“Put it about that I've gone off somewhere else, with my new slave girl. The matrons will love the gossip and we'll be out of Theodora's reach before she finds out any different.”
*
That night he slept fitfully. Even Juliana's presence at his side didn't help. Twice he awoke and paced the cold mosaic floor, breathing in the heavy stillness of the palace.
The following morning, he, Juliana, and a small, two-man military escort, hastily assembled by a friendly officer, rode out of Treveris, across the wide bridge and up through the valley of the Mosella. As far as the escort were concerned they were on an excursion to visit friends. He didn't tell them until much later where these friends were.
LXIV
Eboracum, Northern Britannia, 306 A.D.
The dark-brown leather tents of Crocus' cavalry unit had been set up on the far side of the marshalling ground, at the edge of the bare heathlands to the west of the city of Eboracum. Banners and pennants cracked noisily in the breeze from the poles set along all four sides of the area where the cavalry would perform.
“This is how our young men are seduced into the legions, husband. Well, if you see our boy signing up, make bloody sure you drag him away, before he makes his mark,” Juliana overheard a woman in front of her telling her husband.
They looked far too young to have a grown son. Juliana looked at the green pennants of the Alemanni, flapping in the distance. Through the heads of the spectators, they looked like the flags of a longed-for harbor. People strained their necks all around her, all together, as if they were connected, looking to see what was happening.
The last and most important events of the games of Apollo were about to begin. Anticipation swept through the crowd and infected her too, even though she was supposed to be looking for Lucius among the Alemanni, not paying attention to the games.
A little before, when they'd arrived at the main city gate, Constantine had been loudly informed that he would have to wait some time for an audience with the emperor. The gatekeepers seemed astonished that the son of their emperor would arrive without their being told in advance to expect him. Juliana had waited to one side as he’d announced himself and came here to look for Lucius as soon as Constantine was escorted away.
They'd been told by a member of Chlorus' cavalry that Lucius was to be found with the Alemanni by the marshalling ground. She'd assumed it'd be easy to find him. But she'd not expected these crowds.
Trumpet blasts rang out, rolling along the perimeter of the marshalling ground, one after the other, each building on the last as the clamoring of the crowd eased, then ceased, leaving only the trumpets echoing in her ears.
People were gesturing toward one corner of the marshalling ground, where Juliana spied cavalry cantering into the parade area. Four abreast, the rows of horsemen headed for the center of the earth-bare ground, their boiled-leather shields shining black, menacing in the sunlight, their scarlet cloaks flapping in the breeze behind them.
Each of the riders held a spear with silver tassels attached to its point. Their bronze helmets had a plume of silvered boar hair on top, except for every fourth man, whose plume was blue.
When the line of cavalry formed up, they turned and faced the crowd. A shout went up. A war horn blared. All went quiet.
Then, as one, the line of cavalry leapt forward. They were still quite a long way away, but Juliana could see a silver flash along the line as they lowered their spears in front of them. Everyone around her seemed mesmerized by the spectacle.
Underfoot came a rumbling. Just a tremble at first. Then stronger, unmistakable. The cavalrymen let out a war cry. A menacing guttural roar, distant, but looming, inexorable. The horsemen thundered forward.
The spears could be clearly seen now, glinting, their points visible, as the wall of cavalry raced closer and closer. A delicious shiver ran through the crowd. A woman nearby stepped back, one hand raised to her mouth. She screamed.
A single horseman, at the center of the charge, carried a golden double-headed eagle standard, scarlet with green tassels flowing and jumping in its wake. The approaching wall of horsemen was inescapable now. An instinctive urge to run came upon her. A young boy wailed somewhere.
The approaching horses were frothing and shaking as they ran, straining every sinew. Closer. Closer. The pounding was in Juliana's ears. She looked around for somewhere to hide.
It would only be moments before they were all violently brushed aside or impaled on spears.
A war horn sounded. The cavalrymen raised their spears as one, and brought their horses to a rearing halt, dust billowing, their horses rocking on their haunches. So close were the horses to the crowd that dust swirled round those nearest the front, partly obscuring them from Juliana for a moment. The crowd shuddered. The cavalrymen, with a single roar, “Veni-I came,” thrust their spears high into the air.
The crowd loved it. All around people were shouting and pointing; even the normally reserved toga-wearing officials, many of whom were locals trying to be more Roman than the Romans themselves, were chattering and laughing with relief.
The cavalrymen turned and rode slowly away. Juliana wiped dust from her face. The Alemanni were certainly well trained. She scanned the crowd.
They were mostly local farmers, or their slaves, but there were also traders from the other provinces of Britannia, and camp followers of the legions, and others from every part of the empire, but no Lucius.
The trumpets blared again, and the crowd fell silent once more. The local tribesmen were about to parade their chariots.
Everyone watched attentively as a long line of chariots came across the field.
At that moment Juliana felt a tingle, a sense that someone was watching her, and she turned, quickly. Lucius was standing at the edge of the crowd, behind and to her left. Beside him stood Sybellina.
She didn't dare move. What was Lucius doing with her? The people around Juliana faded away, and all she could see was Sybellina. She wanted to find Constantine, but she couldn't. Sybellina looked directly at her, whispered something to Lucius, then turned away with a haughty swing of her tightly cut curls, and disappeared into the crowd.
Lucius motioned Juliana to him with his finger.
“We heard from the gate that you'd arrived,” Lucius greeted her. He sounded annoyed. “We walked the whole length of the crowd looking for you. What's your news? He's here, I know that, but has he a plan?”
Juliana shook her head, looking past Lucius for Sybellina.
“Come.” Lucius took her by the arm and led her toward the tents. They were surrounded by a palisade of thin stakes. They passed through a gate. The Alemanni guards saluted Lucius. Soon the hubbub of the crowd was behind them. They walked slowly along a picket line of mules and talked.
“Sybellina swore to me she meant you no harm, Juliana. She said she went to fetch a doctor and was amazed you ran off. She says if she wanted you dead, she would have cut your throat when you were laid out in front of her.” He turned to her. “Whatever the truth is, she’s useful. She has the emperor’s ear and has promised not to take any action against you for running away.”
Juliana looked around, wondering if this was a ruse to stop her running off while the guards were called.
“Believe me, if Sybellina wasn't useful to us, I wouldn't have anything to do with her. Now tell me, where's Constantine?”
“Stop squeezing my arm and I'll tell you.”
Lucius loosened his grip.
She didn't like the way this was turning out. She looked around as a gasp leapt from the crowd. A performance, a precision charging drill, had come to its climax.
“Hail the provincial cavalry.” The cry went up and echoed round the heath.
“Come on, Juliana.”
“He waits to see his father. He’s expecting you.”
Lucius made a fist with his hand, raised it, as if he’d won something, then called for two horses to be prepared. Soon afterwards they had skirted the crowd and were in the c
ity. Children and beggars scampered after them as they rode. The gold medallion that Juliana had been given by Constantine secured their passage as far as the main doors to the governor’s palace. There, their arrival was announced, and after a short wait they were given permission to enter and escorted to a door at the end of a long corridor.
Beyond it, Constantine was sitting alone on a marble bench in a bare courtyard. It was crimson walled and had a small opening in the center of the high-beamed roof. A large empty shrine indent in the wall at one end of the courtyard showed that at one time this had been a place to worship family gods, perhaps before the city temples had been built. Constantine looked as serious as she'd ever seen him in his leather military tunic with his large silver and gold campaign medals spread across his chest, and good conduct bracelets in a thick band up his right forearm. Among them she spied the thin black line of the snakeskin bracelet she'd given him. She bit her lip, her gaze taking him all in, as if it was much longer than a few hours they'd been apart.
His gladius short sword hung in its scabbard from a jeweled belt and his black hair was now worn in the longer style popular in Gaul these days. He looks more like an emperor now, thought Juliana. She walked briskly up to him and bowed.
Constantine came to his feet and opened his arms.
“Thank the gods, you made it. I've been ordered to wait for the emperor here. I'm sure he'll see me soon.”
Juliana hugged him.
“You've become very friendly,” said Lucius. “I wish you both well, I'm sure. And I must give Juliana to you as a gift, Constantine. She's taken to you in a way she never did with me.”
“Juliana should never have been a slave,” said Constantine. “She's the daughter of a Roman citizen and has the blood of the Brigantes royal line in her. You'll be compensated, but Juliana will no longer be treated as a slave. Her manumission documents are being prepared.”
“Wonderful news!” Lucius lifted his hands in the air, in a show of jubilation that seemed insincere to Juliana.
“I expect because of this, Constantine,” he continued, “that you aren't worried about your father passing that marriage offer from Maxentius to one of your half-brothers, now that you've Juliana to keep you warm at night.” Lucius patted Constantine’s shoulder.
“Lucius, stop.” Constantine sounded angry. “I am the eldest. Any betrothal to Fausta should wait until my place in the succession is agreed. If I accept this, the next thing they do is find a way to kill me. I’ve been warned about such plots.” He raised his fist. “They will not do this. I will not die so another can have my rightful place.” He trembled with rage.
A bird trilled somewhere above their heads, as if it had trapped itself. She looked up. The trilling rose to an ugly pitch, then died. Was it a sign? She shivered. She'd spent too much time on the way here wondering what would happen after they arrived and how they could survive.
She didn’t want to tell him how much she'd been thinking about it. She'd been hoping Constantine might have seen his father by the time she returned with Lucius, and that everything would be resolved about the succession. But it was clearly not going to be that easy.
“If you want my opinion, I think you'll have to stake your claim forcefully,” said Lucius. His words came out softly, as if he'd been thinking about them for a long time.
It felt as if time was slowing as the meaning of his words became clear.
“I know you believe dreams show the future, Constantine, so listen to what I say, and you too, Juliana.”
What was he doing? He'd said nothing about a dream on the way here.
Lucius stepped back. “In my dream you were dressed in purple, Constantine, standing at a great marble altar, surrounded by senators and priests. You were about to be crowned with the gold laurel. But the strange part was you were standing in a stream thick with fishes, and in front of you a crowd of white-garbed innocents offered their arms up in thanks, children they were, stretching on and on, as far as the eye could see, while behind your back, dressed in long gray shrouds, was another crowd. And a single shout echoed and was taken up by those at your back. “How long, master, dost though not avenge us?” Lucius paused. His fist went to his mouth.
“I was drenched with sweat when I awoke from this dream.” His hand reached out, trembling slightly, toward Constantine. “I know it is a vision of what's to come. There can be no question of that. You're to be emperor, and you'll take up our cause, the cause of the one god. I am right, Juliana, don’t you agree?”
Juliana looked at him.
Constantine could indeed help Lucius, especially if he became emperor, and if she became his wife her power would be tremendous. But was it right that Constantine would support Lucius and the Christians? She straightened her back and spoke.
“Lucius is right,” she said. “To throw this moment away would be pissing in the wind of your destiny.”
Constantine snorted.
Lucius put his hand out toward him, looked over his shoulder, then spoke in a low voice. “What I have to say now, Constantine, goes against everything I, and you, hold dear, but it must be said. There is a clear opportunity here to change the empire, and to ensure you survive. I hear your father is ill these past few days. All his bad decisions are coming back on him. He is far too long in his position. He is no longer capable. The empire cannot be run by a man who no longer makes the best choices for the people, and for his eldest son.” He paused for a moment, then pressed on.
“It is your duty to get him to leave the stage, to press him to retire, as Diocletian has retired, and to do whatever is necessary to see this happen.”
Juliana stared at Lucius. They were at the edge of treason. The consequences of treason started at having your eyes put out and your tongue cut off and ended at being burnt at the stake. She’d seen the charred embers of bodies at the gates to Nicomedia years before. Their mouths were wide in death, their final screams visible to all.
“Crocus, the cavalry commander will support you, Constantine, as will all the Christians across the empire who I and my father represent. We are ready, and we have a treasure of gold to encourage the support of all those you must win over. All we ask in exchange is toleration, and justice. Do you see the opportunity fate presents you? You must reach for it.” Lucius sounded desperate, as if he knew he’d gone a step too far. His right fist tightened and untightened as if he had a nervous twitch.
Constantine shook his head, like a dog throwing off water. “No. My father will listen to me, and when he retires, in ten or twenty years, I will be emperor, and then the support you offer will be appreciated, but not now. It is my duty to defend my father, my sworn duty, no matter how sick he may be or what decisions he makes. I will hear no more of this. No more.” He was shouting by the time he'd finished.
His hand went to the hilt of his sword. He gripped it.
She'd never seen him so furious. He’d encouraged her to express her views during their journey from Treveris, and the bindings of her slavery had become loosened. Now she wanted to speak, and she wasn’t afraid of him.
“Constantine.” She said it louder than she’d planned. They both looked at her. “All the way from Treveris, you told me what you'd do if you were emperor. Well, now you have a chance, do not throw it away.” Her voice was changing with each word she spoke, her anger rising. “Are you just full of talk like all the soft-cocked men after a gutful of wine?”
Constantine looked stunned. “What you're suggesting is that I raise a standard against my father. We'll end up at sword point.”
“I’m not suggesting you take up a sword against him.” She put her hand up, as if to grab him. “I’m suggesting you don’t let him tease you if there is nothing to be gained.”
The door at the far end of the courtyard rattled. Someone was there. A muffled voice called out.
“Open in the name of the emperor.” A thud resounded through the air. Someone was about to break the door down.
“There is another way,” said
Lucius. He stood in front of Constantine and spoke quickly.
“A way that's guaranteed to secure your inheritance. I'll tell you later.” He placed a hand on Constantine's bare arm. “Remember, I saved you the last time a sentence hung over you, so trust me, if I can save you from the wrath of one emperor, I can do it again. If Theodora isn't exposed, we'll all have a sword point in our guts before her runt celebrates his wedding feast.”
“That will not happen,” said Constantine.
“Open the door, before the bastards break it down,” said Juliana. The banging was louder, more determined.
Constantine walked across the courtyard. Juliana and Lucius followed him. He shouted he was on his way. The banging ceased.
“Honorable Constantine, why are you locked away? Anyone would think you'd been kidnapped.” A centurion of the imperial bodyguard pushed through the door as soon as it was opened, followed by three guards.
“What do you want, centurion? Remember your place, or I'll have you flogged in front of your men,” said Constantine.
“I beg your forgiveness, honorable Constantine. Your father has requested your presence, that is all, and I must carry out the emperor's orders at once.” The man's expression was as fixed as a statue's.
“Escort me to my father,” said Constantine. He turned to Juliana and Lucius. “Wait for me here.”
But he looked to Juliana like a prisoner, being led away to his fate. She raised a hand to wave, but inside felt only a chill of foreboding.
LXV
Eboracum, Northern Britannia, 306 A.D.
As they hurried down the flagstone corridor, Constantine’s arms and feet felt heavy. He tried to pretend he'd nothing to fear, but Lucius' talk had unsettled him. Doors clanged as they were opened ahead of him, and then closed behind him. He took a deep breath. As he let it out his stomach shuddered. He would rather face a battle than this.
And then he was kneeling, bending his head low before his father in the grand basilica. Its black and white patterned mosaic floor, rows of red sandstone Corinthian columns on each side, and high coffered ceiling provided a very public backdrop for their encounter. High above, a row of square windows on each side of the building let in a pale haze of light, which enhanced the feeling of mystery and grandeur in the basilica.
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