Cast Not the Day (29 page)

This said, he got to his feet, and without looking round strode out, leaving his wine still untouched on the table. It was like watching some proud and aged wolf, beaten at last by a young rival, carry himself off defeated to lick his wounds alone.

When he had gone we stood about stunned, looking at one another like startled children, and for a short while forgetting our new-found animosities. We had messed together, bathed together; some, I knew, had even slept together. We remained members of the same elite corps. Now, at last, seeing clearly the day when we should have to step out and take sides in the approaching war, we treated one another with a wistful gentleness, remembering the good times.

I had long known what my own decision would be. When, soon after, Aquinus asked me, I answered, ‘I will stay.’

He nodded slowly. We were walking side by side along the cloistered garden walk of his town-house, with its blue and white tiles, and carved pilasters, and urns of lavender and rosemary. At the end of the path, where there was a little bronze statue of Apollo holding a lyre, he paused, and with one of his inscrutable looks asked me why.

‘Because, sir, Constans killed my father; and because I belong with Marcellus, and with you.’

He frowned under his beard and sighed. I suspect he did not quite approve of my reasoning, even if he had reached the same conclusion.

‘You are giving up a future you have worked for. Are you sure you know what you are doing?’

‘I know enough.’

He looked at me, then said, ‘Yes, I suppose you do.’ He walked on. ‘Still, even now it may not come to war. Magnentius is proving more popular than Constantius would like. He will have a difficult fight if he decides to march west. There is still time for a settlement.’

Shortly after, as winter turned to spring and the crocuses and daffodils showed in the green places in the city, Marcellus returned from the villa. We were out walking one day on the street that leads down to the bridge, when from behind me someone called my name. I turned. A short, rather plump young man dressed in a showy cloak and fine ivory-buckled shoes raised his hand and began hurrying towards me.

‘Who’s that?’ asked Marcellus, raising his brows.

I was about to say I had no idea. But then, under all his finery, I recognized him.

‘Why, Ambitus!’ I cried.

He came up grinning and laughing. His lean hungry look had gone; his hair, which had always been a close-cropped brush, was longer now, and he had oiled and curled it. Around his neck he wore a thick gold chain. He looked like any other rich merchant.

‘But I thought you were away,’ I said.

‘I
was
away, in African Carthage, where I had business to attend to.’

I smiled to myself at his new important tone, which once he would have laughed at. But I could not dislike him. I introduced him to Marcellus and they exchanged a few polite words. Then, turning back to me, he broke into a happy smile and I glimpsed through the thickening features the old monkey-faced Ambitus I used to know. ‘Guess what?’ he cried. ‘I am to be married. Yes, me! Would you ever have thought it?’

I congratulated him, and shook his hand; he asked us to drink a cup of wine with him, to celebrate.

He took us to a nearby tavern, in an alley beside the bridge. Marcellus called for a pitcher of their best wine. ‘So when,’ I said, after we were settled, ‘do I meet the girl?’

‘You won’t, unless you come to Carthage.’ He laughed happily. ‘You see, she’s the only daughter of a rich trading family there. Her name is Clarissa. She’s Greek, you know, well half Greek and half Egyptian or something; I can’t speak her language properly yet, but that doesn’t matter. Her father wants me to open an office in Alexandria for him. So I’ll be leaving Balbus at last.’ He made a face, then added, ‘I tell you, Drusus, the East is where the future is!’

We drank and talked. Presently he asked if I had seen anything of my uncle.

‘I called once,’ I told him. ‘The servant said he was busy.’

Ambitus made a gesture with his arm. He was wearing a set of bangles on his wrist. They glinted in the light. ‘Poor old Balbus,’ he said, ‘he never learns. He has made a fortune, but it has slipped away like water in a cracked jar. He thought the imperial contracts would go on forever, and now, with Gratian leaving, there is nothing. I warned him, when all this government business came his way, he should not have neglected his old clients. But he thought he didn’t need them. As the ship-captains say, do not send the watch below when the ship is riding on one anchor. You’d think he might have remembered that.’

He said he had visited Balbus’s offices the day before. Lucretia had been there, complaining of something or other. ‘She has grown bitter as a sour berry,’ he said. ‘She tells everyone Balbus has failed her. She says the same of that spoilt-brat son of hers too.’

‘What, Albinus? But she always doted on him.’

‘Yes, well he hates her. I think he always did. He does whatever he wants, and she can no longer control him. She’s gone all pious and pinch-faced, and claims the world has wronged her. Anyway, I expect you’re glad you’re out of that viper’s nest.’

He drank his wine, commented on the quality like an expert, and returned to talking about his new wife. Later, Marcellus asked him if it was not too early still to find a ship for Africa.

‘Not at all,’ he replied. ‘I’ll find a ship as easy as this,’ and he snapped his fingers in front of him. ‘All the captains who can manage it are heading east – to Africa or Sicily or Asia, even if they carry only ballast. There is going to be trouble, and they don’t intend to be here when it happens.’

Soon after, Gratian sailed away. It was only when he had gone that I discovered there had been a late secret move among some members of the Council to have him arrested, in order to curry favour with the usurper Magnentius.

I heard it from Marcellus. The conspirators had approached his grandfather, hoping to grace their attempt with the dignity and authority of his support. But Aquinus had condemned it for the cowardly act it was, reminding the councillors that Gratian had saved the province from the Saxons and, whatever they thought of him now, he was doing no more than remain loyal to the House of Constantine, which he had served all his life. Furthermore, he told them, Gratian had not compelled anyone to follow his line, or persecuted them for not doing so. They would do well to learn a little honour and decency from him.

Thus he shamed them, and no more came of it. But after this he had made a point of coming to the dockside to see Gratian off. I was there too, along with those Protectors who had chosen to remain. Leontius, before he embarked, stepped forward and took my arm, saying with a laugh that he hoped we did not next meet at opposite ends of a sword. I made some easy answer and laughed back, to avert the omen.

That summer, delegates of all the cities of Britain gathered in London for an extraordinary council. It was decided that each city would see to its own government, but that the Council in London, to which the other cities would send representatives, would decide matters that affected the province as a whole. Their first resolution was to reduce the ruinous imperial taxes, and restore the revenues of the temple lands, which the emperor had diverted to himself. Only the Christians objected.

That same month news came from Gaul. Magnentius had tried to settle, asking to keep only what he possessed, offering his daughter in marriage, and in return seeking the hand of Constantius’s sister, to seal the alliance with ties of blood. This Constantius rejected out of hand, so Magnentius marched south in readiness for war, leaving his brother Decentius at Trier, to manage Gaul in his absence. He held the western provinces – Spain, Gaul, Italy, and, after a fashion, Britain. More important still, he had the loyalty of the battle-hardened western legions, who had never been defeated.

In London the corps of Protectors was disbanded. I said my goodbyes and packed, and considered what to do next.

I was sitting on my bed, my bag beside me, when a messenger arrived from the magistrates, requesting me to appear next day before them.

And so, at first light, I crossed the forum and mounted the steps of the basilica, and was admitted to a panelled room behind the council chamber. Behind a long table, a row of magistrates, ex-magistrates, and military men were seated. They asked what I intended to do, and when I told them I would do whatever was needed, they said that the army, partly disbanded by Gratian, was being reformed from those units that remained. They wished to appoint me as liaison between the garrison and the Council; they felt it was a role I could perform well, knowing as I did both magistrates and officers.

There was a pause. Then the chief magistrate, an old landowner by the name of Gennadius, whom I had met before at the house of Aquinus, said, ‘I have been told you may be looking for a place to live. If it is acceptable to you therefore, we propose that this position should carry with it the rank of tribune – a rank which brings with it rooms within the officers’ quarters at the city fort.’

In my surprise I almost forgot to accept.

The officers’ quarters lie within their own quadrangle inside the city fort, with a wall and archway on one side that leads to the parade-ground and the barrack-houses beyond. I had taken possession of my new rooms – a pleasant light-filled suite with a sanded pine floor and a view through a mullioned window onto the cobbled court – when I heard footsteps bounding up the wooden stair and Marcellus appeared at the open door. He was just back from the country.

He admired my new quarters, then threw himself down on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows as he watched me unpack my things. ‘There is a new feeling in the city, have you noticed? Grandfather says it’s that the citizens sense their fate lies in their own hands. He says such things change men; he says they have rediscovered their pride.’

I agreed; and though I did not tell him, I had also made a small private resolution of my own. Being youngest of the tribunes at the fort, I was determined I should give no man cause to say I had been promoted beyond my ability, or because of whom I knew.

And so, in the weeks that followed, I watched and learned from every man who possessed a skill or quality I lacked; and by degrees I made myself master of my role, as a man forges a sword at the anvil, beating and smoothing it until the blade is sharp and true.

In all this it never occurred to me that I might also be popular. But one evening during mess, when I was sitting alone eating my bowl of stew, the garrison commander, a broad-built fair young man called Trebius, set his bowl down next to mine and swung over the bench beside me.

Usually he was a man of few words, saying what was needed and no more. So when he began making smalltalk I knew there was something else coming, and waited.

Presently he fell silent, and sat chewing thoughtfully on his bread. Then, as if it had only just come to him, he said, ‘What do you know of Florus’s company?’

‘I have seen them on the parade-ground,’ I answered, giving him a sidelong glance.

Everyone knew about Florus’s company, because of Florus, and because his men hated him.

He had served with me in the Protectors, and everyone who has served in an army has come across such men. He was the only son of a well-off provincial family somewhere out west near Exeter; he was arrogant, dull-witted, and a bully. Though by nature he was weak and cowardly, he used his authority to put down men better than he. More than once, passing across the parade-ground, I had seen him out with his company, his ineffectual face purple with fury as he raged at some hardened trooper twice his age. He had managed to make himself a laughing-stock, which, dimly perceiving it, served only to heighten his anger.

‘Well,’ continued Trebius, ‘it is Florus’s company no longer. I have just relieved him of his command.’

I gave a nod. ‘Too bad for Florus.’

‘So now,’ he said, ‘I need a replacement . . . What do you think?’

I was just about to say I could think of no one who was not already assigned to some company or other, when I realized what he meant. ‘What, me?’ I cried, staring at him, ‘But I’m only eighteen; I’m even younger than Florus.’

‘Your age is not my concern. I’ve been watching you. Our forces are thin enough, and I need good morale and good leadership. I’ve seen how the men volunteer when you need a work party, and vie to be in your troop on exercises. I am not in the business of asking men to choose their commander, or we’d end up with a marketplace rabble instead of a fighting force; but you are liked, and not for the wrong reasons either. They will work well with you.’

‘But Trebius, do you think they will accept me?’

‘I am not so many years older than you, Drusus, and I have a lot to learn still. But one thing I know: men will follow some men and not others, and the reason comes from within. If a man lacks that gift, or spark, or whatever you choose to call it, it cannot be trained into him, no matter how long you work at it. You can carry on with your duties for the Council, of course. But I need you too.’

That evening I told Marcellus. He listened, sitting beside me in the bright of the summer evening on the step outside my room.

‘Why are you surprised?’ he said. ‘You have told me yourself you will not punish the men unjustly, or favour one against another, or demand of them something you would not do yourself.’