by Paul Waters
It is often said that it is the victor who gets to write the history. In the case of the classical world, it was the late antique and medieval Church that acted as censor and interpreter of the past. What the Church did not approve of, it suppressed. In an age before the printing press, when the survival of a book depended on slow and painstaking copying by hand, it was the Church that controlled the writing, the copying, and the book burning.
The Church branded Julian an apostate, and that branding stuck, so that even today he is generally known as Julian the Apostate; whereas his uncle, the emperor Constantine, who made Christianity the official religion of the Roman empire, is known as Constantine the Great.
It is thus all the more surprising that so much of Julian’s writings have survived. We can reach Julian still, not only from his own words, but from those of his friends and enemies – for he aroused great controversy. From these texts we can piece together a picture of an intelligent and thoughtful young man who dwelt at the centre of power – and challenged that power – in the late Roman empire.
It is perhaps worth mentioning the terms ‘Caesar’ and ‘Augustus’. Originally Caesar referred to Julius Caesar, and Augustus was the name assumed by Caesar’s nephew and adopted son Octavian when he became the first emperor. By the late empire, however, these terms had become mere titles of office. An Augustus was an emperor; a Caesar was an emperor’s deputy and designated successor – who was often, but not always, a family relation.
Furthermore, at various times, it was thought expedient to divide the vast empire between two or more emperors, each of whom would rule a part (typically the West and the East). So, during the late empire, there was often more than one emperor, each ruling a different region. For the purposes of the story I have simplified the more complicated aspects of late Roman provincial administration.
As far as place names are concerned, I have chosen the modern name where this is likely to be familiar to the reader. So, for example, I have preferred Britain to Britannia; London to Londinium; York to Eboracum; Autun to Augustodunum. For less familiar names, or for names of cities that no longer exist, I have kept the ancient name. Thus Sirmium is modern Sremska Mitrovica; Naissus is Niš; and Letocetum is the village of Wall, just south of Lichfield in England.
The novel follows on from my earlier story, Cast Not the Day.