Hadrian fell silent as if he found it difficult to speak, as if he were being suffocated by the sobs he had once forcibly restrained in order not to show weakness, and now the moment had finally come. But the emperor did not sob, after a certain pause he continued with a shuddering voice.

“In the evening, Antinous entered the waves of the Nile, and we stood on the shore, raising our heads to the sky. And we saw him, my Antinous. There, in the distant depths of heaven, a new star shone. There was a sign of the gods, the revelation of Jupiter!”

Hadrian looked up to the ceiling lined with colored mosaics depicting the assembly of the all-powerful deities of Rome. There was Jupiter, Juno, Mars, Hercules, and other, less powerful and significant deities. They strolled along the celestial ceiling, treading on the clouds with their heels, as if on the ground.

“What happened next?”

“He didn't come back,” the emperor said dryly, stretching his legs, showing beautiful sandals with golden laces, manicured feet.

Despite his dramatic story, he looked relaxed, lazy, but his eyes continued to blaze with secret fire, sometimes hiding behind centuries, which, like curtains in the theater, covered the turbulent life behind the scenes.

“What does your mother, the venerable Domitia Lucilla, do?” he asked.

“She walks around the portico and then goes to the library.”

“I have all the books in the world.” Hadrian doesn't miss the opportunity to smugly brag. “She'll have something to read. However, she can take my slave. I have good readers. They say you're about to turn fourteen soon?”

“That's right, Caesar!”

“It's time to put on the toga of an adult male. I think it's time! I watched your horoscope and the stars told me it was time. We're going to celebrate this in the next Liberalia spree.”23

The thought of the toga virilis24 hadn’t occurred to Marcus. Usually boys wore it at sixteen, or even later. But the emperor already distinguished him from the rest, so why not become an adult earlier? His mother and great-grandfather would be proud of him.

“I'll talk to Domitia about it,” Hadrian continued. “I hope you don't mind. Now, let's go and visit the thermals. They are my pride. There you will see incredible sea monsters in marble columns and bas-reliefs with newts and nereids.”

He rose, making an inviting hand, and they went to the baths, following the wide slab paths, in the shade of graceful porticos, accompanied by sharp cries of peacocks, which walked importantly on the grass.

In the evening, after a hearty lunch, Marcus retired to his room, the air of which had before refreshed with saffron and cinnamon, and lay down on the bed.

Thoughts, impressions overwhelmed him, because he had never been so close to the emperor. And now he spent his hours with him, listening to amazing stories about Greece, Egypt, Antiochus. Caesar was a great connoisseur of the arts and customs of these countries. Someday, Marcus would be able to sit on a speed galley and go on a journey to see the whole world civilized by the Romans.

It would be his own wanderings and his own impressions. And he too would talk about them, and listeners would also listen to him with burning eyes.

“Are you still awake, Marcus?”

On the doorstep of the room there was the slender figure of his mother. They often did so; Domitia Lucilla came to him before going to bed, sat down by her son's legs, asked about what he cared about, shared herself. These trust filled conversations became a habit for them and may seem strange only to the perverted mind.