The elderly Greek physician leaned over Severus’ chest and listened carefully as the Emperor inhaled and exhaled. He grasped his shoulders, lifted him up and shook him, cocking his head on one side to pick up any tell-tale signs of pleurisy. He eased him back onto his bed, and looked at the colour of his tongue and sclera. The he examined his joints, swollen from years of gout.
‘Well?’ demanded Julia Domna.
Galen shook his head. ‘I am not Aesclepius. I cannot tell you if he will live or die.’
Domna turned to Caracalla and Geta waiting dutifully at the foot of the bed.
‘Why do you listen to this charlatan?’ demanded Geta. ‘You know that most disagree with his methods. He refuses to use divination and the truth in the stars.’
Domna was hesitant. Caracalla knew that she shared his father and his half-brother’s respect for astrology and eastern mysticism. Caracalla himself was ambivalent to the supernatural, largely accepting that he could change some things and not others. And yet Galen was Domna’s friend, part of the cultured Empress’ inner circle of philosophers and other intellectuals, and he could see she was torn between her respect for Galen and her natural desire to do the best for her husband.
‘Augusta,’ said Galen. ‘You know my skills. I treated people dying of the Antonine plague. I was physician to the Emperor Commodus, as well as to your family. I treated the philosopher Eudemus when he was sick with the quartan fever and all others had given up. I was the first to understand the way the differences between the arteries and veins function, the fact that there are two separate circulations in the body, and that venous blood is formed in the liver.
‘Nevertheless, the Emperor’s life still hangs in the balance and I cannot tell you whether he will live or die. What I can tell you, though, is that this is now the eighth day of his current attack, and most sufferers of pneumonia die by the seventh day.’
‘So he will live?’
‘Forgive me, Augusta, but you aren’t listening to me. I cannot tell for sure. Only the gods know the future. My prediction though, is yes, he will survive this attack. Continue to use the linctus of galbanum and pine fruit in Attic honey, and apply the bladder of hot water to his chest regularly. I think he will recover. This time.’
‘This time?’
‘Augusta, winter is nearly upon us. His attacks grow ever more severe. You should prepare yourself that the time is coming when…’ He let his gaze drop to the floor, knowing it was unnecessary to complete the sentence, and indeed may even be dangerous to do so.
‘Mother,’ said Geta, his voice a whine. ‘Call my physician. He will consult the stars, make sacrifices—’
‘Enough, Geta,’ snapped Domna. ‘It shall be as you say, Galen. Make him well. If his time on earth is soon drawing to a conclusion, then we can be consoled that he has lived a magnificent life.’
She swept from the room, her maidservant in close attendance.
Caracalla watched her go with mixed emotions. He was jealous of her obvious love for her husband, even though Caracalla shared that love for the old man. On the other hand, Severus was a shadow of what he once was. Should he give fate a helping hand, take the opportunity to hasten Severus’ passing? For the sake of the Empire, and to preserve the dignified memory of the great Emperor. Not for his own advancement, of course.
He noticed Geta was watching him closely. What did his half-brother know? Or suspect? If his sibling found out about Domna and Caracalla, he would use the information to destroy him. That must never be allowed to happen. Because when Severus was gone, Caracalla had no intention of sharing power.
The easiest thing would be to end the relationship with Julia. But he loved her in a way he had never loved his wife, or a mistress, or a favoured slave. And she loved him back, he was sure, for all her distress at the enmity between the two siblings. No, it must remain secret. At any cost.
When the old Emperor finally passed, a reckoning would come. As he often did, Caracalla ran through in his mind the allies he could count on, and the enemies he could not, in the forthcoming power struggle. The court was split roughly down cultural lines, with the African faction, relatives and favourites of Severus supporting Geta, while the Syrian factions from Julia Domna’s circle tended to support Caracalla. The Africans had never forgiven Caracalla for his part in the downfall of the former Praetorian Prefect, Plautianus. Papinianus, one of the Praetorian prefects and a close confidante of Severus, was related to Julia Domna and would likely try to remain neutral, as would the Augusta herself. Maecius Laetus, the other prefect who was still in Rome, was highly suspect in Caracalla’s eyes. Valerius Patruinus tended towards Caracalla’s viewpoint on military matters and the ruling of the Empire. Sextus Varius Marcellus and Quintus Marcius Dioga were supporting Caracalla in the hope of personal advancement. And of course, Oclatinius was Caracalla’s man through and through.
At the thought of Oclatinius, Caracalla’s thoughts drifted to the old man’s protégé, Silus. He wondered if he had been successful in his mission to finish off the barbarian chief. If he made it back alive and Caracalla could protect him without losing too much political capital, he might find that resourceful man useful.
He returned Geta’s gaze steadily and smiled with anticipation at what was to come.