Julian (29 page)

Constantius walked ahead of me towards a small ruined shrine to Hermes which stood at the edge of the field (a favourable omen, Hermes has always watched over me). Behind us, our men watered horses, rearranged armour, swore and chattered, pleased by the good weather. Just as Constantius entered the shrine, I broke a dead flower off its stalk. Then I followed him inside the shrine, which smelled of human excrement. Constantius was urinating on the floor. Even in this, he was grave and majestic.

"It is a pity," I heard myself saying, aware as I spoke that I was breaking protocol, "what has happened to these old temples."

"A pity? They should all be torn down." He rearranged his clothes. "I hate the sight of them."

"Of course," I muttered.

"I shall leave you here," he said. We stood facing one another. Though I deliberately stooped, I could not help but look down on him. He edged away from me, instinctively searching for higher ground.

"Whatever you need, you shall have. Call on me. Also, depend on our praetorian prefect. He represents us. You will find the legions of Vienne alert, ready for a spring campaign. So prepare yourself."

He handed me a thick document. "Instructions. To be read at your leisure." He paused. Then he remembered something. "The Empress has made you a gift. It is with your baggage. A library, I believe."

I was effusive in my gratitude. I said words but Constantius did not listen. He moved to the door. He paused; he turned; he tried to speak to me. I blushed. I wanted to reach out and take his hand and tell him not to fear me, but I did not dare. Neither of us was ever able to face the other.

When Constantius finally spoke, his voice broke with tension.

"If this should come to you…" Awkwardly he gestured at himself to indicate the principate of the world. "Remember…"

Then his voice stopped as if a strangler's thumb had blocked the windpipe. He could not go on. Words had failed him again, and me.

I have often wondered what it was he meant to say; what it was I should remember. That life is short? Dominion bitter? No.

Constantius was not a profound man. I doubt if he had been about to offer me any startling insight. But as I think back on that scene in the ruined shrine (and I think of it often, I even dream of it), I suspect that all he meant to say was, "Remember me." If that is what you meant, cousin, then I have, in every sense, remembered you.

Constantius left the shrine. As soon as his back was to me, I placed the withered flower on the profaned floor and whispered a quick prayer to Hermes. Then I followed the Emperor across the field to the road.

Once mounted, we exchanged formal farewells, and Constantius rode back to Milan, the dragon banner streaming in the cool wind before him. We never saw one another again.

At Turin, as I received city officials in the law court, a messenger arrived from Florentius, the praetorian prefect of Gaul. The prefect thought that the Caesar should know that some weeks ago Cologne had fallen to the Germans, and the Rhine was theirs. The military situation was, Florentius wrote with what almost seemed satisfaction, grave. The German King Chnodomar had sworn to drive every Roman from Gaul within the year. This was the bad news Constantius had not told me.

While the reception continued, Oribasius and I withdrew to the prefect's office to study the report. For some inexplicable reason the only bust to adorn the room was that of the Emperor Vitellius, a fat porker who reigned several months in the year of Nero's death. Why Vitellius? Was the official a descendant? Did he admire the fat neck, the huge jowls of the man who was known as the greatest glutton of his day? To such irrelevances does the mind tend to fly in moments of panic. And I was panicky.

"Constantius sent me here to die. That's why I was given no army."

"But surely he doesn't want to lose Gaul."

"What does he care for Gaul? As long as he can have his court, his eunuchs, his bishops, what more does he need?" This was not accurate; in his way, Constantius. was a patriot. But in my bitterness there was no stopping me. I denounced Constantius recklessly and furiously. I committed treason with every breath. When I had finished, Oribasius said, "The Emperor must have a plan. It can't be that simple. What are those instructions he gave you?"

I had forgotten all about the packet I had been given on the road to Turin. It was still in my wallet. Eagerly, I undid the fastenings. I read quickly, with growing astonishment. "Etiquette!" I shouted finally, throwing the document across the room. "How to receive an ambassador. How to give a dinner party. There are even recipes!" Oribasius burst out laughing, but I was too far gone to find any humour in the situation."We'll escape!" I said at last.

"Escape?" Oribasius looked at me as if I had gone mad.

"Yes, escape." Curious… I never thought I would be able to write any of this. "We can desert together, you and I. It will be easy. Nothing but a piece of cloth to throw away." I tugged at the purple that I wore. "Then we let our beards grow, and back to Athens. Philosoph7 for me, medicine for you."

"No." He said it flatly.

"Why not? Constantius will be glad to see the end of me."

"But he won't know it's the end of you. He'll think you have gone to plot against him, raise an army, become usurper."

"But he won't find me."

Oribasius laughed. "How can
you
hide in Athens? Even with a new beard and student's clothes, you are the same Julian everyone met a few months ago with Prohaeresius."

"When it won't be Athens. I'll find a city where I'm not known. Antioch. I can hide in Antioch. I'll study with Libanius."

"And do you think Libanius could hold his tongue? His vanity would betray you in a day."

Libanius
: I shall say here that I never found Oribasius particularly sympathetic. Apparently, he felt the same about me. He is of course very famous nowadays (if he is still alive); but medical friends tell me that his seventy-volume encyclopedia of medicine is nothing but a vast plagiarism from Galen. After Julian's death, he was exiled and went to the court of Persia, where I am told he is worshipped by the Persians as a god; he must have enjoyed this, for he was always vain. Also avaricious: he once charged me
five gold solidi
for a single treatment for gout. I could not walk for a month after.

Julian Augustus

"Then I shall find a city where no one has ever seen me or heard of me."

"Farthest Thule. Wherever you go, officials will know who you are."

"
Complete
disguise? A new name?"

"You forget the secret agents. Besides, how will you live?"

"I can teach, become a tutor…"

"A slave."

"If necessary, why not? In a proper household, a slave can be happy. I could teach the young men. I would have time to write, to lecture…"

"From the purple to a slave?" He said it with slow cold wonder.

"What do you think I am
now?
" I exploded. I raged. I lamented. When I finally stopped for lack of breath, Oribasius said, "You will continue into Gaul, Caesar. You will put down the German tribes, or die in the attempt."

"No."

"Then be a slave, Julian." It was the first time he had called me by my name since I had been raised to Caesar. Then he left me alone in the office, where I sat like a fool, mouth aiar, the hog-like face of Vitellius peering at me from above the doorway… even after three centuries in stone, he looked hungry.

I folded the letter into many squares, each smaller than the other. I thought hard. I prayed to Hermes. I went to the latticed windows and loked for the sun, my peculiar deity. I searched for a sign. At last it came. From the setting sun, light suddenly shone in my face. Yes, out of the west where Gaul was, Helios blazed darkgold in my eyes. I was to follow my god, and if death was what he required of me, then that would be my offering. If victory, then that would be our glory. Also, it was perfectly plain that I could not escape even if I wanted to. I had indeed been seized by purple death.

I returned to the citizens of Turin as though nothing had happened. As I received their homage, Oribasius looked at me questioningly. I winked. He was relieved.

The next morning we continued our journey. The weather in the mountains was not yet cold, nor was there any snow except on the highest slopes. Even the soldiers, a remarkably complaining lot of Galileans, admitted that God must be with us. He should have been: they prayed incessantly. It was all they were good for.

•          •          •

When we crossed into Gaul, an interesting thing happened. All up and down our route my coming had been excitedly reported, for I was the first legitimate Caesar to be seen in Gaul in many years. I say "legitimate" because Gaul, traditionally, is the place for usurpers. There had been three in a decade. Each had worn the purple. Each had minted coinage. Each had accepted the oath of fealty. Each had been struck down by Constantius or fate. Now a true Caesar was at last in Gaul, and the people took heart.

Early one evening we entered our first Gallic village, set high in the mountains. The villagers were gathered along the main street to cheer me. As decoration, they had tied many wreaths of fir and pine between the houses on either side of the road. As Hemes is my witness, one of the wreaths broke loose and fell upon my head, where it fitted as close as a crown. I came to a dead halt, not certain what had happened. My first reaction was that I had been struck by a branch. Then I raised my hand and felt the wreath.

The villagers were wide-eyed. Even my slovenly troops were impressed. Eutherius who was beside me murmured, "Even the gods mean for you to be crowned."

I did not answer him, nor did I remove the wreath. Pretending that nothing had happened, I continued through the village while the inhabitants cheered me with a new intensity.

Oribasius said, "By tomorrow everyone in Gaul will know of this."

I nodded. "And by the next day Constantius will know." But even this thought could not depress me. I was now in a fine mood, reflecting the brilliant winter day, not to mention the love the gods had shown me.

My passage through the Gallic towns was triumphal. The weather held until we arrived at the gates of Vienne. Then black clouds rolled out of the north and a sharp wind blew. One could smell snow upon the air. Bundled in cloaks, we crossed the winterblack Rhone and entered the city at about the third hour. Cold as it was, the streets were crowded and once again there was the remarkable response. I could not understand it. Constantius inspired awe and fear, but I seemed only to evoke love… I do not mention this out of vanity but only as a puzzling fact. For all these people knew, I might be another Gallus. Yet there they were, cheering me as though I had won some important battle or increased the supply of grain. It was inexplicable but exhilarating. Just as I came opposite the temple of Augustus and Livia, an old blind woman was thrust forward by the crowd. She fell against my horse. Guards pushed her back; she fell again. "Help her," I ordered.

They got her to her feet. In a loud voice she asked, "Who is this?" Someone shouted, "It is the Caesar Julian!" Then she raised her blind eyes to heaven and in the voice of a Pythoness proclaimed, "He will restore the temples of the gods!" Startled, I spurred my horse through the crowd, her words still ringing in my ears.

I met Florentius in the main hall of the palace, which was to be my residence, though "palace" was hardly the word for this not very large villa. Florentius received me courteously. Yes, he received me, rather than the other way around, and he made it perfectly clear from the beginning that this was his province, not mine, even though I was Caesar and he merely praetorian prefect.

"Welcome to Gaul, Caesar," he said. as we saluted one another. He had not thought it worth while to call in the city's magistrates or, for that matter, any officials. Several military men attended him, and that was all. Oribasius was my only attendant.

"A warm welcome for a cold season, Prefect," I said. "The people at least seem pleased that I have come." I stressed the "at least".

"
All
of us are pleased that Augustus has seen fit to elevate you and to send you to us as a sign of his interest in the matter of Gaul."

Florentius was a small swarthy man with sharp features. I particularly recall his sinewy forearms, which were black with hairs, more like a monkey's than a man's.

"Augustus will indeed be pleased to learn that you approve his actions," I said dryly. Then I walked past him to where the room's single chair was placed on a small dais. I sat down. I could see this had some effect. The military men exchanged glances. Florentius, however, was imperturbable, even though I was sitting in his chair.

"Present the officers, Prefect." I was as cool as my disposition ever allows me to be.

Florentius did so. The first officer was Marcellus, chief of staff of the army of Gaul. He saluted me perfunctorily. The next officer was Nevitta, a powerfully built Frank, blue-eyed, loud-voiced, a remarkable commander who serves with me now in Persia. But that day in Vienne, he treated me with such obvious disdain that I realized I would have to respond in kind, or lose all pretence of authority. Either I was Caesar or I was lost.

I turned to Florentius. I spoke carefully. "We are not so far from Milan that the respect due to the Caesar can be omitted. Field conditions do not prevail in a provincial capital, despite the reverses of our armies on the Rhine. Instruct your officers, Prefect, in their duty to us. Show them by your example what we are."

Constantius could not have done it better, and in truth I meant every word of this arrogant speech. I was convinced that I had come to Gaul to die, and I meant to die in the most honourable way possible, upholding to the end the great title that was mine. Florentius looked astonished. The officers looked frightened. Oribasius was impressed… curious how much we enjoy those rare moments when we can by some public act impress an old friend.

In his confusion, Florentius took too long to react. So in careful imitation of Constantius, I raised my right arm and pointed with forefinger to the floor in front of me, and in a hard voice said, "We wear the purple."