'I don't know if the boy would suicide, or if some other malevolence was at play? Perhaps he simply went for a night-time swim in the river and got into trouble. It happens. The Nile is not a bath-house pool, you know. People drown in it every day. Yet there've been many odd things happening in recent times which make one wonder.'
Vestinus ceased suddenly. He realized he might have overstepped an imaginary line somewhere. Suetonius tried to respond as nonchalantly as possible, as though it was impromptu.
'Odd things? What sort of odd things, Julius?' he chanced.
Clarus shifted forward to hear. Vestinus mulled his words carefully.
'Well, there's been a lot going on. There's the competition from the Western Favorite, which I'm sure the lad found intimidating. Then there are people in his own circle who I wonder about. Lysias of Bithynia, for example, his friend of his own age. Does he have reason to be jealous of Antinous? Or that young courtesan Thais, if that's what she is? Or the woman Julia Balbilla who travels with Sabina? Or — ?
Then there's the business with Pachrates, the Egyptian priest we saw earlier. Both Caesar and the lad took a close interest in this charlatan and seem utterly entranced by him. All I see is a clever trickster with a bag of magical trinkets and a line in fast-talk. 'Beware priests selling religion', I say.
Then there's the Nile itself. The river has had a bad season since July; it hasn't risen to the necessary height for large harvests, so the locals are claiming it's the emperor's fault. Too much water or too little are equal disasters in this strange land.
Apparently emperors and pharaohs are not supposed to travel on the Nile during its flood season, it's a bad omen. It brings bad luck. These people are very superstitious. They see omens everywhere, even more than we Romans. And then of course there's Caesar's cough too — '
Vestinus fell silent abruptly. He had said too much.
'Caesar's cough?' the biographer asked as casually as his racing mind could manage. 'What about Caesar's cough? Hadrian has long had a mild chest or throat complaint; it's nothing important, is it?'
Vestinus measured his words carefully.
'I am unsure of that, Tranquillus; I am unsure of that indeed. Nowadays he coughs up spots of blood. We are forbidden to talk of it, but it's true. Even his physicians are concerned. But we must not go down that path, Tranquillus, it's forbidden. It gives ambitious discontents big ideas, ideas usually with a huge cost in human life attached.'
Much scuffling was heard down the tent corridors. Guards shouting loudly in Latin and Greek alternated by rough accents in the local Demotic dialect sounded nearby. Tribune Macedo stomped into the chamber followed by guards manhandling two peasants struggling with wooden leg shackles.
Macedo's men pushed the two Egyptians to the floor and stood over them. The frightened peasants in their rags, reed sandals, and tattered leather jerkins, looked around the marquee at the ageing men in togas. Macedo saluted.
'The are the two peasants who found the body of Antinous this morning.'
Clarus, Vestinus, and Suetonius looked over the duo. They weren't promising material, but at least they were unharmed.
'Does anyone here speak their language,' the Special Inspector asked. One of the attending Praetorians stepped forward and saluted.
'Centurion Quintus Urbicus, sir. I am based at Alexandria with Governor Flavius Titianus as an officer of his Guard. I was born at Lambaesis in Numidia and have served with Prefect Turbo in Mauretania. So I know a little of the old languages of Africa and Egypt,' he stated with military precision.
'Well, you might translate for us, if you can,' Suetonius said. 'First, tell them we must have the truth from them or else all sorts of horrible things could happen to them. They'll believe that, I'm sure!'
Praetorian Urbicus spoke in a stumbling way to the Egyptians. From watching their faces carefully reading his lips to follow his misshapen version of the local dialect, it was clear they nevertheless understood what he was saying. They blanched suitably.
Vestinus called quickly to his steward nearby. He explained.
'This man's name is Strabon, my freedman secretary. Strabon specializes in speed dictation. He records testimony verbatim in his special code onto wax notebooks. He later transcribes these in ink onto papyrus. He's good, and he's fast.'
Suetonius posed his first questions as Strabon readied with his stylus and waxpad. Urbicus attempted a simple translation, shaping his words hesitantly to be reasonably faithful to his speakers.
'Ask them, Centurion — What are your names? Where are you from? What is your trade? Who is your master?' Suetonius demanded in his best authoritative tone. The Praetorian's translation followed the peasant's responses closely.
'We have no master, great lords,' Urbicus interpreted. 'We are free tenants of temple land. We are registered by law to our Nome at Besa. My name is Ani; his name is Hetu. We are catchers of fishes and netters of birds. We are cousins. We live with our families in a hut outside the town wall of Besa. Besa is the village near to this city of great palaces. We are worshippers of the god Asar, so we are Asar's servants.'
Urbicus added as an aside, 'The god they call Asar is the one we call Osiris, the husband of Isis.'
'Tell us how you found the body,' Suetonius asked. Urbicus translated.
'At dawn of this first day of The Festival of Isis, great lords, we went to the river's edge to untie our fishing boats, as we do every day. It was first light, so early indeed only one other boat was on the river. We were intending to catch red-billed ibis from nests in the river wetlands, but certainly not sacred ibis which is forbidden. Red-billed ibis are good eating. Today, the first day, is the day when Asar dies. In two days time Asar will be reborn. There will be many pilgrims who mourn and praise Asar's death over these days, so the ibis will fetch good prices for the feasting on the day of Asar's resurrection.'
Ani paused to assess his effect on his listeners. Hetu was quaking in fear and stricken mute.
'Yet when we untied our boat we found we couldn't release it from the bank. Something was stopping it. We looked into the water and could see a man's hand caught in river grasses under the boat.
We thought it was a river demon beneath the boat. He was either a demon of the Underworld, or he was a drowned man. Then we could see he was actually a god. A god was caught beneath the boat. We tried to pull the god from the water, but his robes were water-logged and heavy because he was dressed in precious silver and gold and white jewels.
We knew he was a deity because he had drowned in Mother Nile on the first day of the Isia. To drown in the Nile at the Isia is to become divine. He had frightening white hair, white skin, and strange clothes. Even his face was fleshed in silver. We saw he had the special armor and sword which Pharaoh's soldiers wield.
So we pulled him onto the bank from beneath our boat, and Hetu started calling for help. It was some time before anyone came to us, but soon many people came.
There was much shouting because everyone could see he was a god. Then Pharaoh's soldiers came and took us away. I thought we would receive many coins for our discovery, but we have been locked-up like thieves instead. We are not thieves, great lords!'
Clarus and Suetonius exchanged glances. 'Pharaoh' was obviously Caesar. They could see from their simple faces and open expressions the fishermen were probably telling the truth, at least as they saw it.
'What does he mean 'his face was fleshed in silver'?' Suetonius asked.
Vestinus contributed a response.
'Among Antinous's armory is a cavalry parade-mask of beaten silver. He only wears it on ceremonial occasions where formal cavalry kit is expected. He receives gifts of armors from Caesar for every occasion, but wore his 'silver-and-whites' with its mask only at official ceremonies as a Companion of the Hunt. But why he was wearing it last night is unknown,' the secretary explained. 'It was among the items stripped from his body piled on the floor in Hadrian's chambers.'
'How do you think this 'god' came to be in the river?' Suetonius asked the fishermen through the Praetorian translator. He wondered if they might possess an opinion of interest. They responded with their own questions.
'We do not know. Is he a river god? Is he a demon? Is he Asar himself dying again? Is he a gift to Mother Nile from the priests?' the trembling Hetu managed to stammer.
'What does he mean, 'a gift to Mother Nile'?' Suetonius furthered. Hetu braved the response.
'The first day of the Isia tells us of the death of Asar. Asar went down to the Underworld, and Isis the
