Horns sounded from the military array, and the delegates of the troops began to step forward and take their oaths. When all had spoken, it was the turn of the Protectores. Castus had already sworn in private, of course. This was the public display of loyalty to the new regime. In his mind was the closing phrase of the vow he had taken to Constantine in the audience hall of Treveris. The terrible penalties of disloyalty.
…I impose a curse upon myself encompassing the destruction and total extinction of my body, soul, life, children, and my entire family, so neither earth nor sea may receive their bodies nor bear fruit for them…
Turning towards the podium, towards the glowering figure of Maximian, Castus raised his hand in salute and joined his voice to the others in crying out the oath.
May the gods forgive me. May the true emperor forgive me.
But the words in his head were drowned out by the ringing cheers of the crowd.
Part Four
20
‘By the fucking almighty balls of Jove, why is he still alive?’
Maximian’s roar echoed through the audience chamber and out to the corridor. Standing guard beside the open doors, Castus resisted the urge to turn and glance back into the room. The new emperor had been drinking since just after lunch; it was dusk now. Castus had seen Maximian drunk often enough, but had never witnessed him so angry. The news of Constantine’s rapid advance southward from the Rhine had arrived only hours before.
‘Didn’t I tell you to see to it?’ he yelled. ‘Why did I make you Praetorian Prefect, Scorpianus, if you couldn’t even manage that? You were supposed to send men to kill him, not warn him! How hard is it?’
On the far side of the door, Sallustius stood motionless. When he glanced across at him, Castus saw the face of his former friend creased with embarrassed anguish. Scorpianus was speaking now, his measured tones tight with discomfort.
‘Most Sacred Augustus,’ the Praetorian Prefect said, ‘I assure you that the men we sent were the very best. They were apprehended on the road – some traitor must have given warning… But they will give nothing away, even under the fiercest torture…’
A sudden ringing crash: Maximian had either thrown his cup at the wall or kicked over a table. Castus could hear his snarls of outrage, his stamping strides as he paced from one side of the room to the other.
‘So now,’ Maximian said in a low growl, ‘my bastard son-in-law is marching against me. He dares! He dares march against the Man Like Hercules! That horse-faced fraud. I never liked him, Scorpianus. He has no sense of fucking humour.’
Castus heard the prefect making sounds of assent. There were several others in the audience hall, but they were sensibly keeping quiet.
‘And to think,’ Maximian went on, ‘I made his father everything he was! I raised him up, his father Constantius, with my own hand, do you know that?’
‘Yes, your divinity,’ Scorpianus replied.
‘Appointed him my prefect, then my Caesar… And this is how his son repays me, can you credit it? Where are the gods? Where is justice?’
‘I don’t know, your divinity.’
For a while they fell silent, and Castus strained to hear what was happening. He kept his head motionless, staring across the corridor at the darkening windows above the courtyard. A chair grunted on the marble floor, then Maximian spoke again.
‘Haven’t we got people in his retinue? I am the Senior Augustus, the Maximum Augustus, of the entire Roman Empire, and if I want somebody to die they are dead!’
‘Quite right, emperor,’ Scorpianus told him crisply. ‘We have many agents, as you know. One of them will see to him before long…’
‘Or maybe one of his will see to me, eh?’ Maximian broke in. ‘Half my people are traitors anyway – betrayed one emperor, could betray another…’
‘Oh, no, divinity. Your troops and officers are devoted to your cause…’
But the emperor’s mood had clearly shifted. There was another silence, and then Maximian spoke again in an imploring voice.
‘I never asked to fight Constantine!’ he cried. ‘The gods know I did not! I would have ruled by his side. He could have been my subordinate, my Caesar, as his father was before him. I could even have loved him, as a son-in-law. But no!’
‘Sacred Augustus, the gods have decreed your rule…’
‘Shut up!’ the emperor shouted, and Castus could almost see Scorpianus flinch. The shout died away in echoes.
‘Surrounded by traitors,’ Maximian said. ‘My daughter’s no better – I told her what to do! I told her to wave those huge tits of hers around a bit more. He’d soon have given up that dry old stick Minervina then, and we’d have an heir to cement the union! But, no, she’d rather sulk and pout and stuff her face, the pig…’
Silence from Scorpianus, and the others in the room. Castus was not surprised; they had learned by now that it was never wise to agree too strongly with Maximian’s outbursts. The emperor had an unnervingly acute memory.
‘Send those two guards in here!’ he demanded suddenly. Castus tensed, and caught Sallustius doing the same. A moment later, Scorpianus stepped through the doors and gestured to both of them.
They followed him back into the audience chamber. Maximian was slumped on a carved wooden chair set upon the low dais in the centre. Only ten days had passed since he had been acclaimed Augustus once more, but he seemed to have aged years. His face was flushed and pouched, his hair and bristling beard run through with grey, and the hands that gripped the arms of the chair were corded with veins. Shards of shattered glass and pottery on the floor showed the evidence of the emperor’s rage. The two Protectores stamped to a halt at a respectful distance, saluted, and dropped to kneel before him.
‘Am I your emperor?’ Maximian growled.
‘Yes, dominus,’ both men said in unison. Castus kept his eyes locked on the tiled floor, but he could sense the emperor looming over him.
‘Yes? So if I ordered you to go and kill Constantine, you’d do it?’
A pause. Castus felt the blood rushing to his head. The prospect was dizzying – terrible and enticing at the same time. Escape from Maximian’s court – but then what? Would he even be believed if he tried to report the truth?
Maximian was still waiting for an answer. Scorpianus bent closer, spoke under his breath.
‘What?’ the emperor said, frowning. ‘Oh, maybe not, then. It seems even my own guards are not to be trusted!’
‘Your divinity, that wasn’t what I meant… We have other agents, more versatile…’
‘Versatile!’ Maximian spat the word. ‘Send that bastard Constantine to me and we’ll fight it out, man to man! Then we’ll see who the gods favour…’
Castus slowly eased out a breath. There was another man speaking now, and it took a moment for Castus to recognise the surprised-looking civilian who had visited the torture room with Scorpianus and the eunuch. He recalled his name: Aelius Macrobius, the governor of the Viennensis diocese.
‘Our latest reports, most sacred emperor,’ the man said, his voice smoothly urbane, ‘suggest that Constantine is moving south with only a small contingent of men, no more than three or four thousand. He has been obliged to leave the bulk of his army on the Rhine, to guard against the barbarians. Also, he has no siege engines and only a limited supply train – his men are already on half-rations.’
‘Really?’ Maximian said with renewed enthusiasm. ‘No engines? Four thousand men?’ He began to laugh, smacking his fist into his palm. ‘Then the gods truly are on my side, at last! Once my son sends his four legions and two thousand clibanarii across the Alps, we’ll smash Constantine easily! We’ll smear his little army all over the plains of the Rhodanus!’