered his eyes. “Truly, he was the very last of my father’s circle.”
Verus took Marcus’s hand. “Perhaps we can find comfort in the words of Epictetus himself: ‘We are disturbed not by events, but by the views which we take of them.’ Is that not true, even of the death of loved ones?”
Marcus smiled ruefully. “I’m not the philosopher my father was. I’m not even sure what those words mean.”
“If you are pained by an occurrence outside yourself, it is not that occurrence which disturbs you, but your own judgement about it. And it is in your power to wipe out that judgement now.” Verus spoke with extraordinary conviction for one so young.
“Well spoken, Verissimus!” said Hadrian. He turned to Marcus. “The genealogists tell me the boy is descended from wise King Numa, and I think they must be right.”
Marcus nodded. How was his awkward, taciturn son ever to keep up with the likes of young Verus?
“I propose that these two boys should spend some time with me at Tibur,” said Hadrian. “What would you say to a bit of riding and hunting, Lucius?”
“Apollonius of Tyana was opposed to the killing of animals,” said Lucius gravely.
