Just like that! The emperor chose him! Of course, time had passed and he, Lucius Julius Urs Servianus, was not ready to shoulder the heavy burden of managing a huge empire. But here's Pedanius! He could.
The large, meaty face of Lucius Servianus turned red with excitement.
Hadrian took a cup of wine from the slave, drank, turned his eyes to the interlocutor. It was as if he was playing with the consul in games known to him.
“I'm thinking about your grandson,” Hadrian said. “He is young, but he has already shown himself on the good side. Not held large positions to hone the skill of management, but this case is fixable. What do you think, Lucius?”
“I fully approve of your choice, great emperor! Totally! My grandson and your nephew, the best candidate when it comes to successor. But we all hope to see you for more than one year. The gods will send you longevity!”
“Thank you!” Hadrian nodded with satisfaction. “Tell your nephew that I'm always happy to see him here in Tibur. Let Pedanius come without ceremony, as a person close to me. We will have something to talk about, walking in a graceful shadow. So,” he continued, changing the subject, “what do they say about me in Rome?”
“Everyone's talking about your recent joke, Caesar.”
“Which one? I have a lot of them. Did you know that I published my poems on behalf of Flegont freedman? The whole of Rome admired the former slave, and it was me, Emperor Hadrian. Of course, there were also scolds, I think, envious. I remember them. Then I had to tell the public about the real author.”
“I imagine the face of the critics,” Servianus gushed. “No, Caesar, I haven't read your poems. Unfortunately, I have little interest in literature.”
“It would be necessary!” discontentedly indicated Hadrian to the ninety-year-old interlocutor. “So, what's the joke?”
“They say that a supplicant, old and gray-haired, came to you, begging for tax relief because of crop failure, and you refused him. Then he dyed his hair…”
“I remember,” Hadrian smiled.
“Yes, he dyed his hair red and, thinking that it would be unrecognizable, reappeared. But you said you'd turned him down before.”
“Yes, yes, it's a nice joke!”
Servianus switched to a business tone.
“Caesar, a few senators are venerable and honored men I have known for a long time who want to take water from the aqueduct to their new homes. This requires the permission of the prefect, but Regin poses them all sorts of obstacles.”