Faustas bedchamber

His first act, he decided, must be a conference with Dacius. Nor could it be put off until morning, for, although he had admonished the guard and the ladyinwaiting to say nothing of what had happened in Fausta’s bedchamber, he knew the story would be all over Rome before the day was half over the day that was to have marked the climax of the Vicennalia and of Constantine’s own happiness with the announcement of Crispus’ elevation to the rank of Augustus.

Dacius was asleep in his quarters but awakened immediately at a touch upon his shoulder. One look at Constantine’s face in the light of the candle the younger man carried brought him bolt upright. While he dressed, Constantine told of the conversation with Lupus earlier that evening and the dramatic scene that had followed Fausta’s scream.

“And you did no more than place Crispus under guard?” Dacius asked when he had finished the story.

“Lupus had prepared me, or in my anger I might have struck the boy dead then and there.”

“Has it occurred to you that Lupus might have been preparing you on purpose for a play that was already written?”

Constantine’s hands clenched into fists but, with an effort, he kept them by his side. “I know you have never liked Fausta, Dacius, but even you have no right to accuse her of such a thing. To seduce a mere boy, her own stepson, and then cry out so he would be arrested it’s beyond belief.”

“Only a very ruthless woman would get rid of a man she hated that way,” Dacius admitted.

Fausta and Crispus

“Fausta and Crispus have always been friends. She even tried to keep all this from me until tonight when she was forced to cry out or yield to him. No, Dacius, the least damning explanation I can think of for the whole thing is that the boy was drunk and didn’t know what he was doing.”

“Did Crispus give any explanation?”

“No. He seemed stunned by it all. Actually, I could forgive him for being infatuated with Fausta. She’s beautiful and highspirited and I know how provocative she can be without really meaning it. But to conspire with those who would divide my kingdom and destroy my church such a thing is beyond forgiveness.”

Pontus Euxinus

The girls were already young ladies, except Helena, the youngest. Constantine II, eldest among the boys, and Constantius II, next to him, were growing into stalwart young men who had already begun their military training, while Constans, the third son, looked forward eagerly to joining them. None of the six, he was sure, held him responsible for their mother’s death, but he could not as easily throw off the burden from his own conscience. Nor, as he stood upon an elevation now and looked out over the sparkling waters of the Bosporus and the Pontus Euxinus, was he able to conjure up again the feeling of excitement and anticipation that had gripped him, when he and Dacius had stood upon this very spot and talked of the great expanse of empire still to be conquered in the East.

“The surveyors are waiting, Dominus. Adrian s voice reminded Constantine that they had come to Byzantium to mark out the boundaries of Nova Roma, the first truly Christian capital in the Empire.

Byzantium largely selfsupporting

“In a moment, Adrian.” Constantine’s gaze once more swept across the city of Byzantium and the mounds of earth he d ordered raised during the siege, so the city could be put under attack by his great engines of war. The mounds were covered now with yellow flowering broom and the sea breeze reaching his nostrils brought the pleasant aroma of blossoming flowers, as it passed across the triangular promontory upon which the city stood, surrounded by the lush fields of grain and vegetables, the rich orchards and vineyards that made Byzantium largely selfsupporting.

In the hornshaped waterway that gave the city an ideally protected harbor, barges were already at anchor, loaded with blocks of marble quarried in the Proconnesus, a rocky group of islands in the Sea of Marmara. And on the forestclad slopes in the distance, great slashes of bare earth showed where timbers that would shortly form the framework for much of the city’s buildings had already been felled and hauled down the mountainsides, to be shaped by woodsmen in the valleys.

Constantine became conscious

“Lupus,” she murmured at the sound of Constantine’s footfall upon the floor of the bath. “I had the most exciting experience this morning.”

Her eyes opened drowsily, then widened when she saw her husband standing there instead of her lover. And at the caressing note that had been in her voice, an ungovernable rage he could no more have controlled than he could have seized the force of a raging storm with his bare hands, took complete control of Constantine’s actions, and his senses.

When Constantine became conscious of his surroundings again, he was still standing beside the pool, his right hand gripping the handle of a broad paddle with which Fausta’s servants stirred the water in the tub to mix it. The cords holding the pillow upon which her head had rested were broken, and she lay motionless, face down on the bottom of the pool, with her hair strewn out behind her in the water.

The puddle of water which had obviously slopped over the edges of the pool and now stood upon the marble floor around it; the wet hem of Constantine’s long robe; the water sloshing in his shoes all betrayed that a struggle had taken place. Of it, however, he had no memory, all rational thought having been swept away by the caressing note in Fausta’s voice when she had spoken her lover’s name. Strangely enough, too, he felt no emotion whatsoever, as he looked down at the body on the bottom of the marbledlined pool, the tide of anger which had seized him having been completely washed away by the violence of the action it had set in motion.

If anyone had ever deserved death, the cold force of logic assured him, it had been Fausta. Already unfaithful as a wife, she had become a murderess, too, when she had forced her lover to forge death warrants for the two who alone had stood in the way of her plans for her own children. And knowing that if Dacius were allowed to live, he would denounce her to Constantine, she had included his own death warrant as well.

Crispus Augustus of the West

“But why?”

“You were going to name Crispus Augustus of the West, over her own sons.”

It all fitted so perfectly that he cursed himself for not seeing it before, though in his heart he had really suspected something like this all along but had not been willing to face the truth. And because he had not he realized now his son and Licinianus were dead and Dacius was dying, with the burden of guilt for their deaths resting upon his shoulders alone.

“Why didn’t Crispus tell what really happened?” he asked.

“The boy was infatuated, and drunk. He wasn’t sure what he had done or had not done.” The dying man’s voice had grown steadily fainter. “Promise me she will be punished ”

“She will; I swear it.” Constantine spoke from the depths of the agony gripping his heart at the thought of Crispus, the handsome, the promising, the brave, cut down by the headsman’s axe and all because of a woman’s relentless ambition.

“She will be punished,” he repeated mechanically, staring at the wall with eyes that were blind now to everything save the pain of a breaking heart. He didn’t realize that the sound of Dacius’ whispering and his breathing had ceased until the physician said quietly, “He is dead, Dominus. Shall I prepare his body for burial?”

A sob broke from Constantine’s throat and, heedless of the bloody bandage that stained his tunic, he gathered the dead form of his old comrade to his breast while tears streamed down his cheeks. For only a few moments, however, did he yield to the paroxysm of grief, weeping not only for Dacius but for his son and the young Licinianus. Then, his face set, he got to his feet and started toward the door.

“The document, Dominus,” the physician called out to him. “Shall I destroy it?”

Crispus and Licinianus

Constantine understood the reason for the question. With the death warrant for Dacius destroyed as the death warrants for Crispus and Licinianus would be destroyed if he gave the order to expunge them from the official records no one could accuse him of having ordered the death of the three. Then in faroff Istria, the commander of the Pola garrison could be singled out as a scapegoat and duly executed, on the claim that he was a tool of the interests who had sought to put Crispus forward to succeed his father at the end of the Vicennalia.

Constantine spoke rapidly

“This is a forgery!” Constantine looked up to see the physician regarding him oddly. “Surely you can see that. Would I murder my son and a mere boy as well as the man who taught me all I know?”

“General Dacius seemed to consider it genuine, Dominus ” the physician said.

“But why would he try to kill the Empress?”

“I don’t know, Dominus. But he would have succeeded, if the guard had not thrown his spear. She was naturally shocked and distraught so I ordered the draught of wine and poppy and asked her ladies to prepare a hot bath for her. You know how much she loves them.”

Constantine knew that nothing could be gained by trying to question Fausta. On more than one occasion he had been irritated by her habit of lying in a steaming hot bath for hours, but she was always more tractable after such a session, so he did not suggest any other treatment for her now.

“Awaken him, if you can,” he ordered the physician. “I must know more about this document.”

From a small case the physician took a vial and, opening it, passed it briefly under Dacius’ nostrils. The sharply acrid smell of the bottle’s contents made even Constantine cough and the concentrated whiff of it revived Dacius enough for him to open his eyes again.

“This order is a forgery, Dacius.” Constantine spoke rapidly, hoping the dying man would not lapse into unconsciousness again before he could learn what he needed to know.

“But how ”

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”

“Do you swear ?” A spasm of coughing interrupted the halting flow of words.

“By my faith in Christ Jesus and my hope of salvation, I swear that I never saw the order for your death until this moment. Did you say Crispus and Licinianus are both dead?”

“Yes. Beheaded ”

“Why did you try to kill Fausta?”

“I was sure she had tricked you into signing the death warrants. Crispus told me how she duped him that night in her chamber. He brought her home, but when he started to leave, she threw herself at him and screamed for you.”

Constantine heard Crispus

“Yes, Fath Dominus.”

Constantine leaned back in his chair. “You have betrayed my trust, and must suffer because of it. But your punishment will be mitigated if you reveal the names of the other conspirators.”

‘1 cannot do that,” Crispus said quietly.

“In the name of God, why not?”

“I alone am the chief culprit. Without me there would have been no conspiracy.”

It was the truth and, in spite of his anger and exasperation at the boy’s stubbornness, Constantine couldn’t help feeling a certain pride in Crispus’ stalwart honesty and the strength of character that would let him choose degradation and perhaps death for treason was involved here rather than shift the blame for his own yielding to an overweaning ambition upon the shoulders of others.

“Is that your final decision?” Constantine asked.

“Yes, Dominus.”

Constantine turned to the quaestor. “What punishment do you recommend in such a case, Rubellius?”

“It is a clear case of treason, Dominus. The punishment customary in such cases is death.”

Constantine heard Crispus catch his breath in what might have been a sob, but the near breakdown was only momentary. Standing stiffly erect, he stared fixedly at the wall as if awaiting the headsman’s axe.

“What do you say, Dacius?” Constantine asked. “Do you agree that the prisoner is guilty?”

“Yes.”

“And the punishment?”

Galilee of Judea

“Almost exactly three centuries ago, a wise and good man in Galilee of Judea said, ‘Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.’ I have no other advice.”

Constantine knew well what Dacius implied that more than once he had not hesitated to remove those who stood in his way, using whatever means came to hand. In fact Crispus had not acted differently in this affair than he had on occasions save that, when it came to the final act of destroying the only stumbling block barring him from power and glory, he had refused to harm his own father. And that in itself justified leavening punishment with mercy.

“I would not withhold from my own son the mercy recommended by the Son of God,” Constantine said. “It is my will that Caesar Crispus and Caesar Licinianus shall be banished from my presence. They will remain under guard at Pola, in the district of Istria and the province of Pannonia, until I shall decree an end to their sentence of banishment. Quaestor Rubellius will order their transfer to Pola immediately, and the magister memoriae will record the sentence.”

Dacius attempt to assassinate

The Senate had accepted without question his story that, dazed

from the wine and poppy given her by the physician as a sedative after Dacius’ attempt to assassinate her, Fausta had drowned in the steaming tub of which she had been so fond, when the cords supporting a pillow beneath her head had broken. Privately, he knew, however, the city had buzzed with the rumor that, learning of the affair between the Empress and the tutor, of which many in Rome had long been aware, he had simply executed her by drowning her in her bath, an act to which he had every right both as a betrayed husband and as supreme ruler of the Empire.

Eusebius of Nicomedia

Upon his arrival in the East from Rome more than a month earlier, Constantine had recalled Bishop Eusebius of Nicomedia from exile and had confessed his destruction of Fausta in a fit of blind rage. The absolution given him by the obliging bishop had not brought peace to his soul, however, nor had the turning over to Empress Helena of a large amount of money to be used in building a great new church on the site of the Tomb of the Saviour, which she had discovered at Jerusalem. Old and already worn out by the journey to Jerusalem, Helena had taken to her bed at the news of Crispus’ death. Constantine knew she would never forgive him for trusting Fausta and thus making possible the death of Crispus. Nor, in truth, could he forgive himself.

Seeking to dull somewhat the pain that still gripped his heart at the memory of his firstborn son as he had ridden beside Crocus in his first battle, proudly displaying his bloody sword afterwards; as he had led the archers in the defeat of Licinius at Hadrianopolis; as he had accepted without question the order removing him from Caesarship of Gaul, bowing like the fine soldier he was to the will of his command Constantine tried to spend as much time as he could with his other children.