Gallienus would have let Postumus live. Clementia was natural to him. He had sent a laconic message from Italy which left a way open: 'What are you doing? Behave! Do you seek battle?' The sanctimonious insolence of the reply — 'Do not come north across the Alps, do not put me in a position of fighting Roman citizens' — had infuriated Gallienus. Yet Gallienus had tried again — 'Let it be settled by single combat.' Postumus's answer had been even more galling: I am not a gladiator, nor have I ever been one; rather I have served those provinces which you ordered me to save. I was elected emperor by the Gauls; and I am content to rule those who chose me of their free will. I will help them according to the best of my counsel and capacity.
The snide implications and the self-righteous tone were maddening. But all Postumus's words palled into nothing beside his actions — his hideous, hideous actions.
Postumus had marched on Colonia Agrippinensis, where Silvanus watched over Gallienus's young son, the Caesar Saloninus. The evil Batavian bastard Postumus had invested the city. Food had run short. Scared, overawed by threats, the cowardly citizens had bargained for their safety. They had secured it — at a price. Silvanus and Saloninus had been handed over in chains. Saloninus, Gallienus's golden, beautiful boy, was killed out of hand with his guardian. What terrors must have gone through his young mind before the sword fell?
Gallienus had vowed to Hercules that Postumus would die — Postumus, his family, friends, every soldier in Legio XXX, and every man, woman and child in the town of Colonia Agrippinensis.
Gallienus had thought that Hercules had listened. The war of retribution had begun well. It had been late to start a campaign, but they had crossed the Alps before the traitors knew they were coming. And then, another betrayal. Genialis, the faithless acting governor of Raetia, had declared for Postumus. He threatened their rear. With the comitatus away to the west over the Alps, there was nothing to stop Genialis crossing the mountains and invading Italy from the north. Gallienus had been forced to halt at Cularo. Now he would have to retire to Mediolanum. Next year, he would have his vengeance.
But would it be next year? In the east, Macrianus the Lame had prospered. From the Aegean to Egypt, every Roman province had acknowledged his sons, Quietus and Macrianus the Younger, as emperors. Next year, the old cripple Macrianus must make his play for Rome. Much of his field army was composed of detachments from the armies of the west. They would demand to return home, force his hand.
Thanks to the successes of Ballista in Cilicia and Odenathus in Mesopotamia, the Sassanids would be quiet next year. There was unrest in the eastern reaches of the Persian empire. By the Caspian Sea, the Cadusii and the Mardi were said to be in open revolt. Macrianus would march west and Gallienus would have to postpone his revenge on Postumus to meet him.
Only one man could stop Macrianus marching in the spring: Odenathus. The Lord of Palmyra had fought the Persians, but he returned ambiguous answers to Gallienus's smuggled letters. He had yet to declare for his rightful emperor or the young pretenders in the east. So much rested on the enigmatic Lion of the Sun.
Gallienus thought of his old friend Ballista. He had listened to the Angle's secretary, Demetrius. He had not harmed the young Greek. There was no advantage in it, and the boy was handsome. Demetrius was to remain at court. Gallienus's spies had informed him of the reappearance in Antioch of Ballista's wife and sons. His old friend was trapped again in the service of Macrianus. Gallienus felt no ill will towards Ballista, but the northerner could not be allowed to lead Macrianus's army to the west. He was too good a general. It was not a problem. All it would take was for one of the frumentarii under Rufinus, Gallienus's new Princeps Peregrinorum, to speak to one of those serving under Censorinus, the spymaster his father had been so misguided to trust. Hand over a report of Demetrius's words along with Ballista's ring, with its image of Cupid winding a siege engine, and Macrianus would do the rest.
Gallienus felt sorry for Ballista, but politics was politics. Anyway, Ballista's sons had returned, as if from the dead. Saloninus was not coming back. Poor, poor lost Saloninus. Conservator Pietatis — one of the coin types those in charge of the mint had shown him. What a cruel irony. Publius Licinius Egnatius Gallienus, emperor of Rome, the preserver of piety — unable to avenge his murdered son, unable to rescue his elderly father.
They were nearing the biggest house in Cularo. It had been voluntarily offered as imperial accommodation. No matter how enforced the offer, the owner would have some explaining to do this winter, after the comitatus had left and men retook the town in the name of Postumus.
The sharp wind fretted at the wreaths of bay and oak leaves which marked the emperor's residence. As ever, there was a crowd waiting outside. Among them, Gallienus recognized the bearded figure of Plotinus the Platonist philosopher. The emperor told Voconius Zeno, his recently appointed a Studiis, to detain the lover of wisdom. In normal times, Gallienus liked Plotinus's company well enough; in Rome, he and his wife Salonina had enjoyed his conversation. But these were not normal times. This afternoon, Gallienus required other consolations, not those of philosophy.
PART FIVE
Capax Imperii (The East, Winter AD260-Summer AD261)
'The ways of the gods are slow, but in the end their power is shown.'
Up on the dais in the palace in Antioch, the chief men of the imperial entourage were in place. The two youthful emperors, Macrianus the Younger and Quietus, were enthroned. To their left, their father, Macrianus the Lame, sat on a curule chair nearly as high and nearly as elaborate as the thrones. There were no other chairs. Beyond the father was the spymaster Censorinus, backed by the imperial secretaries. To the right of the emperors stood Maeonius Astyanax, the senior Praetorian Prefect; Ragonius Clarus, the Prefect of Cavalry; and, on the end, as the other Praetorian Prefect, Ballista.
A gust of rain rattled against the windows of the great apse. Outside, it was a cold and grey midwinter morning in Antioch. I am getting soft, thought Ballista: back home in Germania this could pass for mild spring weather. Where Calgacus comes from, this is probably a balmy summer's day.
The ab Admissionibus drew back the hangings at the far end of the big room. Blinking a little in the many lights, the governors who supported the Macriani entered: Piso of Syria Coele, Cornicula of Syria Phoenice, Pomponius Bassus of Cappadocia, Achaeus of Palestine, Virius Lupus of Arabia, Mussius Aemilianus of Egypt, Theodorus of Cyprus and Trebellianus of Cilicia. With them was Sampsigeramus, the client king of Emesa.
Nine powerful men, but it was interesting who was not there: no governors west of Cilicia — above all, not Maximillianus of Asia; and from the east, no Aurelius Dasius of Osrhoene nor, most crucial of all, Odenathus Lord of Palmyra. Certainly all except the Lion of the Sun had sent excuses: illness, bandits or barbarian raiders. It could mean a great deal, or nothing. Politics in the imperium, when the stakes were as high as this, never admitted an easy reading.
The next wave of the consilium was ushered in — some forty senators, headed by the ex-consul Fabius Labeo, the nobilis Astyrius and a relative of the Macriani called Cornelius Macer. It was impressive. Admittedly, long ago, more had fled east to join Mark Antony in his doomed campaign against Octavian. Yet the imperium was now divided three ways between Gallienus, Postumus and the sons of Macrianus. To assemble so far from Rome about one in twelve of all senators was impressive.
The final group was shown in — a huge throng of equestrians, almost all junior military officers: prefects, tribunes and the like. Among them, the bright-red hair of tall Rutilus stood out. Ballista also caught sight of the pointy face of Castricius. The latter winked. He had come a long way since being a slave in the mines.
At a sign from the ab Admissionibus, the members of the consilium performed proskynesis. As he got up, Ballista saw that Macrianus the Elder had merely leant a little forward and blown a kiss. The lesser form of adoration could be put down to his age and incapacity, but it could be interpreted as something very different.
When the comites were back on their feet, the senators looked around, trying not to give evidence of their surprise and displeasure at the lack of seats. Ballista could see what the regime was attempting: trying to mark the
