Antinous did not tell anyone about his encounter with the emperor that morning. Hours passed and he began to wonder if he'd imagined it. The more he thought on it the less vivid the memory, like a distant star where he had never been and could not return.

It was only when his father was handed a summons, sealed with the emperor's signet, did he believe it was true.

The court page entered through the walled garden where his mother grew her herbs and spices. The house was made of sun-dried mudbrick and plaster, inexpensive materials, which often crumbled and needed to be replaced. The roof was a mosaic of clay tiles, and the windows small with wooden shutters to keep the house cool.

They guided the page into the andron, the home's front room, where they received guests. A loom leaned against the wall like a tired ox. There were not enough chairs, so the children sat on straw mats.

His father cracked the seal, unfurled the parchment and read silently to himself. He looked up. "Antinous has been summoned by the emperor to the Imperial Paedagogium at the Caelian Hill."

Rome.

Neither his parents nor his siblings spoke of why he was being summoned. They knew. Antinous had survived floods as an infant but this was the storm they were waiting for.

"He is to leave tomorrow at sunrise."

From the braided straw mat in the corner, Antinous tilted his head and said, "Tomorrow? I can't. I promised Kleitos I would play dice with him."

His father shook the parchment. "This is not an invitation. It's a summons. Do you understand? You have no choice." In his father's anger he saw the flicker of relief. Like a curse had finally been lifted. Whatever the gods had in store for Antinous, it would happen far away from Bithynia and their crumbling mudbrick house. Then he looked at the faces of his brothers and sisters, which hid the same relief.

He often looked at their faces. Their features were similar to his, yet the geometry of the lips in relation to the nose and eyes that made his face inspire love were no more than shapes on their plain expressions. His beauty was an equation that Pythagoras himself could not solve.

"I won't send him!" his mother screamed and beat the chest of the page.

His father pulled her back by the hair. This outburst would cost her dearly later that night.

She ignored her husband and fell to her knees begging the court page for more time, another year, another month, but he said that the emperor would not leave Claudiopolis without him.

His little sister, who was shy and standing behind the loom, suddenly put an arm around his bare shoulder. He was leaving for a new place, a new world. He didn't know if he would be back or ever see them again. Not only was he being taken from his family but his family was being taken from him. Life as he knew it would vanish at sunrise.

Fear was the cousin of excitement. Antinous reached for his sword and tucked it into his belt. Rome, civil service, the army, adventure. It may have been his beauty that caught the emperor's eye, but it was his courage that would win his respect.

That night, his mother packed his things in a small sack. She folded his white tunics and tucked inside a new pair of sandals that she was planning to surprise him with for the winter solstice. They did not have iron studs on the bottom, but the leather was supple and intricately woven. He admired her handwork. Why had he never done so before? She wrapped nuts, olives, fruit and cheeses in a cloth tied with string so he would not go hungry on his journey. Her bottom lip was split and her left eye swollen shut in desperate need of tending, yet she worried solely for him.

He looked down sheepishly at his wooden sword. He wasn't the only warrior in his family and he certainly wasn't the bravest. He placed the sword in her hands.

"I will come back."

He could not tell if she believed those words. He did not know if he believed them.

🌿

There were two ships at the port. One carried the imperial retinue, the other carried the treasures the emperor had accrued on his tour.

Antinous had never been on a ship.

The emperor travelled in a covered wagon to the port. Antinous was given a horse led by a Parthian slave, who guided him on foot.

The slave's name was Orodes. He was bought and sold by a merchant in Cyrene. Not much older than Antinous, Orodes was tall and slim, handsome, but for a large scar on his cheek in the shape of a hook. They exchanged a few words but struggled to communicate. The slave's command of Greek wasn't strong and he appeared to have forgotten much his native tongue. He was a boy lost between languages and lands.

The sea sparkled on the horizon. He heard the familiar scream of the seagulls and hush of the waves. The ships were wooden vessels with square rigs and deep bellies. Orodes said the emperor's ship was as large as a palace. It even had a library. This excited Antinous but it was the water itself that he was drawn to. He couldn't wait to step on board and feel the majesty of Poseidon swell beneath his feet.

He looked around suddenly and realized there was no one there to share his excitement. He knew no one but the emperor. In this new world Hadrian was now his mother, his father, his sibling and his friend. By taking him from his family he didn't take away his life, he'd made himself the center of it.

Hadrian emerged from his wagon.

Antinous hopped on the dock and waved but the emperor didn't wave back. Behind him a young nobleman of about twenty climbed out of the wagon with an exaggerated yawn. He had a wreath of flowers twined in his hair and an embroidered toga. Four slaves lifted a canopy above his head to protect his alabaster skin from the sun while another two slaves held large fans made of peacock feathers to cool him.

"Who is that?"

"Lucius Ceionius Commodus," said the page.

Commodus turned his head and glared at Antinous, who shifted uncomfortably in his plain tunic.

"He is a descendent of the Ceionia dynasty, the purest aristocratic bloodline in the Empire."

Antinous began to follow them when the court page stopped him.

"You are not part of the imperial retinue." 

He was confused.

The page instead guided him to the freighter vessel that was bound for Rome.

Hadrian would continue his tour and travel to Anatolia with Commodus while Antinous would begin his education at Imperial Paedagogium and await the emperor's return.

"I thought we were travelling together?"

The page laughed. "You and Commodus on the same ship? Never."

"Why not?"

"Commodus is the emperor's beloved," he said, "and your romantic rival. Didn't you know? You're embroiled in the Roman court's most scandalous love triangle!"

How could he possibly be in the Roman court's most scandalous love triangle? He was twelve. He'd never been in love or to Rome!

Commodus instructed the slaves to prepare his cabin. "Get me out of the sun! I don't know how these Bithynian barbarians stand the heat."

Hadrian walked onto the stern of his ship sliding a hand along the rail. His signet ring caught the light, the same ring he pressed into the melted wax of the summons he sent to Antinous' family, sealing his fate.

Once Commodus was inside the vessel and out of earshot, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called: "I'll meet you on the other side of the world, young warrior!"

Antinous gave the emperor a soldier's salute.

He set down his sack and waited for the ship to disembark. Orodes got to work at once and made a pallet on deck for him to sleep later that night.

Among stacks of crates that contained iron, lead, leather, marble, perfumes, dyes, silk, silver, spices and wine, the emperor's treasures, sat little Antinous, his most precious treasure of all.

A/N: Antinous has made his first enemy...

The relationship between Hadrian and Commodus did happen, which is interesting because he seems like the exact opposite of Antinous.

One of my sources writing this fic is Marguerite Yourcenar's Memoirs of Hadrian and I am LIVING for her descriptions of Commodus. He and Hadrian got together when Commodus was around eighteen and partying non-stop at court, as one does. She says he had "an exquisite mania for arranging flowers, a wild love of travesty, and also of gambling" and described him as a "dancing young faun" and an "arrogant arbiter of Roman fashion." Marry me.

The chapter heading IN LOCO PARENTIS is Latin for "in place of a parent."