It was vengeance.
I did not have occasion to reflect long on such things, however, for it was during these times, just after my return from Sens with the news of the midwife's daughter, that another event became of much more concern to me. One sleepless night I had gone to his rooms seeking company, knowing that he would be awake and most likely happy to talk. When I arrived, however, I found his door closed, and soft conversation coming from within. Not the dramatic pauses and cries of declamation, as when he practiced his speeches, but rather animated conversation, even argument, and I stood thinking, uncertain whether to knock. I resolved not to interrupt him, and so sat a moment on a bench in the corridor outside his rooms, until my own thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the scribe who had been scheduled to take Julian's dictation for a shift.
It suddenly occurred to me that perhaps Julian had been dictating inside, and I spoke to the scribe.
'I believe he's busy with your predecessor,' I said as he went to open the door. 'Don't interrupt the Caesar until he finishes.'
The man looked at me in puzzlement. 'Can't be,' he said. 'I'm the first scribe he's scheduled for this evening.'
I stood up, surprised, and followed the man into the room, finding Julian sitting flustered behind his table, his books closed and set to the side, and a vacant, almost clouded look in his eye. There was no other person in the room. It was the first of many evenings that I would find him talking to himself.
IV
Julian's jaw dropped in astonishment as he stared at the ancient Eutherius, who, for the first time I had ever seen, had lost his normally unflappable composure.
'Half my troops? Half?' he roared, as the distraught old servant stood shifting from one foot to the other, wringing his hands.
'Those are the orders brought by the tribune Decentius, my lord,' Eutherius said. 'And, it is not merely half your troops, but the best half. The Emperor specifies that the Aeruli, the Batavi, the Celts, and the Petulantes are to be transferred in their entirety, with an additional three hundred men to be taken from each of the army's other units. Furthermore, the best of the scutarii and gentiles, your personal bodyguard, are also to be sent at once to the Emperor. Decentius is lodged at the city prefect's palace, and is awaiting a response to this demand by… by Sintula.'
Julian's head snapped up. 'Sintula? The head squire? The orders were sent to my squire?'
'Not precisely, my lord… they were sent to the cavalry commander Lupicinus, although I informed Decentius that he is currently in Britain with the auxiliaries, putting down an uprising by the Picts. Instead the orders were delivered to the letter's secondary recipient, Sintula, whom I regret to say is now hastening to obey them and is selecting the finest troops from your legions as we speak.'
Julian had been caught off guard, but almost immediately regained his composure. Naturally the Emperor, as the highest authority of the state, had every right to skip hierarchy and to pass orders to lower-ranking subordinates if he so chose, but this was unprecedented, unnatural, a case that the law books would refer to as summum ius, summa iniuria — a right pushed to its extreme may be an injustice.
He set his jaw. 'Summon this Decentius immediately,' he said simply and curtly. Eutherius' eyes widened, and he began hastily backing out of the room, but Julian suddenly called him back. 'And, Eutherius,' he said, thoughtfully and slowly, 'summon the physician Oribasius also, for a consultation.' At my questioning look he averted his eyes for a moment. 'I have not spoken with my old friend for some time,' he said quietly, before putting his head back down to his work.
Decentius apparently defined the word 'immediately' differently than did Julian, for he was idling in his rooms when Eutherius arrived, and insisted that after his long journey he be allowed to take a short nap and freshen up before attending to the Caesar's summons. Besides, he said, his business was with Sintula, and he saw no need to respond to Julian's request — if he did decide to meet with him, it would be at his pleasure, not the Caesar's.
Six hours later, past midnight, he strode insolently into Julian's office, no doubt thinking to surprise him in a weary and impatient state of mind by arriving at such an hour — though in this case it was he himself who was surprised, for Julian had just wakened from his own nap a few moments before, was chatting with me, and was as rested and relaxed as a baby. The tribune hid any reaction he might have had, however, and after a cursory bow to the Caesar, sat down silent and uninvited, and looked around with clear distaste at the bare walls and shabby furnishings of the Spartan workroom.
Julian stared at him a moment as if sizing him up. The man was a senior courtier to Constantius, accustomed to being sent on sensitive embassies, and evidently bored with his duties at remote outposts like Paris, though not with the finer lifestyle that accrued to him while at home in Rome. He was a large man, gone soft from recent years of inactivity but still bearing a muscular frame and the stately posture of the senator he had once been. The fine linen of his toga and the exquisite, understated quality of the expensive rings on his hands were in sharp contrast to the Caesar's plain, unadorned, and almost purposefully unkempt appearance, which some might have attributed to his lingering mourning for Helena, but which was simply due to his refusal to waste time or money on superficialities. Finally Julian allowed himself a small, sly smile as he looked straight into the man's eyes.
'Thank you for your visit, Tribune. You are welcome to any of my services or facilities for as long as you stay in Paris. Perhaps I might even arrange for you a tour of our nearby garrisons and camps?'
This time Decentius found it impossible to hide his surprise, for he had clearly been expecting a hostile reaction. Though at first taken aback, he recovered quickly.
'I see no need to prolong my visit. I have delivered my orders to Sintula and will be departing as soon as the troops have been readied.'
Julian nodded slowly. 'I have been informed of the Emperor's orders, and I hasten to do all that I can to comply with the will of my ruler. As you know, however, over the past five years I have spent considerable time in the field, training and campaigning with my troops, and I feel a good deal of affection toward them, as a father toward his newly grown sons. And just as a father would, I feel a concern for their welfare which the Augustus, in all his wisdom, might perhaps not have anticipated. Might I therefore ask what the Emperor's intentions are for my men?'
Decentius stared at him warily, as if attempting to discern whether any treachery might be involved in his question, but seeing none in Julian's face, he finally shrugged.
'I see no reason why you should not know. The Emperor intends to place your Gallic troops at the spearhead of his campaign against Persia. King Sapor has recently attacked our eastern frontiers, and our legions in the East have a pressing need for troops. The Emperor has concluded that there is no threat of war in Gaul, as the barbarians have abandoned all their aggressions, apparently in fear of his reprisals. The fame of his Gallic troops has spread far beyond their region, even to the court of Sapor, who trembles at the thought of facing Constantius' courageous Gauls. Hence his determination to transfer unneeded troops from your command to that of his generals in the East.'