“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.

He drowned, but was resurrected as the Egyptian god Osiris. And so, in the same Egypt, and then in Greece, there were cults of Antinous; he became a deity, perishing and reborn.

Meanwhile, Sabina started talking about Marcus's coming to grow up.

He should get the toga of the young man, because he was already fourteen years old. This was an important step in Marcus's public position. The toga symbolized not only the transition from one state to another—from boy to man—but also a sharp turn in the material situation. Marcus became an heir, could get and use property as an adult. Of course, Sabina said, Marcus would have to make an exception, because such a toga young men usually put on at the age of sixteen. But little Marcus had also become a priest-Salii at seven, and he was generally very developed.

The Empress cheered up, laughing loudly, looking at the corner in which Marcus was sitting at the table. Such mood swings, from sullen gloom to hysteria, and from her unrestrained to fun, became quite frequent for her. Domitia, as she could adjust to her Augustus friend, smiled too, though Sabina's hints were not always clear.

What was she talking about? The fact that Marcus received the priestly rank undeservedly or about something else? Maybe she expected from the family of Annius not just gratitude, hot expressions of gratitude, but veneration of her as a patron saint, almost a goddess.

“We, my dear Domitia, will look after his bride,” Sabine continued, having fun. “Certainly, from a good family, I have one in mind.”

“And who?” Domitia Lucilla asked with inner anxiety.

“You need to be related to the Ceionius. They have a daughter, Fabia, a little younger than Marcus. The family is famous, from the old Etruscan nobility. From it came a few consuls and legats, by the way, they are very favored by the emperor.”