Free Boy Caesar by Jeremy Reed Page B

being found out and flogged. He had all the instinctual alertness of an animal surprised in its lair. He sat up rigid, clearly prepared to jump off the chest and run.
    Heliogabalus didn’t falter. It was too late now. He kept his eyes fixed on the man and dropped his shoulders low as a sign that he intended no hostility. He wondered what the response would be when the man saw him dressed as emperor. And, excited as he was, he had already decided to put aside the idea of sex. Venturing into the dark and coming on to the man was sufficient. He knew that if he took it a step further and the man resisted then his minder might run him through. He didn’t want the man to die in this way. The two had formed an almost complicitous pact in the dark, scenting each other out and sharing the apprehension of the act. He wanted to leave it at that and back out while there was still time. He drew out whatever money he had on him and threw it in the direction of the stranger. There was the muffled sound of coins pinking on the stone floor in a series of dispersed ricochets.
    He turned around immediately and made for the open door, imagining he was going back into the light after having participated in one of the mystery cults. He felt stronger for the encounter, no matter his sense of sexual disappointment. Rome, he knew, offered him everything, but his first attraction had been to an unknown docker taking time out in a corporate-owned warehouse.
    Outside he was glad of the zingy river air. Only one person had witnessed his frustrated attempt to make a conquest of rough trade, and he wasn’t bothered. If the man wasn’t anyway similarly inclined, then it was unlikely he would dare talk. So intense was theexperience that he felt he had entered a pocket of missing time and was coming back to a different sort of reality.
    They went back through the city in the late afternoon light, its mix of pink and gold pointing up the buildings. Their progress was deliberately slow, and when they got back it was early evening. An abrupt hailstorm seethed across the park, the atomized ice hitting target like miniature ping-pong balls. The shower seemed to come out of nowhere, with all the blustery assault of April weather.
    Back in his palatial suite he settled to a deep scented soak, but not before he had requested a dinner based on dishes made popular by Apicius. He knew that he would hardly touch the food, but the aesthetic was important. He ordered sows’ breasts with Lybian truffles, peacock’s tongues flavoured with cinnamon, oysters stewed in garum, sturgeons from Rhodes, fig-peckers from Samos and African snails. The variety was like creating a menu from the various components of his empire. He would pick at it and order that the rest should go to his staff.
    The hot water reached him everywhere a lover should. He abandoned himself to weightlessness and the juniper scouring-oil. The scent got right into him and stayed there like a tonic. It had him long to explore Italy’s forests and to go deep into the Bacchic mysteries, with their emphasis on sexual frenzy.
    After a while he called for Antony to bring towels into the room. He fought with the idea of telling him about his experience at the docks earlier in the day, imagining he would find a sympathetic ear. Even if he had been instructed by his mother never to confide in servants, he knew there was always the exception. He felt the necessity of having someone in whom to confide, and Antony seemed that person.
    When he came into the room he knew he had chosen right. Antony didn’t appear in the least disturbed by his nudity, and his green eyes took in everything with tact and sympathy. Heliogabalus flopped lazily, his chin appearing to rest on the surface. His body felt elastic and his mind fine-tuned. He basked in the pleasure of being alone in his own space and one that he was prepared to share only with his valet. He felt like a fish scrubbed of its scales, the filigreebones hidden by a