Julian (46 page)

The Master of the Offices was distressed. "But tomorrow is impossible! And the treasury is here, not there."

"Get the whole lot of them to Chalcedon. Then tell the boatmen that no Egyptian is to be brought back to the city."

For the first time I felt that I had earned the respect of the Master of the Offices. The Egyptians stayed at Chalcedon a month, annoying the local officials. Then they went home.

Priscus
: You will note that though Julian referred some while back to the treason trials at Chalcedon and promised to discuss them, he never mentions the subject again. Of course he did not have the chance to go over any of these notes, but I am not sure that even if he had caught the omission he would have been at all candid. The whole business was shameful, and he knew it.

Arbetio arrested a dozen of Constantius's high officials. They were all friends of Arbetio, but that did not prevent him from charging each with high treason. Why? Because any one of these officers of state might have compromised him. Arbetio wanted to be emperor; he had tried to persuade Eusebius to recognize him as Constantius's heir. As a result, he was now a man with a purpose; the covering of his own tracks.

Although Salutius Secundus was officially president of the court, Arbetio was in charge. He was a tiger among sheep. Palladius, a blameless official who had been chief marshal to the court, was charged with having conspired against Gallus; on no evidence at all, Palladius was exiled to Britain along with Florentius (a chamberlain, not our friend from Gaul). Also exiled—again on no evidence-were Evagrius (former Count of the Privy Purse), Saturninus (former Steward of the Sacred Household), Cyrinus (a private secretary). Even more shocking was the exile of the consul Taurus, whose only fault was that he had joined his rightful lord Constantius when Julian marched into Illyricum. Public opinion was particularly scandalized to read a proclamation which began,

"In the year of the consulate of Taurus and Florentius, Taurus was found guilty of treason." That sort of thing is not done, except by the most reckless of tyrants.

The praetorian prefect Florentius was condemned to death, properly, I think. He did indeed try to destroy Julian, though if one wanted to be absolutely just (and who does in political matters?), he acted only upon Constantius's orders. Fortunately for him, his trial was conducted in absentia. He had wisely disappeared the day Constantius died and he did not reappear until some months after Julian's death. He lived to a great age and died at Milan, rich and contented. Some live to be old; some are struck down too soon. Julian of course would have said it was inexorable Fate, but I know better. It is nothing, absolutely nothing. There is no design to any of it.

Paul "the chain", Mercurius "the count of dreams" and Gaudentius were all put to death, as was proper. Eusebius also was executed, and his vast property reverted to the crown from which he had stolen it.

Then the outrage occurred. Of all the public men in our timorous time, Ursulus alone had the courage always to say what he thought was right, despite consequences. He understood Arbetio perfectly. He deplored the trials. He said so. To everyone's amazement, Arbetio had Ursulus arrested.

The trial was an abomination. I am told by those who were present that Ursulus tongue-lashed Arbetio, mocked his ambition, dared the court to find him either disloyal to Julian or in any way connected with Gallus's death. I say that I was "told" this because I was not able to read about it: the records of the trial have vanished. But I was able to talk frankly to Mamertinus, who had been a horrified witness of this grim farce. He told me what happened, making no excuse for himself. Like all the rest, including Julian, he was led by the wilful Arbetio, and must share in the guilt.

Forged testimony was prepared against Ursulus, but the forgeries were so clumsy that he was able to have them thrown out as evidence. At this point even Arbetio might have given up, but he had one last weapon in reserve. The trial was a military one, held in the camp of two legions. Now Ursulus was supremely unpopular with the army because of that bitter remark he made when, surveying the ruins of Amida, he said, "See how bravely our citizens are protected by those soldiers, whose pay is bankrupting us!"

Suddenly Arbetio threw this quotation in Ursulus's face. Immediately the officers and men who were present at the trial made a loud racket, demanding Ursulus's head. They got it. He was executed within the hour.

This was the talk of the city when I arrived in January. I questioned Julian about the trial; he was evasive. "I didn't know what was happening. I put the whole thing in Salutius's hands. I was as surprised as anyone."

"But they acted in your name…"

"Every village notary acts in my name. Am I responsible for all injustice?"

"But surely you had to give permission for the execution. Under Roman law…"

"The military court acted on its own initiative. I didn't know."

"Then every member of the court was guilty of treason for using your power of life and death illegally."

"The court was not illegal. They were duly constituted by imperial edict…"

"Then they must have informed you before the execution and if they did…"

"I did not know!" Julian was furious. I never mentioned the subject again. But when we were in Persia he brought up the matter, on his own. We had been talking about the idea of justice when suddenly Julian said, "The hardest thing I ever did was to allow a court to condemn an innocent man."

"Ursulus?"

He nodded. He had quite forgotten he had once told me that he had known nothing of the Chalcedon proceedings. "The army wanted him dead. There was nothing I could do. When the court found him guilty of high treason—even though he was innocent I had to. let the sentence stand."

"To appease the army? or Arbetio?"

"Both. I was not sure of myself then. I needed every bit of support I could get. But if that trial were today, I would free Ursulus and indict Arbetio."

"But yesterday is not today, and Ursulus is dead."

"I'm sorry," said Julian, and that was the end of that chapter. It is one of the few instances I know where Julian was weak and in his weakness bad. But how might we have acted in his place? Differently? I think not. One good thing: Julian did not confiscate Ursulus's estate as law requires in the case of a traitor. The property all went to the dead man's daughter.

Libanius
: Priscus seems unduly sentimental in this matter. As he himself admits, he did not study the transcript of the trial, so Ursulus? Unlike Priscus, I should never predict my own behaviou in any circumstance until I knew precisely what the given fact were. Is not all conduct based on this sort of empiricism? or hay, I misled three generations of pupils?

Julian Ausustus

I had heard all my life about what went on in the eunuctu quarters of the Sacred Palace. But I tend to discount gossip, having been myself the subject of so much, most of it fantastic. I confess I did not really want any rumours confirmed, but Oribasius insisted that we see for ourselves. So I got myself up in a hooded robe while Oribasius disguised himself as a Syrian merchant with oiled ringlet and glossy false beard.

Shortly before midnight, we left my apartment, by way of private staircase. Outside the palace we found ourselves in a small courtyard, bright with moonlight. Like shadowy conspirators, we crossed to the opposite wing of the palace where the eunuchs and minor officials lived. We slipped inside the portico. At the third door from the south, Oribasius stopped, and rapped three times, A muffled voice said, "What is the time?"

"The time is ours," said Oribasius. This was the correct password. The door opened just wide enough for us to enter. A dwarf greeted us and pointed to the dimly lit stairs. "They're just starting."

Oribasius gave him a coin. On the second-floor gallery deal mute slaves showed us into what had been Eusebius's dining hall It was almost as splendid as my own! Against the walls of the room some fifty eunuchs reclined on couches. They were so gorgeously dressed that they looked like bales of silk on display. In front of each couch a table was set, piled with food. Even for an evening of what (in my innocence) I took to be music, the eunuchs needed their food.

At one end of the room there were chairs and benches for wha were known as "friends of the court". Here sat a number of Scholarian officers, drinking heavily. I was completely mystified but dared not speak for fear someone would recognize my voice As Mardonius—that good eunuch—used to say: "Julian has no lyre, only a brazen trumpet."

We sat down in the front row, next to a centurion of the Herculani. He was already quite drunk. He nudged me in the ribs.

"Don't look so gloomy! And take that hood off, makes you look like a dirty Christ-y!" This was considered high wit, and there was a good deal of laughter at my expense. But the glib Oribasius rescued me. "Poor fellow's from the country, doesn't dare show his patched tunic." Oribasius's accent was pure Antioch. I was most impressed.

"He part of the show?" The centurion pushed his face close to mine, his breath like the last dregs from a skin of wine. I pulled back, hand to my hood.

"No," said Oribasius. "A friend of Phalaris." This impressed the centurion, who left me alone. Oribasius whispered in my ear.

"Phalaris is our host. He's there. In the centre." Phalaris was large and sullen, with a pursed mouth. I knew that I had seen him before, but I could not place him. Oribasius explained. "He's in charge of the kitchen. Which makes him—now that Eusebius is dead the richest man at court."

I sighed. The emperor is hugely robbed by his servants.

Cymbals were struck. A long line of Scholarians filed into the room. They halted before Phalaris and gave him a parody of the imperial salute. I started angrily to my feet, but Oribasius held me back. With a gesture quite as majestic as any of Constantius's, Phalaris acknowledged the salute. The soldiers then took their places against the wall and, at a signal from their leader, they sang a love song! But there was worse to come.

Fifty shabbily dressed youths entered the hall. They moved awkwardly and seemed not to know what to do until a Scholarian shoved one of them to his knees in front of Phalaris; all followed suit. The eunuch then motioned for them to sit on the floor directly in front of us. I was completely baffled. These youths were obviously not entertainers. They looked like ordinary workmen of the sort one sees in every city, hanging about the arcades, eyeing women.

Next, the same number of young girls were herded into the room. All around me the "friends of the court" breathed satisfaction. The girls were uncommonly pretty, and terrified. After a slow tour of the hall, they were ordered to sit on the floor beside the young men. They too wore ordinary clothes, which meant that they were neither prostitutes nor entertainers. I saw that the eunuchs were studying the girls with almost as much interest as were the men about me. I thought this surprising, but Oribasius assures me that the desire for women remains cruelly strong in eunuchs, especially in those gelded after puberty. Incapacity does not prevent lust.

Musicians appeared and played while a troupe of Syrian cotylists danced. I suppose they were good. They moved violently, made astonishing leaps in the air, did lewd things with the cups which are a part of their "art". While all eyes watched them, I tapped the shoulder of the boy who sat just in front of me. He gave a nervous start, and turned around, pale with fright. He had the fair skin and grey eyes of Macedonia. His hands were large and callused, the nails black with soot. I took him to be a metalworker's apprentice, at the most eighteen years old.

"Sir?" His light voice cracked with tension.

"Why are you here?"

"I don't know, sir."

"But how did you get here?"

"They…" He motioned to the Scholarians. "I was coming home from the silver market, where I work, and they stopped me and made me go with them."

"Did they tell you why?"

"No, sir. They won't kill us, will they?" There is no terror to equal that of the ignorant in a strange place.

"No," I said firmly. "They won't hurt you."

The Syrian dancers were followed by what looked to be priestesses of the Egyptian cult of Syra. Though I recognized many of the ritual gestures, I suspect that these women were not actually priestesses but prostitutes, imitating the sacred erotic dances. It was, after all, a night of travesty. Every stage of the mysteries was acted out, including the ceremony of abundance with its wooden phalluses. This last brought loud applause from the "friends of the court", and ecstatic sighs and giggles from the eunuchs. Though the cult of Syra does not much appeal to me, I was offended to see its mysteries profaned.

After the "priestesses" had finished their dance, several burly Scholarians motioned for the girls and youths to parade in pairs before the reclining eunuchs, much the way young people stroll on feast days in provincial towns. For some minutes they moved, tense, self-conscious, trapped. Then Phalaris motioned for a particular girl and youth to approach him. This was a signal for the other eunuchs to choose pairs. They did so, hissing like angry geese.

Suddenly Phalaris reached up and tore the girl's dress at the shoulder; it fell to her knees. Those about me gasped with excitement. I was too stunned to move. When the girl tried to pull her dress back in place, Phalaris tugged at it again and this time the cheap material split and came away in his hand. Like a sacrifice, she stood, naked, arms crossed on her breast. Phalaris then turned to the boy and lifted up his tunic as far as the belly. Loud laughter; the youth wore nothing underneath. Phalaris then pulled both girl and boy, the one pale and the other red with embarrassment, on to the couch, his fat arms girdling each.

Meanwhile, the other eunuchs had stripped their terrified prey. None resisted, although one young man, inadvertently shying from a eunuch's grasp, was cracked hard across the buttocks by the flat of a Schotarian's sword. The rest submitted.

As I watched, I had the sense of having witnessed something similar. This monstrous scene contained a bafflingly familiar element. Not until days later did I recall what it was: children opening presents. The eunuchs were like greedy children. They tore the clothes off their victims in the same way children tear wrappings from a gift, passionately eager to see what is inside. Stubby eunuch fingers explored the strange bodies as though they were toys; they were particularly fascinated by the sex, male and female. Imagine fifty huge babies allowed people for playthings and one can begin to apprehend what I saw that night.