"Augustus!" She turned towards me.
"They have been shouting that for hours."
I nodded. "They are angry because the Emperor wants them to fight in Persia."
"They call you Augustus." She looked at me very hard.
"They don't mean it."
"They do," she said flatly. "They want you for Emperor."
"I've refused to show myself to them. Anyway, now it's dark, they'll soon get cold and bored and go away, and tomorrow they will do as they're told. Sintula has already gone, you know. He left yesterday with two legions." I talked fast, but she would not be put off.
"Will you take what they have offered?"
I paused, uncertain what to say. Finally, neutrally, "It would be treason."
"Traitors who prevail are patriots. Usurpers who succeed are divine emperors."
I still could not tell what she wanted me to do. "Emperors are not made," I said at last, "by a few thousand troops in a small provincial city."
"Why not? After all, it is God's will that raises us up, as it is God's will that… throws us down." She looked away and again her hand strayed to the seat of her mortality. "Those few soldiers are enough, if it is meant to be."
"What do you want me to do?" For the first and only time I asked her a direct question, as one person to another; and I did wish to know her answer.
"Tonight? I don't know. This may not be the moment. You must judge that. But I do know that you are meant to be Emperor of Rome."
Our eyes met and we studied one another as though the face of each was new and unexplored. I responded with equal candour, "I know it, too," I said. "I have had dreams. There have been signs."
"Then take it!" She said this with unexpected force.
"Now? An act of treason? Against your brother?"
"My brother and his wife killed our two children. My loyalty has… shifted to my cousin, who is my husband." She smiled on the word "shifted" but her great eyes were solemn.
"Curious," I said finally. "I always thought you preferred him to me."
"I did, I did. Until that last visit to Rome. You know, he tried to keep me there after the baby died. He said that there might be difficulties for you in Gaul."
"But you came back."
"I came back."
"Leaving your beloved villa?"
"Leaving that was hardest of all!" She smiled, Then she indicated the window and the city beyond. "Now the difficulties he promised have begun. You must decide very soon."
"Yes." I rose.
"Decentius was here," she said suddenly.
I was startled. "When?"
"Just before the reception for your officers. He wanted to know if I would like to return to Rome. He said the Gallic legions would escort me as far as Milan."
"He is sly."
"Yes. I told him I chose to stay. He was disappointed." She laughed softly. "Of course even if I wanted to go, I cannot travel… again."
"Don't say that. One day we shall go to Rome together."
"I want that more than an)rthing," she said. "But be quick about it…"
"I will be quick," I said. "I swear it."
I kissed her brow, holding my breath so as not to catch the scent of death. She clutched at me suddenly with all her strength, as though she were suffering a sharp spasm of pain. Then she let me go. "What a pity I was so much older than you."
I did not answer. I grasped her hands in silence. Then I left. The Bishop was in the anteroom with the ladies. "The Queen is improved, don't you think, Caesar?"
"Yes, I do." I was curt. I tried to get past him. But the Bishop had more to say.
"She is of course concerned by that mob outside. We all are. Most frightening. A terrible lapse of discipline. One hopes that the Caesar will dismiss this rabble with stern words."
"The Caesar will do what the Caesar must." I pushed past him into the main gallery. Servants rushed here and there, as though on urgent business. The ushers kept to their posts, but even they had lost their usual aplomb. All eyes were on me, wondering what I would do. As I crossed to the room which overlooks the square, I nearly stumbled over Gaudentius, lurking in the shadows. I was pleased to see that he was frightened.
"Caesar! The Tribune Decentius asks for audience. He is in the council chamber. They are all there. They want to know what you intend to do. We are completely surrounded. No one can escape…"
"Tell the Tribune I am going to bed. I shall be happy to see him in the morning." Before the agent could recover himself, I was halfway down the gallery to my own room. Outside my door stood the chief usher. I told him I was not to be disturbed unless there was an attack on the palace. I then went to my room and bolted the door after me.
It was a long night. I read. I prayed. I thought. I have never before nor since been so undecided. Everything seemed to me to be premature; events were pushing me faster than I chose to go. Yet would a moment like this come again? How often is an emperor spontaneously made? We all know of ambitious generals who have staged "popular" coronations for themselves; yet these seldom occur without the general's active collusion. I am sure that Julius Caesar very carefully instructed his friend to offer him the crown in punic, simply to see what the reaction might be. Now that same crown had come to me, without my asking.
Still undecided, I slept. I dreamed and, as often happens, I found in dreaming what I must do awake. I was seated in my consular chair, quite alone, when a figure appeared to me, dressed as the guardian spirit of the state, so often depicted in the old Republic.
He spoke to me. "I have watched you for a long time, Julian. And for a long time I have wished to raise you even higher than you are now. But each time I have tried, I have been rebuffed. Now I must warn you. If you turn me away again, when so many men's voices are raised in agreement with me, I shall leave you as you are. But remember this: if I go now, I shall never return."
I awakened in a cold sweat and leapt from my bed; my own room was suddenly strange and menacing, as sometimes happens when we have dreamed deeply. Was I awake or not? I opened the window; icy air restored me. The stars were fading. The east was pale.
The mob was still gathered in the square. They had built bonfires. From time to time they chanted "Augustus!" I made up my mind. I summoned my body-servant. He dressed me in the purple. Then I went out into the gallery.
Apparently I was the only one who had slept that night. Men and women still scurried through rooms and corridors, like mice seeking holes. In the council chamber I found Decentius and most of my advisers. As I entered, Eutherius was saying in his most calming voice, "Everything rests now with the will of Caesar. There is nothing we can do to affect that…"
"Precisely," I said. The room came to attention. Decentius, haggard, needing a shave, crossed to me and declared: "Only you can stop them! You must tell them to obey the Emperor. They will listen to you."
"I intend to speak to them now." I smiled at Eutherius. "You may all attend me on the tribunal… if you like."
Decentius seemed not to want this honour. But my friends did. Together we went to the main door of the palace.
"Be prepared," I said, "for anything. And don't be startled by anything I say." Then I motioned to the frightened guards to slip the bolt and open the gate.
With a deep breath, I stepped out into the square. When the mob saw me, they began to cheer. Quickly I climbed the steps to the tribunal, my companions close behind me. Then my personal guard, swords drawn, surrounded the tribunal. The mob drew back. I waved for silence; it was a long time coming. When at last I spoke, I was temperate.
"You are angry. You have reason to be. And I take your side in this matter. What you want, I promise to get for you. But without revolution. You prefer service in your native land to the dangers of a foreign country and a distant war. So be it. Go each of you to his home and take with you my promise that none of you shall serve beyond the Alps. I assume full responsibility for this decision. I shall explain it to the Augustus, and I know that he will listen
to me, for he is reasonable and just."
With this speech, I dispatched my duty to Constantius. Honour was satisfied. Now what would happen? There was an instant of silence, and then shouts of "Augustus!" began again; also, insults to Constantius—and a few to me for weakness. The mob pushed closer and closer to the platform. I remained absolutely still, looking across the square to the place where day was coming, grey and cold above the houses of the town.
Eutherius whispered in my ear. "You must accept. They'll kill you if you don't." I made no answer. I waited. I knew what was to come. I saw what was about to happen as clearly as I had seen the spirit of Rome in my dream. In fact, that whole morning was like a continuation of the night's dream.
First, my guards broke and scattered as the mob pushed against the tribunal. One soldier climbed on to the back of another and seized me by the arm. I made no effort to resist. Then—again as in a dream but that pleasant sort of dream where one knows one is dreaming and has no fear—I fell into the mob. Hands, arms, shoulders broke my fall. All around me the deafening cry
"Augustus!" sounded; strong in my nostrils was the smell of sweat and of garlic, as hard bodies forced me up from the ground where I lay, lifted me up high above them all like a sacrifice to the sun.
In full view of the mob, the fiercest of the men seized me. "Accept!" he shouted, sword's point held to my heart. I looked him in the face, saw red broken veins on the nose, smelled wine on his breath; that one glance was like a lifetime's acquaintance. Then in a matter-of-fact voice I said, "I accept."
The roar was tremendous. An infantryman's shield was placed under me and I was borne around the square like a Gallic or a German king. Thus was I made Augustus not by Romans nor according to Roman custom, but by barbarians, and according to their ritual.
I was returned to the tribunal. Then someone shouted that I must wear the diadem. Now I did not possess a crown of any sort. It would have been worth my life to have owned one. I told the mob this.
"Get one from your wife!" shouted a cavalryman. The mob laughed good-naturedly. Worried that my life's great moment might turn unexpectedly into low foolery, I answered quickly,
"You don't want an emperor who wears a woman's jewels."
This went down well enough. Then a tall fellow named Marius, standard-bearer to the Petulantes, clambered on to the platform. He took from his neck the ring of metal which supports the chain that holds the regimental eagle in its place. He jerked the circlet free of the chain; then, holding the ring of metal high over my head, he shouted: "Hail, Julian Augustus!" As the mob repeated the phrase, Marius placed the battered circlet on my head. The thing was done. I motioned for silence, and got it. "You have this day made a solemn choice. I promise you that as long as I live you shall not regret it." Then recalling the usual form in these matters, I said, "To each man here today I give five gold pieces and a pound of silver. May heaven bless this day, and what we have together done."
Then I descended the steps of the tribunal two at a time and darted into the palace.
XIV
Julian Augustus
I went straight to my wife's room. She had already been told what had happened. She was sitting up in bed, attended by several women. Her hair had been combed and her sallow face was cruelly mocked by rouge. The women withdrew."It is done," I said.
"Good." She held my hands and for a moment I felt strength in her fingers. "Now there will be war."
I nodded. "But not immediately. I shall tell Constantius that this was none of my doing, and it was not. If he is wise, he will accept me as Augustus in the West."
"He won't." She let go my hands.
"I hope he does."
She was staring at me with eyes half shut (her vision had never been good and to see things clearly she was forced to squint). At last she murmured, "Julian Augustus."
I smiled. "By grace of a mob in the main square of a provincial town."
"By the grace of God," she corrected me.
"I think so. I believe so."
She was suddenly practical. "While you were in the square, one of my officers came to tell me there is a plot to murder you. Here. In the palace."
I did not take this too seriously. "I am well guarded."
She shook her head. "I trust this man. He is my best officer." Like all ladies of the imperial house, Helena not only had her own servants and attendants but her own bodyguard.
"I shall look into it." I rose to go.
"Decentius is behind the plot."
"Naturally."
As I crossed to the door, she said in a loud voice, "Hail, Augustus!" I turned and laughed, and said, "Hail, Augusta!"
Helena smiled. I had never seen her as happy as she was at that moment. Next I went to the council chamber, where all of my court was assembled, including Decentius.
I came straight to the point. "You are all witnesses that I did not in any way arouse the soldiers. Nor did I ask for this honour they have done me—illegally." There was a murmur of disappointment in the chamber. Decentius began to look hopeful. I gave him a friendly smile; I continued. "I shall report all of this to the Augustus, describing exactly what happened, and I shall pledge him, as always, my loyalty not only as a colleague but as a kinsman." Everyone was now quite puzzled. Decentius stepped forward.
"If that is… Caesar's decision." He was very bold to call me
"Caesar", but I respected his loyalty to his master. "Then Caesar must discipline his own troops. He must do as the Augustus wants, and send them to the East."
"My dear Tribune…" I sounded even to myself like the most honey-tongued of lawyers. "I am willing to give my life for the Emperor in any battle against barbarians. But I will not give it in this way. I have no intention of being murdered by an army I have devoted five years to training, an army which loves me perhaps too much and their Emperor too little. No, I shall not take back what they have given me." I suddenly recalled that I still wore the metal circlet. I took it off and held it up. "A piece of military equipment, no more." I let the circlet drop on the table in front of me.
"Nor do I have any intention of sending them East. For one thing, Tribune, they will not go. No matter what I or anyone says."
"Then, Caesar, do you mean to go against the Augustus?"
Decentius was stony.
I shook my head. "I shall try to obey him. But that may not be possible. We shall write Constantius today. But even better than our writing will be your own description of what happened here in Paris. I am sure that once you have explained to him our true situation, he will be sympathetic." There was a murmur of laughter.
"Very well, Caesar. Have I your permission to go?"
"You have it," I said.
Decentius saluted and left the chamber.
Then tired as I was, I called a meeting of the consistory. We spent the morning dictating a long letter to Constantius. In brief, I said that I had not incited the troops, that they had threatened me with death if I did not take the title Augustus, that I had accepted for fear they might select someone else, another Magnentius or Silvanus. I then requested that the legions be kept in Gaul. I promised, however, to send Constantius all the Spanish horses he needed (there had been some correspondence already on this subject), as well as a number of targeteers from the tribe of Laeti on the Rhine: good soldiers, eager for war.! requested that a new praetorian prefect be appointed; the other officers of state would be selected by me, as is usual. I ended with the hope that only harmony prevail between us, and so on.
There was a good deal of discussion as to how I should style myself. My own view prevailed. I signed the letter "Caesar", not "Augustus".
Eutherius offered to take the letter himself to Constantinople. Since he was my best advocate, I let him go.
• • •
The next few days were turmoil. Decentius left for Vienne. Eutherius departed for Constantinople. I sent Gaudentius packing. During this period, I did not show myself in public, nor wear the diadem, nor style myself Augustus.
This was a time for caution. Though I had sent several messages to Florentius, I had heard nothing from Vienne except conflicting rumours: Florentius planned to take the field against me in the spring. Florentius had been recalled. Florentius was withdrawing to Spain, to Britain, to Morocco. In the absence of any word from the praetorian prefect himself, I replaced every governor in Gaul with men of my own choosing, and thus assured the loyalty of the cities.
Priscus: Julian skips that spring and summer. I suppose because much of it is covered in his military history.
That spring, while we were at Paris, Constantius moved to Caesarea. There he assembled an army for the campaign against Persia. He was very good at assembling armies. His problem was that he never quite knew what to do with an army once he'd got it all together. He was joined at Caesarea first by Decentius, then by Florentius who had fled to Gaul, leaving his family to shift for themselves. To everyone's surprise, Julian later allowed the family to join Florentius, transporting them at state expense. Julian was determined to be merciful. He saw himself in the line of Marcus Aurelius. Actually, he was greater than that self-consciously good man. For one thing, he had a harder task than his predecessor. Julian came at the end of a world, not at its zenith. That is important, isn't it, Libanius, my fellow relic? We are given our place in time as we are given our eyes: weak, strong, clear, squinting, the thing is not ours to choose. Well, this has been a squinting, wall-eyed time to be born in. Fortunately, when most eyes see distortion as a matter of course, nothing bizarre is thought out of the way, and only a clear vision is abnormal.
Poor Eutherius had a most difficult embassy. Everything went wrong for him on the road. Because of his rank as chamberlain to the Caesar he was necessarily accompanied at many stages by other important officials. You know how it is when one travels at state expense. It is marvellous of course because it costs nothing, one gets the best horses, there is always a place to spend the night, and brigands seldom assault guests of the state. But one must contend with the highly placed bores (who are contending with us!). There is always the general who recalls old battles. The bishop who sputters at the thought of his colleagues' "heresies". The governor who was honest and can prove it as he returns home with a retinue of several hundred heavily burdened pack-horses.