She tossed her head impatiently. 'Nonsense. He is a fine physician, and completely trusted by all within the royal family. Besides, the entire palace knows, and is aware of the awkward position in which it has placed us both — us all. Julian — I have been watching you for many months, since long before you arrived in Milan, and I gratefully accept your offer of assistance.'
'I don't understand, my lady…'
At this, with a slight flick of her thumb and forefinger, she opened the clasp at the top of her robe and the two sides of the rich fabric fell away, revealing the creamy white skin of her breasts and her taut, dusky nipples. Beyond that he dared not glance, though he confessed to me that his mind and his feverish imagination raced. He quickly diverted his eyes to her face, though he found no comfort there, either, in the penetrating stare she had locked on him. Eusebia swayed slightly, and although she did not move her feet she seemed to imperceptibly lean forward toward him. Though still several inches away, he could almost feel the heat of her breasts penetrating through his own padded linen tunic, and just as imperceptibly, he leaned backward the same distance.
'Julian,' she said, her voice husky and her eyes pleading, 'I am not making my choice blindly…'
His eyes opened wide and his thoughts tumbled over one another, as did mine when I first heard this story from his lips. Never, with the possible exception of when he had first received the Emperor's summons to Milan, had he felt himself to be in such danger, or in such temptation. He screwed his eyes shut for a moment and tried to think. Acceptance of the Empress's ultimate gift, or rejection — by which path did he stand to gain or lose more? He needed time, he had to buy time. In anguish, he resorted to the arguments of human biology, which, in fact, I myself had taught him only the previous day in preparation for his impending marriage to Helena.
'Your Highness — this is exceedingly dangerous. What if you should find yourself with child?'
'My cycle is quite regular and has been accurately timed. Now is the perfect opportunity.'
'To avoid pregnancy?'
She stared at him evenly. 'On the contrary, Julian — to ensure it.'
He stared back. All things now became clear. The Emperor was without an heir, and blaming Eusebia for his own poor performance and physical limitations. Eusebia's position as Mother of the Empire was consequently threatened. An heir must be produced — but from where? Only a family member could produce one with the necessary physical similarities, only a devout Christian and an ascetic could be trusted to provide the service confidentially, only a newly appointed Caesar would have the political stature to ensure the offspring's survival should questions arise about its paternity, only a man soon to become a member of the imperial household could gain the requisite access to the gynaeceum to do the deed; most important, only one man was suitably moronic and lacking in ambition as to be sufficiently trusted by the Emperor at this crucial juncture. All the pieces fell into place in a flash, and Julian could suddenly see the role he had been chosen to play. All of it fit perfectly, except when it came to his own conscience.
He continued to stall. 'Your Highness, I am deeply flattered-'
She rolled her eyes in exasperation.
'It is not a matter of flattery, I assure you,' she interrupted. 'Though you are a reasonably attractive man, my dear cousin-in-law, the palace is full of such men. Even the eunuchs could satisfy, if it were merely a matter of a woman's satisfaction. No, Julian, it is a matter of necessity, for both me and the Empire.'
'But you are my cousin's wife. I am to be married tomorrow to Helena. That would make it a double betrayal on my part, not to mention the injustice I would be doing to you.'
She stared at him in amazement, and then her face took on the hard lines of a sneer. 'So plump little Helena is Penelope to your Odysseus?' she retorted. 'While I, the wicked Calypso, am so besotted with your beauty that I must use my superior powers to trap you and keep you for my own? Go back and read your Homer, my scholar. Even Odysseus was wise enough to realize that when the goddess crooks a finger, you don't plead a headache.'
With that she jerked her robe shut, spun with a flourish, and marched wordlessly out of the room, leaving Julian to make his way out alone to the anteroom, where I found him red-faced in frustration and humiliation, his mind in turmoil and his lower tunic disturbingly askew.
VII
He did not see Eusebia privately again, for the palace was sufficiently large that they could easily avoid each other while making plans for the departure to Gaul and his marriage to Helena. At the sumptuous wedding, with the Basilica illumined by the light of ten thousand candles, glinting ten thousand times more in the polished glaze of the windows and the gold of the chalices and monstrances, he glanced up at the Empress while intoning the Creed. He saw what he thought was a flash of dark eyes behind the thin veil she always wore in public, and even in the act of getting married, he confessed, he flattered himself with the thought that he was one of the very few men in the Basilica, indeed in all of the Empire, who had actually seen the Empress's face, and more.
Plump, homely Helena was as presentable as she ever would be, in the wedding raiment dictated by ancient custom: the unhemmed tunic secured around her ample waist by a girdle of wool with a double knot, covered by a fine saffron-colored cloak, matching sandals, and a thin metal collar worn tightly about her neck. Over her delicate coiffure she wore a flammeum, a veil of flaming orange, to modestly shield the upper half of her face. The veil was secured to her head by a simple wreath of myrtle and orange blossoms taken from the palace hothouses, and she carried a single, pure white candle in her hands. She looked for all the world like a rather heavier version of the vestal virgins. The normal unruliness of her thick, black hair had been tamed into six complexly braided plaits as is customary for a bride. They had been fastened with the traditional iron spearhead whose point had been bent, which was said by her mother to have been the tip of a lance taken long ago from the dead body of a gladiator, when such weapons were held to have some mysterious powers of their own. Her face was almost the precise image of her brother's, though lacking the spark of malevolent intelligence.
After he had intoned the solemn oath and had received her corresponding response — Ubi tu Julianus, ego Helena — the mercifully short ceremony was deemed complete, and he lifted the veil of his new bride. At first, he said, when looking into her eyes, he felt simultaneously charity for her and pity for himself, as if he had made a great sacrifice for the sake of duty, though what precisely that sacrifice might have been, he could not tell me then. His greatest concern, upon leaving the Basilica and striding with Helena to the designated bridal chambers, was how he was expected to lift her over the threshold.
The days following the wedding were spent in a whirlwind of preparations for Julian's departure to Gaul. This process was, if anything, as frustrating and maddening to the newly minted Caesar as had been the weeks of waiting in the villa for Constantius' summons. The Emperor was even more imperious toward his young cousin than he had been before, though he mostly managed to ignore him completely. On occasions when they were compelled to be seen together, for official ceremonies and the like, the Emperor forced a false fatherly attitude that Julian and the rest of us watching had to grit our teeth to endure. The eunuchs followed suit; as they passed by the young Caesar, they walked almost through him, as if he were no more than a shade, or at best a mendicant who had mistakenly wandered into the palace and was to be politely ignored until he found his way back out again. Nor was the Empress Eusebia of any assistance, as she had been before Julian's investiture; his abrupt rejection of her favors had seen to that. He wandered the corridors in a daze, in a splendid yet severe captivity, seeking me out when he could, though the frequent importunings of the Emperor and Empress ensured that I had little time to spare for consoling him.
Two events cheered him considerably, however. One was the arrival in Milan of his personal physician, a jolly but wheezing satyr named Oribasius who had attended t
o the health and diet of Julian and his brother until their adult years. When the boys had moved on with their studies and careers, Oribasius had pleaded that his asthma was worsening and stepped into an early retirement, which he spent compiling an enormous, and largely plagiarized, medical encyclopedia. Constantius had insisted that a man of the rank of Caesar not travel on such an arduous journey unaccompanied by a personal physician, and, at Julian's look of incomprehension, had taken it upon himself to send a squad of guards to Oribasius' home on the outskirts of Constantinople, and drag him bodily, if need be, to Milan. Force, as it transpired, was unnecessary, for Oribasius had been bored out of his wits in his research, and welcomed the relief from his daily routine of dictating and filing. Though Julian was overjoyed at Oribasius' arrival, I myself was less than pleased at the physician's condition, for he was a specimen singularly ill-suited for harsh service in Gaul — he was as flabby as Constantius, though approximately the same age, and bore a severe limp in both legs, if that is possible, suffering simultaneously from arthritis and gout. I feared the physician was to be more of a patient than a healer on such a strenuous trek.
The Caesar's other source of cheer, to the great surprise of all, was his new wife. During his days of wandering the halls before the departure for Gaul, and indeed later on the trip itself, Julian took his newfound responsibilities as husband and lover quite seriously for someone who, to my knowledge, had never in his life been with a woman; and he made considerable effort to gain familiarity with the mind of his new bride. Helena was four years older than he, and an odder match you have never seen, particularly one for a Caesar. Though outweighing him by some twenty stone, despite her shorter-than-average height, her temper was as sweet as her brother's was foul. She was still a virgin despite her years, and to my knowledge had never even had suitors. Constantius' viciousness and fickleness had dissuaded them, even those who might otherwise have overcome their natural aversion to her homeliness in exchange for a chance at becoming Caesar and ultimately Emperor. Julian, however, had unwittingly stumbled onto the entire package, but was determined to take his vows seriously, and to make the best of the bewildering situation.
As for the preparations for departure: haste was imperative, since by now public reports of the disaster in Germany were beginning to trickle in, and it would be impossible to keep news of the situation confidential much longer. Julian, Constantius reasoned, had to be put on the road and be well on his way to his destination before he had an opportunity to hear confirmation of the ugly rumors or portents, and decide to escape altogether on the next mule train to the coast. The Emperor himself, in fact, had resolved to accompany the party several days out of Milan, to ensure the stiffness of his new second-in-command's backbone.
When the time finally arrived for the departure for Gaul, a blustery day in November, the young Caesar climbed into his sedan chair for the ceremonial ride out of the city next to the matching chair of his new bride, who had resolved to accompany her husband. Her bearers, however, labored hard under the weight of their burden, and each uttered a prayer to the aforementioned virgin Saint Lucia, who, when seized by Diocletian's agents to be taken away for martyrdom, was rendered immovable by her great weight. Constantius and his enormous retinue, including myself, were accompanied by a detachment of what the Emperor referred to as top-tier, handpicked, crack soldiers to serve as the new Caesar's guard. To my way of thinking, Brother, they were the most poorly trained, underfed lot of conscripts I have ever had the displeasure of marching with. Julian himself observed that the only thing these soldiers seemed to know how to do was pray, which strangely, and somewhat unnervingly, they did incessantly, at all hours of the day and night, both singly and in groups, and perhaps it was this that later allowed us to successfully cross the Alps in the middle of December without losing a single man. If the efficacy of their praying can indeed be proven, and I'm sure, Brother, that you would be loath for me to even consider otherwise, then they were possibly the most effective detachment of soldiers the Emperor could have assigned us.
It was not until the party arrived at the designated point of separation, a place lying between Laumello and Pavia marked by two columns, that Julian was informed of the fall of Cologne. I was in the tent in attendance upon Constantius at the time, treating one of his endless series of ailments and goiters, and when the news of Cologne was imparted Julian stared in wide-eyed astonishment, and then swore at his cousin so brashly and spontaneously that Helena, who was also present in the Emperor's tent at the time, burst into tears. Constantius was not in the least put out, however, and did not even lose the smirk he had been wearing almost every moment since Julian's investiture.
'So, little cousin,' he said, 'is this the eloquence they teach you at the vaunted Academy at Athens? All the better that we remove you and put you among the foot soldiers where you belong.'
Julian glared. 'You brought me to this, Constantius — you set me up for failure. Why you didn't simply make a clean break of me, I can't imagine.'
'Ah, Julian — because you're family! And you may be the only man in the entire Empire who would possibly complain at all you've been given. Now listen, ingrate: you are now traveling beyond my control. No more of your conferences with magicians, no more of your research into the nature of the pagan gods. Believe it or not, I know of your frolic with the Eleusinians in Athens. From this point on, you represent me, and the One Church. No one and nothing else. Forget that at your own peril, boy.'
I suddenly realized the significance of the benighted ascetics that Constantius had dressed in soldiers' togs and sent as protection. Julian spun in a fury, strode to the waiting sedan chair, and climbed in, angrily snapping shut the curtains.
Completely on the spur of the moment, out of fear for the young Caesar's safety on his journey, I approached the Emperor a moment later, just as his own sedan chair was about to be lifted to be carried back to Milan.
'My lord,' I began, 'as you know, the Caesar has been like a brother to me since our initial acquaintance in Athens. Please — allow me to accompany him the rest of the journey to his headquarters in Gaul. There are many other fine physicians in Milan who will be able to attend you in the interim — but as for your cousin, there is only Oribasius, who despite his wisdom is quite beyond his capacity when it comes to caring for the Caesar on such a journey.'
The Emperor looked down at me haughtily, glad to be done with Julian and impatient to return to the more pressing business of his eastern front. He seemed positively irritated at my request, not so much at losing me as at being reminded of a problem he thought he had finally eliminated several moments before.
'Yes, yes…' he said, waving me off absentmindedly as he scanned a dispatch one of his generals had handed him. 'Just return, will you, after his arrival at Vienne?'
He gave no thought, I noticed, as to precisely how I was to return back through the mountains in the dead of winter. The Empress, upon hearing my request, looked at me in alarm, and opened her mouth as if to say something to the Emperor about the inadvisability of my leaving them. Constantius, however, was already deep in a conversation about the eastern question and could not be distracted. I turned before the Empress could say anything to detain me, raced back to the tent and to my waiting luggage, threw it upon the horse, and galloped after Julian's train, which had just departed.
I rode up immediately to his chair and announced somewhat breathlessly that he would have an additional man for company, if he would agree to take me on. His face was still flushed in anger, but turning his head he looked at me with some surprise. It took a moment for my words to sink in, but when they did his expression immediately softened, and he stretched his hand out the litter with a broad grin and slapped my forearm in delight.
'What, you're traveling with me, then? And all the way to Gaul? I saw you riding behind us just now, but I assumed you were simply being a friend and walking me out into the street, rather than merely to the threshold.'
I grinned back. 'A truer fr
iend than you expected,' I said. 'I've requested leave from Constantius. A sabbatical, if you will. Just until I see you safely installed in one of those secure little log huts the commanders dwell in on campaign.'
Helena beamed at the news of my accompanying them, for I had been her physician at the court as well as her brother's, and she was as much a hypochondriac as he. Julian, however, simply continued to stare at me with wide eyes, his face pale as the enormity of his situation slowly sunk in.
'Caesarius,' he confided, 'I truly had high expectations for this journey, indeed for this entire new phase of my life. The fall of Cologne, however, is a terrible portent, don't you agree?'
I stalled for an answer, unsure whether to inform him that I had already known of the disaster for some time. 'It's nothing, I'm sure, that a firm hand against the barbarians cannot resolve before the next year is out.'
He thought for a moment in silence. 'No doubt you're right. In any case, it doesn't matter. Caesarius, I've had plenty of time to myself over the last few days to consider what sort of Caesar I'm to be — or rather, what I will not be. I will not be a figurehead. I will not be the Emperor's puppet! It's beneath the dignity of a philosopher and a scholar to simply roll over and grovel to a man who outranks him not in intellect but merely in age and propensity to murder.'
He must have noticed my horrified expression at these traitorous words, for his face immediately softened and he reached over again to tap my forearm.
'I'm sorry, friend, to burden you with my resentments,' he continued. 'But I'm delighted you'll be riding with us on this journey. I'm afraid I can't offer you more than a position as assistant physician, since lame Oribasius has been given the principal duty. Still, I welcome your company, because I don't see much opportunity for conversation among this lot of hermits. I fear, however…'
'What, Julian?' I asked. 'You're the Caesar, the second most powerful man in the Empire. What is there to fear.'
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