Superior and Inferior; Aelius Aelianus, the prefect of Legio II Adiutrix: and Aelius Restutus, the governor of Noricum, had all been waiting dutifully for Gallienus in Sirmium. Claudius Natalianus had also arrived from his province of Moesia Inferior. Neither Veteranus of Dacia nor Valentinus of Moesia Superior had attended. Both pleaded the need for vigilance against the Goths from the Black Sea. In the latter instance at least, Gallienus knew this to be true. Apart from the Goths, the trans-Danubian barbarians were quiet, if only temporarily. Up the great river to the west, incursions were discouraged by the strong arm of Attalus of the Marcomanni. The ties were close between this German client king and the Roman emperor; Attalus was the father of Gallienus’s mistress Pippa.
There seemed nothing particular to cause concern in Rome. The plebs were not rioting more than usual, nor the senate scheming. The elderly and noble Nummius Ceionius Albinus was prefect of the city. He ought to be loyal to the dynasty. He had been a friend of Gallienus’s father, for what that was worth. A less formal but more efficacious eye was kept on the seven hills by Gallienus’s brother Licinius.
In Africa, there was talk of strange apparitions in the Atlas mountains, whispers of tribal insurrection, the movements of peoples, incursions of nomads from the south. Faraxen, the native rebel – was he dead or not? There were rumours of a cave below a distant peak, where his disembodied head sang the old songs and talked of new things. Always something new out of Africa. Nothing here that should be beyond the capabilities of Cornelius Octavianus. As the Dux of all the African limes, he, aided by Decianus, the governor of Numidia, had dealt splendidly the previous year with the Roman pretender Celsus. And there was Gallienus’s female cousin Galliena: the real mover behind the suppression of Celsus. As competent as any man, she was the emperor’s eyes and ears in Africa. It was Galliena that had thought to turn a large raiding party of Franks against Celsus. Now, settled on the late usurper’s estates, the German war band was a useful force against both indigenous unrest and over-ambitious Romans.
If the central body of the imperium was not in bad shape, the same could not be said for the west. There was no man Gallienus hated more than Postumus, no man he was more determined to kill. Two years earlier, on the Rhine, while governor of Lower Germany, Postumus had made a sordid attempt to embezzle money. Detected, Postumus had broken his sacred oath to his emperor. He had had his portraits fixed to the standards of Legio XXX Ulpia Victrix, had declared himself Augustus. The provinces of Germany and Gaul had joined him. Offered pardon, Postumus had replied with sanctimonious justifications, impertinent accusations.
At that time, Saloninus, the son of Gallienus, had been living on the Rhine in the town of Colonia Agrippinensis. Although no more than a boy, policy had dictated that Saloninus be declared Caesar, heir to the throne, and sent to show the imperial presence in the north. Postumus had besieged Colonia Agrippinensis. The inhabitants had bought their safety by handing over Gallienus’s son. Saloninus’s youth had not moved Postumus to pity. Gallienus’s golden, beautiful boy had been beheaded. It was said his body had been denied burial. Barred from Hades, his soul would wander; alone, cold and despairing.
Gallienus had prayed to Hercules for revenge. Hercules had answered: Postumus would be struck down, his rebellion come to nothing. But the ways of the gods can be slow. Gallienus knew he should try not to be impatient – what can time mean to the immortal? Gallienus could trust the word of Hercules. The god would deliver what he had promised; he was Gallienus’s special friend. But it was hard. Over the last few months, far from withering, Postumus’s Gallic empire – an evil empire founded on deceit, sacrilege and child murder – had grown.
Postumus and his cronies had the presumption to appoint consuls, as if Postumus were a real emperor and they actually held Rome. The two appointed for this year told a tale. Aemilianus and Titus Destricius Juba: both senators, ex-consuls, once supposed friends of Gallienus’s father. Both now rewarded for their treachery. Aemilianus, governor of Hispania Tarraconensis, had organized the defection of Spain to the rebels. Juba had done the same with Britain.
Despite Gallienus’s relentless diplomacy and the outlay of precious reserves of coin, the senatorial governors of the provinces of Spain and Britain had deserted. The moral was clear: the senate was not to be trusted, the senators hated their lawful emperor, the man to whom they had sworn the sacramentum.
Diplomacy, even had it been successful, was far from the emperor’s favoured option; it could only ever have been a stopgap. From the first, Gallienus had wanted direct military action; invasion leading to the – preferably slow and agonizing – death of the Batavian bastard Postumus. Again and again, however, something had got in the way.
The previous year, Gallienus had assembled at Mediolanum the largest field army straitened circumstances had allowed. But then the majority of it had to be marched east to fight the Macriani. Once Macrianus, father and son, were dead, Gallienus had crossed the Alps. It had been late in the season, but the campaign had begun well enough. Then the defection of the governor of Raetia, Simplicinus Genialis, had forced Gallienus to retrace his steps to guard Italy.
It was much the same this year. First there was Byzantium. The city was strategically important. It was both the best crossing between Europe and Asia, and it dominated the sea route linking the Aegean and the Black Sea. More important still, its continued defiance acted as an encouragement to any considering revolt. Gallienus’s hand had been forced. He had had no choice but to go there himself.
Now there was Egypt. Mussius Aemilianus, the governor, first had gone over to the Macriani. Then, after their defeat at Serdica, even though Quietus had still been alive in Syria, Mussius had declared himself emperor. Egypt provided most of the grain which gave the plebs of Rome the first element of bread and circuses. Without it, the plebs urbana would riot; the eternal city would burn, and the weakness of the regime would be evident. Egypt had to be regained.
Gallienus had written to Odenathus, his corrector in the east, ordering him to crush the pretender. The Lion of the Sun had replied he could not. Shapur the Sassanid, although he faced rebellion from some of his own subjects somewhere near the Caspian Sea, posed too potent a threat to allow Odenathus to spare the troops to conquer Egypt. Besides, Odenathus had nowhere near enough ships, and a fleet was essential to bring Egypt back into the fold.
At Gallienus’s word, warships had been gathered from the fleets at Misenum and Ravenna, and transports from the whole of Italy and Sicily. Again the majority of the field army had to be sent away. The expedition was entrusted to Theodotus and Domitianus, two of the best of the protectores. The former, as an Egyptian, knew the country well. They were ordered to rendezvous on Cyprus with the squadron of Venerianus once the latter had chased the Goths into the Black Sea. From there the force would proceed to Caesarea Maritima on the coast of Syria Palestina, collect what men Odenathus could give them, and then to Egypt.
Gallienus knew that, even if all went as well as it could, the Egyptian expedition could not return to Italy in time to cross the Alps before the autumn snows blocked the passes. Another year, and still Postumus would remain unpunished.
Indeed, there was another grave concern. With most of the imperial forces committed to the east, Postumus, despite his worthless, weasel words about remaining content with what he held, might think to invade Italy. At Mediolanum, the protectores Tacitus, Claudius and Camsisoleus had a pitifully inadequate number of soldiers. It was vital that Gallienus and the cavalry with him reached the north Italian plain as soon as possible.
Nummius Faustinianus was evidently nearing the end of his oration. Some weighty-sounding words on the theme of imperial virtues – virtus , clementia, iustitia and pietas: the ones inscribed on the golden shield which hung in front of the palatium – and it was done.
The comites shook back their cloaks. Urbane applause, nothing to concern the silentarii of the court, echoed around the high chamber.
Gallienus thanked his fellow consul: measured words, suitable to imperial dignitas. Now it was time for Gallienus to issue the orders he had formulated earlier while riding through the countryside of Pannonia.
‘Our Princeps Peregrinorum Rufinus has brought us news of troubling developments to the east of the Black Sea in Colchis and the Caucasus mountains.’
The emperor’s words, as was only right, were received with the hushed silence of anticipation, even awe.
‘The frumentarii stationed in those parts have sent reports that the agents of Shapur have been active. With bribes and false promises, the so-called King of Kings is attempting to subvert the loyalty to Rome of the rulers of Abasgia and the kings of Suania, Iberia and Albania. The peaks where once Prometheus suffered for humanity might seem far away, but the gaze of an emperor, like that of the sun, takes in the whole world.’
The comites quietly murmured their assent.
‘The plots of the treacherous Persian tyrant must be thwarted. Our magnanimity will not let the inhabitants of
