The new reign would begin with a handsome donative to the army which controlled the succession. Unfortunately it was a large army; the share of each man would be small. On the other hand, if we could agree among ourselves we would not have to fight anyone else.
That is what each of us was thinking as we marched into camp. As soon as we were dismissed we all began to say it.
But we had our own affairs to settle before we could make Emperors. We must find our huts, report to our centurions, and stow our baggage tidily. I was assigned to the eightieth century, in the fortieth maniple, and I was the only new arrival in my ten-man hut.
At that time the Praetorian foot made up about 10,000 men. There was in addition a troop of Praetorian horse, and even a detachment of engineers and road-makers, so that the corps could campaign as a unit; but nobody considers troopers or catapult-winders to be genuine Praetorians. The corps as it stood was not yet twenty-five years old; after the disgraceful affair of Didius Julianus the Divine Severus disbanded the rascals who had sold the Purple and formed a new guard from his favourite western legions. Of course there was hardly anyone left in the ranks from that refounding, since the normal term of service is sixteen years; but we had old soldiers in plenty, and they were strenuous in keeping up the traditions of the most famous unit in the Roman army.
As soon as I reported with my baggage, the centurion stormed at me because my helmet was insufficiently polished, and the optio, his assistant, shouted that I would cut firewood for the next month unless I stood properly at attention. So I hauled out of my baggage two small jars of wine, explaining that on the Rhine it was the custom for new arrivals to offer a libation in gratitude for a safe journey. Would they kindly see that these jars were poured at the next sacrifice? After that our relations became friendly, and I was dismissed to my hut. Parade was an hour after dawn, and during this crisis all troops would be confined to camp.
When I offered my bribe so blatantly I took a chance; but after sixteen years in the army I thought I could sum up a strange centurion. By bedtime I had realized that the Praetorians as Caracalla had left them were no longer a first-class corps. Two men came into the hut drunk, though we were confined to camp in readiness for immediate action; even after I had paid my footing with my third and last jar of wine another comrade suggested that a small gift of money all round was expected from every new-comer. When I would not pay he tried to threaten me; but he was too slow on his feet to make a good bully. After I had prodded him in the stomach with the blunt end of a javelin he went away to grumble in a corner.
The six other men in the hut were lazy, experienced, artful old soldiers. Their equipment was so splendidly polished that I exclaimed in wonder; until the man who slept on my left, a German named Rufus, told me that cuirasses were no longer worn on service, and that helmets were protected by canvas covers. In other words, this shining armour was worn only for show. The hut was very neat, the men themselves very clean; each had in front of his bed-place a pair of boots upside down, showing burnished nails on the soles. But these boots remained always undisturbed, while another pair was worn for drill.
All the same, these parade-ground soldiers had once been picked as good fighting-men. They were stalwart fellows, bulging with fat and muscle; it would be difficult to kill them, and impossible to frighten them.
They seemed stupid and not very likeable; but Fate had set me down to sleep between Rufus and the draught from the door which is always the lot of a new-comer, so I might as well make friends with him. I said something banal about the sudden death of the Emperor and then let him run on while I made up my bed.
He gave me the official version of the murder, which was quite evidently not the whole story. On a journey Caracalla had dismounted to relieve himself; out of respect his guards withdrew a short way. Suddenly a soldier of the bodyguard, one Martialis, ran up and stabbed him with a dagger; whereupon a fool of an archer silenced the murderer with an arrow in the throat. Or was the archer a fool? Had he killed Martialis so that the real designer of the plot should be for ever unknown? The story was full of loose ends. Rufus added that Martialis had a grievance; he had been disappointed of promotion to the rank of centurion. That proved nothing. Every soldier in the army, except me, wants to be a centurion; it doesn’t make them murder Emperors.
‘And who will rule us now?’ I asked idly, to keep the conversation alive.
‘You, or me?’ answered Rufus with a throaty German chuckle. ‘My claim is as good as the next man’s. Caracalla left no son. But we must be led by a soldier, and a good one. The Parthians are marching.’
‘Is there a good soldier among our commanders?’
He shrugged and spat. ‘Adventus is Praetorian Praefect. He’s old, and sick, and he has never won a battle. I don’t think he wants to rule us. He hasn’t offered anyone a bribe, so no one will shout for him.’
‘We’d better put it up to auction,’ I said lazily.
It is always a waste of time to be facetious with a German.
‘That would be a good plan,’ said Rufus seriously, ‘if it hadn’t been done before. The men who sold their swords to Julianus didn’t fight for him when they were needed. The next Emperor must pay us well, but we ought to choose him for other reasons. It might be anyone, so long as he’s a good soldier.’
I did not reply that all the good soldiers were on the Rhine. Instead I thought it wise to lay the foundation of a reputation for loyalty. ‘I shall obey orders, and leave the rest to the officers. If the Senate makes an election that might be the best way out. Here I suppose the senior authority is the Praetorian Praefect?’
‘If those townees in Rome interfere we shall cut their throats,’ said Rufus angrily. ‘The Emperor leads the soldiers, and the soldiers choose him.’
So that unpleasant enmity between soldiers and citizens existed even out here, where the cities were so beautiful and prosperous. I was sad to learn it. But at that moment the trumpet sounded for Lights Out.
Next morning I paraded with my century. It was a very slack parade. Because of the heat we were excused from wearing armour, and no soldier can put his heart into drill while he wears sloppy linen. We made a few tactical movements, keeping line but moving very slowly. From my point of view there was one good thing about the Praetorians; in battle I ought to be safe with these experienced middle-aged warriors on either side of me. But I did not see how we could be dangerous to any foe capable of retiring at the double.
In the middle of the morning we were assembled before the tribunal to listen to speeches. This, one of the gravest hardships in the life of the modern soldier, hits the Praetorians even more severely than the frontier legions. I saw with surprise two officers wearing the insignia of Praetorian Praefect, who were waiting with great wads of written notes clasped in their hands. I whispered to Rufus beside me: ‘How many Praefects are there? Will they all make speeches?’
He answered in his ordinary voice, though we had been told to keep silence: ‘The old boy is Adventus, who commands us. The other fellow is Macrinus. He looks after the civil side, the law-courts and all the rest of the nonsense they have loaded on to the army.’
Then an optio barked at him to keep his mouth shut; but he did not take his name, even when Rufus shrugged with what on the frontier would have been called dumb insolence. With no Emperor to back them our N.C.O.s had very little authority.
Adventus spoke at length, and Macrinus followed; it was the usual stuff about the glory of Eternal Rome. I did not listen closely. Only at the end was I aware of a stir among the troops, as though they were hearing something important. I pricked up my ears. Macrinus was concluding with these words:
‘And therefore, gallant defenders of civilization, the imperial power now lies in your hands. The army makes the Emperor; but the Praetorians choose for the army. Nevertheless, it seems to us that ten thousand men, untrained in eloquence, cannot fruitfully discuss such a grave matter. The Praetorians speak for the army, but we Praefects speak for the Pra
etorians. I shall confer with my colleague. Tomorrow we shall have fixed on a man worthy to be Emperor. Until tomorrow, you are dismissed. You must remain within the camp, and drunkenness will be severely punished.’
After the centurions had called us to attention for the usual salute, we were dismissed where we stood, the whole 10,000 of us, instead of marching by maniples to our quarters. Of course that led to disorder. Some men climbed out over the palisade, and another group quietly and efficiently stole a butt of wine from the officers’ mess. The rest of us drifted in a body to the regimental canteens. We were all out of reach before the orderly officer could catch a detail for guard duty.
As we parted I heard Rufus mutter: ‘Macrinus for Emperor! That’s why he stood us down without waiting to post guards. Tonight will be Saturnalia. Shall you and I take turns in guarding our kit in the hut?’
That seemed a sensible precaution. I did not suppose then, and I do not suppose now, that Macrinus dismissed us too soon merely to give us an opportunity for riot; it was just that he was a civilian lawyer, and did not remember that in a large and crowded camp some soldiers ought to be on duty all the time.
I earned the good opinion of my centurion by passing the evening quietly in my quarters. I was afraid of getting into a fight if I went to the canteen, and I did not want to explore the unknown city of Antioch on a night when there would be no law or order. I heard later that the citizens had called out their militia and barred soldiers from the gates, so I did not miss anything.
On the following morning we fell in for a ceremonial parade. Helmets and cuirasses were splendidly burnished, but some of the men inside looked frightful; unshaven, not yet sober, with black eyes and bloody noses. If a frontier legion had paraded in such a state, the men would have been sent on a long route march over the mountains. Here, in the imperial field army, our officers looked the other way. I felt ashamed, and not quite sure that the ranks of the Praetorians would be a safe place in battle.
But the scruffy parade served its purpose. As soon as we were before the tribunal, Macrinus appeared, wearing full armour with a wreath of laurel instead of a helmet. Adventus came forward to begin the usual speech; instead of listening I looked hard at the man who would be our next Emperor. He was younger than I had supposed yesterday, not more than fifty at the outside. That was a point in his favour. Even an incompetent ruler is better than a series of short reigns. His cuirass, which did not fit him, must have been borrowed; but then we all knew that he was by trade a lawyer, not a soldier. His face appeared obstinate and at the same time weak, which would never do; though at the moment he was of course very happy. Adventus finished his remarks, and Macrinus came forward to acknowledge our cheers.
In the old days I had seen at close quarters the Divine Severus, a great soldier who defeated all the enemies of Rome; and the Divine Caracalla, who was undoubtedly a rake and a rogue, but also a brave and energetic leader. I made a quick decision. As a soldier I was vowed to serve Eternal Rome; in the past I had sworn to serve two worthy leaders. I would not give my allegiance to this petulant lawyer.
Adventus and the senior officers were pressing forward to take oath before Macrinus. Stepping out of rank, I saluted my centurion, ‘Permission to fall out, sir,’ I snapped in a most military manner. ‘A touch of dysentery, sir, brought on by the change of climate.’
He peered into my face and sniffed my breath. ‘You are the man who stayed in all last night, so it’s not a hangover. Very well, you may go to the rear. Don’t let it happen again. Next time you feel ill report sick before parade, not in the middle of an imperial ceremony.’
I marched smartly off the parade ground, to hide behind the officer’s mess until the oath-taking was finished. While the troops were giving three cheers for the new Emperor I slipped quietly back to my place in the ranks. We remained on parade, just in case of accidents, until the news had been announced to the legions beyond the Praetorian camp. But in matters of this kind legionaries follow the lead of Praetorians; as soon as we heard them cheering the new Emperor we were marched back to our quarters and dismissed.
There were no more duties that day, and no need for further military precautions. Our donative would not be distributed until the morning, for it took a long time to count into little packets such a great sum of money, practically the whole of the war-chest collected for the invasion of Parthia. But those of us who had money of our own were free to visit Antioch. I still had three gold pieces. This seemed a good opportunity to visit the great city, while peace was undisturbed and everyone in a good temper.
I set out alone, in the usual walking-out dress of tunic and sword. There was no companion I wished to take with me, and if I was to talk with citizens it would be useless to go with a group of soldiers. I was not planning a debauch among the brothels. I could have that sort of evening in Germany, any time I looked for it. Tonight I wished to see the wonders of civilization, and I wished to see them in peace.
Antioch is the finest city in the east, after Rome the finest city in the world. Tall colonnades line the main streets, and on the citadel stand great temples and statues. The famous suburb of Daphne was a blaze of light and noise, and in another direction I caught a glimpse of a fine circus. But tonight I wanted to see a city, a place where educated men lived the good life which philosophers describe; the suburbs could wait for another time. The Parthian War has lasted on and off for more than 200 years, and there would be plenty of opportunities for a Praetorian to see the curious delights of Syria.
I felt amazingly free. No one would guess that I had dodged off parade to avoid swearing allegiance to Macrinus; for none of my comrades would scruple to take an oath of loyalty in the morning and start a rebellion in the afternoon. In my blood lurks a Gallic nobleman who takes a different view. That made my secret freedom all the more precious. Since my boyhood, when the army rescued me from starvation, there had always been someone with a claim on my loyalty. After twenty years of obedience it was wonderful to be completely independent.
Sunset found me loitering in a pillared square, listening while two or three philosophers displayed their skill before an idle crowd. I was disappointed to note that they were not arguing in earnest; each was too eager to get off a witty epigram to bother about finding the truth. When they finished a boy passed a collecting-bowl, and I understood that this had been a performance, not a search for wisdom. I would have liked to enrol for a proper course of philosophy; but these were held in the morning, when I would be on parade, and anyway no teacher would enrol a brutal soldier, even though the soldier offered a good fee.
Before the menace of the collecting-bowl the crowd drifted away; and though I honestly put in a small silver coin I realized there was no more wisdom to come. It was time for supper, and I felt hungry. I strolled down the street, looking for a cookshop that sold solid meals as well as drinks.
On a corner I found quite a good place, with a charcoal grill at the entrance and a long room behind. The customers reclined on couches instead of standing close to the bar, which marked it as a real eating-house. Standing by the grill I felt a little shy; for the couches were grouped in threes and I did not want to intrude on a private party.
A big black-bearded man stood near, chatting with the cook. He saw my hesitation, and spoke with a friendly smile: ‘You are the soldier who was listening in Orators’ Row? I suppose you are seeing the wonders of Antioch? But you yourself are one of the wonders of the east. A soldier – and interested in rhetoric! Would you care to make a third at my table and tell us how on earth you found yourself in the army? By the way, in case you are worrying about the bill, it is the custom here that each guest orders and pays for himself.’
‘Thank you very much, sir,’ I said in my best Greek. ‘My name is Julius Duratius, and I have just arrived from Germany to join the Praetorians. I should be delighted to share your table, and to hear more about your fine city.’
‘I am Claudius Demetrius, and my friend at the table is Antonius Hippias. Rom
an citizens, as you can see from our names; which is odd when you come to think of it. Have you ever seen Rome? I haven’t. By the way, I manage an imperial estate. Hippias leads caravans to the east; or rather, nowadays he sits on a cushion in his office while his men bring the caravans to him. So now you know all about us. What part of the west do you come from? You didn’t learn your Greek in Germany.’
It was delightful to recline, with a wreath on my head, discussing serious topics as the watered wine went round. I was dining as Plato dined. This was a most respectable eating-house. There were no women in the room, not even by the grill; for in the east cooking is man’s work. The slaves who waited on us were bearded men, not painted boys. My father would have been at ease in this place. If the Divine Severus had kept faith with Albinus, or chosen some other province as the scene of his civil war, I also would have supped regularly on a clean couch, served by clean-handed slaves.
When they heard of the misfortunes of my youth my companions were politely sympathetic; though they pointed out that in middle life I had done well enough for myself. But of course what they really wanted to hear was a first-hand account of the elevation of the new Emperor.
As I was telling them what I could remember of the speech of Macrinus (I had not listened, except to note that it was the usual speech; perhaps my version improved on the original), Demetrius suddenly sprang from his couch. A pimply young man was hovering by our table. What I had said was harmless enough, and the young man looked equally harmless; so that though I had noticed his eavesdropping I did not care. But the burly Demetrius seized him by his little pink nose and pulled his head down until it touched my thigh. ‘ There, sniff it. That’s the sword of a Praetorian. If the police bother us that sword will come out of its scabbard.’
‘Bloody informers,’ muttered Hippias, as the young man scuttled away. ‘When they see citizens talking to a soldier they come buzzing round like flies. If you shoo one away, another takes his place. But don’t you think you have been imprudent, Demetrius?’
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