Her daughter Soaemias was beautiful in quite a different fashion. She was a peach, beginning to turn a shade overripe. Her skin, never touched by the sun, glowed pink and white, and her body was curve after soft inviting curve. On a cushion she looked eminently desirable, though standing she was a shade too plump. Her mass of golden hair and her huge violet eyes would have made her an outstanding figure in any other setting; at court she was overshadowed by the majesty of her mother and by the golden adolescence of her son.
I cannot begin to describe the young Elagabalus. It is enough to say that I could gaze at him all day long, as one takes pleasure in gazing on a magnificent animal. He had in fact suffered one slight but irreparable disfigurement; like all the other ministers of the sky-stone he had been circumcised. Greeks in particular think this is a very ugly mutilation, and it is of course un-Roman. But it showed only when the Emperor stripped for exercise in the gymnasium, and I found I could overlook it quite easily. On public occasions any great man will wear at least some wisp of cloth round his loins; though Elagabalus, who took pride in his beauty, was inclined to wear very little.
His aunt, the lady Mamea, was another beautiful woman, in a style intermediate between her mother and her sister. She was soft and pink like the lady Soaemias, but her thin face held some of the Augusta’s dignity. She did not pass all her time lolling on cushions, but neither was she fond of exercise; instead she took thought for the better government of the Republic. She was always suggesting reforms, reforms that were never put into effect because long ago her family had decided that her advice was not worth following. She was the only member of the court who was not thoroughly happy. She had no useful work to do, and no authority; for the Emperor, who listened with deference to his mother and grandmother, was often impatient with his talkative aunt.
She spent much of her time with her only child. Little Alexianus was nine years old, only four years younger than his cousin the Emperor. But he was more childish in every way, a baby for his years; though a good obedient baby, with a flair for decorous behaviour in public. He could be trusted to receive deputations or preside over sacrifices. In fact he was a very useful child to have about the place, capable of performing imperial functions but incapable of influencing policy. Since he was also of the family of the high priests of Emesa he also was beautiful; but his regular features showed none of the winning charm of Elagabalus.
The ladies Soaemias and Mamea were widows. Their husbands had been mildly distinguished soldiers; but in that family, ruled by the grandmother, sons-in-law can never have played an important part. Nobody spoke of them. Their task had been to beget sons who would carry on the sacred line of the high priesthood; now the task had been accomplished they were as completely forgotten as the drone who has fathered a queen bee. I believe they had died in the ordinary course of nature; if their wives had murdered them someone would have told me all about it. In that court gossip had free rein, and the most discreditable stories were told of the great.
Most of these discreditable stories involved Gannys, who was officially the Emperor’s tutor. In truth he had taken over all the male duties in that female household. There was no attempt to conceal the fact that he slept with the Augusta, and it was whispered that in addition he consoled her widowed daughters. He had commanded the little band of Syrian volunteers who first proclaimed the new Emperor, and he had engineered the boy’s appearance on the ramparts at Raphanae which won over the Third Gallican Legion; so that at one time he had seemed important. But nowadays he was a kind of bailiff or managing clerk, who decided practical matters too trivial for the attention of his superiors; though the Emperor or any of the three ruling ladies would countermand his orders whenever they chose.
Gannys was no fool. All the same, he could not hold down a responsible post, because he did not understand Romans. He came from some barbarous mountain in Asia, and spoke Greek with a thick accent; Latin he could barely understand. As a professional stallion he took great care of his health, always sweating in the bath to keep his waist trim and gobbling little doses of medicine between meals. He was well educated. He was tall and dark, and moved very gracefully; even I could see that a Syrian would find him dashing and attractive. But his vanity, and his foreign upbringing, led him to wear such extraordinary clothes that he had to be kept in the background for fear that the soldiers would laugh at him. It was hard to remember that this creature, languishing under a high turban crowned with peacock’s feathers, his eyes painted and false ringlets tumbling over his neck, had risked his life to start a hazardous rebellion.
Eutychianus, the last member of the council, was another Asiatic who spoke Latin as a foreign language. All the same, he was an ordinary Roman, of the kind that has become ordinary during my lifetime. He had enlisted as a common soldier, won a commission for bravery in the field, and risen by merit to command the Third Gallicans. Once he had declared for Bassianus-Elagabalus he naturally overshadowed the civilian Gannys. As far as I know he never crept into the bed of any of the ruling ladies; he was not a member of the imperial household, but rather their trusted military adviser. Now he was Praetorian Praefect, which under an Emperor of such inexperience made him in practice commander-in-chief. It was obvious that sooner or later he must clash with Gannys; there was no room for two males in that feminine court. But for the time being the administration was still so insecure that all its adherents must work together in harmony.
Though my position was humble I knew all that passed. Never can there have been a court which made less attempt to keep secret its counsels. In a sense the Emperor ruled, for the army would support him in battle; if he had asked for the head of the Praetorian Praefect he would have got it. But a thirteen-year-old boy cannot rule an Empire. Nothing was done against the will of Elagabalus, but a great many decisions must be made in matters to which he was indifferent.
The driving force was the Augusta, though she was scrupulous to get the Emperor’s warrant for everything she did. She was too wise to ask her grandson to spend long hours in council; instead she sought him out wherever he might be and whatever he might be doing. Often when he was learning his arms-drill the Augusta would come in with a sheaf of papers for his seal. Usually he asked what was in them, though he never disagreed with what she had written; sometimes he would seal them without inquiry. As discreetly as possible I told him how the Divine Caracalla had been murdered, as a warning that an Emperor should look through his correspondence. He was sharp enough to see what I meant, and frank enough to explain his lack of suspicion.
‘The Augusta enjoys ruling,’ he said with a grin, ‘and she cannot rule save as my grandmother. I suppose you fear she might marry Gannys, give him the Purple, and rule as his consort. That wouldn’t work, you know. If Gannys replaced me he would have no need of an Augusta. Anyway the soldiers would murder him. They don’t like his embroidered skirts, though I think he looks sweet in them. Besides, though the Augusta likes Gannys, I think she likes me even more.’
‘I wasn’t thinking of Gannys, my lord,’ I answered. ‘Eutychianus holds the post held by Macrinus under the Divine Caracalla. The soldiers might follow a promoted ranker.’
The fencing instructor was listening with his ears flapping. He was new to the manners of this carefree court.
‘The Augusta does not like Eutychianus,’ said the Emperor with decision. ‘He’s a good soldier, and I shall keep him on to run my army. But he will never fit in with the rest of us; he’s too serious. No one who worships the sky-stone would want Eutychianus for Emperor. I trust him because he lacks appeal. Besides, I really do work very hard at being Emperor. While the family remains united no one can overthrow me.… Now then, what’s your name, instructor, let’s see if I can cut the crest from your helmet.’
To be a member of that court was to hold high rank, for within the imperial household all were equal. The Emperor was always seeking advice, though he did not always follow it; but he would seek it from anyone who happened to be passing. Petitio
ners found him easily, but they were sometimes surprised to hear him discuss their problems with the boy who carried his sunshade, with a casual slave at the door, perhaps with the Augusta or the Praetorian Praefect. We addressed him as ‘my lord’ and got out of his way going through doors; otherwise there was no etiquette at all. It was difficult to wait on him, because at any moment he might catch hold of a dish or a jug of wine and himself pass it round the company. I learned to be considerate even to grubby slave-girls; for if the Emperor heard you being haughty to a housemaid (he knew them all by name, and how their love-affairs were prospering) he might order you to hold her bucket for her next time she scrubbed the floor.
Of course the reason for this friendliness was that Elagabalus thought of himself as a god among mortals. A slave-girl was infinitely beneath him, but so was a Praetorian Praefect. A god cannot be bothered with petty differences of rank among his worshippers. Since the Emperor was benevolently inclined towards the whole human race he treated us with an all-embracing kindliness.
During those first days of the new reign events favoured us. Every soldier of the imperial field army was willing to die for this beautiful young god, who seemed Caracalla come again without the cruelty that had marred Caracalla’s last years. At the same time he managed to keep his popularity with the provincials. Our entry into Antioch had passed off in perfect peace, though everyone had expected trouble. The citizens produced the very large ransom demanded, and the soldiers were satisfied with their payment of 500 drachmae a man. All the world knew that the young Emperor had himself devised the compromise. It was many years since an Emperor had protected a city from the rapacity of loyal soldiers.
Even such a successful revolution brought a few executions, though they were kept to a minimum. Macrinus was arrested in Asia; the local police started to send him back to Antioch, until the Emperor sent word that he should be killed immediately to put him out of his misery. This was done, painlessly and without torture, somewhere along the road. The usurper left neither supporters nor mourners.
The merciful Emperor was distressed when he heard of the fate of young Diadumenus. His father had sent the child eastward to seek refuge in Parthia, whose king is usually glad to welcome a Roman pretender. But this time the Parthian commander on the frontier chose to stand on the letter of the regulations. He would not permit the fugitive to enter without a valid passport; while they argued on the river-bank someone cut off the boy’s head and sent it to Antioch in hope of a reward. The child was not to blame for his usurpation; all the same, he had been a usurper. When his father gave him the title of Caesar he compelled his son to share in the dangerous trade of Empire.
It was rather more surprising to learn that while we had been fighting in Syria no less than five pretenders had claimed the Purple in other provinces of the Roman world. It seemed such a futile enterprise. Macrinus might defeat Elagabalus; but whichever side won must provide the next Emperor, since the field army was concentrated in Syria. A claimant who set himself at the head of a provincial garrison deserved death as the punishment for sheer stupidity.
Macrinus, Diadumenus, the five pretenders, all had forfeited their lives in a gamble for high stakes. In addition five prominent soldiers were killed, including the governor of Syria and the acting Praetorian Praefect, successor to the unlucky Julianus; these last were so closely identified with Macrinus that they must share his fate, though Elagabalus regretted it.
There was no persecution of the kindred and backers of these defeated rivals. The police were warned that further denunciations would be disregarded.
Just when all the citizens of Antioch were embracing one another in the streets, and offering hecatombs in gratitude for the return of the Golden Age, a courier arrived from Rome. When he was brought before the Emperor the poor man was in a pitiful state of terror; but he had been arrested as he landed from his ship and could not escape. The letter he carried proved to be the reply of the Senate to an earlier message from Macrinus, a message giving news of the outbreak of civil war. The Senators sent their best wishes to the legitimate Emperor, so sorely beset by ungrateful Syrians, and to prove their loyalty decreed the extermination of the whole house of Antoninus Severus wherever it might be found.
The Emperor Elagabalus returned a dignified reply. He suggested that the Senate had been misinformed concerning the true state of affairs; but he promised amnesty and forgiveness for anything done to further the cause of Macrinus, during the time when Macrinus commanded the Roman army. That answer was composed by a joint session of all the Emperor’s advisers, and we chuckled a good deal as we went over the wording. The Senators must be grateful for the imperial clemency, but at the same time they were roughly reminded that the army, not the Senate, bestowed the Purple. For one reason or another, no one in the imperial household liked or admired Senators.
Meanwhile the Parthians were glad to confirm the peace first concluded with the fallen Macrinus. They were having trouble with their conquered subjects, and our agents informed us that they were in no condition to renew the war. The Emperor was able to put Syria on a peace footing, to end military requisitioning and dismiss the local levies. The legions of the field army set out by slow stages to march back to Europe, which pleased the men in the ranks. The faithful Third Gallicans and the cohorts that had murdered Julianus were promoted to form a new corps, the Alban Legions. These would normally be stationed in Italy, though not actually in Rome. They would accompany the Emperor whenever he took the field. In fact they would be a kind of outer guard, below the Praetorians but above the common legions of the line.
All this was accomplished without extra taxation, though often the demobilization of an army and the donatives that mark a new reign are as burdensome to the taxpayer as a great campaign. Of course the cities of the east offered the usual complimentary presents, which in legal theory are voluntary and so do not count as extra taxation; and the private fortunes of the usurpers and pretenders brought in something useful to the treasury. The Parthians very wisely sent a handsome present, which might be labelled tribute from a defeated foe; they saved themselves money in the long run by making it easy for the Emperor to dispatch his field army to Europe. But the great saving of expense was that the maintenance of the imperial household cost the taxpayer nothing. The Emperor and all his family lived on the revenues of the temple of Emesa.
Eutychianus commanded the army on its long march by way of the Cilician Gates. The imperial household, including myself, journeyed by sea. This had been decided after the usual frank and public discussion in council; a discussion in which I, or for that matter any passing footman, might be asked to join. There was a problem in etiquette to be solved. The Emperor had announced that the sky-stone, the other Elagabalus, would lead the expedition, since it was the god who ruled through his high priest as agent. The Augusta said that such honour paid to a foreign god would irritate the Romans, and might even cause discontent in the army. When they asked for my opinion I answered that the soldiers would take anything from the heir of the Divine Severus, though perhaps they might not like his god; but that indeed the Romans, and especially the Senators, would be irritated.
‘There you are, Elagabalus,’ said the Augusta triumphantly. ‘Duratius knows what he’s talking about, and he says that if we pay too much honour to our god we shall anger the Romans. You may not allow him to lead your army from one end of the Empire to the other.’
‘The god will come with me to Rome. There he will assume dominion over the whole earth. If you won’t let me do that, Grandma, he will go back to Emesa and I shall go with him.’
‘Of course our god will come to Rome,’ answered the Augusta with a rapt look on her face. ‘We owe him everything, and unless we show ourselves grateful he may withdraw his favour. But we must move tactfully. Go to Rome yourself, and make sure of your power before you proclaim his dominion over the whole earth.’
‘I wish you wouldn’t all talk about our god,’ said the Emperor pettishly. ‘He is my god
, for I am his high priest. I have been circumcised in his honour, which was painful at the time and still mars my beauty. I learned all those long prayers and difficult dances to please him. What have you done for him, any of you others?’
He looked triumphantly at his mother and his aunt, who as usual sat beside the Augusta. ‘ We are kin to the high priest,’ said Mamea sharply. ‘You are high priest because you are your mother’s son. If you gave us our proper place in the government we could do more to help both you and our god.’
It was a sore point with the lady Mamea that she was not Augusta, though the Emperor was always promising to promote her. A more tactful woman would have realized that he would never grant her the title, though he could not bring himself to make a definite refusal.
‘I don’t want to be equal in precedence with my own mother,’ said the lady Soaemias with a simper. ‘It is enough for me to be the mother of the Emperor. Without me you would never have come into the world, my dear, and then the Romans would be in a very bad way.’
The lady Mamea snorted. The lady Soaemias spoke so placidly that it was always hard to know whether she was being deliberately spiteful or merely tactless.
‘You yourself have a fine son, Mamea,’ said the Augusta, ‘though little Alexianus is not so beautiful as his cousin the Emperor.’
‘He’s good, and that’s more important than being beautiful,’ Mamea answered with a sniff. ‘I am only the Emperor’s aunt, but I also am descended from the high priests of Elagabalus. I ought to have some title to distinguish me from the common herd.’
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