Chapter 16: The Bequest

The water of the Ouse River rushed parallel to the road
they galloped on at full stride. York was in sight. It lay between
the verdant hills to the east and the highland plateaus to the west.
Even as the sun sank to rest, the view of York was spectacular.
The red tiled roofs on the outskirts of the city stood out from the
fortress walls surrounding the center. Constantine and Cassius
galloped into the city, passing wood and brick villas, built in
architectural styles Constantine had never seen before.
Constantine chose to ignore the beauty of York as his focus was
primarily on his father and his condition. Nevertheless, York was
the favorite city of the dying emperor, a marvel of simple beauty
and strategic importance.

A line of chamberlains stood outside the government
building, awaiting Constantine's arrival. The crowd of officials
followed him and Cassius as they made their way into the
emperor's residence. Grim expressions on the faces of countless
strangers who had served under the emperor were a testament to
the mood at the court. Their mouths remained shut, while the
sadness in their eyes voiced their condolences.

Constantius lay on his scarlet bed inside a room decorated
with black and gold objects. It was a unique bedchamber for a
unique man. Kneeling on the black-tiled floor, Theodora rested
her head on her husband's chest and wept. Her head rose and fell
with his every breath—he was still alive.

"Father," Constantine mumbled aloud, his eyes teary. He
fell to his knees opposite his stepmother.

His father's eyes were closed. He slept, retaining the little
energy that remained, withholding his soul from its departure.
Theodora and Constantine glanced at each other. She had aged
considerably since he had last seen her, close to a decade and a
half ago. Wrinkles on her face represented the burden of
childbirth and gray strands in her raven hair came from days of
worrying that had taken their toll. Regardless, she remained
attractive and could have passed for the emperor's eldest
daughter rather than his wife.

"Welcome home, Constantine," she said, wiping the tears.

"It's good to see you, even under such circumstances," he
said hesitantly.

She lifted a finger and signaled Constantine to wait before
awaking his father. She left the room only to return with a child
in her arms and a row of children trailing in procession behind
her. They were finely clothed and of apparent regal bearing.

"These are your brothers and sisters," she said with a sigh.
"This is Hannibalianus," she lifted the child in her arms ever so
slightly. "The boy beside me is my son Julius Constantius. His
brother Delmatius is next to him, and the rest are my daughters.
Eutropia, Anastasia, and my eldest, Constantia."

He smiled courteously, although he was made
uncomfortable by the introduction. Then he realized who the
child was who was holding hands with Constantia, the one
Theodora had neglected to mention.

"Crispus."

The boy let go of her hand and ran to his father. He leaped
and Constantine caught him, as he wrapped his legs around his

father's waist. Father and son had been reunited; it was a
moment of joy in a time of sorrow.

"My son, my handsome son. You have grown so much,"
he said, kissing him on the cheek. At ten years of age, he was
just as handsome as his father had been.

Awakened by the commotion, Constantius revealed his
conscious state with a cough. The room suddenly became silent
and still. Constantine and the others in the room, including
Cassius in the comer, came forward to stare down at Constantius.

"Constantine," he called out.

"Yes, father, I'm here," he said, leaning to his level and
still holding Crispus.

"I'm dying, son." He waved Theodora to allow the
children to approach him.

"Go, Constantia! Your father beckons," said Theodora as
she nudged her eldest.

Constantius embraced her and whispered in her ear. "Give
me a kiss goodbye, my darling." He peeked over her shoulder at
the rest of his children. "Come here my little ones." A muted
wail came from Theodora's covered mouth. One child after the
other pecked their father and wept.

"Kiss your grandfather," Constantine commanded his son.

"I love you," Crispus said, then kissed his grandfather's
cheek.

Constantius pinched his rosy cheeks. "I see that life has
brought me full circle. You will begin where I left off until you
are in the place where I am now," Constantius said to
Constantine.

"As I told you," Constantius whispered to Crispus.

The boy nodded at his grandfather's reaffirmation of their
secret. Constantine set his son aside and placed him behind him
with the other children.

"I worry about their future, Constantine. I'm concerned
about their safety. Promise me that nothing will happen to them."

Constantine turned to Theodora and their eyes locked. It
was a moment of tension for everyone.

"I swear by the gods, to protect my brothers and sisters
until the day I die," he said with the utmost sincerity.

"You have eased my conscience, Constantine. I can now
rest in peace." Constantius looked on at his children for a final
time. A tear glided down his cheek. "Take the children from
here, Theodora."

She did as he commanded, accompanied by Cassius, and
Constantine was at last alone with his father.

"There is so much I want to tell you, but I am too weak."

Constantine held his father's trembling hand. "Save your
words, father."

"I must speak to you and you must listen attentively.
Everything I have done for the last decade was for you. I have
positioned you strategically and worked to establish plans that
you will bring to life. The future of the empire is in your hands.
I'm giving you my life's work. My advisors will inform you of
specifics, as will your friend Cassius from the little he knows."

"Thank you father. I'll make sure your efforts were not in

vain."

"You're going to change the world, my son. The road of
your destiny is paved leading to the treasure of success."

"I have longed for the time when we would be again
together and the gods have robbed me of even this. There is so
much that we must share. Father, don't leave me now."

"My fondest memories of my life are of you as a child and
Helena. I wish she were here for me to say a final goodbye and
see her beautiful face one last time."

Constantine said nothing and purposely displayed no
reaction, although the comment struck deep in his heart. "I want
you to know that I appreciate all that you have done for me. The
animosity and resentment that I once had exists no more."

"My health fails me, my son. I care no more about
governing and holding a position of power. Nor can I stand by
idly watching incompetence from rulers such as Galerius. His
kind are as abundant as colored leaves in the fall. It is you and I
who are rare. Just as Alexander carried out King Philip of

Macedon's plans, so shall you. The foundation has been
provided, but you have yet to accept the responsibility and
commitment."

"I will make your dream a reality, I swear to it. Neither
blood nor sweat will interfere with my endeavors."

"Always remember, Constantine, to be a just and moral
ruler. The decisions you make will affect generations to come.
Trust my advisors and be wary of the Roman hierarchy."

"As you wish."

Theodora interrupted with her presence. She took a place
next to Constantine. Constantius placed his hands in theirs.

"Tell Crocus I wish to return to the earth as I entered,
among common people. I want a common grave among common
people. This is my last request."

Theodora began to cry again.

"I will see to it," said Constantine reassuringly.

"Don't cry, my love. My time is past due." His eyelids
slowly closed and his hands loosened their grip. He exhaled
deeply and said nothing more.

Constantine calmly kissed his father and stepped away.
Theodora wailed at the top of her lungs and threw herself on top
other husband's dead body.

It was an all too familiar sight for Constantine, who left
the scene in search of his son. Chamberlains rushed into the
room as Constantine exited. The priests accompanied them,
joining the wailing. Constantine tried to ignore the sounds of
sorrow as he walked down the hall toward his son.

"Death brings us together, father," Crispus said with a
calm demeanor.

Constantine raised his hand as if to strike his child. "Never
speak those words again! Understand?"

The boy nodded in fear of his father's voice and mighty
hand. "Yes, father."

"Come here," he said softly. He held his son with one arm
and carried him outside of the building. "So you had been here
all along."

"Not entirely. I spent the past year here."

"Where were you before?"

"With grandmother."

"Who?"

"Helena"

"My mother? Where? How?"

"Grandfather sent me. But it is a secret that no one must
know. Not even Theodora."

"Yes, yes, of course." Constantine grinned. His mother
was alive and well. Nevertheless, he realized that contact with
her would jeopardize the safety of Theodora's children. He
reminded himself of the promise he had made at his father's
deathbed and knew it would be some time before he could safely
be reunited with his beloved mother.

Cassius saw Constantine walking to the garden from afar.
He hurriedly came over to him and put his arm around his
shoulder. "My condolences. He was a great man, whose spirit
will live on forever in our hearts."

"Thank you, Cassius. I was not there when your father
passed away. I apologize for my absence."

"Then I must apologize as well, because I was not present
when my father died. He died young. He and my mother were
murdered by thieves. I was just a boy tending to my daily duties
in town when it happened. Then I enlisted and the army has been
my family ever since."

"I'm sorry, Cassius. I never knew."

"How could you know? I kept it inside all these years."

"No, I have been so absorbed in my own family matters
that I neglected to discuss your family."

"It's really all right, my friend. This is your time now. A
time to grieve as will your father's entire domain."

"My father told me that he had planned my future. He said
he had spoke to you about it."

"Are you of a mind to discuss these matters now?"

"I will not allow myself to rest until I know what course
my life will take from here. My curiosity has gotten the best of

me, and until I find out what is to come, I cannot mourn his
death."

"In short, your father's ultimate strategy is as follows: you
will rule with an iron scepter in his domain and eventually take
over the entire empire. You will institute a new order over the
culture of the world."

"How will I do this? I am but one."

"You have been chosen by the immortals to take this
course, my friend. It is and has always been in you to follow this
path. Now, ask no more because I can provide no more answers.
Crocus and your father's closest advisors can go into detail about
the specific instructions your father has laid down for you to
follow."

"Yes, thank you for those words, Cassius. Thank you for
your friendship." He walked off towards the garden holding
Crispus by the hand. They walked in silence while the rest of the
city mourned the death of Constantius. Constantine was
saddened by his father's death, yet he had matters of graver
concern running through his mind.

The funeral procession was not as simple as Constantius
had intended it to be. The army marched in full battle armor as
Crocus insisted on a warrior's burial. The emperor's casket was
draped with purple. The wood was carved with battle scenes
from Constantius' illustrious career. Hordes of people from his
domain came to pay their last respects to a ruler whom they had
loved. Even the straight-faced, hardened generals and King
Crocus wept as the grave was covered with dirt and Theodora's
children watched the soldiers salute their commander for the last
time. An uncommon man was buried among the common, just as
he had wished. It was the last gesture of humble integrity
Constantius displayed to the world. Constantine observed the
spectacle that would remain imbedded in his memory.

The unity Constantius had managed to forge among the
diverse peoples of his domain lasted through the day of his
burial. Yet, when that had passed, the unity began to fade. A
dilemma arose right away regarding the religious rites that took
place on the day following his funeral. Some pagans made
sacrifices and ate the meat of the animals, offering the entrails to
the deceased out of respect. The Christians ate fish and forbid the
slaughter of animals. As a result, tension erupted between pagans
and Christians.

With their leader gone, disagreements turned to arguing,
and arguing into fighting. Officers attempted to intervene but
were pushed away by the people who did not recognize them as
their leader.

Finally frustrated and sickened by the situation,
Constantine took control. "Disperse, you citizens of whom my
father was proud, you people of this earth!"

The generals and officers rounded up the people and
directed them to gather at the center of York. There, Constantine
stood on top of an artillery platform aloft the fortress wall.

Constantine addressed the assembly of soldiers and
civilians. "For those of you who do not know me, I am
Constantine, the emperor's eldest son. When I first arrived on
this island nearly a year ago, I was impressed by the unity,
tolerance and understanding of the people in this part of the
empire. It was a change from the suspicious, conniving, and
greedy citizens, ruled by men who were the living representation
of avarice, of the place where I had been held for so long against
my will. Compared to the place where I escaped from, my
father's domain seemed like paradise. You stood out as kind-
hearted, loyal, and genuinely understanding individuals who
would honor their emperor even in dire circumstances.

"Before me I see that it was a ruse, a fa9ade for my father,
your emperor, who sacrificed in order to ensure your wellbeing.
He is gone and your true selves are evident. I blame you, who
claim to be religious people. I blame those of you who dare say

you honor my father and yet provoke violence on the day of his
funeral.

"I say, drink and be merry. Open your clenched fists and
put away your weapons. Do not fight over religious practices.
You are my father's people and you had the intention of
honoring him. Let us not lose perspective."

He left the wall as his words settled in their minds.
Constantius was dead, but his spirit lived on in his son. The
citizens apologized to their neighbors and the frustrations that
had erupted were set aside.

He descended the fortified wall via tower stairs and was
met by his father's advisors at the ground level. They had urgent
business to discuss. Holding a ram's horn in one hand. Crocus
pulled Constantine up the tower stairs with the other. The
advisors, officials, and generals followed. As soon as they set
foot upon the artillery platform. Crocus caught the attention of
the dispersing assembly by blowing a tremendous blast with the
horn. He kept on blowing until the throng formed tightly around
the wall, curious and wary of what was to come. Then Crocus
opened his arms and for the first time, Constantine watched him
speak in the vernacular to the mass audience.

"Constantius has given us prosperity. His son will do the
same." He pulled Constantine to the edge of the wall. The crowd
responded with cheers.

Constantine spotted Cassius among the crowd, smiling
triumphantly at him. Then the King of the Alemanni blew his
bugle a second time to hush the assembly.

"Cast your eyes on your emperor," he said, patting
Constantine on the shoulder.

The crowd resumed their applause and the day of
mourning became a day of celebration. The old had been
replaced with the new. The past had been succeeded by the
future. Constantine stood tall as he realized that his dream was
one step closer. It was a stepping stone to bigger things.
Constantine would no longer have to take orders with a silenced

tongue. Rather, he would give the orders and voice his objections
whenever he deemed it necessary.

"Sent by God," a person shouted from the crowd.

Crocus was handed the purple cloak that belonged to
Constantius. He placed it on Constantine's shoulders. He
finished by adorning him with his own crown.

"Cassius."

"Yes, your Excellency," he said with sincerity.

Constantine was taken back by the comment.

"Come." They walked together from the platform to the
government building. Crocus and the others trailed behind. Their
steps echoed down the hall of the silent building. The cheers had
died out and the silence accentuated the very movement of the
men. Constantine's every move was watched, and for good
reason. A wrong decision this early in his career could be fatal to
his father's plans.

"Galerius is your primary concern, no?" inquired Crocus.

"Yes, I plan on writing him a letter to notify him of my
election."

"There is no need. We have a draft already produced."

Constantine glanced at him oddly.

"Constantius arranged for everything except your actual
crowning."

"May I see it please?"

Crocus snapped his fingers over head and an advisor
instantly produced a letter. He handed the draft to Constantine,
who looked it over and nodded approvingly.

"Extremely tactful. Do you mind if I create my own
version with Cassius?"

"You are the emperor. Do as you wish. However, be sure
to allow your advisors to look it over prior to sending it off."

"Of course. No need to worry."

Constantine and Cassius entered a room and closed the
door behind them for privacy. It was the bedchamber belonging
to a member of the imperial household. It had mosaic floors and

a table topped with colorful glass of different shapes, no doubt
imported from Gaul.

"Have you supplies?"

Cassius found writing materials at a comer table in the
room. He lifted them in response to the question. "Why don't
you just send the letter that has already been thoughtfully
written?"

"Do I really have to answer that? After years of Galerius'
abuse, his maltreatment and attempts to have us killed, it is the
least I can do."

"Fine, I understand your craving for revenge. Yet, this is
not the way."

"What can he do?"

Cassius made ready to jot down Constantine's words. The
new emperor told of his election and of the military support he
had received from his father's men. His letter was arrogant and
filled with undertones of threats. In it, he proclaimed himself
Senior Augustus, and referred to Galerius as his subordinate. It
was complete when he signed it, "Emperor Constantine."

Having completed the letter, they left the room in search
of advisors to edit and rewrite the message. They didn't look far,
for the advisors had stayed outside the chamber doors like
sentries at their posts during a time of war. They solemnly
looked over the letter and decided to leave it as it was.

Before long, Constantine carried the finished draft to the
messenger's post, escorted by Cassius. Along the way, they
encountered Theodora. Her face was veiled and she stood with
her arms folded. She stared both men down, waiting until they
were close enough to touch before uncovering her face.

Cassius bowed out of respect.

"Purple suits you, Constantine," she said, flicking a coin
into the air.

He caught the coin and glanced over to find her gone.
Cassius insisted on looking at the coin. It depicted what appeared
to be Constantine receiving the imperial crown. This, too, had

been minted prior to Constantius' death. It was the perfect touch
to the letter. It was the perfect slap in the face for Galerius.

"On second thought, let us wait before sending the letter
off. We will have the messengers collect the mail from all of
Britain prior to their departure. There is no need for Galerius to
know about my position until my father's plans have been
instigated."

Cassius took the document and pointed at a row of
advisors who awaited Constantine in the hall.

Constantine and the others returned to their meeting
chamber. They sat in the same black seats they had occupied
before, and placed their elbows on the same white marble table,
using it as a crutch while listening and speaking.

"I have decided to postpone sending off the letter to
Galerius. I believe it behooves us to do so."

No formal objection was raised and the conference
continued. A large hand-drawn map of the domain bequeathed to
Constantine was stretched out on the table. Advisors pointing out
auxiliary sites and roads for the movement of troops. They were
setting into motion a plan for transporting the entire army to the
mainland. It had already been carefully considered, yet
Constantine was wary.

"We need only to leave a small force at the frontiers," said
Crocus.

"I do not wish to allow any tribe to invade my father's
territory. Too much blood has been spilt defending it,"
Constantine said.

"Have no fear, Constantine. Precautions have already been
taken," said a mercenary general. His blue eyes fixed on
Constantine's mouth as he continued. "The Picts are defeated
and it will take years for them to recuperate. Constantius had
either conquered or bought out the other tribes, so this plan could
succeed. No one will attack these lands in our absence."

"It was my father's will, so shall it be. As many men as he
wanted will remain. The rest will go."

"We will set off immediately," said Crocus with a grin.

The argument of Constantine's advisors was accurate, in
that Constantius had done enough to ensure that a transfer of his
army to Gaul would go smoothly. Threats to his lands in Britain
were minimal, by the time Constantine secured the throne.
Hence, the entire elite force of the northwestern army could be
moved to create a southern front that would sweep across
Constantine's domain and secure the land.

The summer of AD 306 marked the date of the mass
movement of the troops. Soldiers bid their families farewell as
they departed, glancing over their shoulders at what they would
leave behind for an unspecified time. Detachments from
throughout the remote areas of the island converged on the
military highways that led to the Straits, where the ships would
transport them to the mainland. The formation of a southern front
had been instigated as various detachments gradually met on the
mainland.

Then there were the elite directly under Crocus. These
were the cavalries from the Rhine, distinct in uniform, arms, and
character. They followed the Alemanni infantry whose marching
and professionalism displayed their discipline. Finally there were
the masters of archery from Asia, men whose bows could be
strung by only their owners, who shot arrows with such accuracy
that they were a terror weapon in themselves. Constantine
observed his elite troops as plans for a future conquest of the
empire echoed in his mind.