Strangely enough, I needn't have concerned myself on this account: at the very height of the palace uproar, Julian's presence was suddenly recollected, and a peremptory summons was issued to him for an audience with Constantius in little more than an hour. On horseback, I accompanied the litter-bearers out to the villa to retrieve him, and watched as he prepared himself with resignation, for he was still completely in the dark as to what was to become of him. I myself had overheard fragmented discussions of his fate over the past several days from among the courtiers and eunuchs, hints of argument and dissent, of urgings for him to be eliminated as a possible threat to the throne, countered by equally persuasive arguments that the Emperor was in need of delegating his duties, so as to focus more of his own attention on the Empire's crumbling eastern borders. None of this, however, did I recount to Julian — he had no doubt already heard it all before, through his previous dealings with the palace eunuchs.
The trip into the city was the first Julian had taken since his arrival many weeks before, and he peered out the curtains of the litter in astonishment at the numbers of people thronging the streets. The occasion might have equally been a market day, or a public execution at the gallows platform in the palace courtyard. In response to Julian's shouted questions directed at the bearers, he received only a stony silence.
Arriving at the back gates of the palace to avoid the crowds gathering ominously at the front, he was met by a silent, scowling group of eunuchs, who inspected him there on the street. Even from where I stood at the edges of the group, quietly observing the scene, I could sense his agitation and contempt as he looked about him, trying to peer through the crowd of smooth and haughty courtiers surrounding him. They led him into the palace, where he was hastily stripped and rebathed, his hair dressed and oiled in the dandified manner he had despised ever since his school days. He was given a fresh and exceedingly elegant tunic and toga to replace the clean though threadbare student's clothes that had served him well since his trip to Athens months earlier. All his questions, put both politely and rudely, in both Latin and Greek, were met with studied silence, as if the attendants had been expressly forbidden to speak with him or, more likely, disdained to do so even if permitted.
At length he was led into the reception hall, where by this time the entire inner court had gathered in anticipation of the great event Constantius was about to stage. As always, I remained close to the Emperor in the event he should feel the need for one of the many syrups and tinctures I kept for his constant stream of maladies, both real and imagined. Though I tried to catch Julian's eye, to reassure him with a wink or a smile, his gaze as he approached was fixed steadily on the Emperor.
Constantius stood near a small fountain burbling into an exquisite mosaic rendering of the sea god Triton astride the backs of two dolphins. The eunuchs led Julian through the scattered groups of advisers and courtiers, who parted for him in goggle-eyed silence, their eyes ranging back and forth between the slim, hunch-shouldered young man, and the pacing, restless sovereign, the supreme ruler of the Roman Empire, the Augustus. As Julian approached, the room fell silent, with the single exception of the Emperor himself, who continued the low monologue he was giving to a slow-witted general named Barbatio, a lackey who had been instrumental in the treacherous seizure and murder of Gallus several years before. Constantius was facing away, and seemed to be in no hurry to finish the conversation and attend to his young cousin, and Julian shifted on his feet, staring fixedly at the back of the Emperor's head, fidgeting and tugging at the unfamiliar clothing. Barbatio glanced at him condescendingly, eyes filled with frank appraisal and malice, while the eunuchs exchanged superior smirks with each other and stood up all the straighter and more elegantly to emphasize the contrast between their own courtly and confident demeanor and that of the wretched student they had dragged unwillingly into the Emperor's presence.
Constantius finally finished his conversation and turned around, feigning surprise. Despite the Emperor's weeks of cold treatment, he greeted his cousin warmly, fatherlike, in fact, quite as if he had just arrived in the city with his feet still dusty from the road, rather than cooling his heels in the abandoned, echoing villa in the suburbs. Julian was astonished; the sight of Barbatio could not but make him wonder whether the Emperor had welcomed his brother Gallus the same way when he had been invested with the purple, before being led to his death a short time afterward. Julian's own reaction to the Emperor's greeting was stiff and formal. It was a studied effort to disguise the utter repugnance he felt toward this man, this killer of his family, while simultaneously avoiding an overly warm approach, which all present would have recognized as dissimulation and hypocrisy of the worst kind. His feelings toward the Emperor, though they had never met as adults, nor had either of them ever spoken of the matter, could hardly have been less secret, nor could the fact that the younger man was utterly beholden to the older for his very survival at this point. Protocol and simple human decency, however, prevented this from being openly acknowledged by either.
'My boy,' Constantius said, 'you look splendid. I'm pleased to see that my people seem to be treating you well at your new lodgings.'
Julian muttered his thanks, made brief mention of the hospitality he had been shown since arriving in Milan, and then fell silent. The Emperor stared at him expectantly, and with some irritation perhaps, as if waiting for further utterings to drop from his mouth. With a sigh, he turned to his chamberlain, who was hovering at the Emperor's elbow, wringing his hands in impatience.
'My lord,' said the eunuch, 'the platform has been prepared and the crowds assembled. I am afraid they are becoming impatient.'
'Very well. Come, Julian. I would prefer to keep your obvious discomfort to a minimum, and to finish this distasteful duty as quickly as possible.'
The young man blanched, though without losing his composure, and glanced quickly over at me. I could be of no help on this score, and after a moment averted my gaze. Resignedly, he straightened his shoulders and followed the Emperor's quick, waddling pace out the wide double doors and onto the broad wooden platform that had been assembled for the occasion over the stairs and balustrade that coursed up to the entrance. I remained with a small knot of advisers immediately behind them, in the shadows inside, just out of sight of the crowd.
Julian stepped into the harsh sunlight blinking in bewilderment, and a deafening roar rose up as the throats of thousands of men and women opened at the sight. For a hundred ranks away from the platform stood the Emperor's Praetorian guards and home legions, in perfect formation and attention, their spears in unerring vertical alignment over the thousands of brightly polished battle helmets and crimson horsehair crests, multicolored silken pennants fluttering lightly in the cool breeze. Beyond the ranks of soldiers stood the more motley crowds Julian had passed on his way into the city — townsmen and merchants who had been given the day off from their labors and summoned to the palace grounds with their families. In the distance, children and wives sat on the men's shoulders for a better view, while clusters of young, single laborers stood here and there shouting their encouragement to their fellows on opposite sides of the courtyard, waving skin wine bags and gourds, and flirting with gaggles of cackling prostitutes nearby.