Composers of Court epigrams, who mockingly nicknamed Julian "Victorinus" or "the little Conqueror," were astonished to receive, time after time, news of the Cæsar's continual victories. The laughable gradually became the terrible. General discussion arose about witchcrafts and secret dæmonic forces backing the fortunes of the friend of Maximus of Ephesus.
Julian had conquered and restored to the Roman Empire Argentoratum, Bracomagum,2Tres Tabernæ,3Noviomagus,4Vangiones,5Moguntiacum.6
The soldiers worshipped him as much as ever; and Julian became more and more convinced that the Olympians were protecting him and advancing his cause. But, for prudential reasons, he continued to attend Christian churches, and in the town of Vienna on the banks of the river Rhodanus he had been present at an especially solemn mass.
In the middle of December the conquering Cæsar was returning after a long campaign to winter quarters in his beloved Parisis-Lutetia on the banks of the Seine.
Night was closing in. The southern soldiers were marvelling at the pale green lights of the northern sky. New-fallen snow sounded crisply under the tread of the soldiers. Lutetia, built on a little island, wassurrounded by wide river-channels. Two wooden bridges connected the town with steep banks. Its houses were built in the Gallo-Roman style, with broad glazed galleries, instead of the open porticoes of southern countries. The smoke of a multitude of chimneys hung over the town, and the trees were hoar with frost.
Fig-trees carefully swaddled in straw, and brought by the Romans from the south, clung to the southward-facing walls of the gardens, like children dreading the cold.
This year, in spite of occasional thawing winds from the south, the winter had been severe. Huge blocks of ice, crashing and grinding together, were floating down the Seine. The Greek and Roman soldiers used to watch these in surprise, and Julian too wondered at the beauty of the blue and green transparent masses, and compared them to Phrygian marble, with its emerald-hued veins.
There was something in the sad beauty of the North which, like a distant remembrance, haunted and thrilled his heart, as now he and his troop arrived at the palace, of which the brick arcades and turrets rose in sharp black outline against the twilight sky.
Julian went into the library. The cold was intense; a great fire was kindled on the hearth, and letters which had arrived at Lutetia during his absence were brought to him. One of these from Asia Minor came from Iamblicus. Julian thought that the fragrance of the East came with it.
Outside a hurricane was raging, and the wind roaring by struck violent blows on the closed shutters. Shutting his eyes, Julian dreamed of marble porticoes and gleaming temples veiled in obscurity, sweeping away to the horizon to disappear like golden clouds.
He shivered, rose, and noticed that the fire had gone out. He could hear a mouse gnawing the parchments in the library.
Julian suddenly felt a longing to see a human face. With a half-humorous smile he remembered that he had a wife. She was a relative of the Empress Eusebia, named Helena, whom the Emperor had forced to marry Julian shortly before his departure for Gaul. Julian cared nothing for Helena. Although more than a year had elapsed since their marriage he had scarcely seen her; he knew nothing of her, and had never passed a night under the same roof. His wife had remained a virgin.
From youth up, her dream had been to become the spouse of Christ. The idea of marriage filled her with disgust. At first she had thought all was lost, but, seeing afterwards that Julian asked from her no conjugal caresses, she grew calmer and lived in her apartment, morose, placid, dressed in black, the life of a nun. In her prayers Helena had vowed perpetual chastity.
On this night a mischievous curiosity drove Julian to the tower in which his wife was praying. He opened the door without knocking, and went into the feebly lighted cell; the virgin was kneeling before a lectern above which hung a large crucifix.
Julian approached, and screening the flame of the lamp with one hand, gazed at his wife for some minutes, frowning. She was so absorbed in devotion that she did not notice him. He said—
"Helena!"
She uttered a cry and turned her pale severe face towards Julian.
"How you startled me!"
He looked wonderingly at the great crucifix, the gospel, and the lectern, and murmured—
"Are you always praying?"
"Yes! I pray for you also, well-beloved Cæsar."
"For me? Really!... Confess that you believe me to be a great sinner?"
She lowered her eyes without answering. His frown became deeper.
"Do not be afraid; speak out. Don't you believe that I am specially guilty, in some manner, before God?"
She answered in a low voice—
"Specially?... Yes, I think so. Do not be angry...."
"I was sure of it.... Now tell me what it is? I must repent me of my crimes."
Helena resumed, in a yet lower voice, and more severely—
"Do not laugh! I have to answer for your soul before the Eternal——"
"You ... for mine?"
"We are joined for ever."
"By what?"
"The sacrament of marriage."
"Religious marriage? But up till now we are strangers to one another, Helena!"
"I fear for your soul, Julian," she repeated, fixing on him her innocent eyes.
Placing his hand on her shoulder, he gazed mockingly at the pale face, so cold in its chastity. The small and lovely mouth, with its rosy lips half parted with an expression of fear and inquiry, was in strange contrast to the rest of the face. Julian leaned towards her, and before she had time to regain her presence of mind, kissed her on the lips.
She started and rushed to a far corner of the room, hiding her face in her hands. Then gazing at Julian, her eyes wild with fear, she hastily crossed herself, murmuring—
"Away, away, O evil one! I know thee; thou art not Julian, but the Devil. In the name of the most Holy Cross, I conjure thee ... disappear!"
Anger seized Julian; he turned to the door and bolted it; then approaching Helena with a smile he said—
"Be yourself, Helena; I am a man—I am your husband—and not the Devil! The Church has blessed our union." He gazed upon her with strangely warring emotions. She slowly drew her hands from her eyes.
"Forgive me ... it seemed to me ... you frightened me so, Julian.... I know that you desire nothing evil ... but I have had visions.... Just now I believed.... He haunts this place at night. Twice I have seen him.... He said to me ill things about you. Since then I have been afraid. He told me you bore on your face the mark of Cain.... Why do you look at me so, Julian?"
She was trembling and leaning against the wall; he approached and put his arm round her waist.
"What are you doing? Let me go, let me go!"
She tried to cry out, to call the servant.
"Eleutheria! Eleutheria!"
"Why are you calling? Am I not your husband?"
She began to weep bitterly.
"Brother, this must not be.... I am the bride of Christ!... I believed that you...."
"The bride of the Roman Cæsar cannot be the bride of Christ!"
"Julian!... If you believe in Him...."
He smiled.
"I abhor the Galilean!"
In a supreme effort she strove to repulse him, exclaiming, "Away, Devil!... Why hast thou abandoned me, Lord?"
With his impious hands he tore off the black vestment. His soul was full of fear, but never before in his life had he known such intoxication in evil-doing. Ironically, with a smile of defiance, the Roman Cæsar gazed at the opposite corner of the cell, where in the feeble flicker of the lamp-light hung the great black crucifix....