Free Gods and Legions by Michael Curtis Ford

our Julian!' he resumed with a bellow. 'My cousin! As dear to me for his personal qualities as for his kinship, a man of exceeding intelligence! It is Julian whom I propose to elevate to the rank of Caesar, to serve directly under me in my capacity as Augustus, a proposal which must be ratified by you, should you deign to grant your approval.'
    Constantius again paused for a moment, to allow the expected applause and shouts of acclamation to rise from the crowd. What we heard instead was puzzled muttering among the troops, broken only by the receding calls of the heralds in the distance. Julian seemed to shrink even further into himself with embarrassment. Constantius, determined to wring an acclamation out of the crowd if he had to stand there all night, had just taken a breath to begin his harangue again, when a single centurion rose and shouted enthusiastically that it was the will of God. 'Ave, Julianus Caesar!' he cried. The man had obviously been planted in advance.
    Nevertheless, the men in that centurion's company joined in their leader's example. 'Ave, Julianus Caesar!' cried sixty or seventy other desultory voices, a shout that was immediately taken up by several other companies scattered around the plaza and by the heralds on the perimeter, themselves doing their level best to stir the crowd's excitement. Slowly, almost reluctantly the volume of cheers mounted, filling the plaza and spreading to the mob thronging the streets beyond.
    Constantius' round, sweating face broke into a broad smile. As he turned to Julian, his mouth remained fixed in its grin, though his eyes narrowed. Glancing briefly to a point behind his cousin, he gave a slight nod. Immediately an enormous eunuch, a Sicilian giant who normally performed menial tasks around the palace, stepped forward, dressed in the elaborate furs and plaid cloth breaches of a Gallic chieftain, his face painted with horrifying blue stripes, a gaudy hairpiece with long russet braids draping down his back, silver serpent-shaped bangles clamped around his massive biceps. The crowd fell into awestruck silence as the man walked ponderously to Julian's side, carrying a large bundle, which he shook out with a deliberate, dramatic flourish. He draped the heavy purple embroidered cloak over the new Caesar's shoulders and fell prostrate at the young man's feet in a position of abject fear.
    As Julian stood staring in a combination of wonder and mortification at the huge trembling man, another roar went up from the crowd, this time accompanied by the deafening rattle of shields as the troops clashed them against their knees with a fearsome din. It was only later, after my careful explanation to him, that he understood that this was an indication of the troops' complete approval, and was, in fact, much to be preferred to their striking their shields with their spears, a sign of rage and grief.
    'Beloved cousin!' Constantius shouted above the roar. 'You have thus attained, while still young, the distinction for which you were destined by your ancestry. Be therefore my partner in toil, my colleague in danger! Assume for yourself the government of Gaul! Relieve its suffering people by generous treatment! Meet the enemy in battle, and raise high the standards of your legions! Command these men, whose valor matches your own! We will wage war simultaneously; we will aid one another with constant and mutual affection; and God willing, we will govern together, collaborators in righteousness and humility, over a world finally at peace.'
    The men cheered wildly, and the Emperor raised Julian's hand in his own, high over their heads, acknowledging the vast and rather incompetently choreographed demonstration of approval. When the applause continued even after many moments, Constantius led him to a sedan chair that had been positioned at the side of the platform, and which was borne by eight slaves, all of them costumed identically as fierce Gallic warriors. After the Emperor and his new