Copyright © 2005 by John T. Cullen. All Rights Reserved.

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The Sibyl's Urn

a novel

by John T. Cullen

XLII. DEFEAT OF CARINUS, ACCESSION OF DIOCLETIAN

Petasus, an instant before, has thrown the shroud of his cloak over you. He stands as if across the room, and you hover in some infernal voice, as Petasus says to you: "Come, enough of this, you must go back where you came from because the doors and windows are closing, and Time will send you to Avernus if you linger where you do not belong." He spins his cloak, and you in it, like a child tossing a top. You stand on the highest of a range of hills overlooking a river. Petasus makes it known that it is the River Margus near what will one day be Belgrade, Serbia. It is a chill, windy day of mixed rain showers and uncertain sunlight. As ashen clouds drift overhead, you see a great clash of armies below on the plains near the river. Nearby is a huge army camp in the Roman manner, with earthworks and ramparts, laid out according to ancient tradition. You see the Imperial standard of Carinus fluttering in the breeze, and you know this is another of Rome’s many civil wars between men who would be emperor. A large body of men are coming up the path, carrying captured standards of an opposing Roman army. It is the army of Diocles, Petasus tells you. Watch how Time rights itself. Carinus has the money and the generals, whereas Diocles has justice and the gods on his side. Carinus has corruption and dishonesty, while Diocles has virtue and honor. Remember the words of the Sibyl now: ‘victor in defeat, the loser reaps the four winds.’ Do you understand? Watch!

You observe as Carinus walks out of his tent, surrounded by his generals. All are resplendant in the finest gold and ivory armor. Their cloaks and crests blow in the wind. Carinus is tall and arrogant in his imperial purple as he emerges to accept the first of many defeated standards. The army of Diocles has been checked, and by day’s end will surrender en masse to face decimation and likely banishment of the survivors.

But what now? An electrifying moment, as the disappointed generals surrounding Carinus--who had secretly supported Diocles and prayed for him to deliver them--pull their swords and skewer Carinus. As the emperor lies bleeding to death, they hack him to pieces. The ground runs purple with his blood. The soldiers all around look on with stony faces. Everyone knew Carinus was a debaucher and an insect. Anyone who came near him was touched by the foulness of his cruelty and corruption. His only talent lay in the brilliant lengths to which he took his base instincts, like making his pimp the mayor of Rome, or raising prostitutes into the ranks of priestesses to the horror of virginal daughters from the finest families, who are then deflowered in the most vulgar and carnal rites for the pleasure of the handsome but foolish Carinus. Finished is the dynasty of Carus, which lasted all of three years. Now trumpets call a cease-fire, and the news spreads. Cheers break out like a late summer wind across fields of wheat, as both armies throw down their weapons and begin celebrating. They raise Diocles, or Diocletian as he will style himself, on their shoulders and bring him up the hill and sit him on the throne of the Augustus, which was just an hour ago warmed by Carinus. So the Sibyl’s prophecy came true: The victor in defeat, Diocletian lost the military campaign, but because of justice meted out by his own victorious generals, the loser reaps the four winds; which is to say, Diocletian becomes Augustus of all four corners of the empire. What is more, it is a prophecy of the Tetrarchy (Gr. Tetra, ‘four’ + archon, ‘ruler’), the Rule of Four. The institution Diocletian will create, by which two augusti will rule the empire--one in the East and one in the West, each assisted by one caesar--will set a standard for peaceful transitions of power emulated in modern times. Diocletian’s desperate attempt to save the empire from its own size and unwieldiness will not work for long, and after a short civil war, another memorable emperor will enact the desperate measure of making Christianity the official state religion as a glue to hold the empire together. The glue will last thousands of years while the empire it held together soon crumbles into the dust of history. Constantine removes the main capital of the empire to his own city, Constantinopolis (Gk polis, ‘city’; today’s Istanbul, Turkey). Rome ceases to be a civil or administrative capital, replaced by the tetrarchy of Augusta Treverorum (Trier, Germany), Milano (Italy), Constantinopolis, and Nicomedia (Pontica, in today’s Turkey).

Again Petasus snatches you up in his cloak.