basting juices and wine.
When we had assembled at our dining couches, each with an attendant in tow, a horn sounded a fanfare. The barbarian Geta led a column of men from within the marquee into a handsomely gardened dining arena. Hadrian was last in the procession, taking his place at his central couch and adjusting his garments to recline as a signal to everyone to relax. He was again attired in a simple Greek tunic and mantle.
Incense fumes drifted languidly across the dining arc of a dozen or so couches as Arrian saluted Caesar in the crisp manner befitting a senior commander. He had been delegated by Caesar, the host, to be the Leader of the Symposium.
He stepped forward to the centre of the amphitheatre's podium. He took his position as two young girl flautists and a tambourine-thumping boy intoned the opening chords of the symposium's formal prologue. The chords silenced the enthralled assembly of courtiers, we ephebes, the various attendants, and officers of the Guard.
'Hail Caesar! And welcome honorable guests,' Arrian declaimed. 'In this year of the one hundred and fifty- sixth anniversary of the victory at Actium by Caesar Augustus against the enemies of Rome, we salute you.
On behalf of the People and Senate of Rome we celebrate that victory tonight. We regale among us the descendents of our Greek allies of Mantinea now resident at Bithynia who fought at Actium with Augustus in that triumph. In remembrance of Augustus's victory over his enemies by his appeal to Apollo as his special god, we offer praise too to Apollo Paean for that decisive conquest.'
It was now Caesar's cue to participate. Hadrian strode briskly from his couch to the sacrificial altar to one side of the podium. A priest of Apollo in ceremonial garb topped with a fresh laurel-leaf diadem raised a platter piled with the primary organs of the boar killed earlier in the day. As Hadrian intoned the offering in a declamatory style the priest tossed handfuls of laurel, the special favorite of Apollo, and pieces of the flesh into the altar's flames. The mixed smokes rose up to please the god in the heavens.
The melding odors of musky incense, burning laurel, and roasting flesh drifted across the garden arena in a mouth-watering haze. Servants delivered a basket piled high with laurel wreaths interlaced with sprays of wild grasses to adorn each celebrant, accompanied by garlands of blossoms to drape around the shoulders.
Hadrian's clear voice silenced the assembly. He intoned the awarding prayer.
'Blessed siblings, Apollo and Artemis, Our golden Lord of Healing and the Lady of the Hunt, receive these spoils of a choice young boar which Antinous of Claudiopolis killed in your honor. Hail to the victor, Antinous! — And now bring out the food and wine!'
Stewards and slaves appeared from surrounding marquees with goblets, rhytons, large mixing kraters, jugs of wine or water, platters of olives, dried fruits, nuts, figs, wild herbs, and local cheeses.
'Antinous of Claudiopolis, hero of the hunt, as victor you are inducted to do us the honor of mixing our wine!' Hadrian announced to everyone's surprise, especially Ant and I.
Three senior servants approached Antinous offering separate jugs of wine and water for a ceremonial blending into a larger krater bowl. Antinous was utterly startled by this unexpected duty. No one had warned him he would be obliged to perform the ceremony.
We other boys were glad it was not us who had to perform this rite before such distinguished company. Not one of us was ready for the prospect.
The ritual is perceived to be a demanding trial of a person's presentation skills. A command of personal composure, vocal declamation, poetic skill, and understated ritual gesture was on show. Restraint and confidence coupled with a degree of drama was the desired effect. I recalled how we had seen our elders perform the rite at public celebrations many times, but it demands nerves of iron and a steady hand coupled with a solemn sense of theater.
Antinous bravely stepped forward from his couch, adjusted his chiton nervously, and ceremoniously guided each steward with the rite's token gestures towards a 30/70 mix of water with the wine into the krater. He then studiously spooned-in a pot of honey. He performed the ceremony with the studied intensity expected of an honored ritual.
He boldly proclaimed the traditional prayer of the poet Alkaeus in a firm voice, just as we had heard his father and our elder brothers intone at palaestra parties, family feasts, or public sacrifices.
The assembly shouted a cheery agreement to Alkaeus's call for Dionysus's great gift of the vine to man as the mixed jars were poured liberally around. I saw Hadrian, Arrian, Julianus, and others glanced towards each other meaningfully just as they did at the Hunt. They had approving smiles.
It dawned on us both how Antinous might be the centre of attention in more ways than he had considered, though we could not be sure what that attention might be.
Other than the strips of roasted boar flesh and the free flowing wines, the precise courses of food served that evening is a foggy memory. They were many, and included victuals we had never eaten previously.
Antinous and I cautiously ate oysters from the Sea of Marmara for the first time, plus out-of-season fruits pickled in honey syrup. We tasted tiny spiced game birds of an unknown breed but delicious to the taste, and sipped prized Falernian and Setian wines from Italy for the very first time.
A schedule of entertainments began. It was devised, we suspected, to amuse youngsters. Comic actors and mime artists imported from Byzantium performed amusingly vulgar excerpts from classic comedy with many rude fart jokes and eunuch jibes. They were received with howls of laughter.
Jugglers and acrobats from Mauritania performed ingenious human contortions, while barbaric dancers with lithe bodies from Gades in Hispania surged and whirled to wild drummers.
An Egyptian wizard in quaint priestly garb amazed us with inexplicable acts of plucking objects from thin air and then manipulating their utter disappearance in an instant.
A gravel-voiced bard striking a resonant lyre chanted well-known stanzas of The Iliad's battle scenes telling of bone-crushing violence and the death of heroes at Troy. Our audience chanted along with him in the more familiar citations from Homer.
Lord Arrian took the podium to read aloud a short chapter from his writings of A History of Alexander. This is his own work-in-progress, we were told, a biography of the Macedonian king describing his remarkable military strategy for victory at Issus against the Persians. We, his audience, well appreciated the intricacies of the ancient hoplite phalanx with its long sarissa-pike charge which accompanied Alexander's cavalry to victory. We applauded our national hero rousingly.
As the evening progressed and the wine warmed the blood, a silver-voiced Syrian lad whose elegant attire and fine-boned features suggested he was a member of the aristocracy not a slave or low-class entertainer, sung erotic poems by ancient Theognis of Megara. He appeared to address his songs towards the emperor.
These words shifted the mood of the occasion into a mellow place. At one point both Antinous and I wondered if there was more than laurel burning on the altar or steeped in the wine because the occasion took on a richly affective afterglow. Warm delight soothed anxious brows; we were at our ease in a place of balmy delight. It was all very agreeable.
At another time Antinous strung his trophy boar's ears and snout into an arc across his head, wearing the animal's remnants like a silly hat giving him the appearance of having piggy ears. He danced about on his couch in a comical fashion portraying the beast dying under Hadrian's knife cast. This jovial routine amused everyone heartily. Antinous had been tipsy before, but perhaps never quite as tipsy as this night, I recall. At least he was a happy drunk and yet he seemed to retain his senses nevertheless..
Thaletas, a rich man's son from Byzantium who had cavalry aspirations, found himself attracted to one of the pretty slave girl flautists. He chatted her up and had her reclining beside him on his couch feeding him wine and morsels from platters. At some point they disappeared from the party and returned after a while with Thaletas visibly disheveled but grinning from ear to ear. He had obviously enjoyed something more bodily than wine.
Another guy who was the son of an important councilor at Nicomedia had arrived with a strapping fellow a few years his senior who we all assumed was a family bodyguard. He had stood all evening behind the lad's dining couch in a protective way, though they often shared the food and drink from a common plate. As the evening progressed the two became observably friendlier to each other. When they shifted into lying side by side on the couch and being tactile with each other it dawned on the other diners that they were in fact an item.
Whispers circulated how the older guy was of quality birth, a respected ephebe captain of the Nicomedia militia, and had been the approved erastes to his younger eromenos for the previous year.
It crossed our minds how any of the younger slaves or musicians of either gender who might appeal to us
