‘It mattered to the moth, though,’ he said aloud.

Azátē of Edessa, child of King Abgarus appealed to me by letter to prevent the kingdom aligning itself more closely with Parthia.

That was better. After that, stick to the name and never say princess or daughter unless there was no other way. Women were a problem, especially in politics, and if the gods had had more sense the world might have done without them. Trajan had said as much himself more than once, even though he was a dutiful husband. Hadrian doubted that the emperor had ever loved any woman, or perhaps even anyone at all, but he treated his womenfolk with respect and some affection. He even talked to them, at least when there were no rugged military men or boisterous lads to provide him with his favourite company.

Trajan’s wife, Plotina, and niece Matidia, along with a gaggle of aristocratic women were supporting the emperor by having a prolonged holiday near Antioch. The emperor was devoted to both of them, treating them like beloved sisters or even his dear departed mother. Both of them were fond of Hadrian, laughing as he playfully flirted with them when they met or at his letters filled with salacious gossip. It was wise to cultivate them, but in truth Hadrian enjoyed it, for their devotion to him was encouraging. All in all, he had more pleasure chatting or corresponding with Matidia than he did with her daughter and his wife, Sabina. He was glad the latter had chosen to stay in Italy, leaving her as happy in her country estates as he was out here.

Plotina and Matidia wrote to him almost as often as he sent letters to them, and that was useful, for they spoke of the emperor’s moods, his likes and dislikes for those around him, as well as useful titbits concerning the women of the court and their husbands. They loved him like a son, and were pained that Trajan did not. The emperor’s attitude was harsher than it had been, and in the last year they had told of trying to mollify him when he ranted about Hadrian as a dangerous, unreliable schemer. They could both be persuasive, and were certainly persistent, and had done enough to convince Trajan to give Hadrian his current post, which was at least something, since it gave him this opportunity. It might well prove the last. Trajan had given in, limited the post to a temporary one, and spent more time with Hadrian earlier in the year as a sop to his womenfolk. After all that, he had still sworn not to give the ‘little shit’ another job – the women had not written the words, but Hadrian was very familiar with the emperor’s manner of speaking about him. News like that was always worth having, even though it was bad, so Hadrian was grateful for the letters; an ambitious man could never know too much.

So all was well, at least as well as it could be, and he had created the chance for glory denied to him when the emperor did not choose to take him on campaign. In many ways it was better. Being around Trajan only ever seemed to remind the princeps that he loathed Hadrian. Distance gave freedom to act and a chance to present the emperor with such good news that he would forget his animosity.