Solar Wind. Book one - страница 14

After much deliberation, he settled on the ninety-year-old Lucius Julius Servianus.

He, though deep in age, was a mobile man, had a bright mind and a good memory. In addition, he had a lot of experience; he was appointed consul for the third time, was at Domitian, under Nerve, and now he has been under him, Hadrian. In addition to his age, Servianus also had a no less solid appearance. A huge bald head with a big forehead testified to the mind of the owner, and the wide, developed jaws spoke of the firmness of character.

Servianus took office in January, and in the summer the emperor thought he had done the right thing by appointing an elder to the site. With such a reliable person, a zealot of the foundations, but at the same time, with shaky health, there was nothing to fear for power. In addition, Servianus was a relative—Emperor Trajan married him to Pauline, the older sister of Hadrian. Almost twenty years of age difference between the spouses did not confuse anyone, although the young groom was then fifty.

He accepted Servianus.

“Welcome to you, my dear Lucius!”

Hadrian spread his arms wide and cordially and hugged the old consul.

“Thank the gods, Caesar! You look good. I've been told about your illnesses, but I didn't really believe it. I keep remembering that hunt where you hit a lion running right at us with a spear.”

The Emperor frowned for a moment—his court medic Hermogenes chatted too much—but still managed to keep a friendly expression on his face.

“I have ailments, Servianus. They pass quickly thanks to the gods, and of course Asclepius.26 Illnesses bypass me. And yet, I'm about to be sixty, the stars advise me to choose an heir. Sabina and I have no children, it's time to choose a worthy patrician, who will continue to rule the state with honor.”

“Haven't you decided on a successor yet?” Servianus decided to clarify cautiously. “I heard about the young Marcus Annius. His great-grandfather, Annius Verus, a famous man, was, like me, a three-time consul. Of course, Marcus is a worthy candidate…”

Hadrian covered his purple toga harder, fearing that the interlocutor would see blood stains somewhere. Narcissistic, insidious, charming, intelligent, and artistic—he possessed all the qualities to become great. Life often seemed to him a game, a funny charade, which could be thrown to the opponent. Then step aside and watch him decide it.

He recently planted such a riddle on the young Marcus Verus, about which Servianus spoke. He sent young slaves to him and watched from the shelter. The young man's behavior, frankly, caused him different, contradictory thoughts.

Marcus was steadfast before the temptation, he did not give up, and if not for the betrayal of the body, perhaps, would have handled himself. But still, Augustus, the highest person of the state, must fully own his emotions. The emperor can't scream when it hurts terribly, can't cry when sad. Caesar must be like him, Hadrian, who harbored the pain of the loss of Antinous and did not show it.

He, Hadrian, knew that a lot of his opponents from the Senate and ordinary onlookers would enjoy his torment. They wanted revenge, they wanted satisfaction, because they were forced to obey orders that may seem unfair and cruel. But what did the crowd know? What did the Roman people know, mired in pleasure? And how not to enjoy the grief of Caesar, who brought grief down on the heads of others?