XI
Julian had an interview with his brother Gallus while the latter wason his way to Constantinople. He had found him surrounded by a troopof traitors in the pay of Constantius: the quaestor Leontinus, a wilycourtier, famous for skill in eavesdropping and cross-examiningservants; the tribune Bainobadois, a taciturn barbarian, who gave theimpression of an over-tragic actor playing the part of a headsman; theEmperor's haughty Master of Ceremonies, _comes domesticorum_,Lucilian; and finally Marcus Scuda, the former tribune of Caesarea inCappadocia, who, thanks to the protection of certain old ladies, hadattained the post he longed for.
Gallus, now, as always, gay and giddy, had offered Julian an excellentsupper, of which the chief feature was a plump pheasant stuffed withfresh Theban dates. He laughed like a child, and was calling up allsorts of reminiscences of old days together at Macellum, when suddenlyJulian spoke to him about his wife Constantia.
The face of Gallus fell; his eyes filled with tears, and he laid downon his plate the succulent piece of pheasant which he had been on thepoint of putting into his mouth.
"Don't you know, Julian, that Constantia is dead? She diedunexpectedly after an attack of tertian ague, on the very journey tothe Emperor which she had undertaken to absolve me from blame in hiseyes. I wept for two whole nights when I heard that news."
He cast a timid glance at the door, put his hand on Julian's shoulder,and whispered confidentially--
"Since then, I have let things go to the devil! She alone might havesaved me. Ah! she was an astonishing woman. Without her I am ruined. Ican do, and I can learn, nothing.... 'They' do with me just as theyplease."
He tossed off a cup of wine at a gulp.
Julian remembered Constantia, the sister of Constantius, a widow ofripe age, the evil genius of her brother, her who had incited him tocommit numberless crimes, crimes which were frequently mere fatuousstupidities. Amazed, he asked, anxious to know by what quality thiswoman had tamed his brother--
"She was beautiful?"
"It is clear you never saw her."
"No. Was she ugly?"
"Yes, very ugly. She was short, brown, thin, and had bad teeth, whichI can't bear in women. Nevertheless, being aware of this defect, shenever laughed. People used to say she deceived me, that in disguiseshe used to go to the circus, as Messalina did, on visits to a youngand handsome groom. Well, what of it? Did not I on my side deceiveher? She never bothered me, and I used to take care in return never toworry her about these trifles. Folk used to say she was cruel! By God,Julian, she knew how to govern! Of course she didn't like the authorsof epigrams on her bad manners, comparing her to some kitchen-slavedressed as Caesar's wife! She loved revenge, admiration! And what amind, what a mind, Julian! Why, I was as much at ease sheltered behindher, as behind a granite wall. Ah, the mad things we used to dotogether! We certainly never lacked amusement."
He smiled at some agreeable recollection and passed the tip of histongue along his rosy upper lip between the sips of Chian wine.
"There's no denying we made the most of time," he repeated, notwithout modest pride.
When Julian was on his way to this interview with his brother, he hadthought of waking in him some feeling of seriousness and remorse, hadeven prepared a little speech, in the style of Libanius, against thedoings of irresponsible tyrants. He had expected to see a man bowedunder the yoke of Nemesis, and not the tranquil fat and rosy visage ofthis comely athlete. Words died on Julian's lips. He looked withoutblame or distaste upon this "docile animal"--for so he inwardly namedhis brother. Of what avail were sermons to a young stallion? Juliancontented himself therefore with saying to Gallus in a grave tone--
"Why are you going to Milan? Do you suspect nothing?"
"Yes--hush--but it is too late!"
And, sweeping his hand significantly round his neck, he added--
"The slipnoose of death is already here! 'He' is tightening it littleby little. Why, he would unearth me from a rabbit-burrow, Julian! No,no, best speak no more of it! All's over! We've made the most of time,that's all."
"But you have two legions left you at Antioch?"
"Not one. 'He' has filched all my best soldiers, little by little,under colour of this pretext and that; and always, by Jove! for my owngood! Why, everything he does is for my own good.... He thinks ofnothing else! Now he's in a hurry to see me simply to profit by myadvice. Julian, that man is terrible! You don't know yet, and Godgrant that you may never know, what that man is. He sees everything,knows my inmost thoughts, those that I wouldn't mutter to my pillow;and he's watching your mind also. Frankly, I am afraid of him!"
"But can't you escape?"
"Hush, speak lower!"
The features of Gallus took on an expression of boyish terror.
"No, no; I tell you all is over! I am as neatly finished as a fishalready hooked. 'He' is drawing in the line gently, so that it doesn'tbreak. A Caesar, let him be who he will, is always a big fish to land.I know that it's impossible to escape. He'll take me one day oranother.... And now I see the snare, and I am walking into it all thesame out of fear. For six years, from the very first, I quaked beforethat man. Like a small boy, now however I've walked far enough.Brother, he'll cut my throat as a cook cuts the throat of a fowl. Buthe will torture me first by a thousand stratagems and caresses. Ishould prefer to finish quicker."
The eyes of Gallus became suddenly brilliant, and he exclaimed--
"Ah, if _she_ had been here, at my side, she would certainly havesaved me! She was such an astonishing woman!"
The tribune Scuda, entering the _triclinium_ where supper was laid,announced, with a profound salutation, that on the morrow, in honourof the arrival of Caesar, there would be races in the hippodrome ofConstantinople, and that the celebrated rider Korax would take partin them. Gallus was delighted at the news, and ordered a crown ofbay-leaf to be prepared, that, in case of the victory of Korax, hemight himself crown his favourite before the people. He launched intoracing stories, boasting the skill of his charioteers.
Gallus drank deeply, laughed like a man whose rakish conscience is atease, with not a trace of his recent fears upon those handsomefeatures. Only at the last moment of farewell he kissed Julianheartily, suddenly melting into tears.
"May God help you! May God help you!" he blubbered. "You alone havestood my friend--you and Constantia!"
Then he whispered into Julian's ear--
"I hope that you'll save your skin, brother. You can wear a mask andkeep your own counsel; I have always envied you that. May God succouryou!"
Julian sincerely pitied his brother; he knew that he would not escapeConstantius.
On the following morning Gallus left Constantinople with his formerescort. At Adrianople he was only permitted to retain ten smallchariots, and had to relinquish all his personal suite and baggage.The autumn was far advanced, the roads in fearful condition, rainfalling continuously all day for a week. Peremptory messages reachedGallus to hurry on. He was given no time to rest or sleep, and hadtaken no bath for a fortnight.
One of his keenest discomforts was horror at close contact with dirt.All his life he had taken peculiar care to keep his body healthy andexquisitely groomed. It was with profound melancholy that he gazed athis uncut nails, and the purple of his travelling chlamys, befouled bydust and muddy roads. Scuda never quitted his side for an instant,and Gallus, not without reason, dreaded his assiduous companion. Thetribune, years ago, had come as bearer of a despatch from the Emperor,and was but newly arrived in Antioch, when by an impudent remark hehad offended Constantia, the wife of Gallus, who straightway in a fitof fury had ordered the Roman tribune to be flogged and afterwardsthrown, like a slave, into a dungeon.
Foreseeing the probable consequence, Constantia had quickly orderedthe tribune to be set at liberty. He then presented himself at thepalace of Gallus, as if nothing had occurred, and, pocketing theaffront, had never even reported it to his master; perhaps throughfear that so degrading a punishment might besmirch the prospects ofhis career as a
courtier.
During the whole journey from Antioch to Milan Scuda retained his seatin Caesar's chariot, never quitting him, inviting his confidences, andtreating him like some wayward child, who, being out of sorts, was notto be left to himself for a moment by a servant so devoted andaffectionate.
Where, as in Illyria, there were dangerous river crossings to be madeon frail wooden bridges, Scuda would put his arm around Gallus withthe tenderest solicitude, and if the latter strove to free himself,swear that he preferred death to the risk of drowning his preciouscharge.
The tribune wore an oddly thoughtful expression, especially whencontemplating the neck of Gallus, smooth and white as a young girl's.The Caesar, feeling this attentive look, would fidget uneasily in hisseat, and with difficulty restrain himself from striking the amiabletribune in the face. But the poor prisoner's spirits quickly roseagain. He contented himself with imploring (for despite everythinghis appetite remained healthy), that they might halt for a meal, wereit never so scanty. At Petovio, in Norica, they were met by two freshenvoys from the Emperor, accompanied by a cohort of Court legionaries.
The mask was then dropped. Round the palace where Gallus slept armedsentinels were placed as round a prison. In the evening the prefectBarbatio, making his way in, without any pretence at ceremony, orderedhim to take off the chlamys of a Caesar and don the simple tunic andpaludamentum, or ordinary cloak, of a common soldier.
On the following morning the prisoner was ordered to get into akarpenta, a little two-wheeled cart without a hood employed by minorofficials on official journeys. A cold wind was blowingintermittently. Scuda according to his custom put one arm roundGallus, and with the disengaged hand gently fingered the new garment.
"Sound cloak, this--soft and warm! Better than the purple, which is achilly affair! Why, they've lined this tunic with double wool!" Andpushing his investigations further, Scuda slid a hand under thepaludamentum, then under the tunic, and suddenly, with a laugh, drewforth the blade of a poniard, which Gallus had succeeded inconcealing.
"Now that's a mistake!" said Scuda. "Why, you might throughcarelessness stab yourself! What a boy you are!"
And he threw the dagger out on the road. An infinite weariness seizedGallus. He closed his eyes and felt the endearing grip of Scuda insidehis arm. Was it all a nightmare?
They halted at the fortress of Pola in Istria, on the shores of theAdriatic. Some years formerly this town had been the scene of themurder of Priscus, the heroic young son of Constantine the Great.
The gloomy town was thronged with soldiers. Interminable barracks inthe style of Diocletian had replaced the houses of civilians. Snow laythickly on the roofs, the wind was moaning in deserted streets, andthe sea lay rumbling below.
Gallus was led into one of these barracks and given a seat frontingthe window, so that the full daylight fell upon his face. One of theEmperor's most skilful police officers--Eustaphius,--a little wrinkledand amiable old man with the wheedling and penetrating voice of aconfessor, rubbed his blue and chilly hands and began thecross-examination. Gallus, who was mortally fatigued, said everythingthat Eustaphius suggested he should say, but at the words "treason tothe empire," paled, and started to his feet.
"It was no doing of mine--nothing to do with me!" he stammered indismay. "Constantia planned it all! It was she who exacted the deathof Theophilus, of Clement, Domitian, and the rest! Before God, it wasnot I. She said nothing to me about it. I was utterly ignorant!"
Eustaphius looked at him smilingly.
"Very well," he said, "I will duly inform the Emperor that his ownsister Constantia, spouse of the late Caesar of the East, alone isculpable."
And turning towards the legionaries he ordered--
"The interrogatory is finished. Take him away."
Shortly afterwards arrived the sentence of death decreed by theEmperor Constantius, who had looked on the accusation brought againsthis lamented sister in the light of a personal insult.
On hearing the sentence read out, Gallus lost consciousness and fellinto the arms of the soldiers. Up to the last moment the poor fellowhad hoped against hope. And, even now, he expected that they would atleast grant him the reprieve of a few days, or hours, in which toprepare for death. But a rumour had gone round that the soldiers ofthe "Steadfast Sixteenth Flavian" legion were insubordinate, andplanning to free Gallus; so he was dragged off incontinently toexecution.
It was the early dawn. The snow, fallen during the night, had coveredthe foul mud, and lay glittering in chilly sunshine, its dazzlingreflection lighting up the ceiling of the small room whither Gallushad been conducted.
The authorities distrusted the soldiery, who almost all liked andpitied the disgraced Caesar; so for executioner they had chosen abutcher, who sometimes officiated in disposing of the thieves andbrigands of the neighbourhood. This barbarian, unused to a Romansword, had brought to the block a great double-edged axe which servedhim in the slaughter-yard. The butcher was a stupid, handsome, andsleepy slave. The name of the condemned man had been concealed fromhim and he believed he was only to behead a common thief. Before thelast scene, Gallus became calm and humble, allowing his gaolers to dowhat they listed. Like a child, he wept and struggled when about to beplaced by force in a bath, but once in he found the water pleasant.
But at sight of the butcher sharpening his axe he shivered in all hislimbs. A barber then carefully shaved off the fine golden hair, alwaysthe beauty and pride of the young Caesar. In returning from thebarber's room Gallus, finding himself alone for a moment with thetribune Scuda, unexpectedly dropped on his knees before the cruellestof his foes.
"Save me, Scuda! I know you can do it! Tonight I have received amessage from the Flavian legion. Let me get a word with them. Theywill deliver me! I have thirty talents hidden in the temple at Mycenae.Nobody knows it. I'll give them to you,--and more, much more! Thesoldiers love me. I'll make you my friend, my brother, my co-regent... fellow-Caesar!"
Mad with hope, he embraced the tribune's knees, and Scuda, shuddering,felt the lips of the Caesar on his hands. He made no answer, and,smiling, slowly freed himself from the embrace. Gallus was ordered toundress. He objected to take off his sandals, his feet being unclean.When he was almost naked the butcher began to bind his hands behindhis back, thief-fashion, and Scuda hastened to help him. When Gallusfelt the touch of the tribune's fingers, in a fit of fury he escapedfrom the grasp of the headsman, seized Scuda by the throat, andendeavoured to strangle him. In his naked activity he seemed suddenlytransformed into some sinewy and terrible young tiger.
The choking tribune was snatched from the grapple, and the prisoner'sfeet and hands were securely bound. At this moment in the barrackcourt resounded the shouts of the Flavian soldiers--"Long live CaesarGallus!" and the murderers hurried on with their job. A great sectionof a tree-trunk was rolled in for a block, and Gallus thrust down onhis knees in front of it. Barbatio, Bainobadois, and Apodemus grippedhim by the shoulders, hands, and feet; and Scuda bowed the headagainst the block, weighing down that vainly resisting skull with allhis might. Chilled by emotion, his fingers felt the newly-shorn patestill moist with soap. The butcher proved an unskilful headsman. Hisaxe slashed the neck, but the blow fell awry. He raised the hatchet asecond time, crying to Scuda--
"More to the right! Hold the head more to the right!"
Gallus struggled and roared like a half-stunned bull. Nearer andnearer the cries of the soldiery resounded:
"Long live Gallus Caesar!"
The butcher heaved his handle high and smote. A stream of blood gushedover the hands of Scuda; the head fell with a thud, and rolled awayover the stone flags.
At that moment the legionaries burst into the hall. Barbatio,Apodemus, and Scuda hurried to the opposite door, the headsmanremaining at a loss; but Scuda muttered in his ear--
"Take Caesar's head, so that the legionaries may not recognise thebody. It's a question of life or death for us all!"
"He was _not_ a thief then?" faltered the executioner, in amazement.
* * * * *
Julian, on learning the death of his brother, said quietly tohimself--
"Now comes my turn!"
The Death of the Gods Page 12