Antinous practiced the Delphic Hymns on his lyre until the feeling in his fingertips dulled and his skin callused. His voice was high and he sang sweetly:
Hark, you whose domain is deep-forested Helicon, loud-thundering Zeus' fair-armed daughters: come with songs to celebrate your brother Phoebus of the golden hair, who over the twin peaks of this mountain, Parnassus, accompanied by the far-famed Delphic maidens, comes to the streams of the flowing Castalian spring as he visits his mountain oracle.
His little song sparred with the cacophony of chants outside his window. Hail Caesar! Hail Caesar! The Emperor's ship had docked at Ostia and all of Rome was anticipating his arrival.
Leonides didn't cross the courtyard after his philosophy lesson that afternoon. He went straight to the field to join in the footraces. His friends tousled his hair and clapped him on the back. They adored him but seemed particularly affectionate on this day, none more so than Marcus who squeezed his waist tightly after they drew lots.
Marcus, with spots on his pointed chin and gangly limbs. Marcus who organized the matches because he himself was not athletic enough to win them. Marcus who appeared to have no other virtues apart from being loved by the most loved boy at school.
Normally Antinous would beg to join them, but he had other plans. After witnessing their tryst in the library, he noticed that every evening Marcus would retire to his rooms after supper to study. After nightfall, Marcus would leave his rooms and sneak into Leonides' sleeping quarters. Some nights he wouldn't emerge until dawn.
Antinous devised a plan. He would arrive at Leonides' rooms directly after supper. He would bring his lyre and play. The sound would signal to the spindly Roman that friend's affections were otherwise engaged for the night.
At dusk Leonides was already in his room with the door ajar, waiting for Marcus, just as Antinous knew he would be.
He stepped inside and locked the door behind him.
"Antinous." Leonides rose from the bed. Backlit by the candle on the desk, the panels of his white tunic appeared translucent. Antinous looked distractedly at the shape of his legs.
"You said you wanted to hear me play sometime. Perhaps now is that time."
He tensed. "There is something I should tell you."
Of course he need not say it. Antinous already knew that Marcus was his lover. Just because he was young did not mean he didn't understand the ways of the world.
He interrupted him and pointed to the gold-handled sword lying unsheathed on a cushion like a tired paramour.
"I too have a sword. I left it behind in Claudiopolis, my village." He did not mention that he had whittled it from wood.
Apart from his carefully displayed sword the room was disheveled. Scrolls lay unfurled on the desk, tunics and sandals were strewn haphazardly about the floor. There were open tinctures and spilled wax on the recessed window above his bed, not to mention a half-eaten loaf of bread, which he had stolen from the kitchens after supper. To some this may have looked unseemly, but to Antinous it was extension of Leonides' carefree nature, which he knew and loved.
Leonides sat on the edge of the bed and wrung his hands. He was anything but carefree. He looked troubled. Antinous sat beside him and rested the ivory frame of the lyre on his knee. He began to play. There was no song lovelier than a Delphic Hymn. It was sure to put the Roman at ease. And lo and behold as soon as he began to pluck the strings and the first note escaped his lips, Leonides' shoulders relaxed and he lay back on the bed.
Antinous did not have a powerful voice lauded at festivals, where singers reigned. It was soft and breathy, made for quiet parlour rooms and bedchambers. It would be lost among the sounds at a banquet hall. Its charms could only be appreciated in private. It was a gift for one man and no one else.
Leonides shut his eyes and parted his lips. So like the face he had with Marcus in the library but beyond pleasure. It was ecstasy.
This was his chance.
Antinous stopped playing but continued singing. To the streams of the flowing Castalian spring... He was nervous, scared, but it was the perfect opportunity. He dropped a hand on Leonides' lap and slowly snaked it up his tunic just as he had seen Marcus do. His heart was pounding as he touched Leonides' warm thigh and neared his destination.
Then he felt Leonides grip his wrist. "Stop."
Stop?
Humiliation.
He could feel his face redden and retracted his hand immediately.
The prophesy was right. He was cursed and would die but it would not be from a flood, it would be from shame. He did not think it was humanly possible to be this embarrassed.
"I—I was just trying to—"
"You don't need to do that," he said, his voice firm.
"I wanted to."
"You're a child, you don't know what you want."
There it was. So he was just a silly child to him after all.
Leonides backtracked. "I did not mean to offend."
The young Greek's embarrassment turned to anger. "Some people think I'm the most beautiful boy in the Empire."
"What people?" he said, amused by Antinous' sudden vanity.
"Many people!"
"Like who?" He was still smiling. Why did he insist on teasing him?
"The Emperor for one."
Leonides grew serious again. "Being beautiful doesn't make you a man."
"Most men prefer boys," he countered.
"I am not most men."
Another blow. It was the wrestling match all over again. Antinous would not be vanquished this time.
"Yes, I know all about you and Marcus. Was that what you were trying to tell me? That you're meeting him here tonight for another one of your trysts? Oh, I know all about you two," he said triumphantly.
"You know about me and Marcus? You little devil! Well yes, he is going to come here tonight but no, that's not what I was going to tell you."
It was moments like these that Antinous could feel the distance in age between them because while Antinous was nursing a scratch like he had been brutally stabbed, Leonides was holding onto something much more painful and did not even flinch.
"I'm leaving."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm joining the army."
"Can I come?"
"No."
Leonides leaving? Antinous had only known him a short time but could not imagine life without him. Who would he stare at from the window during his Latin lesson? Who would he wait for in the courtyard? Who would he follow to the footraces and wrestling matches, and who would help him practice?
"I'm joining the legionaries. You have to be seventeen and a Roman citizen. You can join the auxiliaries when you're older," he offered brightly.
"Won't your father disinherit you?"
"Legionaries sign up for twenty-five years of service. If we survive our time, we're rewarded with a gift of land."
"Where are they sending you? Perhaps I can visit!"
"I'm being sent to a camp in Judea to protect the Roman province from the Zealots."
"Is Marcus going with you?"
"He's staying here to continue his studies. Unlike me he actually enjoys rhetoric. His dream is to become a senator. Ironically, his father was a soldier. He died in the Dacian wars."
Quiet filled the room. Leonides couldn't look him in the eye for all he saw was sadness there. He picked up Antinous' lyre and plucked the strings with his uncoordinated fingers.
Antinous sniffed, "You're terrible at that," and demonstrated the proper technique.
Leonides placed a warm hand on the back of his neck.
"I don't want you to go."
"I have to."
"Judea is so far away. What if I never see you again?"
"I won't forget you, little one."
These were not the words of reassurance he was hoping for.
"Will you see me off at Nerio's Spear? I leave tomorrow at dusk."
He shook his head. "I will be too sad."
"I will be sad if you don't say goodbye."
Antinous wrapped his arms around his knees unsure.
"Promise me."
"Tomorrow at dusk," Antinous repeated. "I promise."
He left the room and passed Marcus in the corridor. Right on schedule. The Roman's eyes were red as though he had been crying. Antinous no longer found it within himself to be jealous. They were like enemy soldiers who had both lost and saw no reason to fight. The boys exchanged a nod. Marcus entered Leonides' bedchamber and spent one last night with his lover. Antinous didn't dare take this moment from them.
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The next morning he stared into the sun and willed it not to set. Time slipped through his fingers like sand and he was helpless to stop it. His lessons, which usually felt hours long, were over in the blink of an eye.
Even Remus and Romulus pitied him. When he transposed a verb in Latin, they did not bother to humiliate him. He was so miserable it took all the fun out of it.
He went through the motions of his day holding his tablet tightly during his lessons. It might be all he had left of Leonides after he'd gone to Judea. And what would Leonides' have of his? A broken tablet?
He decided to write him lyrics that he could sing at camp when he was feeling lonely. He titled it simply "Leo." He looked to the Delphic Hymns for inspiration:
Hark, you whose domain is the Eternal City, loud-thundering Jupiter's brave sons: come with songs to celebrate the warrior Leo of the golden hair, who over the peak of Caelian Hill, comes to the Tiber River as he leaves for Judea.
He blew on the ink and waited for it to dry, then rolled up the parchment and tied it with a piece of string.
Leonides said his goodbyes to teachers during his final lessons, then his friends. He shared his last meal with Titus and Cajus. Flavius demanded one last footrace. Marcus helped him pack his trunk.
He planned to say goodbye to Antinous last. He did not know if this meant he was most special to Leonides or least special.
The sun slumped over the Temple of Jupiter, light clinging to its columns as it slowly set behind Capitolium.
They were to meet at the pebbled road where a wagon would arrive with the other new recruits to take him away. He wished he could join them. It would be five whole years before he was seventeen.
Antinous changed his tunic and tied a sash around his waist. He carefully untangled his hair with the pointed teeth of a wooden comb until it was smooth and neat. If they couldn't go into battle together, he wanted Leonides' last image of him to make an indelible impression, like a marble statue, immortal.
At their meeting spot, Antinous stared down the tip of Nerio's Spear. He'd arrived early and kicked a rock over the edge. It tumbled down to the bottom of the hill where it made a splash in the ravine no bigger than a teardrop. He was not afraid of heights but often had dreams where he was falling.
He patted his sash to make sure he still had the poem he wrote tucked inside.
He heard someone approach behind the laurels. He squinted. It was still light enough that he could see the shape of the man but couldn't quite make out who it was. He thought for a moment that it was Leonides planning to surprise him. Or else Remus and Romulus had decided to have their fun with him anyway.
It wasn't Leonides, or Remus or Romulous, though the man was familiar. Antinous examined his sagam—the heavy cloak around his shoulders—his leather belt and dagger, but couldn't quite place him until he assumed a stately pose and delivered his orders.
It was the unsmiling imperial escort who brought him to Caelian Hill.
Not one for pleasantries the man immediately stated his business. "Parthenos Antinous, son of Erythros, your presence is requested at the Emperor's Villa in Tivoli."
He might have thought this was good news were he not so sad about Leonides leaving.
The escort was annoyed. "Do you understand what I'm telling you, boy? Caesar himself wants you by his side at the banquet to celebrate his return to Rome."
"When is the banquet?"
The fact that Antinous was not on his hands and knees thanking this man made the escort's eye twitch. "It's tonight. We must leave at once."
"I can't."
"You... Can't?"
"I have to say goodbye to my friend."
"There's no time." He grabbed Antinous by the wrist.
"He's leaving the city tonight!"
The imperial escort dragged him down the pebbled path. "Come, child."
"You don't understand! I may never see him again!"
He was pushed into the covered wooden carriage. The door slammed shut behind him.
A slave whipped the horse and the wheels squeaked and began to turn. Leonides would arrive any moment looking for him. He would receive no goodbye and no poem from Antinous, only a broken promise.
A/N: Farewell Leonides! He's leaving us for a little while to (hopefully) not die in Judea. Enter Hadrian.
What will Leo think when he goes to Nerio's Spear and Antinous isn't there?
What will Hadrian's reaction be when he sees Antinous at the banquet?
I'm SO excited to post the banquet scene! Commodus is the party planner so expect flowers.
I designed a few covers before I started posting this story. He's one with L & A.
If you enjoyed this chapter please give it a Vote! ⭐️