"Let Augustus order that his wife's necklet of pearls be brought
here!"
Julian answered that a woman's ornament would be unfitting, and an ill
presage with which to inaugurate a reign.
But the men were unsatisfied. They insisted on seeing a sign of
regality shining on the head of their chosen, to make him their
Emperor indeed. One of the legionaries snatched from his war-horse the
phaleræ, or forehead trapping, with its string of metal disks, for the
crowning of Augustus.
But neither did this please him, for the ornament stank with the sweat
of the horse. Everyone cast about to find another decoration, and at
last the standard-bearer of the Petulant legion, the Sarmatian
Aragaris, pulled from his neck the metal chain denoting his rank, and
Julian wound it twice round his own head. This chain made him Emperor
of Rome.
"Hoist him on a shield! on a shield!" shouted the soldiery.
Aragaris tendered his round buckler. Hundreds of arms heaved the
Emperor. He saw a sea of helmeted heads, and heard, like the rolling
of thunder, the exultant cry--
"Glory to Julian, the divine Augustus!"
It seemed the will of destiny. One by one the torches were
extinguished. The clamour died away; and the eastern sky was barred
with soft white bands. The dark and dull mass of the palace-towers
became clear in all its ugliness; a single lighted window was still
visible. Julian guessed that this must be the light in the cell where
Helena lay dying.
And when at dawn the wearied army dispersed, he went to the bedside of
his wife. It was too late. The dead woman lay quietly on her virgin
couch; the lips severely closed. Julian felt no remorse, but painful
curiosity moved him as he gazed at the dark face of his wife,
wondering--
"What was that last desire? What did she wish to say to me?"