"Is this true? So quickly and so simply! I feel that my will is the
will of the gods. I have but to think, and it is accomplished."
The joyfulness in his heart became intenser. Smiling, he pressed his
hand on his breast to suppress its tumultuous beating. He still was
conscious of shiverings, and his head felt leaden, as if he had passed
the day in too fierce a sun.
Ordering Victor, an old general blindly devoted to him, to come to his
tent, he confided to him the golden ring bearing the Imperial seal.
"To the commanders of the fleet, Constantius and Lucilian," Julian
ordered laconically. "Before daybreak they must burn the ships,
except the five largest freighted with bread, and the twelve smaller
ones which serve as pontoon bridges. Burn all the rest. Anybody
opposing this order will answer for it with his head. Keep the most
absolute secrecy.... Go!"
He gave him a piece of papyrus on which was written a curt order to
the commander of the fleet. Victor, as usual, astonished at nothing,
kissed the hem of the Imperial purple, and went out. Julian then, in
spite of the late hour, convoked a council of war. The generals met in
his tent, moody, suspicious, and secretly irritated. In a few words
Julian explained his plan of going northwards to the centre of Persia,
and then eastwards towards Ecbatana, to seize the king unawares. All
revolted against the idea, raising their voices simultaneously, and
not hiding the fact that Julian's plan seemed to them sheer madness.
Fatigue, lack of confidence, and spite were expressed on the faces of
the oldest and wisest soldiers. Several spoke curtly--all in
opposition.
Sallustius Secundus said, "Whither are we going? What more do we want?
Think, Cæsar: we have conquered half Persia. Sapor offers better
conditions of peace than ever Asian monarch before has offered to any
Roman conqueror, even to the great Pompeius, Septimius Severus, or
Trajan. Let us, then, conclude peace before it is too late, and win
back to our own country!"
"The soldiers are grumbling," observed Dagalaïf. "Don't push them to
despair; they're worn out; the number of wounded and sick is great. If
you lead them farther into an unknown desert, we can answer for
nothing. Have mercy on them!... And are not you yourself in need of
rest? You must be more tired than any of us."
"Let us turn back!" cried all the generals. "To go on would be
madness."
At that moment a dull, menacing sound broke out behind the tent, a
sound like the rumbling of a furious sea. Julian leant ear, and
immediately understood. It meant mutiny.
"You know my will," he said coldly to the chiefs, motioning them to
the door. "It is unshakable. In two hours we must be upon the march.
See that all is ready."
"Well-beloved Augustus," answered Sallustius, with respectful
self-possession, "I will not leave this tent without telling you what
I ought to tell you. You have spoken with us, your equals not in power
but in valour, in a manner unworthy of a Roman pupil of Socrates and
Plato. We can only pardon your words by setting them down to a
momentary weakness of the nerves, which clouds your Imperial
understanding."
"Is that so?" exclaimed Julian, sarcastically, growing pale with
stifled anger. "Then, my friends, it is the worse for you, for you are
now in the hands of a madman! I have just given the order to burn the
ships, and my orders are at this moment being carried out! I foresaw
your sage counsel, and have cut off your means of retreat. Now your
lives are in my hands, and I shall oblige you to believe in miracles!"
All stood overwhelmed; Sallustius alone pushed towards Cæsar, and
taking his hands cried--
"It is impossible, Cæsar ... surely ... you have not ... actually...."
He broke off the sentence, and dropped the hands of the Emperor.
All the company stood up, listening.
The cries of the legionaries became louder and louder--the noise of
mutiny came nearer, like the sound of tempest over immense forests.
"Let them shout," said Julian calmly. "Poor children! Whither will
they go without me? You understand? That is why I burn the ships, the
last hope of the cowardly and the idle. There is now no possible
return, except by miracle. Now are you bound to me for life and death.
In twenty days Asia will be ours. I have girt you with terror, that
you may conquer all and become like me. Rejoice! Like Dionysus, I will
lead you through the world, and you shall be the masters of men and
gods!..."
Hardly had he pronounced these words when a cry of infinite despair
resounded through the host--
"They are on fire!... they are burning!"
The generals rushed out of the tent, followed by Julian.
They saw the glow of conflagration. Victor had transmitted the
Emperor's orders literally, and Julian himself watched the flaming
spectacle with a smile.
"Cæsar!... May the gods protect us!... He has escaped!"
With these words, a centurion fell at Julian's feet, pale and
trembling.
"Who has escaped? What mean you?"
"Artaban!... Artaban!... Woe be on us! Cæsar, he has deceived thee!"
"Impossible!... And the slaves?" stammered the Emperor, overwhelmed.
"Have just confessed under torture that Artaban was not a satrap, but
a tax-collector of Ctesiphon. He invented this device to save the
city, and lead you into the desert to deliver you to the Persians. He
knew that you would burn the ships. They also said that Sapor was
advancing at the head of a great army."