The rumour went round that the Emperor Constantius had sent the inexperienced young man among the barbarians of Gaul to get killed, that he himself might be rid of a rival. It was said that the generals, following the hints of Imperial eunuchs, had abandoned and betrayed the young Cæsar accordingly. All this increased the affection of the legions for Julian. Skilled in the arts of winning favour, acquired during his monkish education, Julian cautiously used every means to strengthen the love felt towards himself and to deepen the unpopularity of the Emperor. Before the soldiers he would speak of his brother Constantius with meaning humility, lowering his eyes and affecting the aspect of a victim. It was the easier for him to captivate the warriors by fearlessness, inasmuch as death in battle seemed to him a thing to be desired. The kind of death to which Gallus had been subjected formed no part of his designs. Julian had organised his life after the austere example of ancient conquerors. His stoic education by the tutor Mardonius helped him to endure total absence of comfort. He allowed himself less sleep than the meanest soldier, and lay not on a bed but upon a coarse rough carpet, like that called in popular parlance _suburra_. The first part of the night was devoted to sleep, the second to the business of state and war, the third to the Muses. For Julian's favourite books were never left behind when he was campaigning. He inspired himself with Marcus Aurelius, Plutarch, Suetonius, and Cato the elder; and by day he endeavoured to put in practice what he had mused over with them by night. On the memorable morning before the battle of Argentoratum, when he heard the _reveillé_ at dawn, Julian quickly donned complete armour, and ordered his charger to be brought round. While waiting he withdrew into the inmost part of the tent. There was ensconced a lovely statuette of the winged Mercury, bearing the caduceus--the god of movement, gaiety, success. Julian bowed before the image and threw some grains of incense on a little tripod. According to the direction of the smoke the Cæsar, who flattered himself that he understood the divining art, sought to ascertain the influence of the day. Overnight he had heard a raven crying three times--a bad omen. Julian was so convinced that his unexpected military success in Gaul was due to some supernatural power that from day to day he became more superstitious. When issuing from the tent he stumbled over the wooden beam at the threshold. The face of the Cæsar darkened. All the omens were unfavourable; he inwardly resolved to postpone the battle till the morrow.