Julian (45 page)

On either side of the gate, the Scholarian Guards are quartered. They saluted smartly. I ordered their commander to house and feed my military retinue. Then I crossed the inner court and entered the main part of the palace. In the great hall I found Eusebius with his eunuchs, notaries, slaves, secret agents, at least two hundred men and half-men, all waiting for me in a room which was as bright and as warm as a surnmer's day. I have never seen so richly dressed a group in my life, nor smelled so much expensive perfume. I stood in the doorway and shook snow from my cloak as a dog shakes water from his back. All present fell to the floor with exquisite grace, and Eusebius humbly kissed the hem of my robe. I looked down for one long moment at that large body which resembled one of those African beasts Egypt sends us for the games. Eusebius glittered with jewels and smelled of lilies. This was the creature who had tried to destroy me, as he had destroyed my brother.

"Get up, Chamberlain," I said briskly. I motioned for the others to do the same. With some difficulty, Eusebius got to his feet. He looked at me shyly, with appealing eyes. Though he was terrified, years of training at court and a consummate skill at negotiating served him well; not once did his voice falter nor his poise desert him.

"Lord," he whispered, "all is in readiness. The bedrooms, the kitchens, the rooms of assembly, the robes, the jewels…"

"Thank you, Chamberlain."

"An inventory will be presented to the Lord of the World tomorrow."

"Good, and now…"

"Whatever he wishes, our Lord need only command." The voice that whispered in my ear was confiding and intimate. I stepped away from him. "Show me my apartments."

Eusebius clapped his hands. The hall emptied. I followed the eunuch up white marble stairs to the second floor, where, through latticed windows, one can see the splendid gardens which descend in shallow terraces to the sea of Marmora. Off to the right is the mansion of the Persian Prince Ormisda who defected to us in 323, as well as the group of small buildings or pavilions known as the Daphne Palace; here the emperors hold audience.

It was strange to be in Constantius's rooms. I was particularly moved when I saw the inlaid silver bed where my cousin had slept, and no doubt dreamed uneasily of me. Now he is gone and the room is mine. I wonder: who will sleep here after me? My reverie was interrupted by Eusebius, who cleared his throat nervously. I looked at him blankly. Then I said, "Tell Oribasius I want to see him."

"Is that at1, Lord?"

"That is all, Chamberlain."

Face grave and perfectly controlled, Eusebius withdrew. That evening he was arrested for high treason and sent to Chalcedon to stand trial.

Together Oribasius and I explored the palace, to the consternation of the staff, who had never before seen an emperor stray from the strict round prescribed for him by ceremonial. I was particulaxly interested in seeing the palace of Daphne. So Oribasius and I, escorted by no more than a dozen guards, pounded on the door of the little palace. A nervous eunuch opened it and showed us into the throne room where, years before, I had seen Constantine on a day when all our family was together; now all are dead but me. The room was as splendid as I remembered, including, I'm afraid, the jewel-encrusted cross which covers the entire ceiling. I should like to remove it, but traditionalists argue that no matter what the state's religion it should be kept simply because my uncle put it there. Perhaps they are right.

The old eunuch who had shown us into the room said that he remembered the day I was presented to my uncle.

"You were a handsome child, Lord, and we knew even then that you would be our master." Naturally!

We also explored the banquet hall, with its arched triklinos at one end where, on a dais, the imperial family dine. The floor is particularly handsome, inlaid with different-coloured marbles from every province of the empire. While we were gaping like countryfolk, the Master of the Offices appeared, accompanied by a tall lean officer. After gently chiding me for having escaped him, the Master indicated the officer, a commander of cavalry named Jovian.

"He has iust arrived, Augustus, with the sacred remains of the Lord Constantius."

Jovian saluted me; he is a good-humoured unintelligent man who serves with me now in Persia. I thanked him for his efforts and assigned him to temporary duty with the Scholarians. I then called a Consistory where, among other matters, we planned the funeral of Constantius. It was the last ceremony the eunuchs conducted and I am happy to say it went off without a hitch. He had loved them; they loved him. It was fitting that their last task at court should have been the funeral of their patron.

Constantius's funeral was held in what the Galileans call the Church of the Holy Apostles, which is situated on the fourth of the city's hills. Just back of the basilica, Constantine had put up a round mausoleum, much like the one of Augustus at Rome. Here lie his remains, and those of his three sons. May the earth rest lightly on them.

To my surprise, I was quite moved at the funeral of my life's enemy. For one thing, since I am celibate, our line ends with Constantius. But that's not quite true: his widow Faustina was then pregnant. I saw her at a distance, heavily veiled among the mourners. Several days later I granted her an audience I received Faustina in Constantius's dressing-room, which I use as an office because it is lined with cupboards originally built to hold his many robes and tunics. I now use the cupboards for books. When Faustina entered, I rose and greeted her as a kinswoman. She knelt. I raised her up. I offered her a chair. We both sat. Faustina is a vivacious woman, with a high arched Syrian nose, blue-black hair and grey eyes, testament to some Gothic or Thessalian ancestor. She was clearly frightened, though I did my best to put her at her ease.

"I hope you don't mind my receiving you here." I indicated the row of tailor's dummies which still lined one wall, mute reminder of the body they were intended to represent.

"Wherever my Lord chooses," she said formally. Then she smiled. "Besides, I have never been inside the Sacred Palace before."

"That's right. You were married at Antioch."

"Yes, Lord."

"I am sorry."

"It was the will of heaven."

I agreed that indeed it was. "Where will you live, Princess?"

I had decided to style her thus. "Augusta" would have been out of the question.

"If it pleases my Lord, at Antioch. Quietly. In retirement. With my family. Alone." She dropped each phrase like a coin at my feet.

"You may live wherever you please, Princess. After all, you are my last kinswoman and…" As tactfully as possible, I indicated her swelling stomach beneath black robes, "… you bear the last child of our house. That is a great responsibility. Were it not for you, the Flavians would come to an end."

For a moment, I saw fear and suspicion in the grey eyes; then she lowered her head and a faint colour rose in her neck. "I hope, Lord, you will have many children."

"None," I said flatly. "Your son—or daughter—alone must continue the line."

"When my husband was dying, he said that you would be just and merciful, Lord."

"We understood each other," I said. But then I could not help adding, "Up to a point."

"I am free to go?"

"You are perfectly free. Constantius's bequests to you shall be honoured." I rose. "Let me know when the child is born." She kissed the purple; and we parted.

I get regular reports on her from Antioch. She is thought to be proud and difficult but not given to conspiracy. She dislikes me for not allowing her the title of Augusta. Her child, incidentally, turned out to be a girl, much to my relief. She is named Flavia Maxima Faustina. It will be interesting to see what happens to her.

Libanius
: Flavia—or Constantia Posturea as we call her—is a lady of the greatest charm, very like her mother, and a most intimate friend of mine. She of course married the Emperor Gratian and they reside now in Treyes. So the daughter became what her mother did not, a reigning Augusta. Faustina is extraordinarily proud of her daughter, though when I saw her last month she was somewhat hurt at not having been invited to join the Empress in the West. Apparently the thoughtful child felt that the journey would be too taxing for her mother. Also, as I told Faustina: children do tend to live their own lives and we must be tolerant. I even loaned her the only copy I have of my little essay on "The Duty to Parents". Which reminds me that she has not returned it. As for the Emperor Gratian, he is everyone's hero, although (alas!) he is a devout Christian. When he was raised to the principate, he refused the title of Pontilex Maximus, the first emperor in our history to do so, a most ominous sign. As a matter of record, last year when Gratian selected Theodosius to be Augustus of the East, he gave his mother-in-law Faustina the honorary title Augusta. We were all tremendously pleased.

Julian Augustus

When Faustina left, I sent for a barber. My hair had not been cut since Gaul, and I was beginning to look quite savage, more Pan than philosopher. I was studying the palace roster when what looked like the Persian ambassador entered the room. I nearly got to my feet, so awed was I by the spectacle: gold rings, jewelled brooch, curled hair. But this was not an ambassador. This was the barber. My response was weak. "I sent for a barber not a tax collector," I said. But the man took this serenely, as an imperial pleasantry.

He chattered freely. He told me that he had an annual salary, paid by the treasury; he also earned twenty loaves of bread a day, as well as fodder for twenty pack animals. Yet he felt himself underpaid, he said, as he trimmed my beard, gracefully deploring the fact that I like it to come to a point. I held my tongue until he had left; then I dictated a memorandum dismissing all barbers, cooks, and other supernumeraries from my service.

I was engaged in this pleasant task when Oribasius joined me. He listened with amusement while I roared and waved my arms, getting more and more upset as I thought about the court I had inherited. When I had finally run out of breath, Oribasius reported that he had been exploring the barracks of the Scholarian Guards. It seems that the men slept on leather mattresses! Their mess was sumptuous, and their goblets were a good deal heavier than their swords. As a sideline, some conducted a traffic in jewels, either stolen or extorted from rich merchants whom they regularly terrorized, demanding protection money. As if this were not bad enough, the guardsmen had formed a glee club and regularly hired themselves out to private parties where they sang love songs! I'm afraid I was screaming with anguish by the time Oribasius had finished. He always takes pleasure in arousing me, deliberately adding detail to detail just to watch the veins in my forehead throb. Then after he has roused me to a blind rage, he takes my pulse and tells me that if I'm not careful I shall have a stroke. I will, too, one day.

I was all for clearing out the barracks at once. But he thought it would be better to do it gradually. "Besides, there is far worse going on in the palace."

"Worse!" I raised my eyes to Helios. "I don't expect soldiers to be philosophers. I know they steal. But singing love songs, feather mattresses…"

"It's not the soldiers. It's the eunuchs." But he said nothing more, indicating the secretaries. Sworn though they are to secrecy, one must always be careful what one says in front of any witness.

"Later," Oribasius whispered.

We were suddenly aware of a great babble from below. The Master of the Offices entered, breathing hard. "Lord, the Egyptian delegation begs your presence, humbly, graciously…" At this point the noise below began to sound like a riot.

"Is this usual, Master?"

"No, Lord, but Egyptians…"

"… are noisy?"

"Yes, Lord."

"And the praetorian prefect is unable to handle them?"

"Exactly, Lord. He told them you could not see them and…"

There was a noise of breaking pottery, and a few high-pitched screams.

"Are the Egyptians always like this, Master?"

"Often, Lord."

Much amused, I followed the Master of the Offices downstairs to the praetorian prefect's audience chamber. Just as I was about to enter the hall, a half-dozen attendants appeared from nowhere. One arranged my hair; another my beard; my cloak was redraped; a diadem was set on my head. Then the Master of the Offices and what was now a considerable retinue opened the doors and, feeling rather like Constantius, I entered the prefect's chamber.

I should explain that Egyptians are easily the most tiresome of my subjects, if one wishes to generalize… and who does not? Their bad reputation was not gained for nothing. They particularly delight in litigation. Sometimes a family will conduct a lawsuit for a century, simply for the pleasure of making trouble. This particular delegation had come to see Constantius in Antioch, but he was gone before they arrived. They pursued him to the Springs, where death mercifully saved him from them. Then, hearing that a new emperor would soon be in Constantinople, they had come straight to me. Their complaint? A thousand suits against our government in Egypt.

They swarmed about me—they were of every colour, from pale Greek to black Numidian—and they all talked at once, quite unimpressed by my greatness. The praetorian prefect looked at me across the room; hopefully, he made the sign of the knife. But I was more amused than offended.

With some difficulty, I got their attention. "Justice," I shouted, "will be done each of you!" This occasioned both cheers and groans. Apparently, some felt things were going much too easily.

"But," I said firmly, "no redress can be given here. Only at Chalcedon, across the Bosphorus. That is where the treasury is, where such matters are decided." I was now improvising quite freely, to the amazement of the prefect. "You will all be taken there at my expense." A rapturous sigh from the delegation. "And tomorrow I shall join you and examine in detail each suit. If I find any of you has been injured. I shall know what to do." There was a pleased response, and I slipped out of the room.