Family Favourites

by Alfred Duggan

  You will note that his first normal love affair had made no difference to the Emperor’s private life. Faustina had her own apartments, next door to those of the lady Mamea; the Emperor visited her every day. But the Pincian gardens remained as well stocked with curious inmates as before, and his affection for Hierocles was unimpaired.

  But if life in the palace was little altered there had been a profound change in the atmosphere of the City. The government was becoming unpopular, in the eyes of men who had the power to overthrow it. Talking with Praetorians in the guard-room I sensed the change. During the first three years of his reign the Emperor’s pranks had been directed against people and institutions which no soldier likes, Senators and noblemen and the priestly colleges. Now peasants, cousins of the ordinary men in the ranks, were being badgered and oppressed by lowborn town loafers, stable boys who had gained power because they yielded in an unmanly fashion to the Emperor’s lust.

  It was no longer considered funny that charioteers should make speeches in the Senate. The soldiers recalled that nearly every Senator had done duty on the frontier before he received his striped toga. Another grievance, oddly enough, was the Emperor’s idea of comic relief in the amphitheatre. Soldiers complained that nowadays you could not take your girl there, for fear that the lewd performances would put ideas into her head.

  I did my best to persuade the grumblers. I pointed out that the Senate was nothing special, and those Senators who thought it was must be enemies of the army. Every true legionary ought to believe that the Emperor is supreme and all his subjects equal to one another; that had been the programme of the legionaries who gave the Purple to the Divine Julius, nearly 300 years ago. The second objection was easily answered; any man who was rash enough to take his girl into a crowd deserved to lose her to someone more attractive.

  But the discontent continued, and every grumbler repeated the same phrases until I suspected that in the Camp someone must be preaching subversion. It would be useless to warn the Emperor. He could not imagine that his faithful fellow-soldiers of Immae would ever turn against him, and he might suspect me of fostering the very grumbles I repeated. After some consideration I applied for a private interview with the Augusta.

  I was no longer a member of the intimate court circle. I spent most of my time with the troops, and when the Emperor invited me to visit his gardens it was to show a trusted outsider what he had devised; not, as in the old days, to seek my help in planning the entertainment. I rarely met the ladies of the imperial family, except to salute them as they passed through the crowded halls of the palace. When the Augusta received me, I was surprised to see how she had changed.

  In Nicomedia she had been the vigorous head of a family, which she was leading to success: bursting with energy, bubbling with new ideas, certain of victory. Now she looked as though she had never ridden a camel into the heart of a great battle, never done anything except loll on a cushion. Not that she had grown fat; her figure was still slight and she reclined gracefully. But her face seemed tired and fretful; as though she, who once had issued commands, must now nag and whine at events she could not control.

  She listened quietly while I told my worries, and then asked me what remedy I could suggest. I proposed that the stable boys be kept within the palace, where they could attend to their duties in the imperial bedchamber. If they were removed from the Senate and the government offices the unrest would quickly subside.

  ‘I expect you are right, Duratius,’ she said when I had finished. ‘At any rate it was good of you to warn me. But I cannot help you. The Emperor will not be crossed in anything. He no longer heeds my advice. The Empress is too wise to ask him to get rid of the stable boys; instead she encourages him to find them jobs which take them out of the palace. The only way to make him change his way of life is to approach the lady Mamea. She rules the Empress, and the Empress rules the Emperor. But don’t think the family is divided. We are still the house of the priest-kings of Emesa, united against the outside world. Whatever shall come we are one family, and we regard you as one of us. Don’t be afraid.’

  I was afraid, but there was nothing more to be gained from the Augusta. She had hinted that I should lay my troubles before the lady Mamea: instead I called on Eutychianus at the Camp.

  13. The Caesar and the Augusta

  Since I went to the Camp in undress uniform the soldiers could see I was a centurion; most of them knew who I was and what I did. So I did not expect any frank revelations of their sentiments.

  But there was no disguising from a veteran the uneasy feeling in the Camp. The men were sullen. Some N. C.O.s barked at them; others were too friendly, as though they feared their authority might snap if they put a strain on it. Nobody spoke to me, nobody smiled; though behind me I kept on hearing the whistling of a tune. It came always from behind, and was always the same tune. It was not hard to recognize it as the burden of some seditious song, especially appropriate when the Emperor’s pet centurion came by.

  Eutychianus was busy, of course; every Praetorian Praefect is always busy. But he made time to see me as soon as I sent in my name; he received me in his private office, with a guard on the door to scare away eavesdroppers.

  When I began to explain my misgivings he cut me short. ‘So you also have noticed it?’ he said easily. ‘But of course a man of your experience would spot it as quickly as any police agent. Don’t think I am neglecting my duty. I recognize discontent – I expect a mutiny – I have a pretty good idea who is behind it. And I can do nothing.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I began, but again he interrupted me.

  ‘It’s quite plain, when you look at the troops and read the police reports. Mamea is plotting to get rid of the Emperor, so that her brat shall succeed while he is still too young to rule. A woman cannot be Emperor, but she can be regent. In a year or two Alexianus will be old enough to manage without his mother. Mamea can’t wait. I worked it out, and I know I’m right. So I went to the Emperor and advised him to kill his aunt, and his young cousin too though the boy may be innocent. It’s wasteful to have a young heir and a young Emperor; the double household makes an unnecessary drain on the treasury. The Emperor answered that the ties of kinship are sacred to any Syrian, as they should be sacred to any honourable Roman. He won’t believe that an aunt can plot against her nephew. Even if I convinced him he would still say that a nephew cannot execute his aunt. There you are.’

  ‘Then what shall we do? Shall I murder Mamea without waiting for orders?’

  ‘And be crucified for laying hands on a member of the imperial family? I would be grateful, but you would be a fool to try it. No, our only hope is to convince the Emperor. I shall take no action against the plotters. I may even give the impression that I approve of their activities. Luckily there are three or four cohorts who will follow me in anything. After a genuine outbreak the Emperor must be convinced. In the meantime I have given him a picked guard, commanded by the tribune Antiochianus. For the next ten days they will be in charge of the palace, and they can be counted on to defend it even against fellow-Praetorians.’

  ‘Thank you, my lord. You have chosen the only course open to a loyal servant of the Emperor. In the palace I also will be on my guard. They won’t be able to get rid of him by assassination; though the guard and I can’t protect him if the Praetorians mutiny as a corps.’

  ‘They won’t do that, I assure you. I know what goes on in the Camp. Enough of them will obey me to keep me in control.’

  I saluted and left, with apologies for interrupting such a busy official. I was now extremely frightened. Eutychianus had been emphatic that the bulk of the Praetorians would follow his orders, but he had not declared what orders he would give them. He had not protested his loyalty; he had indeed implied that he was loyal, but then he was speaking to a known adherent of the Emperor. I knew the subconscious feeling, common to so many conspirators, that it is honourable to deceive but dishonourable to tell a lie. I had felt like that myself as a reluctant soldier
of Macrinus. When the time came the Praetorian Praefect might join the rebels. Then there would be no hope for the Emperor and his friends in the palace.

  My only chance was to make the Emperor see reason. Eutychianus claimed to have warned him, but what exactly had he said at that private interview? It is so easy to pass on a rumour in a form that invites disbelief. Besides, Eutychianus was one of the grown-ups from whom the Emperor sought to escape. I was the companion of his secret pleasures. He would listen to me.

  In theory I could always get a private audience, but all the same it was hard to see him. No one might intrude while he was with the Empress, and in the evenings he was down in the gardens, planning a special entertainment. For two days I hung about, waiting for word that he would receive me.

  At last, on the afternoon before the great party (to which I had not been invited) he sent word that he was ready to hear me. I found him by the stables of the private racetrack, surrounded by lengths of harness. He wore nothing but the breech-clout of a charioteer, and there were no attendants within call.

  ‘Ah, Duratius,’ he said pleasantly, acknowledging my salute. ‘What’s your grumble today? Nothing that can’t be cured by a sack of gold, I hope. I can give you that, but I can’t make you young and beautiful. Before you begin I want your advice on a practical problem. Tonight we are putting on a new kind of chariot-race: mixed teams, two stags and two camels. I can’t devise a harness for all four to pull together.’

  I had to go into the question thoroughly before I could talk of anything else. The Emperor showed me a chariot with the mixed team yoked, and we hung various leather straps on them. It was half an hour before he would listen to me.

  Even then I could not stir him. In the end he was ready to believe that his aunt and cousin were plotting to supplant him, but he thought none the worse of them for that. ‘Of course it can’t succeed,’ he said airily. ‘ The Sun-god protects me, and I am the darling of the soldiers. I wonder what they plan to do with me afterwards? Exile in Antioch, probably. It might be a good idea to go there of my own free will, leaving poor little Alexianus to look after this troublesome city of Rome.’

  ‘My lord, they will cut your throat. They cannot displace you and let you live. You must kill them before they kill you.’

  ‘Cousins don’t kill one another, at least not Syrian cousins. But Alexianus is being naughty all the same. Uppish, that’s what he is. I’ve a good mind to let him feel my displeasure. I made him Caesar, and next January we shall be colleagues in the Consulship. What more does the child want? Well, what I gave I can take away. That’s it. Duratius, you must be my messenger. If I send a stable boy to the Camp the soldiers will be rude to him, and there’s no one else in the garden except slaves. Do you remember how you told me, long ago in Nicomedia, never to send a slave with orders for soldiers? Hurry along to the Camp, like a good fellow, and tell them that Alexianus is no longer Caesar. They must take down his statues, and his name must be omitted from standing orders. Be quick, if you think it’s so urgent. Here, Diana and Pallas, take this gentleman to the west gate as fast as you can. You shall each have a lump of sugar if you run well.’

  These last remarks were addressed to the team of girls who stood near, ready yoked to their light carriage. In the gardens the Emperor always kept a carriage by him, in case he should get tired of walking. The girls giggled with pleasure that he should remember their names; but with the bits in their mouths they could not answer. In a moment I was bouncing over the turf, with the team at full stretch.

  It came into my mind that I had no written authority. Supposing the soldiers should refuse to credit my instructions? But the Emperor would not carry writing materials in his breech-clout, and if I went back to him he might start some other topic and talk for hours. I would face that fence when I came to it.

  From the gardens I walked as fast as I could to the Camp. It is as difficult to hurry in Rome as in a German swamp. Only the Emperor, and courtiers in his train, might break the law against driving wheeled carriages by daylight; litter-bearers never hurry, even if you threaten them with a flogging. The ancients walked everywhere, but in those days Rome was smaller.

  Luckily Eutychianus was in his office, but I had to shout and argue before the sentry would admit me. Again I cursed the Emperor for not giving me any token of authority; a ring would have done. But when he dressed as a charioteer he wore no jewellery, because he took an actor’s delight in playing a part thoroughly. Well, these rubs were among the penalties of serving a boyish ruler; if Elagabalus had always been prudent and circumspect I would not have loved him as I did.

  At last I got into the office, and delivered the imperial command in a curt military tone. Immediately Eutychianus asked for my credentials, but when I admitted I had none he still believed me.

  ‘It’s tiresome,’ he said. ‘Someone is sure to raise the cry that this is a plot by the Clarissima to get rid of her nephew, and we can’t prove him wrong. But the real trouble is worse than that. Even if the troops believe that the order comes from the Emperor they may not obey it. Someone has been persuading them that Alexianus is also a son of the Divine Caracalla. If that’s not true he is still an Antoninus, with a claim on the allegiance of all followers of the Divine Severus. I wish we could explain to them that the life of Alexianus is in no danger. You and I know that the Emperor would never execute his cousin, but the soldiers assume that when a prince falls from favour he also loses his head. Still, the longer I think it over the more it will frighten me. Let’s get it done. Orderly, tell them to sound the Assembly and get the whole corps on parade.’

  Eutychianus was a good soldier, who kept his men up to the mark even in the soft living of Rome. When the trumpet sounded they fell in quickly as though they were on active service. I stood among the orderlies at the back of the tribunal while the Praetorian Praefect issued the new standing orders.

  The result was worse even than I had feared. Perhaps it would have been wiser to post the orders in writings instead of giving them out to soldiers who stood in their ranks, fully armed. Those thousands of stalwart men, with swords on their thighs, could look round and see they were the masters of Rome. There were scattered cries of ‘ Long live Alexianus Caesar’, and a general brandishing of weapons. When a cohort at the rear of the parade formed into column and began to march for the main gate I jumped down from the tribunal, seized an officer’s horse from a frightened groom, and galloped out of the Camp before the sentries on the gate could join the mutiny and stop me.

  My sword was in my hand, though I could not remember drawing it. The sight of an armed soldier galloping full tilt through the streets set off a panic that travelled faster than my horse. The clang of iron bolts as shops were closed spread outwards in waves of sound, and I wheeled my horse through deserted alleys. The Emperor was in his gardens, but his guard was at the palace. The mutineers also would make for the palace, unless they knew more about the Emperor’s movements than they should. I rode for the main guardroom, where I was sure Antiochianus and his picked cohort would prove loyal.

  I found the main guard already turned out on parade, alarmed by the disturbance in the City. As soon as I had told my news Antiochianus led them at the double to the Pincian gardens. We were in time, but only just; as we came in at the east end the mutineers reached the west gate. While marching on the palace they had caught a stray stable boy, and to save his life the wretch had told them where the Emperor was to be found.

  The carriage-girls saved the situation. Every soldier had heard of them, but they had never been seen outside the gardens. As usual a group of carriages waited by each gate, for the convenience of arriving guests. The mutineers were so intrigued by the novelty that they forgot their object; with whoops of delight soldiers piled into the carriages and began to race one another before their cheering comrades. But the guard-cohort still obeyed its officers; in good order we doubled up to the Emperor, who was by the stables.

  Then things began to go wrong. If the Emperor
had himself led a charge we would have scattered the disorganized mutineers. But he thought first of saving his boy-friends. Briefly he commanded Antiochianus to ‘ restore order in the gardens’, while he busied himself with hiding Gordius under a pile of forage. The tribune saluted and went back to his cohort.

  Praetorians are always reluctant to fight fellow-Praetorians. Antiochianus had been commanded to restore order, not to kill the mutineers. Instead of leading a charge he walked forward alone, with a green branch in his hand, calling for a conference with their leader.

  For half an hour we waited uneasily, while I grew more and more frightened. I had a sword but no shield. If the mutineers took me alive they would torture such a notorious imperial favourite. I must get myself killed at the beginning of the fighting, unless Antiochianus could fix up a compromise.

  He fixed up a compromise. He came back to tell the Emperor that his soldiers would continue to serve him, if Alexianus kept his rank as Caesar and all the stable boys were dismissed. It is odd how a trifle can alter history. If the Emperor had been wearing the Purple, or even his robes as high priest, I think he would have kept his courage; but he was dressed in the breech-clout of an ignoble charioteer. I saw him glance down at his naked body before he agreed to the terms.

  ‘Alexianus is of no importance, one way or the other,’ he said, ‘and I can manage without my old friends the stable boys. But I must keep the great love of my life. Tell them that Hierocles will remain. If they don’t like it they must kill me, for I cannot live without him.’