The Bishop said, “Do you aspire to the throne also, like Victorinus?”
I walked down the hall and passed him in silence. To him I would not speak. Quintus turned and followed me in puzzled silence.
Out in the street, on our return to Romulus, with the torches flaring in the summer night and the reassuring tramp of my guard about me, we looked at each other.
He said, “You went into that room of ghosts to ask a question. I see from your face that something happened. What, I will not ask. But this I do ask—did you receive an answer?”
“Yes,” I said. “It was not the answer I wanted, but that in itself is of no importance.”
“What will you do?” he said.
“I shall do what Stilicho asked. Afterwards, if the spirits are kind, I shall take over the province in the name of Honorius, not for myself, but for Rome.”
“Which province” he asked.
“I will tell you that when the time comes.”
The duty centurion showed the Curator into my office, and he sat down cautiously upon a stool facing the table at which I sat.
“Will you drink with me?” I said. He nodded and I poured him a cup. He watched curiously while I poured the libation. He said, “I have never seen a man do that before.” He looked at me steadily. “You know it is against the law?”
“Yes. Of course, this is a great centre of your religion. Do I offend you? I hope not.”
“It is wrong.”
“Is it? That is a matter we might debate all night. Come, if I can tolerate your faith I am sure that you can learn to tolerate mine.”
He did not smile. He said, “Do you really mean to close the frontier?”
“I do.”
“There is a silver mine at Aquae Mattiacae opposite Moguntiacum. It used to be worked by the government. But that was before I was born. Now the Alemanni use it. They set a high value on silver and they exchange it for goods that we are willing to sell them. Many of our merchants do a considerable trade across the river in pottery and glass and clothes and—other things.” He paused and then said pleadingly, “Many people will be upset if this trade is stopped.”
“I cannot help that.”
“You will not change your mind?”
“No.”
He said enviously, “You must be a very wealthy man.”
“I am not. But what has that to do with it?”
“Forgive me, but—if you are not—then I do not understand.”… He trailed off awkwardly into silence.
“I am sorry, I do not follow you.”
He said hesitantly, “Few imperial posts pay well. It has always been accepted custom that—well, there are ways in which one can add to one’s salary. There are certain perquisites, of course. This matter of closing the frontier is, surely, properly a matter for disputation before an appointed commission. You, as governor, have judicial powers. Those with vested interests would appear before you to plead their case. Such a matter would—would provide suitable—opportunities—for—for a settlement of some kind.”
I remained silent.
He said, “I—I thought that, perhaps, was what you had in mind.” He looked at me hopefully.
I said, “I understand quite clearly what you are saying. I would not presume to suggest that you are dropping hints on behalf of others. That would be ungenerous.” I paused. I said, “It is kind of you to take such a close interest in my welfare but it is quite unnecessary.”
“Then you really meant what you said?”
I nodded. “In administrative circles, I believe, there is a saying that good governors die poor. I shall do my best, I promise you, to live up to it.”
He said coldly, “Then if you really intend to close the frontier I shall have to report the matter to the Praefectus. It is my duty.”
“I shall not stop you. Tell me, Artorius, is that why the council was upset when we had that meeting? They have interests themselves, perhaps.”
He said stiffly, “A civic council is naturally concerned about trade. It is a part of their responsibility.”
“Naturally.”
He drank his wine and made a face as he did so.
I smiled. I said, “I am sorry if the wine is not up to your standard. As for myself—I have drunk tavern wine all my life.”
He said, “What did you wish to see me about then, if not the frontier?”
“A number of matters. I shall need a great deal in the way of supplies from the government factories here. My quartermaster will give your department the details. I shall need them quickly. The work must be speeded up. Five years ago when I needed helmets for my men I was told that each worker could only make four in a month. I want six.”
“It is too many.”
“In Antiochia they can make six each in thirty days, and decorate them too. We must do the same.”
He made a note on a wax tablet. “I will see what I can do.”
“Then there is the matter of recruits. A good number of my men are due to retire shortly. I need more troops. I must have them. I want an order out conscripting all sons of soldiers and veterans who are fit. They are to report to the garrison commander here who will train them.” He looked startled at this. He said, “I will write to the Praefectus Praetorio for authority. Is that all?”
“No, there is the question of pay for my troops.”
He said, “It is customary for field troops to be paid in kind. They get bounty payments from time to time but, normally, they rely on their rations.”
“Thank you for telling me. But my men are not part of the field army now. They are frontier troops and these are paid only in money. They are owed half a year’s pay as it is. I imagine the provincial treasury can arrange matters.”
He frowned. “I shall need a warrant from the Praefectus.”
“Of course.” I paused and then raised my voice. “I need the money urgently.”
“But, surely, your men will have little to spend their money on in a frontier fort?”
“That is not the point. It is a matter of morale and confidence.”
“I will inform the Praefectus.”
“There is a treasury here.”
“Yes, but it is not mine to touch. It belongs to the provincial government and even the governor would need—”
“I know—permission from the Praefectus.” I looked at him and sighed. He was the kind of man who would always do his duty by the book. He had no initiative, no imagination, no understanding. It was hard to blame him. He was, after all, only a civil servant.
VIII
THE RISING SUN was just touching the twin towers of Romulus when the legion left the city and marched towards Moguntiacum at the regulation pace that would carry us twenty miles in five hours in good weather. On our second day, thirty miles out, in the midst of a plain of thick grass, with the men sweating under the hot sun, we reached the point where the road forked into two. The left hand led to Confluentes, the furthest fort down river that I intended to hold. To this I assigned a cohort and an ala. This road also led to Salisio and Boudobrigo, higher up river, and to these I had ordered a mixed garrison of two centuries of infantry and a squadron of cavalry. Then, with the column of the legion shrunk in length we pushed on to Bingium, which we
