The gods favoured Leonides.

Born under the sun of the spring equinox to patricians of the highest order and raised in a domus on Palatine Hill, everything came easily to the young Roman.

He was a healthy baby, showered with affection and grew up to be both fast and strong. He won the first race he ever ran, the first match he ever wrestled and from then on, the victories did not cease.

When he arrived in Judea to join his legion, the cavalrymen tried to break his spirit. Many were plebeians who relished the fact that the patrician was now the lowest rung on the ladder.

Romans did not win battles because they were strong fighters, but because they understood that the art of war required infrastructure. The building and maintaining of camps, fortresses and barricades. They put Leonides to work pitching tents, digging trenches, chopping and sanding wood for the catapults. To their dismay he was happy to help and found much pleasure in these menial tasks. When it came time to fight the rebels, his focus and discipline paid off and he won every skirmish. The plebeians never bothered him again and the gods smiled.

He returned to Rome to win yet another victory at the games. He hadn't planned to compete but when he learned that the Emperor would be in attendance, he could not refuse. The soldier hadn't raced in some time and his friends warned that he might be bested, but he loved to run and for Leonides love was as good a reason as any to participate. Like every race before it he crossed the finish line to the sound of cheers and flowers strewn at his feet.

It was only when he looked upon the cool stare of his old school friend in the Emperor's box did he feel that victory might, for the first time in his life, be out of his grasp.

He awoke in Hadrian's villa to the sun seeping in through the gossamer curtains. He hadn't slept in a bed so soft since the comforts of home when he lived with his mother and father. But he was not well rested. Most athletes took a lover after a victory to release the pent-up energy of the match. One by one victors disappeared from the banquet hall with a boy or a woman in tow. He could hear the moans all night. Normally, Leonides would be aching to do the same but he wasn't in the mood. Instead, he pulled out his sword and ran a whetstone along the blade until it was sharp enough to split a hair.

He slipped on a plain tunic and tied a leather cord around his waist. With no camp to set up or battle to train for, the day was long. He wandered through the passageways of the villa, which were as confusing to him in daylight as they were at night.

When he finally emerged outdoors, he walked past Hadrian's private theater. He sat in a row of empty stone seats and wondered what it would be like to be Emperor and host one's own plays, to watch actors wearing the masks of Aeneas and Dido relive history's great romance and greater tragedy night after night. Did Antinous enjoy these entertainments?

There was laughter coming from the other side of the palestras. He followed the sound of the other victors.

They were in the baths. These were nothing like the polluted public baths in the city. He stepped along the colonnade in awe. The painted pillars were as tall as gods and the arched ceiling higher than the sky. There were detailed mosaics of water deities among the richest veined marble. Steps led down into the pristine water, which was clear and blue.

Like the human heart, a Roman bath contained four chambers: the calidarium, with hot water; the tepidarium, with warm water; a circular shaped dry chamber called the laconicum; and finally a cold water rinse in the frigidarium.

There were a few nobles and victors he did not know and Ingulf, a wrestler, seated inside with arms outstretched on the ledge and his eyes shut. He was a galley slave from Germania who bought his freedom as a gladiator. Leonides thought him decent, though he did like to talk.

He removed his tunic and stepped into the hot water of the calidarium, which felt even better than it looked against his naked body. With the golden head of Achilles and the hero's sculpted flesh, he was both admired and envied by other men. But even those who envied him did not hate him. He was too good natured to hate.

He swam to the other end of the pool. Ingulf opened one eye. "Barely got a wink of sleep last night. I had three slave girls. After a victory I breed like a boar. How about you? Who did you make off with?"

Leonides too had the urge to mount after a victory but it was usually another soldier that caught his eye. He liked provincial boys who blushed easily and weren't yet jaded by the cynical ways of Rome. The general wondered why the men under Leonides' command were undefeated. When he observed the boys coming and going from his tent each night he learned what made the youths in his squadron so loyal.

"I went to bed alone. Too much...Wine."

"That's a shame. You must be aching for a good futuo! I'm sure you can find a stable boy with a free hand." His hairy chest shook with laughter.

A slave brought out a tray of food. Quails eggs and apricots. This was a far cry from the millet he was served every day in Judea. He was starving, as always, but had to be careful not to overindulge. His body was unused to richness.

Ingulf showed no such restraint. He stuffed his entire mouth with eggs. If his lovemaking was anything like his eating, Leonides pitied those women he bedded.

Across the calidarium, he spotted Commodus and his young acolyte, Remus. A troop of victors had emerged from their bedchamber that morning too tired to stand. They had serviced the nobles all night. One likened it to the battle of Carthage. They barely made it out alive. Remus and Commodus appeared well rested, however, their faces dewy and pink from the steam that rose off the water. They were gossiping, which Leonides found unbecoming. But that's what one had to do if he lived for power instead of honor.

Above the chatter he heard the echo of bare feet slapping against the stone floor. A hush came over the bathing men, even Commodus, who was silent for no one.

He turned his head. There, wearing nothing but a bed sheet around his waist, curls tousled from sleep, was Antinous, the empire's moody princeling.

Leonides swallowed.

The boy dipped his toe in the water of the tepidarium. Unsatisfied he reclined on the pool's edge with his knee bent.

He tried not to stare. Antinous was as lean as he was when they were in school with faint lines of muscle etched on his chest, arms and thighs. He remembered this young body sitting on his knee at the Flavian feeding him sweet meat. He was light as a cat and twice as fierce. He scratched Leonides to pieces when they wrestled, but he was so cute with his large dark eyes blinking up at him that he could never scold him.

Just then the boy stood with his back to them and removed the bed sheet. Leonides' eyes followed the curve of his back down to the shadowy cleft of his bottom.

"Don't look at him," said Ingulf.

"I'm not," he said, still looking.

"Don't even think about looking at him."

Leonides watched as he turned, the tender flesh between his legs swaying for a moment as he walked down the steps and disappeared into the hot water of the calidarium. He was shaved like a pleasure slave. One did not have to touch him to know that he was smoother than silk.

Like Leonides, the other men were trying and failing to look away.

"He belongs to the Emperor," Ingulf warned. "A lot has changed since you left for Judea."

"They're lovers, I know." The edge in his voice surprised him.

"They are much more than lovers." The gladiator lowered his head, submerging his chin in the water. "Hadrian has taken no other boys since his union with the little Greek. He honours him like a wife, and worships his beauty like a god. All of Rome bows down to him."

This made perfect sense and no sense at all. Antinous, though beautiful, did not want to be worshipped and adored. He had the heart of a warrior, and he was so shy his voice barely rose to a whisper when he sang. He remembered that private concert in his bedchamber fondly.

Perhaps that's why Antinous' words had wounded him so badly the night before. Leonides was convinced that he was special to him. That they were special to each other.

If Antinous felt all eyes upon him he did not show it. He tilted his head back, enjoying a good long soak.

"Should I go over there and say hello?"

"What?" Ingulf nearly choked on a quail's egg. "Absolutely not."

"No one is approaching him."

"Because they have sense."

"He looks lonely."

"Have you not listened to a word I've said?"

Leonides was a brave leader but terrible at taking orders.

"I'm going to say hello."

He rose and walked to the other end of the bath, hot water lapping against his chest.

Antinous did not immediately greet him or even acknowledge his presence. No matter, Leonides thought. It would take some time for them to get reacquainted. He simply needed to be reminded of the memories they shared.

"Hello—"

He barely got the word out before Antinous stood and walked back up the steps of the pool.

"I only wanted to—"

Antinous inched along the baths to the frigidarium. He sank into the icy waters until he was too cold to stand it, tied the bedsheet around his waist and left.

Ingulf snorted.

It was a blow but Leonides had been struck before. He wouldn't give up so easily. The soldier climbed out of the water and toweled off by the braziers, skin burning like hot coals, then slipped back into his tunic.

The boy hadn't bothered to dry himself. He followed the wet footprints on the stone path.

He kept his distance and did not make a sound as he stealthily neared his target. There were no other guests in this part of the villa. Only statues. Eight seated muses, Diana the huntress, and a bearded centaur that looked so much like Hadrian it could have been the Emperor himself cast in black marble.

Antinous entered the gardens behind a trellis of roses, the sheet around his waist dragging behind him like peacock feathers.

Leonides spied on him through the latticework.

This must have been his safe haven, for his lyre and parchment rested on the stone bench. Antinous picked up the instrument and absentmindedly plucked at the strings. When he was alone, his features softened and he was no longer a moody princeling at all, but the shy boy from Bithynia. He appeared sad and as the music swelled beneath his fingers, Leonides could have sworn he saw a tear forming in the corner of his eye.

He leaned forward to get a better look when a branch snapped beneath his foot.

Antinous' head shot up and his tearful expression turned to fury.

"This is my private garden."

"It's lovely," he said, stepping inside.

"Did you follow me?"

He was caught but he did not feel guilty.

"There was once a time when you followed me."

"I did no such thing."

"You spied on me from behind the colonnade in the school courtyard."

"Lies!"

This was the Antinous he knew. Fiery temper. Ready for a fight. Completely hysterical, of course.

"And from the window of your Latin lesson. Did you think that I never looked up?"

His cheeks turned a brilliant shade of scarlet before he rebutted, "The tables have turned, haven't they?"

He set the lyre aside and approached Leonides. Up close he smelled of lavender oil. His hair was longer and curled behind his ears. His face had lost the roundness of youth but his full lips had the same stubborn pout.

"What is it you want from me, Leonides?" he asked, long lashes sweeping across his cheeks.

He'd fought countless battles in Judea but none so intimidating as this.

"Time alone. To talk as the friends we once were. Perhaps I didn't mean much to you then, as you say, but you were quite dear to me."

Guilt tugged at his features. He considered it for a moment, dark eyes carefully assessing the soldier and his request. He took a breath.

"Very well then."

"Yes?"

"Meet me in one hour."

"One hour," Leonides repeated.

"Not here. I will be standing in the courtyard. Fifteen paces north of the theatre and eleven paces east of the baths. Find me there and you can have all the time in the world."

His lips moved repeating the instructions to himself over and over since he was prone to forget.

Antinous was attended by his slave, a boy with a terrible scar across his cheek who might have been a great beauty otherwise. He followed his young master into the domus looking warily over his shoulder.

Ingulf was outside the baths now with his hands on his hips. An alarming pose for a naked gladiator.

"You look satisfied. Have you finally got a hold of that stable boy?" The he reached down and grabbed himself. "Or did he get a hold of you?"

Leonides slapped his wet chest. "The stable boy will have to wait, Ingulf. I have much more important engagement this afternoon."

If he wasn't staying at the Emperor's villa, he would have gone to the market and bought some sweet meat for them to share, perhaps he would have bought him a small ivory carving or frankincense for an offering to Mars. Instead he clumsily picked some figs with leaves and twigs still attached at the stem.

He counted fifteen paces north from the theatre and eleven paces east of the baths, just as he was instructed. Then he waited.

He was nervous. It was Antinous, he reminded himself, there was nothing to be nervous about. He'd met his old school friend Marcus days earlier. He had a wife and child now. He was canvasing Esquiline Hill ahead of the election, greeting merchants and shopkeepers. Leonides reached out and shook his hand. Marcus smiled when he realized who stood before him. They were lovers in school and still cared for each other but the hot sun of their lust had dimmed to twilight.

Antinous on the other hand was only a little boy when they were in school. Leonides saw him as a brother. His beauty was protected behind the veil of childhood. Innocence, Leonides instinctively knew, was not to be disturbed. Now that Antinous was on the cusp of manhood, his beauty invited all the world to look upon him.

Someone approached, but it wasn't Antinous. In a purple toga embroidered with gold the Emperor called out, "Are you stealing my figs?"

He looked at the fruit and then up at Hadrian. "It would appear so."

He wasn't angry but rather amused.

"Found yourself a girl, have you?"

"Boy," he said, then added quickly, "stable boy."

His horses were being harnessed to a carriage for a trip to the metropolis, to address the senate no doubt.

"We have much in common, Leonides. You needn't woo him with figs. A stable boy would be grateful for the attentions of a legionnaire."

He reached out to pet the white mane of Hadrian's gelding. He missed his own horse, which he was forced to leave behind in Judea.

"You're a cavalry officer?"

"Yes, Caesar. Commander of my squadron."

"I knew I recognized the name. Severus mentioned you. He says you won every campaign you fought."

The Emperor had heard of him? He was speechless.

"They were only rebels—civilians—not soldiers."

"You are modest. Some of our fiercest enemies hide in plain sight."

He gripped the fruit in his palm.

"Is your father proud?"

Perhaps because Hadrian was childless, and because his father died when he was ten, he could not understand how complicated a question this was.

Leonides chose his words carefully. "He knows there is no greater honor than serving Rome's military but he always wished I would become a great orator like him."

The Emperor stroked his beard, which looked wise instead of menacing as it did on the centaur.

"Well, I am proud of you."

The horse struck the ground impatiently with his hoof. His attendants held out the door to the covered carriage waiting to take him to the forum.

"We must speak again. I would like to get your opinion on the Israelites and the state of affairs in Jerusalem where my new temple will be built."

"Me? But I'm only a cavalry officer. The generals know much more than I."

"The generals tell me what I want to hear. I'm more interested in hearing from the man who admits to stealing my figs."

As the Emperor climbed into his carriage and rolled away, Leonides looked over his shoulder. Was Antinous hiding nearby? Did he see him speaking with Hadrian and decide against their meeting? Leonides didn't spot him anywhere and continued waiting.

Servants, slaves and guests walked by. An hour had long passed. 

Why would he choose to meet here, he wondered? Come to think of it, this was a very strange meeting place, very strange indeed, trafficked by everyone in the villa, including the Emperor himself.

Find me there and you can have all the time in the world.

Leonides looked up and there in the courtyard stood a statue of Antinous with a cold marble smile.

A/N: Antinous tricked him!

(Which is kind of mean, though he's only trying to save Leonides' life.)

Rejected again but Leo isn't giving up. Next chapter he tries yet again, with maybe a bit more luck. The gods do favor him after all 😏

This is a digital reconstruction of what the baths at Hadrian's villa might have looked like.

And this is the statue of the centaur recovered from Hadrian's villa. They think it's a copy, based on a Hellenistic model. (Hadrian can't get enough of those Greeks). 

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