Rivals in Blood Page 8

  ‘Bring us food to celebrate’ he ordered at which a table was set up with elaborate golden beakers of drink and silver plates bulging with fruits and olives.

  A finger gesture towards his cavalry general meant that he was to join him in the reward and the two congenially ate and drank under a rising sun as the parade ground resumed its tactics for them to inspect.

  ‘And the limitations are what?’ the emperor asked between mouthfuls of food and glancing up through half closed eyes towards his training field.

  ‘What would you say are the limitations of the clibinarii in battle?’

  The experienced horseman was specific and without fault in his answer.

  ‘We shall require strong animals together with flat ground which is large enough to form up upon and we are too heavy to chase fugitives after they break away from the battle. Neither can we manoeuvre well in tight formation due to the impedance of our own lances’ but he needn’t have been nervous of speaking the truth, for Constantius had immediately recognised his military advantage.

  ‘Enjoy my food’ he said pointing at the table before them.

  ‘I am going to have faith in you to win victory, for my enemy won’t have squadrons such as these. I know that he won’t. Get me more and quickly! Vetranio unknowingly is going to provide the horses for you and I will dress them!’

  Fresh from being tasked by his master Magnentius to quell the opposition in Roma, Marcellinus felt that he could relax in the tepid and murky waters of the bath house and having been in the company of the military command since the emperor seized the purple in Augustodunum he wasn’t going to embrace the rigours of camp life and saw fit that as the emperor’s favourite, then he could take as he pleased. The army’s base near Aquileia was close to the sea yet the temperatures had been uncomfortably high in the summer months of Julius and Augustus and he needed to shelter. Therefore, with its proximity to Mare Adriaticum, he simply had this villa requisitioned and the occupants evicted. Additionally, in its closeness to the harbour and lying on all the important roads, the town could also provide a means of escape if Magnentius’ revolt was ever compromised for he had bought himself a sea going vessel to remain hidden in a warehouse but that was a secret he was keeping to himself. Satisfied with his deceit he pushed way from the wall of the pool allowing the water to surge against his wrinkled back. Then in coming to a gentle stop he thought of his own plans and not having to work too hard in achieving them as others in their dissatisfaction were doing that for him. Life was certainly freer under the new emperor than it had been in serving Constans so he playfully slapped the naked bottom of one of the slave girls left for him as she forged past him to climb the steps and get out. So eager was he to pursue her in his lust that he hadn’t noticed Decentius quietly enter the room.

  He stared at them about to be compromised before laughing out.

  ‘Would my brother be surprised at your behaviour?’ he questioned.

  ‘She is a good choice but maybe for later. Get dressed Marcellinus. You; go!’ and the girl ran off with her arms tightly wrapped around her chest.

  ‘Am I not allowed to enjoy my spoils, Decentius? After all, I have worked for them in the emperor’s name.’

  He slapped the water with an open palm in remonstration.

  ‘You hear that my achievements speak for themselves... I have requisitioned the army supplies, organised recruitment and now successfully rid Italia of any threat to Magnentius’ rule. I am doing my duty to ensure that your brother stays in power!’

  The jibe hurt somewhat and led Decentius to threaten him, but in his brother’s name.

  ‘Despite where you are from you can be crushed in a moment like grape juice’ he said, his words echoing from the domed plastered roof.

  ‘There are others eager to take your place and less greedy than you are, more loyal and determined. Although my brother talks about offering you promotion, you will need to prove yourself to me.’

  ‘Can I get out in order that we discuss that?’ he said standing waist deep in the water and looking up.

  ‘Is the emperor going to join us?’

  ‘No’ his brother replied.

  ‘No he isn’t. He has been led away to search the town.’

  With water trickling down his prominent spine, the back of his legs and then pooling on the stone floor, Marcellinus resembled nothing like the ambassador that was required to bolster the revolt. Decentius, again ordering him to get dressed, excused himself and went into the atrium to wait. There, a fountain gently trickled away into its pool and motionless clouds overhead did their best to screen him from the falling heat of the sun. The slave girl now appropriately dressed herself, simply appeared out of the shadows with a beaker of white wine that she held out for Decentius to accept. She smiled kindly at him before slipping back into the kitchen, but it went unnoticed. Moments later came Marcellinus.

  Putting the beaker down Decentius didn’t want to waste precious time on delivering his message.

  ‘You are to prepare yourself for a journey to Heraclea’ he said.

  ‘When you arrive fully regale yourself to represent Magnentius before Constantius. You will be travelling unarmed and unaided and you will deliver this ultimatum to him.’

  Instantly shocked at the news of him having to return to the imperial court, Marcellinus stumbled over his answer. Travelling east would take him into direct contact with Constans’ brother and how would he explain that? He was seen as being complicit in the revolt although he could argue that he wasn’t and was purely acting out of sufferance. Constantius could have him killed in Heraclea after considering his embassy and the war would continue regardless. The whole mission appeared suicidal and why couldn’t somebody else go? He clapped his hands to alert the slave girl to return and requested wine to be brought immediately. With the sweat of the bath house barely off his brow he sipped the cool wine noisily before sitting down.

  ‘What am I to say that will change anything for the better?’ he almost begged to ask.

  Decentius looked upon him. His punishment for having the boat would have been too easy to hand out and he wanted Marcellinus to suffer that little more.

  ‘You are to say that we know Vetranio has now released Constantina in a good will gesture. We therefore suggest a joint marriage between the courts. Magnentius will marry Constantina and Constantius will marry my niece. The end result will be Vetranio allowed to remain emperor of Illyricum, Magnentius emperor of the west and Constantius can keep the east. There will be joint agreement all round without the need for conflict and there is no negotiating. You will then return here with his answer.’

  ‘Why me?’ posed Marcellinus and utterly afraid of the consequences of having to represent Magnentius.

  ‘Why not send a messenger? Am I not needed here? You said others were waiting to take my place’, but his questions were left unanswered.

  ‘That search of the town...’ slowly replied Decentius.

  ‘That search that my brother is on is for your boat. That is why you are going! Now prepare yourself and report to me later’, at which he placed his beaker gently down.

  Noticing that the pretty slave girl had tenderly slipped away from the shadow of the wall and back into the house he let her go but couldn’t help in casting his own jibe at Marcellinus who remained seated there.

  ‘I’d buy her favours one more time if you can’ he said.

  ‘It may be your last so don’t disappoint her!’

  Then gesturing obscenely with one finger he left as quietly as he had arrived.

  Chapter VI

  AD350

  INESCAPABLE

  Constantius’ thirteenth year in power had ground on and at thirty three years of age his mind still actively thrived with the need to find military solutions placed upon him by his enemies: Shapur in the east; Magnentius and Vetranio in the west. Resolutely he had marched the eastern legions under his banner from Antochia to Naissus along Via Militaris through Hadrianopolis to Serdica. Now he
was in proximity with the rebel general.

  Finding Naissus, the home of Vetranio deserted of his staff, he set about fortifying the town on the right hand side of the river and securing the crossing. With that done, his generals were then commanded to establish the remaining legions in a temporary camp to the west and as winter approached the prospect of having to sleep in a tent of damp leather was proving unpopular. The fortunate ones had found food and shelter in town houses requisitioned by force. Yet whether under tile or leather nobody could relax for despite the season the prospect of being attacked by Vetranio or Magnentius, suddenly sweeping down from the north was always going to be present and the army could only regard the lands hereabouts as hostile even if they had fought to save them in the past with Constantine. From standard bearer to cavalryman anxiety bore upon their weary faces with word spreading of the two joint armies about to converge. What dismayed them more was that having come from facing the Persian army of Shapur, proud Roman legions now looked set to be facing proud Roman legions and there were men there that had been transferred from camps along Fluvius Rhenus to the forts in the desert. Brother would now come up against brother and father against son. During the long march from Antochia they had had the time to reflect on that with their confidence beginning to wane. A compromise was what was needed; a sensible truce.

  ‘They will fight when mercenary arrows darken the skies overhead and fill their bellies with death.’ said Constantius after being openly told of the apparent dissolution of his men.

  ‘There is no compromise to be had; there will be no surrender and no agreement. Go back and tell them that!’

  ‘A few have requested being able to feast Saturn or Mithras at the year’s end’ reported the general.

  ‘Absolutely not!’ shouted the emperor without embarrassment.

  ‘They will pray to my father’s god after which we will celebrate and seek our salvation.’

  At that outburst Constantius stopped pacing to and fro to sit down in the sumptuous but empty halls of the Villa Mediana, the house so often used by his father to relax. The coloured geometric mosaic floor with its winged head of Medusa warmed by the hypocaust gently crackling away was pale in the winter sunshine that streamed in from a window, whilst outside pristine marble columns and bases held up a grand roof white with frost. The bath house that was ready for his use was clean and the kitchen was rich in produce that had followed him from the east.

  With war looming the local trade routes had been compromised and only the simplest of food was now being used to feed his troops. He feared that requisitioning the cavalry for fodder would prove difficult although mercifully Vetranio hadn’t emptied the barns totally before he fled north to Mursa. In the far distance that’s where he was, past where the road going north to Viminacium became lost against the snow topped mountains. Momentarily, he was safe there.

  The elderly Florus entered the room and as he did the emperor rose to greet him warmly by walking to him and embracing his arm in his own.

  ‘I am grateful to have you here with me’ he said.

  ‘Having arrived safely I have a good room for you’ pointing across the spacious building.

  ‘It’s far enough away from the chill of the fresh running water channels but close enough to enjoy the warmth of a heated floor. It’s good to see you. Are you hungry?’

  The elderly gentleman replied that he was.

  ‘Good’ said Constantius.

  ‘First go and take your daily rest. Afterwards we shall talk over dinner.’

  ‘Come’ and he led him into the safe hands of the house steward.

  ‘I will see you later.’

  With the yellow light from the bronze suspended oil lamps smearing against the ceiling and the house empty of all military officers, Florus rose from slumber to dine. Outside it was dark and another frost prepared to settle itself upon the one still adhering to the roof. Slaves had already brought in warm dishes to place on the table prepared for the two men and then had retired quietly as if they were never there at all.

  ‘Please be seated’ requested the emperor to his friend as he walked in and gesturing a place for him.

  Used to the best food of the court, Florus quickly did as he was asked and lifted a bowl towards him to examine its contents.

  ‘Duck and hazelnuts cooked with honey and red wine I hope?’ he said excitedly.

  ‘You know my favourites! What is there to go with it?’

  He drew another bowl towards him and sniffed it too.

  ‘Stuffed chicken! You must have brought the spices and the cook along with you. Pine kernels as well! You know that they don’t keep’ he said expertly.

  ‘But I can smell the ginger and lentils.’

  Amused by his taste for luxury, Constantius warned him kindly that the army didn’t always satisfy his own needs for a good meal and occasionally he had to eat as the soldiers did but tonight was different. Taking a small handful of the duck flesh and savouring its richness in his mouth, Florus then chose not to speak approvingly of the chef but looking around the triclinium and waiting until he had stopped chewing, remarked...

  ‘I feel that there is a lot of your father still here in this palace. I can sense his spirit is with us. He would certainly approve of your actions in wanting to destroy your enemies.’

  Constantius, taking his turn, pulled a little of the chicken off its carcass and in trying not to spill the sauce over him pushed the piece into his hungry mouth.

  ‘You think so?’ he said.

  ‘How can you be certain?’

  Florus wiped his hands with his napkin and prepared to answer.

  ‘I have always thought of Naissus as being between the East and the West’ he said.

  ‘But it is your father’s city Constantinopolis that has risen proudly to rival Roma. His religion has grown to embrace all peoples and he has settled the warring armies. The disputes and subsequent deaths of your brothers were beyond your control but it is as if you were meant to be here to finish his work. You are the only son left now to accomplish it.’

  Constantius thought a little on his old friend’s reply. It was what he had wanted to hear but a little of what he had not.

  ‘You speak of my father’s spirit’ he said.

  ‘Did you not hear of the petition of Marcellinus on the journey?’

  ‘Who is he?’ said Florus momentarily stopping eating.

  ‘Marcellinus is the ambassador of Magnentius and he came to me during the summer at Heraclea. He was once loyal to my brother.’

  ‘Did you listen to him and then have him killed?’

  ‘No’ choked Constantius.

  ‘His petition was that Magnentius would marry my sister Constantina and that I would marry his daughter in return. That family union would secure his loyalty and Magnentius, Vetranio and I would jointly rule the empire as one.’

  ‘That is an odd request and no solution if I may say so. What was your reply?’

  ‘I concluded that it wasn’t in my interest to do so. However, what troubles me at present is that in a dream my father appeared to me cradling my dead brother and imploring me not to accept any compromises. His spirit, as you have spoken of, called to me from beyond the grave. How can that be, Florus? How can my father enjoy life again? My faith has to be stronger now because of it. How could I ever allow Magnentius’ filthy blood to impregnate our family and dishonour it?’

  ‘Then what are you going to do?’ asked Florus waiting to give sound practical advice and reaching for the spiced wine, but the emperor had got there first.

  ‘Allow me’ said Constantius and carefully tilting the spout filled his friend’s cup.

  Both men had momentarily lost their appetite for food.

  ‘What I am going to do is request that Vetranio comes here in person. I am going to address him as a colleague and then you are going to witness his resignation before me! For months now I have had agents plotting to undermine his authority to call himself Imperator and that will have weak
ened the army in their support of him. They will turn to me instead.’

  With appetites restored the two men toasted the planning and carried on drinking until late into the evening when the emperor bid his friend sleep well and then retired himself at the going out of the lamp. All throughout the meal what Constantius hadn’t told him was that Vetranio’s army vastly outnumbered his own and subsequently his plot could fail. However, he had solved the Persian crisis by agreeing to marry his sister Constantina, whom Vetranio had released in a gesture of good will, to his cousin Gallus who would assume command over that war in Constantius’ absence. They joked and toasted her being out of the way of future meddling in palace affairs.

  At the court of Vetranio meanwhile an embassy was met where it was concluded that the two men would meet at Naissus to discuss the joint partitioning of the empire between them. Magnentius and Vetranio hadn’t reached common agreement on anything and following Constantius’ dismissal of their plans to secure a family union, Vetranio looked again to the east for sanction of his taking of the purple. As his forces were more numerous then he felt safe behind their loyalty and so decided to march south confident that he had served the family of Constantine with enough distinction to have trust in the last remaining son. Reconnaissance riders along the road to Viminacium were encouraged to report back to Constantius any movement of large forces heading south and they did just that. In full marching array they met with Roman legions striding ahead sloping their spears over their shoulders and carrying their oval shields in their left hands. Over their woollen tunics decorated in familiar circular patches they wore mail armour and over that to keep out the cold billowed their cloaks. Over their legs they wore long woollen trousers and on their feet heavy military boots. Cavalry riders, of whom they estimated to be more numerous, rode in close order behind and before the wagons. On the flanks of the column then rode the auxiliary horsemen ready to spread out if necessary.