Yet not all the prisoners were Jews. Marcus Memmius Lupus had been a high-­ranking
Roman official before his arrest.
“It smells better on this side of the bridge,” Lysandros said.
Hadrian frowned. “Better?”
“The Aventine stinks of broiled meats. The air is cleaner here.”
“Because of the Jews.” Hadrian crossed his arms. “Most of the people here refuse to eat
meat that has been sacrificed to idols.”
“Then it is a wonder they eat at all.”
Hadrian pointed to the tall building, where Marcus lived with his wife and scores of other
families. “We will start with the Corinthians.”
As in all the poorer districts, tall insulae occupied both sides of the narrow, winding streets.
Built to house as many people as possible, the structures stood only a few feet apart, blocking
all but a sliver of sunlight and prohibiting the free circulation of air. Though the law forbade the
construction of insulae more than seven stories high, many enterprising landlords built small
rooms in the attics, taking advantage of the insatiable demand for affordable housing.
Hadrian made a mental note—­he should remind his father of the unsafe conditions in this
area. The rooms on the upper floors were barely adequate, with poor ventilation and no running
water. Yet unscrupulous owners rented them out, often placing two families in a space no larger
than the room in which Lysandros slept.
When Hadrian and Lysandros reached the apartment occupied by Marcus, Mariana, and their
young son, they found that the Corinthian prisoners had guests. Citizens under house arrest
were allowed visitors, but Hadrian had been charged with making note of any outsiders in case
the prisoners attempted to conspire against the emperor.