“But why do I deserve such mercy?” he asked.
“I come from the public interest and believe that you are worthy of the consular rank. You performed well in Judea. Also, the best opinion of you is prefect Regin and many senators. And this is only the first step.”
“What's the second one consul?”
“You'll know everything, Ceionius, when the time comes. But I have one condition. I want your daughter Fabia to be engaged to Marcus Verus. He has a great inheritance from Annius, from his father and great-grandfather, and it will be a good marriage. Let your two glorious families be born, so that the glory of Rome will not fade with our death. We're all mortal, aren't we?”
He looked into the cheerful, expressionless eyes of Ceionius and thought that he had made a good choice. The Commodus would be the façade of the upcoming reign, festive, brilliant, admirable, and Marcus would be the real ruler behind him.
A few months after the beginning of the consulate of Ceionius Commodus, when spring was already well, and the bright sun warmed the Italian land not yet hot, but palpable warmth, Rome, after a cold and windy winter, started living a normal life. Festivities flowed endlessly dedicated to the gods, a variety of games and festivals. Huge population of the city- nobility, freedmen, slaves, all indulged in unrestrained entertainment, which abundantly regaled eternal Rome.
At the opening of the horse racing season, Marcus and his mother, as well as their relative, Faustina Sr., invited the new consul Ceionius Commodus in May. It happened after Marcus's engagement to his daughter Fabia, and after the Latin Festival, during which Marcus was appointed prefect of the city—this post was honorable and did not give any special advantages, but it allowed Ceionius to distinguish a new relative.
The engagement itself was carried out in a solemn atmosphere, in the presence of relatives on both sides. Marcus then first saw Fabia, a small, anemic, quiet girl who didn't seem to understand what was going on. Probably, she was just torn away from the dolls, because she was a few years younger than Marcus, who in February turned fifteen.
Marcus's great-grandfather Catilius Regin, solemn in white toga, came forward and addressed Ceionius Commodus with the traditional question, “Do you promise, Ceionius, to give Fabia to Marcus for marriage.” Marcus noticed how his mother's eyes were moistened—Domitia was standing next to her great-grandfather.