At last the Emperor came to a stop, panting and exhausted. He turned to face the packed crowd by the door. ‘Who’s next?’ he called. ‘We must keep this up till midday. The Sun-god likes it. He has just told me so.’
The three imperial ladies moved to the front. The Augusta began a slow stately dance, curtsying and bowing and beckoning with her arms very gracefully. Her daughters danced with her, and little Alexianus hopped a few steps: but the Augusta, who had been reared in the temple at Emesa, was the only one who really understood the business. The Emperor watched them, his hand caressing the sky-stone as though it were the shoulder of Gordius. ‘That’s splendid,’ he shouted. ‘Grandma, you’re wonderful. But at your age you can’t be expected to go on very long. Who’s next? Let the next dancers come to the front.’
With my hand on my swordhilt I walked firmly to the door. A row of tall footmen stood before it, and at first seemed inclined to keep it shut. I prodded one of them in the stomach with my thumb, whispering: ‘Praetorian on duty. Get out of my way.’ They opened one side of the double door just wide enough for me to slip through.
In the afternoon I went down to the stables with the Emperor and Gordius. The Emperor was all smiles as we set out, but as soon as we were alone he turned on me.
‘Duratius, you refused to honour the Sun-god. You knew that everybody was supposed to dance. Eutychianus, your commander, danced very gracefully, considering his lack of practice. Why did you leave the parade without asking for permission to dismiss?’
I halted to face him, standing stiff at attention save that my hand rested once more on the hilt of my sword. ‘My lord,’ I said firmly, ‘I did not know that this morning’s function was a military parade. There seemed to be a great many civilians present. I apologize for leaving without asking to be dismissed. All the same, my lord, there is a fundamental law of the Empire that you must learn, since at present you are ignorant of it. Soldiers never dance in public. There it is. Even an Emperor must get used to it.’
‘I see,’ he said with a frown. ‘The Praetorian Praefect danced to please me, and he is soldier enough for anybody. You know that I am your commanding officer, and that disobedience to orders is a capital offence?’
‘I know that, my lord. I can only hope that you will forgive me when you have heard my explanation. The Praetorian Praefect is indeed a soldier, but such a great one that he has many civilian functions. I should have said that no soldier of the rank of centurion or under dances in public. If we had been in the habit of dancing for the Emperor Macrinus we might not have changed sides on the battlefield of Immae.’
‘Very well. Soldiers do not dance. I shall remember that, and never again order them to do it. But everyone else shall dance, and in particular those stupid proud Senators who were shocked to see my picture decked in the jewels my god has bestowed on me. They shall recognize the might of the sky-stone, the veritable phallus of the Sun. I shan’t let them take refuge in the excuse that he was unknown to father Romulus. Now we all know him. Do you, Duratius, acknowledge his might even though you will not dance for him?’
‘Of course I acknowledge his might, my lord. I will do anything within reason to please him.’
‘That’s something, at any rate,’ said the Emperor, smiling. ‘This morning he told me that he would like to see you drive a four-horse chariot. In private, of course, so that you are not in any way degraded. We shall arrange it as soon as we get to the stables.’
Gordius grinned also, and clapped me on the back. I had rounded a dangerous corner. When the Emperor was crossed he seldom sought the heads of his opponents, for at bottom he was merciful; but he did like to make them look ridiculous. By falling out of a chariot I could win forgiveness for my defiance.
Two hours later we came back to the palace very good friends. Of course my team had bolted with me, and at the furlong post the whole affair had capsized. But I cut the reins and was thrown clear. Except for bruises all down my right side, from shoulder to ankle, I was none the worse. The team did not suffer, for the Emperor and Gordius were waiting by the post; they dashed in to calm the frightened horses before they could kick one another.
The lady Soaemias was waiting for her son. She could never reconcile herself to the perils of chariot-racing, and was always unhappy until she had seen him return safe and sound. But she was also afraid of him, and avoided an interview unless he commanded her to speak with him. Now she waved a greeting from the portico and then disappeared down a corridor. Later in the evening I met her, wandering vaguely with a handsome young officer who carried a bowl of fruit and snow.
‘Do you want to see me?’ she asked with a distracted air. ‘We are just going to picnic in the library, and I haven’t time to hear a petition. Oh no, of course, you are Duratius. You can approach the Emperor whenever you wish. But tell me, is it true that you disobeyed an imperial command? Will you be punished?’
‘That’s not quite what happened, my lady,’ I answered respectfully. ‘I did not disobey an imperial command. All I did was to persuade the Emperor to change his mind. In future serving soldiers will be excused dancing at all ceremonies designed to honour the sky-stone.’
‘That was clever of you,’ she said with a giggle. ‘It’s difficult to persuade my son to change his mind. I can’t do it. But don’t you like our hymns and dances? In Syria everyone thinks them great fun. Oh well, I mustn’t keep you, since you have no petition.’
The Augusta saw more clearly what had passed. When she ran into me that same evening she came quickly to the point.
‘Duratius, you have saved us from disaster. Eutychianus has confessed to me that the legions would revolt if ordered to dance in honour of the sky-stone. I don’t know why they should feel so strongly, but it is so. Eutychianus feared to disobey the Emperor, but he admits that what you did was right. But you have done more than correct a mistake, you have taught the Emperor that there are limits to his power. It should have been done long ago, but none of us were brave enough to do it. Is there any reward I can give you?’
‘Well, my lady, I wouldn’t refuse a hundred gold pieces, if you can spare them. Money always comes in handy. Otherwise I am very well as I am. Certainly I don’t want promotion.’
The slave who called me next morning brought the gold pieces. In future the Augusta was very gracious whenever we met.
8. A God Approaches Rome
In the spring Eutychianus began to prepare for the long overland march to Rome. We would be a large company. Besides the Praetorians, who always guard the Emperor, the Alban Legions, the soldiers who had first acknowledged our sovereign, would march with us to their privileged quarters in Italy. It was a considerable business to assemble adequate supplies along the Via Egnatia, and to provide horses and draught oxen.
The serious planning was done at military headquarters, but the Emperor made his personal contribution. One morning I was chatting with the sentries in the guardroom; for with very little else to do I tried to make myself useful by keeping in touch with the feelings of the common soldiers. Suddenly there was a knock on the door and one of the Augusta’s maids put her head in.
Her welcome made her blush all over; she had to wait until the greeting had died down before she could deliver her message. One does not usually send a pretty slave-girl to carry orders to soldiers, but I was not surprised to hear she bore a command from the Emperor. When he was struck by a bright idea he would send his orders by the first person he met; one got used to that sort of thing in the palace of Nicomedia.
‘Imperial command. Meeting of the privy council in half an hour,’ she stammered, blushing more than before.
‘Well, what about it? What are we supposed to do?’ said the guard-commander sharply. Soldiers resent having their orders delivered by slaves, though it happens constantly.
‘I suppose they want you to mount an extra guard on the council chamber. Is that it, my dear?’ I said, trying to be helpful.
‘No. The message was for you, Duratius. The Emperor
commands you to attend,’ she answered.
At the consternation on my face the soldiers burst out laughing. The centurion of the guard quickly gave them something to do, for fear they should get out of hand. ‘Strip, privy councillor,’ he barked at me as though we were on parade. ‘ Greaves, boots, cuirass, helmet, baldric – take them off, the lot of them. Now, two men to each piece of armour and really get down to it. You have a quarter of an hour, no more. The privy councillor Duratius must have the smartest turn-out ever seen on a Praetorian. He’s the first centurion of the corps to attend the privy council, and he will do us credit.’
That gave me a few minutes to collect my thoughts. It was absurd that a centurion should be a member of the imperial privy council, a venerable institution founded by the Divine Augustus. But there would be nothing strange in the Emperor discussing affairs of state with his family and friends, as he frequently did over the supper table. The Emperor was merely being flippant in a serious matter, and not for the first time. This kind of behaviour would not make him popular when at last he reached Rome. I would drop a hint that he must take seriously the sacred constitution bequeathed to us by our ancestors; the Senate in Rome takes it very seriously indeed.
When I reached the door of the imperial council chamber, the regulation five minutes before the advertised time of parade, I looked very splendid. But of course I entered the room last, and took the lowest place at the long table.
There was nothing strange about the group assembled, except that the Emperor should choose to call us his privy council. He took the head of the table, with the Augusta on his right and his mother on his left. Beyond the lady Soaemias sat the lady Mamea her sister and next to her the freedman Gordius; beyond the Augusta sat the Praetorian Praefect, and then the chief priest of the local shrine of Cybele, who was of course a eunuch. I sat below the eunuch. In the centre of the table, on a little stand of precious ivory, the polished sky-stone presided over the meeting.
The Emperor produced an enormous sheet of paper, covered on both sides with close-set writing, much blotted. He peered at it, turning it round until he found the beginning, which was apparently in the middle of the sheet. Then he pushed it away from him, and spoke in his official voice.
‘It has been brought to my attention,’ he began pompously, ‘ that the court lacks a code of etiquette. Before my solemn progress through my dominions and my state entry into Rome that shall be remedied. There are no useful precedents. We cannot follow the ritual of the usurper Macrinus, and the customs enforced by Caracalla, my divine father, were in many respects imperfect. So here are my instructions on this important subject.’ He began to read. ‘The Emperor, the commander-in-chief of the armed forces, will receive from the soldiers the normal salute due to a general officer. The Emperor, president of the Senate, will be greeted by civilians with the decent respect due to a Senator.… There, what do you think of that?’ he added in his normal tone.
‘It will be popular. But can you go right back to the etiquette of the Divine Augustus, after more than two hundred years?’ asked Eutychianus doubtfully. He was the only councillor who recognized the sweeping nature of the change suggested by the Emperor; except myself, and I was determined to express no opinion, if I could help it.
‘Perhaps we can’t, though there will be cheers from the Senate at this stage of the proclamation,’ said the Emperor with a giggle. ‘But wait. I haven’t nearly finished.’ Once more he read. ‘The Emperor, as Emperor, is no more than leader of the Senate. But the Emperor now reigning gloriously is also high priest of the sacred sky-stone Elagabalus, the veritable phallus of the Sun, by which long ago he created the whole world. As high priest and partner of the all-conquering Sun the Emperor should be approached by all citizens with the deference due to a divinity. When he wears the insignia of his priesthood, and this will be always save when he is in military dress, citizens will greet him by kissing his shoes. This order does not apply to the army.’
The Emperor put down his paper and looked round the table.
‘There’s a lot more of it, but I’m not satisfied with the details. That’s why I called this council. Now that you’ve got the general idea we must work out a full code of court etiquette, to cover all contingencies.’
The silence was broken at last by the lady Soaemias, too stupid to recognize the perils of the Emperor’s proposal.
‘That’s a very nice composition, my dear,’ she said gently. ‘ Did you write it all by yourself? Have you remembered to put in that I am to be granted the rank of Augusta?’
‘Gordius and I made it up entirely by ourselves,’ said the Emperor proudly. ‘ But it was written by the clerk who checks the forage-bills at the stables. I’m afraid it’s rather blotted. He doesn’t usually write such long pieces.’
‘You must have it rewritten, my lord,’ said the Augusta. ‘We can’t send that dirty piece of paper to the Senate. I suggest that you give it to me, and I will get the best clerks in the chancery to make out a summary. You don’t want to fill in all the details before you reach Rome. You can work them out as occasion arises. You may find that some ceremonies bring inconvenience to yourself, and it will be easier to make changes before everything has been promulgated.’
‘I don’t mind personal inconvenience if it brings honour to the Sun-god.’ answered the Emperor. ‘But you are right as usual, grandma. I shall leave the whole affair in your hands.’
‘And my rank of Augusta?’ his mother reminded him. ‘Why don’t you promulgate that now, at this meeting?’
‘I have been thinking about that,’ said the Emperor with a smirk. ‘In fact I had a long consultation with my most trusted councillor, Gordius. We don’t think it wise that such a high rank should be multiplied. There should be only one Augusta. So I propose to grant you the splendid title of Clarissima. That will be nearly as grand as Augusta. But not quite so grand, because the daughter of a high priest should take precedence of the mother of a high priest. That is my imperial decision.’
He gazed at us sternly, while the oafish Gordius grinned.
‘Is there any other business, my lord?’ asked Eutychianus. ‘I have a great deal to arrange about the journey, besides this important proclamation. Unless you have further instructions I should like to get back to my desk.’ His face was fixed and expressionless, as though he were on parade.
‘No other business, except for one minor point. We shall take with us the local priests of Cybele, and pick up more from the shrines we pass on the way. Their place in the column will be immediately before the litter which carries the sky-stone. Thus the Sun-god will have suitable courtiers on his journey.… Oh, and by the way, Duratius hasn’t opened his mouth. I make you a privy councillor, a tremendous honour for a centurion, and you don’t advise me. Tell us your views, Duratius.’
‘I am not fit to advise on civilian matters, my lord. The code of etiquette as it applies to the army seems to me excellent. Since the days of the Divine Augustus soldiers have honoured the Emperor as their commander, while paying little regard to his religious functions.’
Eutychianus turned on me a long cold stare; the others paid no attention. The Emperor had commanded me to speak and I had spoken. But no one was interested in my opinions.
Before we left Nicomedia the Emperor gave a great party to his friends the charioteers. Though he wished only charioteers and grooms to be present the Augusta begged him to bring a guard. So as a compromise I was given a couch at the first table, with the Emperor himself and Gordius. I reclined awkwardly in full armour, with my sword handy. Not one of these raffish sportsmen would murder the Emperor of his own free will, but such men can be cheaply bribed. Though I could not guard the Emperor from assassination I could ensure that his assassin died instantly; in such company that was precaution enough.
The Emperor’s friendship for me had been cooling; Gordius was a better authority on racehorses, and I had withstood him in the matter of dancing before his god. But tonight he was in such high spirits that
he had to talk freely. Besides, Gordius was mildly in disgrace, and the punishment devised for him would lose its point unless the Emperor could explain it. He chatted with me on the old footing.
Gordius, taking advantage of his new grandeur, had been raiding the palace kitchens for supplies of the rare Arabian sugar. As a result he had begun to grow fat; and the Emperor, who took pride in his lover’s excellent figure, had ordered him to reduce. This feast would inaugurate his new diet.
The excellent hors d’aeuvres were eaten in silence, for we were all hungry. Then the roast was carved and laid before us on individual plates, instead of being handed round for us to help ourselves as we chose. I was mildly surprised, until the Emperor’s giggles made me realize that this was more than a casual change in the ordering of the meal.
‘How are you doing, Gordius?’ he asked.
I was eating roast beef (pork was never served in the Emperor’s presence), but it was nothing special, nothing calling for comment. I looked at Gordius; he was trying to chew on a piece of wood, carved and painted to resemble meat, With a rueful grin he looked back at his master. ‘At least it’s excellent for the figure, my dear. Let me see what I have in my cup.’
But the Emperor had a kindly heart, for all that he enjoyed teasing his friends. The wine was genuine.
The Emperor began talking to me about his god. ‘Eutychianus fears trouble. He won’t say so, but I can see it. He thinks the Romans will turn against me rather than worship a god from Syria. But my grandmother sees nothing odd in the idea, and she ought to know Rome better than Eutychianus. You were brave enough to refuse to dance, so I know you won’t lie just to keep me in a good temper. Do you think I can bring my Sun-god to Rome?’
‘If you can’t, my lord, what will you do?’
‘I shall go back to Emesa, and make it the centre of the Empire. I shall let the Germans take over the west if the west proves unworthy of me.’
‘Very well, my lord, if you feel so strongly about it. I just wanted to know, for you will rule more easily without your god. But you can take him to Rome, if you go about it carefully. I suppose he recognizes the Olympians, even though he is their superior? See that they are not entirely neglected. Why not find places for them at his heavenly court? By all means compel the Senate to pay him deference, but do not insult the feelings of the soldiers. And be merciful about it, my lord. Remember, these Senators will do anything to save their lives; but if they think they will be killed whatever they do they might pluck up the courage to strike first.’
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