The Philosopher Prince

by Paul Waters

  I could see them now, at the head of the line, close to Severus – two blond youths in barbarian trousers. Severus had not wanted them, saying they could not be trusted, that they could lead our men anywhere. But the season for campaigning was drawing on, and in the end, reluctantly, he had agreed.

  With the army gone, Julian did not sit idle. All that year, he had been making plans to restore the towns and forts along the Rhine, summoning artisans from every city in Gaul: surveyors and architects, carpenters, metalworkers and masons. But fewer had come than he expected, and we were short: there had been no need of their skills for so long that old masters had ceased to pass on what they knew to their apprentices, and the knowledge was being forgotten. Sometimes we searched far and wide to find a man who could build an arch, or a colonnade, or a well-set roof in the old confident style of the past.

  To those citizens willing to return, or others who wished to start a new life on the frontier, Julian made grants of land on the fertile river plain, and built pleasant, spacious houses for them to live in. He was full of hope. Within a generation, he said, the borderlands would thrive as once they had before, and with the line of towns and forts complete, the frontier and all of Gaul behind would be secure.

  Next he set about clearing the river of pirates, restoring the important trade route that ran from Britain to the towns along the Rhine. Britain, which had been spared the ravages of the German invasions, produced a surplus; the restored towns needed food – Britain would supply them.

  Though he was only one man among so many, Julian’s enthusiasm spread like fire in tinder. Men who had grown used to defeat strove with a new vigour, each drawing strength from the vision Julian had placed before their eyes. If he allowed himself a little praise for it, I was not the one to begrudge him. A man knows his powers by what he achieves; and already he had achieved what others said could not be done.

  Certainly no encouragement came from Paris, from where Florentius sent a steady stream of carping officials.

  One evening, having wasted yet another afternoon with a deputation of them, Julian said bitterly, ‘If you ask me, Drusus, he would gladly see Gaul overrun, provided only that his regulations and procedures were met.’ We were dining in his quarters – a sparing meal of river trout and lentils. ‘I’ve never met such blind arrogance, and by the gods there were enough petty puffed-up men at court. You know, I called at his house in Paris once. Have you seen it? You can scarcely move for hangings and bronzes and precious furniture.’

  We laughed. Everyone knew how Florentius had grown rich from his office. His Paris apartments were sumptuous enough; but they were only a small part of what he had acquired. In addition, he kept a magnificent villa at Vienne, where his wife, who hated the northern cold, lived with his children. It was said too that he owned a house in Rome, as close to the Palatine as one could buy.

  Julian nodded at our smiles and bit into an apple.

  ‘I don’t expect,’ he said as he chewed, ‘we should find requisitions for those in the public accounts.’

  Our conversation moved to other matters, and for a while we talked of the building work in the frontier towns.

  But later, when the slaves had cleared away the tables, and we were sitting with our wine-cups around a single flickering lamp, Julian, who had remained a long time silent, suddenly said, ‘I shall not let men like Florentius thwart me!’

  Florentius, however, was a master of obstruction, and he had been busy at his art. Shortly after, an imperial courier arrived with a letter from Constantius, who at that time was at Sirmium in Illyricum.

  That evening Julian showed me the letter. His eternity the emperor was disappointed to hear that his Caesar had found cause to disagree with the prefect on the matter of a payment to the barbarians. He should bear in mind that Florentius was experienced in such questions; he would be wise to defer to his judgement.

  I read the words, and looked at the mighty seal, and then set the letter aside.

  Julian said, ‘So he went complaining to Constantius; it did not take him long.’ He gave a shrug. ‘No matter; the horse has fled the stable. I shall reply and tell Constantius he can save his money for something worthy. The Franks have submitted, our army is pacifying the far side of the Rhine, and soon the grain-barges will be on the water …’ He broke off, interrupted by raised voices beyond the door. ‘What now?’ he said, looking up. I heard the rapid approach of boots on stone; then the door flew open and a cloaked tribune came clattering in.

  ‘Yes Dagalaif, what on earth is the matter?’

  ‘Sir,’ he cried, catching his breath. ‘It is Maudio, back from the German forest. There has been an ambush.’

  We ran out. Maudio and a group of cavalrymen were waiting in the courtyard. Their uniforms were filthy; their faces were streaked with mud and sweat. I knew Maudio – he was one of Marcellus’s friends. I looked for Marcellus. He was not there.

  ‘What has happened?’ cried Julian. ‘Where are your men?’

  At his words they all began to answer at once.

  ‘No; wait,’ said Julian, silencing them. ‘Maudio. You speak.’

  He began. His voice was flat with exhaustion. As he took a step forward, I saw that his right arm was grazed and bloody. They had been advancing through the forest, he said, when late in the day they came to a narrow defile, and a barrier of felled trees, blocking their path.

  ‘What of the scouts?’

  Maudio stood staring, like a man woken from his sleep. ‘The scouts, Maudio! The German scouts. Did they lead you there?’

  ‘The scouts? Oh, they were as surprised as anyone, sir.’ ‘I see. What then?’

  Immediately Severus had given the order to close into defensive formation. Then one of the scouts had spoken up, saying he knew another route which skirted the pass, taking them above and behind. But sensing a trap, and reluctant to trust the scout’s word, Severus had decided instead to clear a passage through the barrier and ride on with a small detachment, to see what lay ahead.

  ‘When he did not return, some of us were for going after him. By then night was falling, and the men were growing uneasy.’

  Julian frowned at this, then asked, ‘Who was left in command, with Severus gone?’

  ‘Jovinus, sir, for the cavalry; and for the infantry, Cella.’ ‘Two commanders.’ Julian shook his head. ‘Could they not agree on one? Where was Marcellus?’

  ‘With Severus, sir, along with—’ And he gave a list of names. I recognized many of them: they were from Marcellus’s unit. I took a deep breath, and felt a creeping chill about my heart.

  I listened on. Of the two commanders, Jovinus had wanted the army to advance at once through the forest in search of Severus. But Cella had insisted on waiting, saying that to follow in darkness would endanger them all. They had argued, but it was no time for generals to dispute in front of the men. In the end it was agreed that Jovinus and a small force would go ahead that evening, just to investigate, while there was still twilight to see.

  ‘I went with him, sir,’ said Maudio.

  They did not have to go far. After a mile, in a place of deep shade, they came across a trench. It was partly covered still, with a concealing lattice of sticks and bracken. At the bottom had been laid ranks of sharpened upturned stakes.

  Maudio sniffed and wiped his eyes with his forearm, smearing blood across his brow. ‘If we had been going any faster, we’d have ridden straight in too. But we were walking the horses and on our guard, going slowly—’ He choked and broke off.

  The man beside him, Decimus, carried on. ‘Severus lay at the bottom, sir. He was dead, still on his horse. He must have ridden straight into the pit.’

  ‘And the others?’ whispered Julian.

  ‘Another horse – Rufus’s, I think; or maybe Marcellus’s chestnut …’ He stole a glace at me and added quickly, ‘But no more bodies… Severus always rode at the front. Jovinus thinks the others must have been taken.’

  I became aware of a hand gripping my arm.
It was Oribasius, and when I looked his eyes were full of concern. It was just like him to think of others’ feelings, even at such a time. Julian was talking again, questioning Maudio. I forced myself to attend. Had the infantry been attacked? Where were they now? How long would it take to reach them?

  Maudio, his eyes wet and his voice breaking, replied that the main body of troops was unharmed. They had withdrawn to safer ground and made camp. ‘After that, sir, Jovinus sent us here, and I know no more.’

  Julian turned to Dagalaif. ‘Give word, we leave at dawn. Maudio, Decimus, I need you to come with me. I need men who know the place.’

  ‘Yes, Julian,’ they said together.

  ‘Good. Now have the surgeon see to that arm, and then get some rest.’

  He turned to go. I said, ‘I too will come.’

  ‘No, I need you here.’

  But then he paused and looked at me.

  ‘Yes, come, Drusus; of course. How could you not?’

  *

  We crossed the boat-bridge next day, in the first grey light of dawn.

  I had known forest before, in Britain. But mostly, there, it has been thinned by centuries of cultivation, and traversed by roads or tracks, so that the woodland places seemed like islands surrounded by the works of man.

  Here, though, the forest seemed to go on without end, dense and twisting and interlocking, vast limitless tracts where no man had ever passed, under a high canopy of oak-and beech-branches which shut out the light, making even full day seem like dusk. Innocent sounds – of leaves underfoot, or groaning boughs – made the dread creep in my hair, as if the trees themselves resented our presence.

  But I had no time for fear, and pushed the brooding tree-gods from my mind. I had Marcellus to think of. I had seen the stolen looks of pity; but only Oribasius had spoken of it, coming to my room the night before and saying, ‘There was no body, Drusus; remember that. There is hope yet.’

  ‘Yes, Oribasius. He is not dead. I know it. I will find him, whatever it takes.’

  I had thanked him for coming, and for his kindness. The rest I kept to myself. I could not conceive of life without Marcellus. I felt like a man on the edge of a precipice.

  Late on the second day we reached the army, encamped on a knoll fortified by a hastily erected palisade. The men were hushed and nervous. At once Julian summoned Jovinus and Cella, and called for the German scouts to be brought to him.

  The scouts had been fettered; they stumbled up with fear in their eyes, expecting death. Using a German-speaking tribune as translator, Julian questioned them. Whose territory was this? What people lived here – Ala-mans or Burgundians, or some other German tribe? How many were they? Where were their settlements?

  I watched their faces as they answered. Julian was angry. He would have put them to the sword at once if he had sensed deceit. But he spared them. Germans are not skilled in hiding their true thoughts, and their faces under their youthful blond beards showed they spoke the truth. They had been as surprised as the rest of us.

  I was walking off after this, deep in my own concerns, when someone caught my arm. I turned in surprise, and saw it was Durano.

  ‘Listen, Drusus,’ he said, pulling me to one side, ‘you must speak to Julian. That fool Cella wants to go blundering through the forest with the whole army, like a pack of dogs after a hare.’

  ‘What of it? We shall find them thus.’

  He shook his head. ‘No, you will not. As soon as he approaches, the Germans will vanish into the forest, taking their prisoners with them… or killing them. They will not give Cella the pleasure of the battle he wants. That is not their way.’

  ‘Then what, Durano?’ I said a little crossly, ‘How else shall we find them?’

  ‘Persuade Julian to let me go after them tonight. Me and three men. That is all I need.’

  I paused, seeing the sense in his words. Then I fixed his eye.

  ‘And me,’ I said. ‘I will go too.’

  He gave me a long look; then said, ‘You may die.’ ‘Do you think I care about that? They have Marcellus, or he is dead already.’

  He nodded slowly. ‘Then speak to Julian. He trusts you, and does not know me from any other common soldier. Make him see the sense in what I say. And be quick. Already night is falling.’

  And so it was that we set out into the twilight, soon after – Durano and his men, one of the German scouts, and me.

  On Durano’s insistence, we had left our armour and heavy weapons behind, and were dressed only in our leather military tunics and armed with daggers. Armour would only slow us down: what mattered was speed, and surprise.

  The grey cloud that had sat over the forest since we crossed the Rhine had partially cleared, blown off by a freshening easterly wind. The scout, speaking in simple broken Latin, said he had seen a rill of water close to where Severus had fallen. If we followed it, there would be a stream; and somewhere along its course, he supposed, we should find a settlement.

  We moved on, treading carefully, staring warily about. Presently the young scout paused, stilling us with a wave of his hand. Silently he gazed along the dark ground, like a dog on a scent. Then, with a nod to himself, he led us off the woodland track and up an incline between the trees. Soon we came to a rocky, bracken-covered outcrop. The scout paused, then scrambled up to the low peak, parted the undergrowth, and beckoned at the bubbling spring that lay concealed there.

  After that, we traced the water’s course downhill for about half a mile, to a place where it fell into a shallow, stony brook. Then we turned east, following the line of the brook along the base of a ravine.

  I did not know Durano’s men, and in the hurry before we set out there had been time only for a brief, rather cool introduction. There were three of them: Gereon, Pallas and Phormio; a tight-knit band of young men who had fought many times together. I was the stranger, and they regarded me warily, accepting me only because they trusted Durano. This I understood. At such times, when their lives depend on their comrades, soldiers want to stick with those they know. In other circumstances I daresay I should have withdrawn and left them to their mission. But I was seized by a kind of madness at that time – or perhaps it was some god that drew me on. Whatever it was, I was in no mood to give it thought. All I knew was that I would not be turned away.

  The night hours passed. The moon rose and traversed the sky, sending shafts of cold blue light down through the partings in the forest canopy.

  Little by little the watercourse we were following grew wider, fed and increased by small tributaries no bigger than a man’s pace. After a while the terrain began to change, and we saw the first signs of the activity of men – a tree stump with old saw marks; a track indented with mule traces; and then, ahead on a hillside between the trees, a strip of field planted with corn.

  We stepped up to the edge of the open ground, crouching in the shadows of the tree line. The scout muttered something in German to Gereon.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Durano from behind.

  ‘Wood-smoke,’ said Gereon. ‘He smells wood-smoke.’

  I sniffed at the air. At first I could smell nothing except leather and men’s sweat. But then the breeze stirred and I too caught the tang of burning wood in the air. An owl hooted. Somewhere in the distance a dog began barking and howling into the night. We froze, listening. Durano whispered, ‘It’s not us, we’re downwind; it has probably smelt a fox. Go carefully now. The settlement must be close.’

  We edged forward. Beyond the ridge the land dropped steeply away into a hollow of coppiced hazel. At the bottom of the dip there was a wood kiln, gently smouldering; and next to it a watchman’s hut.

  ‘Stay down!’ muttered Durano. He waved Pallas and Phormio ahead to investigate, and they went stalking down the slope, keeping out of view of the hut door. At the bottom they paused for a moment, drew their knives, and crept up from behind, edging round the cracked wooden walls, one each side, until they could see within. Then Phormio turned and raised his arm, beckoning us
down. The hut was empty.

  As I descended I stepped on something, and stooping picked up an apple core. It was brown – but not yet rotten. ‘Come on,’ said Durano, peering at it, then glancing uneasily at the star-speckled sky.

  We took the track up the opposite side of the hollow and followed it along a wooded ridge. Somewhere below, out of sight through the trees, I could hear the sound of running water. Then the path veered and descended, and we came out once more at the stream. It was wider now, with a row of stepping-stones laid across.

  Gereon touched Durano on the shoulder and pointed. ‘See there!’ he said.

  Ahead, looming dark against the night, lay a hamlet of squat mud-and-thatch houses, with rough animal enclosures in between. On the far side, apart from the others, there was a taller building, built in a ham-fisted imitation of the Roman style.

  ‘The headman’s house,’ said Durano, after he had gazed at it for a while. ‘Keep away from there. That is where the warriors will be.’

  The moon had set. Venus shone in the eastern sky, and already the first dawn birds were stirring. ‘This way,’ he said, ‘it’s time we got off the track.’

  We turned aside, into an expanse of shrub and tall grass that grew up in an area of low wet ground between the forest and the settlement. Pallas, a lean, fine-boned Greek from south Gaul, went ahead to check the way. ‘Well?’ whispered Durano, when he came stepping back.

  ‘See that fir tree there, the one standing on its own? There is a man bound up against it.’

  ‘What about guards?’

  ‘None that I can see.’

  We advanced, wading through the tall grass, keeping the settlement on our left. Then we climbed a low bank and came out into well-trodden open ground; it was a kind of village square, between the animal enclosures. Ahead, in the place where Pallas had said, a figure sat tethered to a tree trunk. He was seated on the ground, slumped and motionless. I could not tell if he was asleep or dead.

  We darted across the open ground, ducking between the enclosures. The tethered man lay directly ahead now, dark and still against the greying sky. I paused, crouching down.