Family Favourites

by Alfred Duggan

  At this the Clarissima hit her again, and the Caesar stepped forward to protect his mother.

  The soldiers shouted and cheered as though they were patching a fight in the amphitheatre. On the tribunal stood more than a dozen armed men, but so far none had moved to draw his sword. I jumped to get between the Emperor and the Caesar, while the Caesar jumped to get between his mother and his aunt. But my sword remained in its scabbard, and I folded my arms to show my peaceful intentions.

  My movement caught the eye of the Augusta. ‘You silly girls,’ she shouted. ‘ Duratius was last on the tribunal. Does that make him Emperor? You are squabbling about nothing at all.’ But she did not look angry, as I have seen her; on the contrary, she smiled as though she were amused by a comedy.

  Still smiling, she moved to stand beside me, as if to intervene between her daughters. Then things happened quickly. For the third time the Clarissima raised her hand to strike, the Caesar fumbled for his sword, and I drew. (That trick of standing with folded arms can be very useful. You look peaceful, and yet your right hand is within a few inches of your sword.) As soon as the Caesar got his blade clear I would be justified in running him through; but he might still change his mind, and I hesitated.

  Suddenly the Augusta was speaking to me, as quietly as though we were alone on the tribunal. ‘ You keep out of this, Duratius. You won us the battle of Immae, and you are not to throw away your life. Let things take their course. Whatever the outcome, a grandson of mine will rule in Rome.’

  As she still spoke she drove her elbow hard into my stomach, which was the last thing I had expected. I stepped back, and found myself falling off the edge of the tribunal. As I landed on the hard ground someone wrapped a cloak round my head, and someone else gave me a tap on the skull.

  I awoke in the dark. By the stink I was in a stable; very close a horse snorted and moved uneasily. My exploring fingers soon told me that I was lying on my back in a manger. I was naked, and there was a large lump on my head. My first fear was that I was in one of the cells of the amphitheatre, ready to be thrown to the lions. But in that case I would not be alone, and what was a horse doing beside me? I lay still, cautiously working my limbs to make sure they were in order.

  Then the yellow glare of a lantern made my headache very much worse. A man was bending over me, and I recognized Eutychianus.

  ‘I’m glad to see you coming round,’ he said pleasantly. ‘ My men can hit hard enough but not too hard. Praetorians ought to manage that if anyone can. Anyway, I deduced from your public record that you would have an unusually thick skull. In an hour or two you will be perfectly fit. I shall leave this lantern with you. In the corner you will find your undress uniform, with your sword but no shield. The money-belt you so prudently carried is intact, with all its gold pieces. In it you will find your discharge from the army. You are honourably discharged, by special leave of the Emperor, so that you may take up a small estate in Britain which has come to you by inheritance. That fits in with your plans, I think? You can’t keep that sort of thing a secret from the police. The horse is yours also, by the way. He’s a good one. Soon after dawn I shall inspect my private stable as usual, and I shall expect to find it empty. If we should meet again, it will be my duty to see you crucified. Don’t thank me; this was not my idea. One Praetorian more or less would not bother me. It was the Augusta who insisted you should be saved. She thinks you have a lucky face or something, and she maintains that she owes you a debt from the battlefield of Immae. But you will never see her to thank her, so don’t let it bother you. Good-bye.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ I called. ‘If the Emperor needs me I can’t run away to Britain. Or has he commanded me to disappear?’

  ‘The Emperor now reigning cares nothing about you. He is Alexander Severus, late Alexianus Caesar, and heir to the house of Antoninus Severus. The late Emperor Elagabalus was killed in the Camp. I am sorry to say that at the last minute he lost his nerve. He and his mother were knocked on the head while they hid in a latrine. It’s all for the best, really. The Augusta and I are agreed on that. Elagabalus had become impossible. We still have a young ruler who will continue the policy of the Divine Severus, putting the army first and paying the soldiers punctually. I remain Praetorian Praefect. The Augusta remains the grandmother of the Emperor. Even the lady Faustina is as well-off as before, a close friend of the Emperor’s mother. No one suffered except Elagabalus and Soaemias, and there was no saving them after they had refused to be guided by the advisers who brought them to power. Now I really must be going. Oh, you will find a cold breakfast with your clothes.’

  When the sun rose I was riding northward.

  Epilogue

  Today is my sixtieth birthday. This morning I came across a pile of papers, the memoirs I wrote so long ago that I can never publish. After all these years it is unlikely that the police will come after me. I ought to die peacefully in my British bed, far from Rome and the centre of affairs.

  Even here news reaches us. Whenever an Emperor is murdered the garrison on the Wall must swear allegiance to his successor. I know what has happened, and the news is never cheering.

  Young Alexander Severus held the Purple for thirteen years; I say ‘held the Purple’, for it is scarcely true that he reigned. He had to look on while the Praetorians murdered his Praetorian Praefect, the famous Ulpianus; nor did he dare to punish the murderers. Eventually he allowed the soldiers’ pay to fall into arrears, and was himself murdered.

  He was succeeded by Maximinus, the first man of barbarian birth to reign over the Romans. By this time the finances of the Republic were in such a desperate condition that he must confiscate all the temple endowments of the provincial cities to fill the military pay-chest. After three years he was murdered.

  Now Gordianus rules, a boy as young as Elagabalus. In the east the Persians have displaced the Parthians, and their armies threaten Syria; on the Danube has appeared a new foe, the warlike nation of the Goths. There is still not enough money to pay the army.

  But Eutychianus the Praetorian Praefect, the Augusta Maesa, the lady Mamea, and the Empress Faustina all died peacefully in their beds during the reign of Alexander Severus. So I suppose from their point of view the murder of Elagabalus was sound business.

  My dear lord will never take his rightful place among the gods; indeed it is doubtful whether his shade is properly treated in the underworld that is the home of common mortals. With refined malice his murderers threw his body into the Tiber; it never received the ritual burial which is needful before the spirit can find rest. But even if demons surround him his beauty and charm will make them his servants.

  Copyright

  First published in 1963 by Penguin

  This edition published 2012 by Bello

  an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited

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  ISBN 978-1-4472-2893-6 EPUB

  ISBN 978-1-4472-2892-9 POD

  Copyright © Alfred Duggan 1963

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