Julian

  Suddenly Arbetio threw this quotation in Ursulus's face. Immediately the officers and men who were present at the trial made a loud racket, demanding Ursulus's head. They got it. He was executed within the hour.

  This was the talk of the city when I arrived in January. I questioned Julian about the trial; he was evasive. "I didn't know what was happening. I put the whole thing in Salutius's hands. I was as surprised as anyone."

  "But they acted in your name…"

  "Every village notary acts in my name. Am I responsible for all injustice?"

  "But surely you had to give permission for the execution. Under Roman law…"

  "The military court acted on its own initiative. I didn't know."

  "Then every member of the court was guilty of treason for using your power of life and death illegally."

  "The court was not illegal. They were duly constituted by imperial edict…"

  "Then they must have informed you before the execution and if they did…"

  "I did not know!" Julian was furious. I never mentioned the subject again. But when we were in Persia he brought up the matter, on his own. We had been talking about the idea of justice when suddenly Julian said, "The hardest thing I ever did was to allow a court to condemn an innocent man."

  "Ursulus?"

  He nodded. He had quite forgotten he had once told me that he had known nothing of the Chalcedon proceedings. "The army wanted him dead. There was nothing I could do. When the court found him guilty of high treason—even though he was innocent I had to. let the sentence stand."

  "To appease the army? or Arbetio?"

  "Both. I was not sure of myself then. I needed every bit of support I could get. But if that trial were today, I would free Ursulus and indict Arbetio."

  "But yesterday is not today, and Ursulus is dead."

  "I'm sorry," said Julian, and that was the end of that chapter. It is one of the few instances I know where Julian was weak and in his weakness bad. But how might we have acted in his place? Differently? I think not. One good thing: Julian did not confiscate Ursulus's estate as law requires in the case of a traitor. The property all went to the dead man's daughter.

  Libanius: Priscus seems unduly sentimental in this matter. As he himself admits, he did not study the transcript of the trial, so Ursulus? Unlike Priscus, I should never predict my own behaviou in any circumstance until I knew precisely what the given fact were. Is not all conduct based on this sort of empiricism? or hay, I misled three generations of pupils?

  Julian Ausustus

  I had heard all my life about what went on in the eunuctu quarters of the Sacred Palace. But I tend to discount gossip, having been myself the subject of so much, most of it fantastic. I confess I did not really want any rumours confirmed, but Oribasius insisted that we see for ourselves. So I got myself up in a hooded robe while Oribasius disguised himself as a Syrian merchant with oiled ringlet and glossy false beard.

  Shortly before midnight, we left my apartment, by way of private staircase. Outside the palace we found ourselves in a small courtyard, bright with moonlight. Like shadowy conspirators, we crossed to the opposite wing of the palace where the eunuchs and minor officials lived. We slipped inside the portico. At the third door from the south, Oribasius stopped, and rapped three times, A muffled voice said, "What is the time?"

  "The time is ours," said Oribasius. This was the correct password. The door opened just wide enough for us to enter. A dwarf greeted us and pointed to the dimly lit stairs. "They're just starting."

  Oribasius gave him a coin. On the second-floor gallery deal mute slaves showed us into what had been Eusebius's dining hall It was almost as splendid as my own! Against the walls of the room some fifty eunuchs reclined on couches. They were so gorgeously dressed that they looked like bales of silk on display. In front of each couch a table was set, piled with food. Even for an evening of what (in my innocence) I took to be music, the eunuchs needed their food.

  At one end of the room there were chairs and benches for wha were known as "friends of the court". Here sat a number of Scholarian officers, drinking heavily. I was completely mystified but dared not speak for fear someone would recognize my voice As Mardonius—that good eunuch—used to say: "Julian has no lyre, only a brazen trumpet."

  We sat down in the front row, next to a centurion of the Herculani. He was already quite drunk. He nudged me in the ribs.

  "Don't look so gloomy! And take that hood off, makes you look like a dirty Christ-y!" This was considered high wit, and there was a good deal of laughter at my expense. But the glib Oribasius rescued me. "Poor fellow's from the country, doesn't dare show his patched tunic." Oribasius's accent was pure Antioch. I was most impressed.

  "He part of the show?" The centurion pushed his face close to mine, his breath like the last dregs from a skin of wine. I pulled back, hand to my hood.

  "No," said Oribasius. "A friend of Phalaris." This impressed the centurion, who left me alone. Oribasius whispered in my ear.

  "Phalaris is our host. He's there. In the centre." Phalaris was large and sullen, with a pursed mouth. I knew that I had seen him before, but I could not place him. Oribasius explained. "He's in charge of the kitchen. Which makes him—now that Eusebius is dead the richest man at court."

  I sighed. The emperor is hugely robbed by his servants.

  Cymbals were struck. A long line of Scholarians filed into the room. They halted before Phalaris and gave him a parody of the imperial salute. I started angrily to my feet, but Oribasius held me back. With a gesture quite as majestic as any of Constantius's, Phalaris acknowledged the salute. The soldiers then took their places against the wall and, at a signal from their leader, they sang a love song! But there was worse to come.

  Fifty shabbily dressed youths entered the hall. They moved awkwardly and seemed not to know what to do until a Scholarian shoved one of them to his knees in front of Phalaris; all followed suit. The eunuch then motioned for them to sit on the floor directly in front of us. I was completely baffled. These youths were obviously not entertainers. They looked like ordinary workmen of the sort one sees in every city, hanging about the arcades, eyeing women.

  Next, the same number of young girls were herded into the room. All around me the "friends of the court" breathed satisfaction. The girls were uncommonly pretty, and terrified. After a slow tour of the hall, they were ordered to sit on the floor beside the young men. They too wore ordinary clothes, which meant that they were neither prostitutes nor entertainers. I saw that the eunuchs were studying the girls with almost as much interest as were the men about me. I thought this surprising, but Oribasius assures me that the desire for women remains cruelly strong in eunuchs, especially in those gelded after puberty. Incapacity does not prevent lust.

  Musicians appeared and played while a troupe of Syrian cotylists danced. I suppose they were good. They moved violently, made astonishing leaps in the air, did lewd things with the cups which are a part of their "art". While all eyes watched them, I tapped the shoulder of the boy who sat just in front of me. He gave a nervous start, and turned around, pale with fright. He had the fair skin and grey eyes of Macedonia. His hands were large and callused, the nails black with soot. I took him to be a metalworker's apprentice, at the most eighteen years old.

  "Sir?" His light voice cracked with tension.

  "Why are you here?"

  "I don't know, sir."

  "But how did you get here?"

  "They…" He motioned to the Scholarians. "I was coming home from the silver market, where I work, and they stopped me and made me go with them."

  "Did they tell you why?"

  "No, sir. They won't kill us, will they?" There is no terror to equal that of the ignorant in a strange place.

  "No," I said firmly. "They won't hurt you."

  The Syrian dancers were followed by what looked to be priestesses of the Egyptian cult of Syra. Though I recognized many of the ritual gestures, I suspect that these women were not actually priestesses but prosti
tutes, imitating the sacred erotic dances. It was, after all, a night of travesty. Every stage of the mysteries was acted out, including the ceremony of abundance with its wooden phalluses. This last brought loud applause from the "friends of the court", and ecstatic sighs and giggles from the eunuchs. Though the cult of Syra does not much appeal to me, I was offended to see its mysteries profaned.

  After the "priestesses" had finished their dance, several burly Scholarians motioned for the girls and youths to parade in pairs before the reclining eunuchs, much the way young people stroll on feast days in provincial towns. For some minutes they moved, tense, self-conscious, trapped. Then Phalaris motioned for a particular girl and youth to approach him. This was a signal for the other eunuchs to choose pairs. They did so, hissing like angry geese.

  Suddenly Phalaris reached up and tore the girl's dress at the shoulder; it fell to her knees. Those about me gasped with excitement. I was too stunned to move. When the girl tried to pull her dress back in place, Phalaris tugged at it again and this time the cheap material split and came away in his hand. Like a sacrifice, she stood, naked, arms crossed on her breast. Phalaris then turned to the boy and lifted up his tunic as far as the belly. Loud laughter; the youth wore nothing underneath. Phalaris then pulled both girl and boy, the one pale and the other red with embarrassment, on to the couch, his fat arms girdling each.

  Meanwhile, the other eunuchs had stripped their terrified prey. None resisted, although one young man, inadvertently shying from a eunuch's grasp, was cracked hard across the buttocks by the flat of a Schotarian's sword. The rest submitted.

  As I watched, I had the sense of having witnessed something similar. This monstrous scene contained a bafflingly familiar element. Not until days later did I recall what it was: children opening presents. The eunuchs were like greedy children. They tore the clothes off their victims in the same way children tear wrappings from a gift, passionately eager to see what is inside. Stubby eunuch fingers explored the strange bodies as though they were toys; they were particularly fascinated by the sex, male and female. Imagine fifty huge babies allowed people for playthings and one can begin to apprehend what I saw that night.

  I might have sat there for ever, turned to astonished stone, if I had not noticed the boy I had talked to earlier. He was stretched across a eunuch's lap while a frightened girl poured dippers of honey over his belly, the eunuch fondling him all the while, preparatory to heaven alone knew what vice. That was enough.

  I had got as far as the centre of the room when one of the Scholarians grabbed me roughly by the shoulder. The hood fell back from my head. One look at my face was enough. The music stopped, instrument by instrument. No one moved. No one spoke. Only the young people stared at me dumbly and without interest. I motioned to a tribune who sat on the first row. He was the highestranking officer present. Trembling, he saluted me. I indicated the boys and girls and in a low voice that only he could hear, I said, "Send them home." Then I pointed to Phalaris. "Arrest the eunuchs. Confine all Scholarians present to barracks." In a silence as complete as any I have ever heard, Oribasius and I left the banquet hall.

  Oribasius feels that I took the entire thing too seriously because where the human body was revealed, particularly public baths. I think what most distressed him about the behaviour of the eunuchs was the knowledge that not only had he the power to do the same but that he wanted to. This recognition of his own nature horrified him. Note that as he lingers over the scene, what most strikes him is not so much the demonstration of lust but the power to do what one likes with another, and that other not a slave but free. Our Julian—like all of us—had a touch of Tiberius in him, and he hated it.

  For twenty years now I have been haunted by one detail, the pouring of honey on the genitals of the smith's apprentice. What exactly was the eunuch's plan? What was the girl supposed to do? And why honey? I have theories of course, but I shall never know for certain since Julian ended the party much too soon. I am confident of one thing: the eunuch was a cook and accustomed to basting game birds with honey. He was obviously reverting to habit.

  Libanius: The lechery of Priscus is an unexpected development of his senescence. I am not aware of any "touch of Tiberius" in myself, rather the contrary.

  XVII

  Julian Augustus

  Constantius seldom addressed the senate for the excellent reason that he could not speak for any length of time without stammering or making some error in logic or grammar. As a result, he almost never set foot in the senate house. He preferred to summon the senate to the throneroom in the Daphne Palace where he could address them informally, on those rare occasions when he dealt with them at all.

  I returned to the old ways, imitating Augustus, who was content to be first citizen. On I January I walked across the square to attend the senate merely as a member. The conscript fathers affected to be pleased by my gesture, and for the remaining months that I was in the city I often attended their sessions. I don't need to add that whenever I did, I always spoke!

  It is customary for new consuls taking office to sponsor games and entertainments. Mamertinus gave us three days of chariot races in the Hippodrome which I attended as a courtesy to him. I found the races interminable but I enjoyed the crowds. They always greeted me with an ear-splitting roar, and I was told that not once in twenty-five years had Constantius evoked such an affectionate response. Since several people told me this perhaps it is true and not mere flattery.

  While attending the first day's races, I examined with some interest the various works of art Constantius had placed along the centre of the track: obelisks, columns, bronze memorials. One of them is particularly beautiful: three bronze snakes intertwine to form a tall column upon which a golden tripod supports a golden bowl dedicated by the Greeks to Apollo at Delphi as a thanksgiving for their victory over Persia. Constantine stole even the holiest of relics to decorate his city. One day I shall send them all back to their original homes. But thinking of Delphi gave me an idea. I turned to Oribasius. "We should consult the oracle."

  "Which oracle?" Oribasius maintains that between soothsayers, oracles and sacrifices, I have terrified the future into submission.

  "Delphi. The only oracle."

  "Does it still exist?"

  "Find out."

  Oribasius laughed. "Shall I go now, before the games are over?"

  "No. But you want to visit Greece anyway. If you do, visit the oracle and consult the Pythoness."

  So it was agreed. We were wondering what form my question to the oracle should take, when a number of slaves were brought forward to receive their freedom. This is an ancient custom, to celebrate the new year and the accession of new consuls. The slaves lined up before the imperial box and I eagerly said the legal formula which made them free. There was a startled gasp from the crowd. I was bewildered. Mamertinus who sat on my right was much amused. "Augustus, the consul is supposed to free the slaves, just as the consul gives the games." Greatly embarrassed, I shouted to the people, "I hereby fine myself ten pounds of gold for usurping the consul's function!" This was received with much laughter and cheering, and I think it made a good impression.

  • • •

  On 4 February 362 I declared religious freedom in the world. Anyone could worship any god in any way he chose. The cult of the Galileans was no longer the state's religion, nor were Galilean priests exempt from paying taxes and the usual municipal duties. I also recalled all the bishops who had been sent into exile by Constantius. I even allowed the terrible Athanasius to return to Alexandria, though I did not mean for him to be bishop again. Among those who returned from exile was Aetius, who had given a good report of me to Gallus. I shall always be grateful to him. Soon after I had taken possession of the capital, I was faced with a most disagreeable crisis. My old teacher Bishop George had finally succeeded Athanasius as bishop of Alexandria. Not surprisingly, George proved to be an unpopular prelate. He was highhanded and arbitrary with everyone. Matters came to a head when he destroyed a Mithra
eum, saying that he intended to build a charnel house on its foundation. When our brothers rightfully protested this sacrilege, he retaliated by displaying all sorts of human skulls and bones as well as obscene objects, declaring falsely that he had found these "'proofs" of human sacrifice buried in the Mithraeum. It was an ugly business.

  George also incurred the wrath of the Athanasians by his singleminded persecution of all those who had followed the teachings of the bishop. The Alexandrians could not endure him. When word finally came that his protector Constantius was dead, the mob stormed the bishop's palace and murdered George; his body was then tied to a camel and dragged through the city to the beach, where it was burned and the ashes thrown into the sea. This haly pened on 24 December. When I heard about it, I wrote the people of the city a harsh letter, threatening reprisals. Their officials were most apologetic and promised to keep the peace. Not long after, Athanasius appeared in the city with a great mob of fanatics and resumed his old place as bishop. Almost his first gesture was to "baptize" the wife of my governor. This was too much. I banished Athanasius, making it clear that a return from exile did not mean a return to power for deposed bishops, especially those who are resourceful enemies of Hellenism.

  At about this time I acquired George's library, easily one of the best in Asia. I am rather sentimental about that library, for his were the actual books which had shaped my own mind. I am travelling at this moment with George's set of Plotinus. The rest of the books I left at Constantinople as a nucleus for the Julian library.

  The edict of 4 February had a good effect, though there was much complaint from the Arian bishops, who felt that by allowing their Athanasian brethren to return, I was ensuring doctrinal quarrels which would inevitably weaken the Galilean organization. exactly! They are now at one another's throats. I have also insisted that all lands and buildings which over the years the Galileans seized from us be restored. I realize that this will cause some hardship, but there is no other way of getting the thing done. I am quite prepared for trouble.