'Tell him, Geta. Tell him of your past and your origin,' the emperor encouraged.
'My lord, I don't know what you mean. My past is buried in my distant childhood. I've long forgotten it. I have difficulty recalling anything from my earliest years. My life and memory really begins at Rome when I entered your Household. What preceded that time is lost to a great degree.'
Hadrian turned to Suetonius. He spoke tiredly but pointedly.
'Special Inspector, I shall tell you. Our friend Geta is of the royal line of Dacia. He's the son of the Decebelus who Trajan triumphed over when Geta was only a child. I served as a commander of Legions under Trajan. It was a hard fought, cruel war.
Geta's original name was Dromichaetes, Prince of Dacia, along with a long litany of native titles and splendid honors. If this is your intended implication, he had a sister of a similar age and appearance named Estia, who he now barely remembers. Estia and Geta were very alike in their features, being of the same parentage.
Geta and his sister were assigned to me as war hostages. Such hostages can be useful to Rome when re- establishing a sympathetic aristocracy in a conquered land. But I assure you, Tranquillus, Estia is not Anna Perenna, if this is your meaning?
Geta's sister Estia was entered into my sister Domitia Paulina's household to be educated as a proper Roman lady. Despite my sister's fond affection and care for Estia, the girl died of a child's ague before she was ten years of age. I supervised her funeral. We didn't tell Geta. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. So there is no blood relationship between Geta and the priestess Perenna, despite any physical similarities you may detect.'
Caesar had put an end to that speculation.
The biographer was disconcerted; he was running now out of options. He looked across to the Quaestor, Salvius Julianus, for new inspiration.
'Senator Quaestor Julianus, you have something to show us. I think it's time to explore your discovery.'
Julianus strode across to Clarus and the biographer. He was carrying a large globular shape under his cape. He lowered the object to the flagstones of the sanctuary and withdrew the cape. A sturdy terracotta urn with a waxed stopper stood upright before the assembly. Suetonius sensed how Perenna imperceptibly quivered at its sight. Urbicus and Scorilo stirred momentarily as well.
'Quaestor, please explain where you acquired this amphora,' the biographer asked.
'At your behest, Special Inspector, I and my lictors representing my legal authority attended The Alexandros after those summoned here by Caesar had departed prior to dawn.
We approached the cabin assigned to Anna Perenna, who was already journeying with the Governor to Caesar's marquee. Her cabin was firmly locked, so we were obliged to break entry.
It appears to be a sort of workroom or apothecary's laboratory. I impounded the objects you requested on behalf of your investigation. One is this amphora containing an unknown substance which was high upon a ledge sanctified by a votive lamp. Another was a locket on a leather thong draped around the urn's neck. I've brought two other objects I felt were meaningful, which my lictors retain nearby.'
Perenna whispered sharply into the Governor's ear. Her anger was audible.
Suetonius continued his questioning.
'My Lady Anna Perenna, priestess of Rome, do you recognize the objects which stand here before us? Are these your property?'
The priestess's reply was snappy.
'You have no right, Troublemaker, to break into my private quarters to steal my possessions. In Egypt we cut a hand, an ear, and an eye from those who thieve! You should have asked my permission first. I'm sure I would have been gracious to you in your search.'
'As gracious as you were when we visited you only yesterday?' Clarus interjected. 'You were barely gracious then, madam.'
Anna Perenna seethed.
'My lady, we have before us here a terracotta amphora,' Suetonius announced for all to hear. 'It is thoroughly stoppered and sealed, yet I notice a small leak from one lip. It exudes a dark substance. A dark ruddy substance. May I ask what this urn contains, madam?'
Titianus turned to his consort with a querulous expression. She fumbled a hesitant response but soon resettled into her confident, unflappable manner.
'Special Inspector, I am a priestess of the ancient cult of Anna Perenna. We have a long history at Rome. We specialize in women's matters.
We offer poultices or pessaries to ward off the risk of pregnancy. We offer herbs and medicaments to maximize a woman's fertility or give pleasure. We act as midwives in birthing; we provide love philters and talismans to attract a desired lover; we mix lubricants which arouse partners during sex; and we create paints and pastes to enhance our beauty. We make kohl paint to outline the eyes and to deflect bright sunlight; we mix powders with rich color to apply as rouge or a dusting on our eyelids, cheeks, bosoms, or buttocks. We grind precious metals to scatter as pretty glitters; and we create lip paints in tones of scarlet to make women's mouths sensual and desirable to their menfolk,' she explained.
'— And so?' the biographer queried. 'The urn?'
'You have in the amphora before you a preparation of secret ingredients which will shortly coalesce into a quantity of lip paint. It takes nine days to mature. Then it is ready to apply.'
'What's in the preparation, priestess?'
'Why Inspector, that's a priestess's secret.'
'What's in it, priestess? Tell us. We have no secrets here.'
Perenna was slowly consumed with a rising vexation.
'It is a secret recipe of ochre, iron ore, and the fucus plant, with the extra coloring of tiny crimson bugs gathered from African cacti. It is all blended into the purified lard of an ass and perfumed with blossom oils. Through its nine day maturation period my cult offers prayers and ceremonies to imbue the mixture with magical power in attracting admirers. That's why it was hallowed by a votive lamp and a phylactery talisman. My clients among the elite swear by the rich color of my lip paint and its power in attracting a lover.'
The biographer looked limply towards Clarus and Julianus. He continued unabated.
'Why was this urn raised high upon a ledge, priestess?'
Perenna was thoughtful for only a fleeting moment.
'The fats of the mixture are attractive to rats. The Alexandros seethes with Nile water rats in the bilges, so we keep edible things high beyond their reach.'
Suetonius felt stumped again. Surisca leaned across to Suetonius to whisper in his ear.
'The locket, my lord, the locket. It means something.'
Suetonius swept the leather-thonged golden locket from Julianus's arm. Perenna's manner stiffened. Both Urbicus' and Scorilo's eyes became riveted to the bubbled case of beaten gold dangling from the thong's loop. It was an ordinary bulla locket of no distinction.
'And what is this, my lady?' Suetonius addressed the priestess. She hesitated briefly.
'It's nothing, just the special prayer that infuses the lip paint with its attracting powers. It is women's secret magic. You need not concern yourself with such fanciful trivia.'
Once again Surisca whispered into the biographer's ear.
'She's being evasive. It's something special.'
'Strabon, good scribe, read the locket's lip-paint prayer to us,' the Special Inspector instructed. 'We're not averse to women's magic here.'
Strabon took the locket and flicked its catch open. Inside were a small furled square of papyrus and a lock of hair. The hair was light in hue and appeared singed by flame. The scribe also noted a single word scratched on the inside of the case. His eyes widened and he glanced nervously to the biographer for permission to respond.
'Well go on, man, read the prayer,' Suetonius pressed. The scribe unfolded the paper. Again, he grew concerned. He had a catch in his throat as he read aloud. 'When the King of the Lionhearted Plays with his man-cub no more It's time for the lackey To restore his own pride.'
The assembly in the sanctuary rustled with murmuring.
Hadrian fidgeted uncomfortably on his Egyptian high chair, but remained seated. Geta gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. Arrian's head hung low in despondency. Balbilla and the Augusta exchanged meaningful glances. Lysias and Thais grasped each other's hand more firmly. Clarus displayed increasing alarm.
