Gods and Legions (7 page)

Once inside, Julian threw off the stifling purple cloak and stuffed it into the arms of the nearest slave, as Constantius watched coldly, though with an amused gleam in his eye.

'You might have warned me,' Julian muttered accusingly, certain now of his physical safety for at least the time being, and unconcerned with any offense he might give to the Emperor. 'I have been weeks in Milan, begging you for an answer, any answer, as to why you might have brought me here. And this is how you tell me?'

Constantius snorted. 'A life of command is full of surprises, young Julian. To this you must become accustomed.' He paused, and then glanced at his young cousin with a wry smile. 'Actually, I confess I may be as astonished as you. As late as yesterday, I was still undecided as to whether to erect a gallows or an investiture platform. You should be down on your knees thanking God. You have a very persuasive patroness in the palace.'

Julian stared, bewildered. 'Persuasive?' he said. 'This is a reward? You pluck a poor student from his studies, make him commander of six legions, and order him to defend Gaul? This is merely a slower form of execution than the one you had planned! "Shrouded in death's dark purple by almighty fate..."'

Constantius chuckled. 'Very perceptive of you – and clever use of Homer, though somewhat melodramatic, I would say. But please – don't flatter yourself that you will actually have any role in commanding these men. You would merely be in the way. The western legions will remain under the control of Ursicinus and Marcellus. Barbatio will assist in several capacities, as he has in the past. With you as Caesar, the Empress Eusebia is content, though only God knows why. With Marcellus in command, my generals are content. And you, my boy, will enjoy the ride and keep your nose out of the way.'

Barbatio, standing behind the Emperor, stared coldly over his patron's shoulder at the younger man, his face betraying the hatred he felt for this latest young cousin of Constantius to have been vested with the purple, for no reason other than a tenuous blood relationship. Julian avoided his glare, focusing instead on the Emperor, amazed at his words.

'You mean to say I have no duties?' he inquired, astonished.

The Emperor chuckled. 'Only one. Since you so rudely insist upon being forewarned about plans that affect your little life, I will do so now. You have met my sister Helena, your cousin? No, of course not. You will soon enough. In two days' time you will be marrying her.' And nodding to his courtiers he strode away from the astonished Julian, resuming his earlier conversation with Barbatio as if all the events of that morning had been of no more consequence than a review of his troops.

VI

The next day, upon entering the gynaeceum escorted by me, the trusted family physician, harmless as an elderly eunuch and familiar as a lapdog, Julian marched directly to the couch on which the veiled empress was casually reclining, talking quietly with several of her ladies nearby, and knelt down on one knee. She glanced at him quickly, nodded to me politely where I knelt next to him, and then returned to finish the quiet conversation she was having. During this interval I took the opportunity to peer discreetly from beneath my brows in frank appraisal of the Empress. Though I am a professional, I am still a man, and though a Christian, I have not forsaken the appreciation of beauty.

She was a woman of exquisite taste, and with all the wealth of Rome and the goods of the world at her disposal, she had not stinted on her appearance. Indeed, I often marveled at the fact that rather than the fine linens and wools worn by most ladies of the court during the cool fall season, she still preferred the soft, clinging cotton shipped from India, and the lovely antique silks that had been carried painstakingly by caravan from China a century before, when the Parthian peace had still held. In these two materials she had draped herself voluminously yet delicately for this meeting, in the fashion of the day. The long, blindingly white cotton upper tunic fitted her body closely. A gauzy, almost transparent silken veil was thrown casually over her head and face, streaming over her shoulders and reaching down to her feet. The fabric hid and yet revealed in its folds the contours of her face, the whiteness of her teeth and eyes, and the long, olive smoothness of her slender upper arms. Around the hem of her tunic a purple braid embroidered in gold had been painstakingly stitched, a sign of her exalted status. This was matched by a similar braid fastened tightly around her slender waist, setting off the rounded fullness of her breasts and hips. Her jewelry was simple yet costly: a golden diadem in her hair, set with a single pearl; matching pearls in tiny rings on her ears; and a simple pendant on her breast. I was always pleasantly surprised to see that she had not succumbed to the current fashion of multiple bracelets, rings, and ankle circlets, for like the Greek sculptors, I detest such trappings as interruptions in the otherwise smooth, harmonious flow of the female form – from rounded shoulder to gently curved fingertip, from soft, white thigh to arched toe, an unbroken, gently undulating line that achieves perfection in its continuity and for which even the most intricately wrought Spanish silver clasp is an unendurable violation of purity.

I glanced sidelong at Julian and saw that he, too, was surreptitiously peering up at the Empress under raised brows. I returned my glance forward, and as my eyes traveled stealthily up her body to her face, I was surprised to find that even as she was talking with her maidservant, she was looking at Julian, appraising him quite as frankly as he was her; indeed, I noticed with some amusement, she was actually watching him watch her, and moreover seemed quite unabashed, even fascinated at what she saw. I raised my head as her conversation came to a close, and noted with disappointment her silent gesture with one finger of her right hand, indicating to her companions, and to me, to leave her alone with Julian.

The door clicked softly shut behind me, but Julian afterwards recounted the extraordinary conversation he had had with the Empress.

'I have long wished to meet you, my lady,' he began, 'and express to you my gratitude for the books and kind words you delivered to me during my wait.'

There was tinkling laughter behind the veil, which he found oddly familiar.

'I'm so glad you were able to enjoy them,' she said in her warm and unprepossessing voice. 'Was Plotinus properly filed, then?'

Julian looked up, startled.

'You... you're the cleaning girl that replaced Lucilla... I mean... begging your pardon, Your Highness, but...'

Eusebia looked down at him in amusement and carefully drew back the veil, folding it across the top of her head. 'You didn't know it was me, then? Oh, I am indeed delighted!'

He was stunned. 'But, Your Highness, why? After all my pleading for an audience, why did you not reveal yourself to me?'

'What, you are asking me now why I did not visit you alone in your rooms, without the Emperor's consent?' She laughed teasingly. 'My poor bewildered cousin-in-law. I am as fond of my head's position on my own two shoulders as I'm sure you are of yours.'

She continued to laugh, then sat up on the couch.

'Though you didn't think I would propose you for the rank of Caesar without first obtaining a proper glimpse of you myself?' she asked slyly. 'A woman may marry her husband sight unseen, as I did, but she does not make such a blind choice twice in her life. After all, when you arrived at Milan, your career, indeed your life, Julian, could have taken either of two different paths. To the extent that I could have an impact on the Emperor by... assisting him in his decision, I wished to have every possible fact at my disposal.'

At this he remained silent, at a loss for words. He was overwhelmed by her beauty, as he had not been by that of any woman before, for never in his short, sheltered life had he been in the presence of a female quite so lovely, and so powerful. The combination was intoxicating, suffocating, even, and he felt the room become suddenly very hot, the air stifling. He kept his eyes fixed upon the ground for a long moment, while she looked on in bemused detachment. Finally standing up, she walked slowly toward him, and placing her hand lightly under his chin lifted his face to meet her eyes, and with a smile gestured to him to rise.

He was surprised, when he did so, at her stature, for though he was only of medium height for a man, she was of extraordinary height for a woman, standing fully as tall as him, while wearing only her thin palace slippers. She seemed to have no compunction about compressing the aloof distance she usually maintained with her staff, and stood facing him barely a foot away, her shoulders back and spine straight, almost in a military stance, but with the laughing gleam in her eye and the smooth lines of her cheek effacing any thoughts of the harshness of command. Most disconcerting of all to Julian, as he recounted it to me afterwards, was the soft contours of her breasts, mere inches from his chest, their swelling outline visible beneath the quilted silken robe draped over her body. Unlike a physician, Julian had had little contact or experience with the female form, and her extraordinary beauty was something to which I was so accustomed that I had not even bothered to describe it to Julian beforehand. As she stood facing him, he forced himself with a supreme effort not to step back or look down, either of which might have been interpreted by the Empress as an insult or an indication of fear on his part. Rather, he stood straight and immobile, facing her, his eyes focused on a point beyond the top of her head. A trickle of sweat ran down his side under his left arm, soaking into the belt of his tunic, making him long to scratch his ribs.

She examined his face carefully. 'Certain things you have already received from us,' she said, using the royal plural, 'and if God wills it, you will receive others. This is provided that you prove to be faithful and honest toward us.'

'You know I am grateful for all you have done, my Empress. I would be honored to be of service in any way I am able.'

Eusebia again examined his face, though this time her eyes were not smiling as before.

'I assume you have been told by our physician Caesarius about the Emperor's... condition?'

Julian blushed, and gracefully lied. 'I would not presume to discuss such intimate matters with one outside the family, my lady...'

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.