"Dondus, Caesar's Companion"
In Caracalla's fifteenth summer, when the sun was setting like liquid gold on the streets of Rome, the young Caesar, still without a crown or lead in his soul, found something that would forever change the course of his life. The fair of exoticisms brimming with exotic treasures from distant lands beyond the Mare Nostrum, was alive with the sounds of joyous shouts, the thrum of drums, and the roars of caged beasts. Majestic elephants, brilliantly colored peacocks, and serpents coiled like living jewels entertained the crowd. Yet, amid this symphony of wonders, Caracalla's keen, steely blue eyes were drawn to a small creature with dark fur and a spirited glint in its gaze.
"What is this creature? " Caracalla inquired, his voice resonating with authority and a hint of burgeoning command.
"A capuchin monkey, my lord" the merchant replied, bowing deeply, his tone laced with the nervousness of one addressing the future emperor. "A female monkey that hails from the jungles of the Africa Province. "
"Did you ride with the elephants, little creature? " he whispered, his Latin awkward yet soft.
The diminutive monkey, small enough to nestle in the palm of Caracalla's hand, met his gaze with an intensity that dismantled his defenses. In that moment, the young Caesar sensed an uncommon connection, as if the creature had seen through the barriers he meticulously erected in the presence of his twin brother, Geta, who was his constant shadow.
"Look at how she observes me, Geta!" Caracalla exclaimed, turning to his brother. "Itās as though she possesses more wisdom about this world than the two of us combined. "
Pragmatic as ever, Geta crossed his arms and countered, "What purpose does she serve, brother? If she cannot fight or obey, she is merely a distraction. "Yet Caracalla was undeterred. His heart, more guided by impulse than reason, had made its choice.
He named her 'Dondus', deriving the name from a term he had overheard from a numidian slave.
From that day forward, Dondus became his steadfast companion. They crafted tailored tunics for her, tiny garments adorned with intricate golden embroidery, and adorned her with a necklace of gems that rivaled the treasures of Jupiter's temple. But Dondus wasn't destined for a cage or for performances meant to amuse the Senate. Instead, she resided in Caracalla's chambers, sleeping on his marble bed and sharing meals from the same plates as the young Caesar.
To Caracalla, Dondus was more than a pet. She was a refuge,a sanctuary. On nights when the weight of his lineage crushed him, when he remembered his father's cold stares and the unjust punishments he received for his disobedience, he found comfort in the soft purr of her little companion. Sometimes, in the quiet hours when Rome lay in slumber, he would confide in her softly, as if she were his most trusted confidant.
"Dondus, do you not see it? At times, I am as the gladiator, ensnared within an amphitheater without exits, the eyes of all upon me, yet none perceiving the weight I bear. Geta, in his way, strives to grasp it, but even he falters, as all men do. Yet you, in your silence, gaze upon me without reproach. Is it that you cannot fathom war or dominion? Or is it, in your smallness, you have already gleaned the truthāthat such things are but shadows, fleeting and without substance?"
Over time, the bond between them grew stronger. During lavish banquets, while senators adebated about territories and conquests, Dondus would sit on Caracalla's shoulder, drawing nervous laughter from those present. "A monkey dressed better than a proconsul'' they would whisper under their breath. Yet Caracalla remained unfazed by their remarks.
At the amphitheater, when blood stained the arena and the people roared for more, Dondus stood by his side, still, as if she understood that her master found a strange pleasure in chaos. Yet even in those moments, Caracalla was more docile to her than to any other human being.
"It amuses me'' Geta once said, his voice edged with irony. ''You would command the deaths of a thousand souls without so much as a blink, yet when Dondus casts a cluster of grapes to the ground, you hasten after her like a slave chasing his dominus.''
Caracalla inclined his head, a wry smile upon his lips. ''Perhaps'' he replied, ''it is because she asks nothing of meāsave that I remain as I am."
As Caracalla grew into his imperial duties, Dondus remained by his side. She was dressed in miniature tunics crafted by the palace seamstresses, a spectacle that delighted the court but sometimes enraged Geta.
āYou make a mockery of the empireā Geta spat one evening, finding Caracalla feeding Dondus at the dinner table.
āAnd you make a mockery of life, brother, with all your broodingā Caracalla retorted, his smile sharp. āShe loves me as no one else does.ā
In truth, there was a part of Caracalla that knew he was difficult to love. His temper, his hedonism, his love of blood and spectacleāit set him apart from Geta, who charmed the Senate and the plebeians alike. Yet Dondus never turned from him, even in his darkest moods.
Maybe it was because she, too, was a creature out of place. Just as Caracalla felt alienated in a world that demanded his perfection, Dondus had been torn from her jungle home, a shadow lost in the brilliance of Romeās marble halls.
Years later, when the throne of Rome became a pool of blood, when Caracalla's hands were stained with the red of his own family, Dondus was still there. During his ascension as sole emperor, the little capuchin was named his first consul, a mockery of both the Senate and the gods.
In those darkest hours, when Rome burned from within and conspiracies were the order of the day, Caracalla took refuge in the company of Dondus, seeing in her black gaze the echo of the days when everything was simpler. He didn't remember, or didn't want to remember, that his own hands had brought about his brother's end. In his broken mind, Geta continued to care for him, as he always had.
As the empire faltered, Caracalla stroked Dondus's soft fur and murmured, ''You and I, Dondus, are all that remains of Rome. Let Jupiter cast his judgment, if he wills it. I have all I need."
And in the little capuchin, with her bright eyes and silent loyalty, he found the only fragment of peace his lost soul could hold. She didn't understand his words but she stayed.
