how he was expected to lift her over the threshold.
The days following the wedding were spent in a whirlwind of preparations for Julian's departure to Gaul. This process was, if anything, as frustrating and maddening to the newly minted Caesar as had been the weeks of waiting in the villa for Constantius' summons. The Emperor was even more imperious toward his young cousin than he had been before, though he mostly managed to ignore him completely. On occasions when they were compelled to be seen together, for official ceremonies and the like, the Emperor forced a false fatherly attitude that Julian and the rest of us watching had to grit our teeth to endure. The eunuchs followed suit; as they passed by the young Caesar, they walked almost through him, as if he were no more than a shade, or at best a mendicant who had mistakenly wandered into the palace and was to be politely ignored until he found his way back out again. Nor was the Empress Eusebia of any assistance, as she had been before Julian's investiture; his abrupt rejection of her favors had seen to that. He wandered the corridors in a daze, in a splendid yet severe captivity, seeking me out when he could, though the frequent importunings of the Emperor and Empress ensured that I had little time to spare for consoling him.
Two events cheered him considerably, however. One was the arrival in Milan of his personal physician, a jolly but wheezing satyr named Oribasius who had attended to the health and diet of Julian and his brother until their adult years. When the boys had moved on with their studies and careers, Oribasius had pleaded that his asthma was worsening and stepped into an early retirement, which he spent compiling an enormous, and largely plagiarized, medical encyclopedia. Constantius had insisted that a man of the rank of Caesar not travel on such an arduous journey unaccompanied by a personal physician, and, at Julian's look of incomprehension, had taken it upon himself to send a squad of guards to Oribasius' home on the outskirts of Constantinople, and drag him bodily, if need be, to Milan. Force, as it transpired, was unnecessary, for Oribasius had been bored out of his wits in his research, and welcomed the relief from his daily routine of dictating and filing. Though Julian was overjoyed at Oribasius' arrival, I myself was less than pleased at the physician's condition, for he was a specimen singularly ill- suited for harsh service in Gaul — he was as flabby as Constantius, though approximately the same age, and bore a severe limp in both legs, if that is possible, suffering simultaneously from arthritis and gout. I feared the physician was to be more of a patient than a healer on such a strenuous trek.
The Caesar's other source of cheer, to the great surprise of all, was his new wife. During his days of wandering the halls before the departure for Gaul, and indeed later on the trip itself, Julian took his newfound responsibilities as husband and lover quite seriously for someone who, to my knowledge, had never in his life been with a woman; and he made considerable effort to gain familiarity with the mind of his new bride. Helena was four years older than he, and an odder match you have never seen, particularly one for a Caesar. Though outweighing him by some twenty stone, despite her shorter-than-average height, her temper was as sweet as her brother's was foul. She was still a virgin despite her years, and to my knowledge had never even had suitors. Constantius' viciousness and fickleness had dissuaded them, even those who might otherwise have overcome their natural aversion to her homeliness in exchange for a chance at becoming Caesar and ultimately Emperor. Julian, however, had unwittingly stumbled onto the entire package, but was determined to take his vows seriously, and to make the best of the bewildering situation.
As for the preparations for departure: haste was imperative, since by now public reports of the disaster in Germany were beginning to trickle in, and it would be impossible to keep news of the situation confidential much longer. Julian, Constantius reasoned, had to be put on the road and be well on his way to his destination before he had an opportunity to hear confirmation of the ugly rumors or portents, and decide to escape altogether on the next mule train to the coast. The Emperor himself, in fact, had resolved to accompany the party several days out of Milan, to ensure the stiffness of his new second-in-command's backbone.
When the time finally arrived for the departure for Gaul, a blustery day in November, the young Caesar climbed into his sedan chair for the ceremonial ride out of the city next to the matching chair of his new bride, who had resolved to accompany her husband. Her bearers, however, labored hard under the weight of their burden, and each uttered a prayer to the aforementioned virgin Saint Lucia, who, when seized by Diocletian's agents to be taken away for martyrdom, was rendered immovable by her great weight. Constantius and his enormous retinue, including myself, were accompanied by a detachment of what the Emperor referred to as top-tier, handpicked, crack soldiers to serve as the new Caesar's guard. To my way of thinking, Brother, they were the most poorly trained, underfed lot of conscripts I have ever had the displeasure of marching with. Julian himself observed that the only thing these soldiers seemed to know how to do was pray, which strangely, and somewhat unnervingly, they did incessantly, at all hours of the day and night, both singly and in groups, and perhaps it was this that later allowed us to successfully cross the Alps in the middle of December without losing a single man. If the efficacy of their praying can indeed be proven, and I'm sure, Brother, that you would be loath for me to even consider otherwise, then they were possibly the most effective detachment of soldiers the Emperor could have assigned us.
It was not until the party arrived at the designated point of separation, a place lying between Laumello and Pavia marked by two columns, that Julian was informed of the fall of Cologne. I was in the tent in attendance upon Constantius at the time, treating one of his endless series of ailments and goiters, and when the news of Cologne was imparted Julian stared in wide-eyed astonishment, and then swore at his cousin so brashly and spontaneously that Helena, who was also present in the Emperor's tent at the time, burst into tears. Constantius was not in the least put out, however, and did not even lose the smirk he had been wearing almost every moment since Julian's investiture.
'So, little cousin,' he said, 'is this the eloquence they teach you at the vaunted Academy at Athens? All the better that we remove you and put you among the foot soldiers where you belong.'
Julian glared. 'You brought me to this, Constantius — you set me up for failure. Why you didn't simply make a clean break of me, I can't imagine.'
'Ah, Julian — because you're family! And you may be the only man in the entire Empire who would possibly complain at all you've been given. Now listen, ingrate: you are now traveling beyond my control. No more of your conferences with magicians, no more of your research into the nature of the pagan gods. Believe it or not, I know of your frolic with the Eleusinians in Athens. From this point on, you represent me, and the One Church. No one and nothing else. Forget that at your own peril, boy.'
I suddenly realized the significance of the benighted ascetics that Constantius had dressed in soldiers' togs and sent as protection. Julian spun in a fury, strode to the waiting sedan chair, and climbed in, angrily snapping shut the curtains.
Completely on the spur of the moment, out of fear for the young Caesar's safety on his journey, I approached the Emperor a moment later, just as his own sedan chair was about to be lifted to be carried back to Milan.
'My lord,' I began, 'as you know, the Caesar has been like a brother to me since our initial acquaintance in Athens. Please — allow me to accompany him the rest of the journey to his headquarters in Gaul. There are many other fine physicians in Milan who will be able to attend you in the interim — but as for your cousin, there is only Oribasius, who despite his wisdom is quite beyond his capacity when it comes to caring for the Caesar on such a journey.'
The Emperor looked down at me haughtily, glad to be done with Julian and impatient to return to the more pressing business of his eastern front. He seemed positively irritated at my request, not so much at losing me as at being reminded of a problem he thought he had finally eliminated several moments before.
'Yes, yes…' he said, waving me off absentmindedly as he scanned a dispatch one of his generals had handed him. 'Just return, will you, after his arrival at Vienne?'
He gave no thought, I noticed, as to precisely how I was to return back through the mountains in the dead of winter. The Empress, upon hearing my request, looked at me in alarm, and opened her mouth as if to say something to the Emperor about the inadvisability of my leaving them. Constantius, however, was already deep in a conversation about the eastern question and could not be distracted. I turned before the Empress could say anything to detain me, raced back to the tent and to my waiting luggage, threw it upon the horse, and galloped after Julian's train, which had just departed.
I rode up immediately to his chair and announced somewhat breathlessly that he would have an additional man for company, if he would agree to take me on. His face was still flushed in anger, but turning his head he looked at me with some surprise. It took a moment for my words to sink in, but when they did his expression immediately softened, and he stretched his hand out the litter with a broad grin and slapped my forearm in delight.
'What, you're traveling with me, then? And all the way to Gaul? I saw you riding behind us just now, but I
