“Caesar,” said the old man, “be not hasty.  Decide nothing to-night; wait for the morrow, the gods are silent.”

Outside could be heard the noise of soldiers pouring into the courtyard, and thrilling the old palace with their cries.  The die was cast, Julian put on his armour, warcloak, and helmet, buckled on his sword, and ran down the principal staircase to the main entrance.  In a moment the crowd felt his supremacy; in action his will never vacillated; at his first gesture the mob was silenced.

Julian spoke to the soldiers, asked them to restore order, and declared that he would neither abandon them nor permit them to be taken from Gaul.

“Down with Constantius!” cried the legionaries.  “Thou art our emperor!  Glory to Augustus Julian the Invincible!”

Admirably did Julian affect surprise, lowering his eyes, and turning aside his head with a deprecating gesture of his lifted palms.

The shouts redoubled.  “Silence!” exclaimed Julian, striding towards the crowd.  “Do you think that I can betray my sovereign?  Are we not sworn?”

The soldiers seized his hands, and many, falling at his feet, kissed them, weeping and crying, “We are willing to die for you!  Have pity on us; be our emperor!”

With an effort that might well have been thought sincere, Julian answered, “My children, my dear comrades, I am yours in life and in death!  I can refuse you nothing!”

A standard-bearer pulled from his neck the metal chain denoting his rank, and Julian wound it twice around his own neck.  This chain made him Emperor of Rome.

“Hoist him on a shield,” shouted the soldiery.  A round buckler was tendered.  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.

III.—­The Worship of Apollo

Constantius was dead, and Julian sole emperor of Rome.

Before all the army the golden cross had been wrenched from the imperial standard, and a little silver statue of the sun-god, Mithra-Helios, had been soldered to the staff of the Labarum.

One of the men in the front rank uttered a single word so distinctly that Julian heard it, “Anti-Christ!”

Toleration was promised to the Christians, but Julian organised processions in honour of the Olympian gods, and encouraged in every way the return of the old and dying worship.

* * * * *

Five miles from Antioch stood the celebrated wood of Daphne, consecrated to Apollo.  A temple had been built there, where every year the praises of the sun-god were celebrated.

Julian, without telling anyone of his intention, quitted Antioch at daybreak.  He wished to find out for himself whether the inhabitants remembered the ancient sacred feast.  All along the road he mused on the solemnity, hoping to see lads and maidens going up the steps of the temple, the crowd of the faithful, the choirs, and the smoke of incense.