Emperor

VII

Thalius, with Tarcho and Audax, joined the imperial procession from Rutupiae. The Emperor rode in a gaudily adorned litter, with his bishops flocking like exotic birds. Thalius grumbled, 'The Christ rode into Jerusalem on an ass. How He would have been appalled by the sight of those strutting fools!' Tarcho, who seemed to think of Christ and God the Father as something like a centurion and his commander, was only confused by this remark.

Constantine would visit the four provincial capitals, including the overarching diocesan capital at Londinium, and he would call at all the principal military bases, including Eburacum and the Wall forts in the north. The Emperor had many objectives. He wanted to firm up the new provincial government arrangements his father had left him, and to bed in army reforms begun by Diocletian and continued by his father. Constantine also intended that his visit would spark off a wider programme of refurbishment and renewal of the four provinces' shabby public facilities and military infrastructure.

But everybody knew that Constantine's main purpose was to detach units of British troops for his coming conflict with Licinius, Emperor of the east: he was here to take from the island, not to give. Constantine was popular in Britain, but there would be much resistance to his stripping troops from the diocese in a time of uncertainty. Constantine was wily enough to understand this. So he had come here in person, to dazzle and reassure even while he bled the island's garrisons.

After Londinium Constantine proceeded towards Camulodunum. But his route took a long detour to the north, so he could visit the fen country, an enormous quilt of farmland in the east conjured out of the sea by a vast system of dykes, canals, drainage ditches and roads-all paid for by the local people and maintained by labour levies and slaves. In older countryside the farms and settlements had grown out of communities and cultivation patterns that had been here for centuries before a Roman ever visited Britain, and so they were more disorderly, ancient, stubbornly chaotic. Here, though, the new land had been a blank canvas for the Roman planners to set down the orderly patterns they preferred, and in this utterly flat, wholly manufactured landscape the roads and dykes ran arrow-straight for mile after mile. Thalius thought that this geometric fenland was the quintessence of the obsessively disciplined Roman mind.

The reclamation wasn't perfect, however. In places Thalius saw farmers dismally scraping at soggy ground, and some farms had been abandoned to flooding altogether. If is was true that in Germany the Ocean was rising perhaps it was true here too.

During this progression one member of the imperial court deigned to join Thalius and his companions: Ulpius Cornelius. His preliminary excuse was to show Thalius a letter he had been carrying, on a folded-over slip of wood.

Thalius scanned it quickly. It was from one Claudia Brigonia Aurelia, a widow of Eburacum-and it concerned prophecies about Constantine. Thalius handed it back hastily, chilled.

Cornelius seemed to enjoy his discomfiture. 'Aurelia's family, it seems, has its own legends about prophecies and emperors. Was some ancestor of hers tangled up in the complicated stories you have told me?'

'How does she know about me?'

'Through me,' Cornelius said smugly. 'I'm a thorough man, Thalius. I told you I confirmed the existence of your Prophecy through hints in the archives. But in following it up I drew extensively on contacts in Britain. And it happened that I caught the attention of this lady Aurelia, and sparked her interest.'

' "Sparked her interest"? What does that mean, Cornelius? What does she want?'

'Why, I've no idea, not specifically. But, like you-and me-it seems she has concerns about the direction in which the Emperor is taking us all.' He grinned coldly. 'I don't think she had ever heard of you, Thalius. And yet it seems you have another member of your conspiratorial cabal.'

As from the beginning of his dealings with Cornelius, Thalius had the feeling that events were spinning out of his control. 'I don't have a conspiracy, and I don't want a cabal!'

'Then the Emperor has nothing to fear,' Cornelius said smoothly. 'And nor do you.'

It seemed to Thalius that what Cornelius really wanted of him was an ear in which to pour complaints about his own grievances. Not that those grievances weren't extensive, for somebody of Cornelius's patrician background. 'Constantine's butchery of authority and tradition has reached all the way to the heart of imperial government,' Cornelius complained, 'in fact, into his own court…'

Constantine had created a whole new layer of aristocracy, called the 'Order of Imperial Companions'. His council, the consistorium, was drawn from this group. Many of the Companions were the gaudy bishops who made Thalius so uncomfortable. And by establishing the Companions Constantine had excluded the old senatorial and equestrian classes. Cornelius's family, senators since republican days, had been largely disenfranchised, and Cornelius's own position in court was precarious.

Cornelius fumed. 'Not only has Constantine violated centuries of tradition, he has casually upturned checks and balances within an imperial system that has been evolving since the days of Augustus…' But Thalius was sure that Cornelius's concerns were not about the welfare of the empire but his own ambitions.

And it struck Thalius that Cornelius, for all his sophistication and power, was so obsessed with court intrigues and his own ambitions that he simply could not see the deeper truths of his age. After all, within Thalius's own lifetime the empire had nearly collapsed altogether. You could complain about Constantine's reforms, as Thalius did himself, but was it possible that the Emperor actually had no real choice in how he acted, if he was to hold the empire together?