“Your son!” The butcher looked as if he were going to faint. “But they say ”
“Whoever they are, you can now set them aright, Constantius said curtly. “Flavius Valerius Constantinus is my son, born in holy wedlock.”
He swung down from his horse in a single lithe movement and (lung back his riding cloak, revealing the purple of an officer of high rank. A murmur of awe went up from the small knot of spectators, but he ignored them and, tossing the reins of his horse to his companion, gave Constantine a quick grip of affection upon the arm.
“I trust you usually put your scrolls to better use, he said with a smile. “Though perhaps I’ve been overlooking a valuable weapon for my troops.”
“I never used them this way before.” Constantine’s pride in his handsome father shone in his eyes. “Master Lucullus will probably cane me tomorrow, but it was worth it.” He turned to the other man. “May I lead father’s horse, Uncle Marios?”
“Of course.” Marios tossed him the reins, which he caught expertly.
“Can you stay with us long this time, Father?” Constantine asked as they left the center of town.
“Only for the night, I’m afraid, but I have important news. Is your mother at home?”
“She will be soon, if she isn’t already. She sometimes goes at this time of day to pray in the temple over there.” Constantine nodded toward the small structure with the copper roof. “Only they call it a church now.”
“Do I gather that you don’t approve?”
Constantine shrugged. “Christians are good people: Mother likes them. But Mithras is the soldier’s god and the Emperor requires the worship of Jupiter.”
“So he does,” Constantius agreed soberly. “Perhaps it is still too early for you to make a choice. There will be enough time later, when you are a soldier yourself.”
His father’s steps as a Roman officer
Constantine forgot about any question of religion in the excitement of another subject, his own military career. Since he was a small boy, playing with a wooden sword carved for him by his great uncle Marios, who had been his father’s aide until the wound had ended his military career, there had never been any question about his following in his father’s steps as a Roman officer. And though he had confided his very secret ambition to no one else, he had never doubted for a moment that he would one day become Augustus Emperor as his illustrious ancestor Claudius Gothicus had been.
‘Are you really a Caesar, Father?” Constantine asked.
“Yes. I was invested with the purple four days ago in Nicomedia, by Emperor Diocletian himself.”
I wish I could have been there! It must have been a sight to see!”
It was. Galerius and I stood side by side while the Emperor gave us our purple cloaks and named each of us Filius Augusti adoptive sons of Diocletian himself.”
‘Why General Galerius? Everyone knows you would be the choice of the legions to command all the forces of the Empire, if it were left up to the soldiers themselves.”
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