Julian, by Gore Vidal

by Unknown

  The tribune shook the body, as a hunting dog will shake a hare.

  "Are you afraid of this?" There was a loud response of "No!"

  Then great laughter at the sight of the hairless smooth body, so unlike us. The tribune tossed the remains contemptuously to the ground. "Never again do I want to hear anyone whisper in the night that the Persians are devils! We are the men who will rule this land!" To loud cheering, the tribune stepped down from his rock and walked straight into Julian. He saluted smartly, not at all taken aback. "A necessary speech, Augustus."

  "An excellent speech, Valentinian." For as you have doubtless guessed, the tribune was our future emperor. "I want all my commanders to give their troops the same… demonstration. First-rate."

  The soldiers promptly vanished, as soldiers tend to the moment they realize the Emperor is among them.

  Julian and his successor exchanged a few soldierly words. Then as we were about to move on, Valentinian motioned to a young cavalry officer who was standing near by, wide-eyed at the sight of the Emperor. "Augustus, may I present to your my brother Valens?"

  I often wonder what Julian would have thought if he had known that in less than a year those brothers, sons of an Austrian ropeseller turned general, would be co-emperors of East and West. I suspect he would have approved of Valentinian, but Valens was a disaster. And the fact that both were Christian would hardly have pleased him. It certainly did not please us, did it? I nearly lost my life because of Valens. Maximus did lose his.

  Then Julian left his successors, none aware of the future. If the gods exist, they are kind. Despite oracles and flashes of lightning, they tell us nothing. If they did, we could not bear it.

  The next day we came to a place where the water of the Euphrates was drawn off into a network of irrigation canals. Some of these canals are a thousand years old and without them Persia would not be the rich country it is. There were those who wanted to divert the waters and cause the fields to dry up but Julian would not allow this, pointing out that we should soon be living off the produce of these same fields. At the beginning of the largest canal was a tall tower, marking the source of the Naharmalcha (Persian for "the king's river") which flows into the Tigris below Ctesiphon. This river or canal was unusually swift from the rains. With difficulty, pontoon bridges were constructed. The infantry got across safely, but a number of pack animals were drowned in the current. As I recall, there was some harassing of the cavalry by Persian scouts, but they were soon driven off by our Saracen outriders.

  On 28 April, after an uneventful march, we came to Pirisabora, a large city with impressive high walls and towers burned by the sun to the buff colour of a lion's skin. The river surrounds the city naturally on three sides. On the fourth, the inhabitants have dug a canal so that they are, in effect, an island and hard for an enemy to approach. At the centre of the city on a high hill was a formidable inner fortress. I must say my heart sank when I saw it. The siege of such a place could take months.

  Julian sent his usual message to the city: if they surrendered, he would spare the lives of the inhabitants. But Pirisabora was one of the important cities of Persia, and the answer of its commandant, Mamersides, was arrogant indeed. The city would not surrender. But Mamersides would speak to Ormisda (apparently they had been in secret correspondence with one another).

  I was present when Ormisda, tall and glittering and very much a Persian king, rode to the moat which separated city from mainland. He reined in his horse at the water's edge. When the Persians on the wall recognized him, they began a loud jeering and hissing. They called him "traitor" and worse. I was close enough to Ormisda to see his sallow face set in harsh lines, but he did not move or in any other way show that he had heard. For a full half-hour he endured their insults. Then, seeing that there was to be no dealing with these men, he motioned for his standard-bearer to join him. This caused an even louder tumult. Ormisda's standard was that of the Great King of Persia. Majestically, Ormisda withdrew, and Julian ordered a siege.

  Unfortunately, Julian did not describe the siege and I don't remember much about it. Perhaps our friend Ammianus will record it. Military history is not really my forte. My chief memory of this siege was a series of quarrels with Maximus. I shall spare you the quarrels, since I've completely forgotten what they were about.

  The city of Pirisabora fell on the second day, after much fighting. But the matter was not yet finished, for the army and the governor promptly took refuge on their mountain top and there, behind walls of bitumen and brick, strong as iron, they held fast. Julian himself led the first attack on the citadel, and was repulsed.

  On the third day, Julian ordered a helepolis built. This is a tall wooden tower which is used to scale even the highest walls. There is no defence against it, not even fire, for it is covered with wet hides. The helepolis was not needed. No sooner was it half assembled than Mamersides asked for a truce. He was lowered from the citadel by a rope which broke a few yards above the ground; he fractured both legs. Julian was merciful. All lives would be spared if the citadel was surrendered.

  At sundown, some 2,500 Persians, men and women, issued forth, singing a hymn of thanksgiving to the Great Lord who had spared their lives and would now reign mercifully over them. Then Pirisabora was burned to the ground. By this time, I was no longer speaking to Maximus.

  Julian Augustus 3 May

  3 squ. cav. Trib. killed. Viz. command. Standard lost! 2 Trib. cash. dec. Stand. regained. speech. 100p. silv.

  Priscus: I recall "3 squ. car. Trib. killed, etc.," vividly. The day after the burning of the city we all dined at midday with Julian. It was a pleasant meal and he was refighting the siege, as soldiers like to do, the "what-might-have-happened-if" kind of thing, when Anatolius came into the tent with the news that the Grand Vizier had personally put to flight three of our cavalry squadrons, killing one of the tribunes and capturing the regimental standard. I thought Julian would have a stroke. He hurled his plate to the ground and rushed from the tent, shouting for a call-to-arms. Within the hour, the Vizier's force had been located, and our standard regained. Within three hours, the two surviving tribunes were cashiered and, of those who had fled before the enemy, ten were executed, according to the old law of decimation. I had never seen Julian so angry nor so much the classic general. He ordered the entire army to watch the execution. When it was done, he made a speech, warning against disobedience and cowardice, and reminding the army that should anyone surrender to the enemy, the Persians would hamstring him and leave him to die in the desert. Then he praised the troops for the victory at Pirisabora, and he gave each man a hundred pieces of silver.

  Poor Julian! Having so little interest in money himself, he could never get sums right. He never knew the correct price of anything, including the common soldier's loyalty. At the mention of such a small sum, the army roared its displeasure and I was afraid they would mutiny right then and there. But Julian was not intimidated. He told them sharply that he himself was a poor man and that the Roman nation was in straitened circumstances because so many of his predecessors had used gold to buy a false peace rather than iron to fight necessary wars. But he promised them that soon they would be at Ctesiphon and the treasure of all Persia would be theirs. This put them in a good humour, and they cheered him and clattered their shields.

  Julian Augustus 4 May

  14 miles. Floods. Halt. Bridges.

  Priscus: The Persians broke the river dikes to the south of us and we lost a day while boats and rafts were used to get across the many pools the river water made. The countryside had become a giant swamp. My chief memory is of giant blood-sucking leeches clinging to my legs as I waded through muddy waters.

  Julian Augustus 7 May

  Maiozamalcha. Camp. Prepare siege. Ambush. Treason?

  Priscus: Three days later we came to Maiozamalcha, another important city with great walls. Here Julian set up camp.

  "Ambush" refers to what happened that evening. Julian and several scouts made an inspectio
n of the outer walls, to look for points of weakness. While they were passing under the walls, ten Persians slipped out of the city through a porter's gate and, crawling on their hands and knees, took Julian and his scouts by surprise. Two of them set upon Julian. He killed one, protecting himself from the other with his shield. In a matter of minutes the Persians were dead and Julian returned to camp, happy as a boy with the dead Persian's weapons for trophy.

  "Treason?" How did the Persians know about this scouting party? Julian was aware that his army was full of spies, not to mention those who wished him harm. He suspected treason, and he was right.,

  The inhabitants of Maiozamalcha refused to surrender. So Julian settled in for a siege. He was now fearful of the Persian army which was supposed to be gathering just south of Ctesiphon. For added protection, he erected a double palisade around our camp.

  Julian Augustus 8 May

  Cavalry under the Grand Vizier attacked pack animals in the palm groves. No casualties for us. Several for them. Persians driven off. Countryside is heavily wooded and full of streams and pools. I always thought Persia was desert. How I should like to have the leisure to turn Herodotus and describe this part of the world! It is so beautiful. Date palms and fruit trees abound. Fields are yellowgreen with new grain. This year's harvest will be a good one, and ours!

  I find particularly interesting the pools of naphtha, an oily flammable substance which bubbles up from the ground. This morning I ordered one of the pools lit. A column of fire leapt to heaven. The only way it can be put out is to smother the pool in sand; otherwise, it may burn for years. I left the pool afire as an offering to Helios.

  Several prisoners from this morning's raid were brought to me. They are curious-looking creatures and I examined them with some attention, recalling one of the tribunes who recently showed his troops a Persian corpse, saying: "See what you feared? This is the Persian devil, all of seven feet tall with arms of bronze and breathing fire!" Then he showed them the remains of a fragile creature more like a boy than a man.

  Priscus: Traditionally the reporting of speeches in historical texts is not meant to be literal. But my version of Valentinian's comments was accurate because I kept a few notes at the time, which I am using now in making this commentary. Yet here is Julian less than a week later already altering the text. History is idle gossip about a happening whose truth is lost the instant it has taken place. I offer you this banality for what it is: the truth!

  Julian Augustus 8 May

  The Persians I examined were cavalrymen. They are small, wiry, leaden-complexioned. Ormisda acted as interpreter. Though they expected immediate death, they seemed without fear. One spoke for all of them, a flood of words. When he was finally out of breath, I asked Ormisda what he had said.

  Ormisda shrugged, "Typically Persian." Ormisda was in his Greek mood. "He hopes we choke in our pride and that the moon will fall on our army and crush it and that the tribes of the desert will rise up from as far away as India and China to butcher us. The Persian style of address is always a bit exaggerated, particularly the metaphors."

  I laughed. I have always been more amused than not by Persian rhetoric. It is characteristic of eastern peoples to talk always with a mad extravagance. Even their diplomatic letters are often unintelligible because of Pindar-like excesses.

  Ormisda replied in kind. The Persians listened contemptuously. They are handsome men with pointed smooth beards and eyebrows which tend to grow together. Their eyes are particularly expressive, black and deep. They are quite slender because of their austere diet. They eat only when they are hungry, and then very little. They seldom drink wine. Their only excess (aside from their conversation!) is women. Each man has as many concubines as he can afford. They do not like boys. They are most modest about their persons and it is considered shameful for a man to be seen by another relieving himself in a natural way. I rather wish our army would imitate their physical modesty. Yet for all their virtues, they are not a likeable people. They are arrogant and boastful and revel in cruelty. The nobles terrorize the lower classes as well as the slaves, torturing or killing them as they please, and there is no law to protect the helpless, nor any idea of charity. Their laws are savage. For instance, if a man is guilty of a capital crime, not only is he executed but all of his family as well.

  "They are hopeless," said Ormisda wearily when the captives were taken away. "The most foolish race on earth."

  "But you are their Great King," I teased him. "And therefore the most foolish of all."

  "I've lived too long among you," he said sadly.

  "But as a ruler you should be all the better for that. You can change them."

  "No change." He shook his head, "That is the point to Persia. As we were, we are; as we are, we shall be. When I am Great King (the Sun and Julian willing), I shall be Greek no longer. Plato will be forgotten. I shall be like Darius and Cyrus, like Xerxes and… yes, like my brother Sapor."

  "An unreliable ally to Rome?" I asked this jokingly, but I was serious.

  "What else? I am the heir to the Sassanides kings. We are cruel and extravagant." Then he smiled, winningly. "You'd be well advised, Augustus, to kill all the Persians, including me."

  "Impracticable," I said, and changed the subiect. But I was impressed by what Ormisda said, and uneasy. Should I keep a Roman army at Ctesiphon and govern through a proconsul? Or would we fail in this the way our ancestors failed with the Jews? I wish Sallust were here.

  We spent the rest of the day with the staff, preparing for the siege of Maiozamalcha. The town is on high ground with a double wall. It is well garrisoned. I have ordered a mining of the walls. This is a good exercise we have not yet tried. Nevitta and Dagalaif are at this moment digging tunnels beneath the walls. At dawn, Victor and a number of cavalry scouts will reconnoitre as far as Ctesiphon. There is a rumour the Great King's army is on its way to us from the east, but it is only rumour.

  Everything goes too easily. Yet why should I be surprised? The gods are with me and the spirit of Alexander whispers: advance, to the farthest edge of the world!

  Priscus: As usual the spirit of Alexander was over-ambitious. We had enough troubles taking Maiozamalcha, much less India and China. But at this time Julian was not mad, despite Maximus's best efforts. There was no immediate plan to conquer farthest Asia. Julian anticipated a short campaign in Persia, winter at Tarsus, and then an expedition to India.

  Julian does not describe the siege and fall of Maiozamalcha and neither shall I. As I recall, the city was on a high bluff overlooking the river. To get to it one had to climb steep cliffs, eminently suited for defence. The first day a frontal assault was attempted. It failed. Meanwhile, tunnels were being dug beneath the walls. The second day the siege engines were brought up. The air was filled with the roaring sound of rocks being catapulted against the walls. The sun burned fiercely. Defenders and attackers were soon exhausted. But Julian drove the men to the limit of their strength, for he had no time to waste in a siege so near Ctesiphon and the Great King's army. Finally, word came from the tunnel builders that they were ready to break into the city. That night, Julian attacked the walls with his army while the troops below ground entered the city through the floor of the back room of an empty tavern. The city surrendered.

  XXI

  Julian Augustus 11 May

  We have had excellent luck. Maiozamalcha fell with few casualties for us. I have just received Nabdates, the Persian commander. He hailed me as Lord of the World and I have spared his life. This should make a good impression. If the Persian lords believe that I am merciful, they will be more apt to surrender when overwhelmed. I hope so, since there is nothing so demoralizing for an army as to fight long sieges for unimportant cities.

  Nabdates swears that he does not know where the Great King is, and I believe him. He suspects that Sapor is not at the capital but somewhere to the south. In any case, we shall soon meet, the Great King and I.

  I write this in my tent beside the river. On its high hill t
he city of Maiozamalcha burns like a torch in the black night. With difficulty I prevented a slaughter in the city. The Gauls regard Persian resistance as an affront; they always do. Incidentally, they discovered several hundred women hidden in the citadel. They promptly drew lots for them. At such times, the officers vanish and the men take over. Quite by acddent, I happened to be near the square during the lottery.

  The women were huddled together, along with the city's treasure: gold coins, ornaments, bolts of silk, whatever had been found in the ruins had been brought together for a fair division. One of the Petulantes, seeing me, shouted, "Something for Julian!"

  So I joined the men on foot, like a legionnaire.

  The centurion in charge of the lottery indicated one of the piles of gold. "That's your share, soldier," he said, using the traditional phrase. I thanked him and took a single piece of gold. Then the men began to shout that I should take one of the women. They know of course that I am celibate, and find this fact infinitely comic. I refused amiably. But they kept pressing me. So I looked at the crowd of wretched women, thinking to take a child and set her free. But there was none, only a very handsome boy of about ten. So I pointed to him. The men were delighted. Better a boylover than a cellbate on the throne!

  The boy turned out to be a deaf-mute of great intelligence. The signs he makes with his hands are swift and graceful and I find that I can understand him easily. I have made him my personal servant and he seems happy.

  I am depressed tonight. Ordinarily, I would be exhilarated by victory. I can't think what is wrong. Perhaps it is the memoir. I have been dictating memories of my childhood at Macellum and remembering those years always puts me in a bad mood.

  Interesting note: One of the men of the Herculani reports that at the height of the battle today he saw a huge man in strange armour climbing one of the siege ladders. Later he saw this same warrior in the thick of the fighting, but he could not identify him nor could any of the others who saw him. They are all certain that this warrior was the war god Ares himself. I must ask Maximus to find out.