Who was the divine youth of his dream? There had been nothing to identify him as one of the familiar gods of Olympus. Was he Apollonius of Tyana, who often visited Marcus’s father in dreams? Marcus didn’t think so; surely Apollonius would have shown himself as Marcus had always heard him described, an old man with a white beard. Was he a manifestation of the Divine Singularity, of which Marcus’s father spoke? Perhaps. But it seemed to Marcus that the youth in his dream was a completely new being, never before seen by anyone in this world. He had shown himself to Marcus and to Marcus alone.

As the afterglow of the dream began to fade, Marcus tried to remember the face of the youth – he even tried to draw him, reaching for the stylus and wax tablet he kept at his bedside, but he found it impossible to recapture the features. The face Marcus drew was only a rough approximation that gave no hint of his unearthly perfection.

Perhaps the youth was nothing more than a creation of Marcus’s imagination. And yet, the dream had seemed more real than waking life. Marcus was convinced that this being came from a place outside himself, a world that was unimaginably vast and beautiful and full of wonder.

Trajan was dead.

Four years of campaigning in the East had yielded a series of conquests, including the capture of Ctesiphon and the subjugation of much of the Parthian empire. Armenia was made a Roman province, expanding Roma’s empire to the shores of the Hyrcanian Sea, as were Mesopotamia and Assyria, which included the fabled city of Babylon and the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, giving Roma direct access to the Persian Gulf and control of all imports from India and Serica, including silk. Trajan sent a letter to the Senate in which he declared that his mission was accomplished; he regretted only that he was too old to follow the example of Alexander and march all the way to India. In fact, throughout the campaigns, he often displayed the vigour of a man half his age, marching on foot and fording swift rivers alongside his soldiers, who worshipped him like a god.

Then, even as scattered rebellions broke out in the newly conquered territories, Trajan fell ill. His condition became so grave that Plotina, who was with him, persuaded him to set sail for Roma. He did not get far. Off the coast of Cilicia, he suffered a paralyzing stroke, then was afflicted with a dropsy that caused parts of his body to swell to enormous size. Further travel was impossible, and the imperial fleet made harbour at the small port city of Selinus. Trajan died there at the age of sixty-four, ending a twenty-year reign that had added unprecedented wealth and territory to the empire.

Hadrian, serving as governor of Syria, was declared emperor.

He had arrived in Roma some days ago, but as yet he had been seen by only a handful of people. This was to be the day of his public debut as emperor, with a triumphal procession to celebrate the stupendous conquests in the East. The triumph would not be for Hadrian but in posthumous honour of the Divine Trajan.

In preparation for the triumph, Marcus and Apollodorus had been very busy. The entire route of the procession had to be decorated with pennants and wreaths, as did various temples and altars all over the city. Viewing stands had to be erected near the Column, where the procession would reach its climax. Stage sets had to be designed for the plays that would be produced in the days ahead. Decorations had to be made for a great many banquets, large and small. Apollodorus had been summoned for a private audience the first day Hadrian arrived and had been in daily contact with him ever since. Marcus, working under Apollodorus, had not yet seen the new emperor.

The hour was early. The city had not yet begun to stir, but Apollodorus and Marcus and their workers had already been up for hours, labouring by torchlight to ready the triumphal route. The procession was only a few hours away.

They stood near the Column, surveying the brightly coloured streamers that had been affixed to the viewing stands. In the utterly still air the streamers hung as limp as shrouds, but with the slightest breeze they would snap to life, their undulations adding excitement and colour to the acclamations of the crowd.

Marcus threw back his head, opened his mouth wide, and yawned.

“Did you get any sleep at all last night?” said Apollodorus.

“Last night? It’s not dawn yet. This is still yesterday.”

Apollodorus laughed. “You’re babbling, Pygmalion. Did you go to bed early, as I told you to?”

“Yes, but…” Marcus was about to say, My wife went to bed with me, which meant I got no sleep at all, but since his wife was Apollodorus’s daughter, he restrained himself. Apollodorus nevertheless read his thought – the two had worked together for so long that each usually knew what the other was thinking – and smiled indulgently. The relationship between Apollodora and Marcus had grown gradually, with a long courtship that had given both of their fathers a chance to get used to the idea. Apollodorus was aware of Marcus’s irregular origins, but marriage into such an ancient patrician family was a great honour for the daughter of a Damascene Greek; for Lucius Pinarius, the match had seemed far below his son’s station, but Marcus clearly loved the girl, and when Lucius asked himself, “What would Apollonius of Tyana do?” – always his test for making a difficult decision – he enthusiastically approved the union.

The marriage was a happy one. So far, there had been no children – but not for lack of trying, as Marcus made clear with another yawn and a dreamy smile.

“I never thought I’d see this day,” declared Apollodorus, gazing at the cleaners who were sweeping the empty square soon to be thronged with people.

“The day we’d celebrate a triumph over the Parthians?” said Marcus.

“No, the day Hadrian would ride through the streets of Roma as Caesar. He still seems a boy to me. I suppose I thought Trajan would live forever.”

“So did Trajan, apparently,” said Marcus. “Even towards the end, when he was paralyzed and puffed up like an Arabian adder, they say he refused to make a will. Some say he wanted to die without naming a successor, in imitation of Alexander the Great. How did Hadrian become emperor?”

“It was all Plotina’s doing,” said Apollodorus. “Not that Hadrian wasn’t the obvious choice. But it was Plotina who assured his legitimacy. She told everyone that her husband had adopted Hadrian with his very last breath, and she rallied her loyal courtiers to support Hadrian at every turn. Some say Plotina must be in love with Hadrian, and the two were carrying on an affair behind Trajan’s back.”

“Is that likely?”

Apollodorus laughed. “Knowing Hadrian, what do you think? I suspect Plotina’s affection for him is more of the maternal variety, don’t you? Oh, I’m sure she’s infatuated with him, and has been for a very long time, in the way an older woman may be smitten by a younger man. But that doesn’t mean their relationship is carnal.”

“I suppose Hadrian will be heading off to war as soon as this triumph is over,” said Marcus.

“Why do you say that?”

“I’ve heard that a great many of the newly conquered cities are in revolt. Insurgencies threaten to undo all those lightning-quick conquests made by Trajan. Hadrian will have to go back and reconquer everything to keep it from being lost.”

“Or maybe not,” said Apollodorus. “I was talking to him yesterday – you understand this is absolutely confidential, son-in-law?” When he was serious, Apollodorus tended to address Marcus as son-in-law, rather than as Pygmalion. “Hadrian says the new provinces in the East are untenable. He says Trajan overreached. Not only are the conquered territories in revolt, but the Jews are making trouble again – they’ve staged bloody riots in Alexandria and Cyrene and there’s open warfare on the island of Cyprus. Tens of thousands have died. According to Hadrian, suppressing the Jews is far more important than holding on to Ctesiphon. So, instead of pouring soldiers and treasure into a perpetual war to hold the new Eastern provinces, he wants to cede the more troublesome areas to potentates beholden to Roma, creating a string of client states along a more defensible Eastern frontier.”