Chapter 9: The Crisis at Sirmium

The climate was familiar to both Constantine and
Diocletian, who had spent the past few years exposed to
unbearable desert weather. A convoy of troops led by Diocletian
was a day's ride from Sirmium. They rested alongside the post
road.

Constantine privately read a letter from his beloved wife.
She missed him with all her heart, but had their son to keep her
company and constantly remind her of him. This letter was
unique, expressing the details of her yearning that had otherwise
always been silently expressed, all throughout their marriage.
Constantine had missed his son's first steps, and his first words.
Minervina's letters let him live the memory in his imagination as
words of their son usually filled the papyrus. This letter was
different, though. It was a wife calling out to her husband,
desperately, passionately. He read it time and time again until the
words were embedded in his mind.

My Dearest Constantine,

I wish you were here by my side. I miss the
strength in your hands that caress my body, the way your
voice rings in my ears like the strings of a lyre. I miss the
sharp fragrance of your body, the curves and hardness I
feel when it touches me. I miss the picnics and the long
walks under the stars. Constantine, I miss you. My longing
for you has reached an uncontrollable level that I can no
longer conceal from you.

Please come and rescue me from this eternal
solitude that plagues me so. How can I possibly explain
the depth of my love for you in a letter? I cannot do so.
Just know that I will love you until the day I die. I wish to
have you before me and speak those forbidden words that
I have yearned to hear since our eyes first met. Come back
to me Constantine.
Your Loving Wife,
Minervina

It had seemed like an eternity since he had been with her
last, and the distance had made his heart grow even fonder.
While Diocletian and the others were slumbering, restlessness
overcame Constantine. He was only a day's ride from his wife
and child.

The ride along the postal road was too leisurely for
anxious Constantine. He wanted to hold his wife's tender body in
his arms and run his fingers through her soft hair. He envisioned
caressing her body with his lips and looked forward to hearing
her sweet sighs of ecstasy. Constantine wanted his wife more
than anything at that moment, generating desires that intensified
as the route to Sirmium grew more tedious.

Gray canopies hung low in the sky over Sirmium. The
light from the setting sun bounced off the clouds, blocking rays
and turning day into night. For Constantine, coming from lands
of blistering sun and dry heat, the contrast was intense. Unlike
the vast desert he had crossed, the outlying fields of the military

city were verdant and lush. It was the overcast sky that aroused
uneasiness in Constantine, as it left a tumultuous shadow onto
the city below.

When it officially turned to night was unclear as a thick
darkness settled over the land. Sirmium was quiet, silent and
still. Massive discharges of light bolted from the clouds. Silence,
then a powerful rumble shook the atmosphere. The thunder was
considered a bad omen, and Diocletian acted accordingly as they
entered the city confines.

"Take to your quarters immediately," he ordered. "Avoid
this tempestuous and disturbing night." The emperor and his
guards went their separate ways as troops hurried to their
quarters in fear of the gods.

The rumbling thunder mixed together with his horse's
galloping and a child's cries as Constantine approached his
quaint villa inside Sirmium's walls. He tied the horse's reins to a
post and exhilaratedly leaped through the doorway. The villa was
as dark as the sky and the child's screams intensified his
uneasiness.

"Minervina! Minervina, the child!" Constantine called out
without receiving any response.

A flash of light through the open doorjamb revealed her
body lying on the bed. He ran to her, perplexed by the lack of
reply. "Minervina?" Still no answer. The sky rumbled and the
child's intolerable wail shrieked in his ears. Lightning flashed,
exposing his pale wife, her eyes closed. A long thunderclap
followed, mixed with the wailing and Constantine's screams of
terror. He dove onto the bed beside his wife.

"Minervina, wake up!" He pushed her arm. "Speak to
me!"

Her body was in a state that was familiar to him. He
touched her arms, her legs, and her face. They were cold. The
lightning flashed a third time as horror struck deep into his heart.
He pressed his ear to her cold, inert lips. She was still, without
breath, without life. Constantine came to his knees, clenching his
fists with anger as the lightning lit the villa.

"Nooo!" He screamed, knowing well that it was too late
for her. Constantine's wails joined nature's rumble and the
weeping of his son as the reality of his wife's death settled in his
mind. He cradled her in his arms and wept while he rocked her.
He whispered into her ear, "I love you," and her wish from the
letter was fulfilled at last.

Constantine diverted his attention to his son who lay
wailing in a pool of his own vomit. He picked him up and carried
him to the horse outside. Thunder cracked, reverberating
endlessly through the shadowed region. Constantine sped the
horse to Diocletian's quarters. There, he handed the reins to a
sentry standing guard outside the palace entrance. He stalked into
the decadent palace holding his four-year-old child in his arms.

"Diocletian!" Constantine's words echoed off the palace
walls, along with the child's wailing voice. The emperor's
guards immediately surrounded them. "I demand to see the
emperor," he screamed, pushing a guard aside.

Diocletian appeared from a corridor, dressed only in a
purple toga. "What clamor is this that I hear?" he said angrily.
He saw the tears in Constantine's eyes and knew something was
horribly wrong. "What is it Constantine?" he said in a concerned
tone.

"My wife, she is dead." Tears streamed down his cheeks
as his child's crying softened to a murmur.

Diocletian took him by the hand and led him to his
bedchamber. Behind the doors was a velvet bed with two
concubines lying half-naked upon it.

"Shoo!" the emperor said to the women, who were then
escorted out by the guards.

"If I had only arrived one day sooner," Constantine
muttered, "I could have seen her alive one last time. Maybe even
saved..."

"Stay here with me tonight, my boy," Diocletian said in a
fatherly tone. "Clean the child and rest. Worry no more about
what has happened. I will take care of everything for you."
Diocletian pulled on a purple cloak and slid gold rings onto his

fingers. "I will return shortly, and when I do, I expect not to hear
any talk of this matter until the morning."

That night, Constantine slept heavily with his child in his
arms. He dreamt of Minervina. She was with him in fields of
gold, smiling as she always had. They were together and nothing
in the world mattered except for their well being. It was a dream
of endless courtship filled with happiness and love. He hoped
never to awaken from it, but the dawn came and the trumpets
announced its arrival. He awoke to the grim and harsh reality.
Minervina was no more.

Regal Diocletian entered the bedchamber. Draped in a
purple toga with a thick velvet cloak and jewelry, he came to
Constantine. Constantine knelt, then stood apprehensively before
the emperor.

"What has been discovered?"

The emperor put his hand gently on Constantine's
shoulder and guided him out of the bedchamber. "Walk with
me," he ordered paternally. "Your son, where is he?"

"He sleeps," Constantine said. "I hope I do not cause too
much inconvenience."

"Nonsense my boy, nonsense," Diocletian responded as
chamberlains and maidservants bowed to the emperor in passing.
" I have arranged for you and your son to remain in the palace
for the time being."

Constantine stopped. "Please, what have you found out?"

Diocletian waved Constantine to follow him into a private
room. It was barren, furnished only with animal skin divans.

Diocletian mirrored Constantine's serious mien. "It is
difficult to conclude anything at this point."

"Difficult?" Constantine was appalled. "You are the
emperor, you have the power to determine anything you wish
and take action. Please, tell me there is more."

"Constantine, I understand the pain you are suffering, but
let us not forget to whom you speak," he said, exasperated.
"Although you did mention it discourteously, you are correct in
assuming that I have the power to find out anything I desire."

"So help me, I beg of you." Constantine kissed the ring on
the emperor's hand. "I want to know the truth."

"I will be blunt, then." Diocletian paced and Constantine
sat attentively. "An illness may have taken her life."

Immediately Constantine began shaking his head in denial.

"We have a maidservant from within this very palace as
well as other people living in or around Sirmium who were
dreadfully ill." Seeing Constantine's reaction Diocletian broke
off. "What is it, then?" he asked with irritation.

"Minervina was healthy. You yourself had seen her. She
could not have contracted some illness that has left half the
elderly maidservants in this palace unaffected. They are still
walking around, lively and alert. My Minervina sleeps the eternal
sleep. Please, tell me there is more to this than just an illness."

"What do you want me to tell you?"

"The truth," Constantine said bluntly.

"Do you accuse your emperor of lying? That is a serious
offense, Constantine. Exercise caution when speaking to me."

Constantine spoke in a humble tone. "I do not wish to
offend you, I apologize. My words come from my anger. I just
find it hard to believe. There may very well have been an illness
that was contracted by a number of people, but to say that
Minervina was one of only a few who actually died from it is
ludicrous."

"There was an illness that threatened the lives of many
these past weeks. This we know. We believe in what we know."

"I am sorry, but I do not believe in this, which I do not
know."

"What do you suppose happened then?" Diocletian sat on
the divan as Constantine took to the floor, pacing about.

"I found her lying dead as if asleep. My son, who is alive
and to my knowledge in a perfect state of health, was soaked in

his own vomit. If his mother had contracted the illness I am sure
the child would have been exposed and suffered the same fate."

"Perhaps he is ill. As you stated he was covered in vomit,"
Diocletian said.

"He has no temperature and slept like a newborn last
night. He hasn't the symptoms of a child in ill health."

"Are you a physician or a soldier? We will let the palace
physician determine whether he is ill. What I want to hear is your
thoughts as to the cause of her mysterious death," Diocletian said
impatiently.

"Quite simply, she was poisoned, as was the child. But he
was sensitive to the toxin and hence vomited. Minervina was
not."

"Absurd! Completely preposterous! No one would dare do
such a thing in my residence. I strongly object to your
conclusion."

"Have you any other more credible explanation? Because
the last time we spoke of my marriage, I was told that many
aristocrats frowned on Minervina and viewed her more as a
concubine than a wife."

"What do you want me to do? Order an investigation and
execute anyone who was suspected of poisoning your wife,
whom, as you correctly pointed out, was disliked by the
aristocracy! Even if there were clear evidence to support that she
was indeed murdered, I would lose face if I resorted to such
measures over the death of a woman whom I never approved of."

"Very well, emperor. I suppose I can expect nothing
more," Constantine said.

"I will tell you what you can expect. You can expect to
keep this a secret. Divorce papers will be produced so that your
wife's death will remain hidden." He stopped Constantine, by
covering his mouth before he spoke. "Let it go. It was the will of
the gods," Diocletian advised solemnly. "Look to your son and
your career. Do not dwell on the past. The divorce will be
official, only we will know." He walked away from Constantine
and out of the room.

The palace physician came to the bedchamber
immediately to examine Constantine's son. The solemn child
shook his head in response to questions, hardly saying a word.

The physician met with Constantine outside of the room.
"Your son is very strong. He has survived the illness, though he
should take a pinch of these herbs at every meal." The man
handed Constantine herbal leaves.

Constantine violently pushed him back against the wall.
"Who told you to say my child was ill?" Constantine's rhetorical
question echoed in the hall. Constantine squeezed the man's soft
biceps. "He was poisoned, wasn't he?"

"Please! You're hurting me."

Constantine released his grip. The frail man glanced at
him, eyes filled with fright. "If you will excuse me, I must report
my findings to the emperor."

Constantine let the man pass, realizing that his most
rational course of action would be to accept that his wife had
died of natural causes, and allow her death to be covered up by
the emperor.

The fertile soil was freshly plowed and a mound of black
dirt contrasted with the lush grass of the field. Medallions with
the inscriptions of the Roman pantheon were laid on top of the
moist soil. Constantine and his son knelt at Minervina's grave.
Her loss brought upon them a silence that spoke louder than
words. Their faces were at first dry and solemn. Then the rain
came along with the moan of the wind and tears trickled
endlessly onto the soil. They sat there, unable to leave her, while
the soil turned to mud. Slanting sheets of water fell heavily until,
off in the distance, the sun emerged through a space in the
clouds. Its rays shone onto them, surrounding them with pale
mist. Constantine believed it to be the work of the gods and did
not question it. Then the sun hid behind the clouds and day

turned into night once again. Father and son paid a final farewell
and returned to the world of the emperor.

The spectacular dawn of the next day was brilliant and
reinvigorating to Constantine, who purposely forced his son to
join him in the chilly morning. Moisture was in the air, but there
was no sign of further rain. White clouds were scattered across
the great majestic space of the sky as a resurgence of life
returned to its natural seasonal pattern. Each rock and verdant
leaf glossed in the light of the sun.

Constantine was taking in the floral fragrance of the
garden. It reminded him of Helena.

His state of nostalgia was interrupted by a voice that was
soft and high as a girl's. "I miss my mother," the child said to his
father.

Constantine pulled his son into a warm embrace. "I miss
her too, Crispus."

The boy glanced at his father, who had called him by a
name he had not recalled hearing before. He said nothing to the
contrary, and to Constantine, his son would remain Crispus, as
Minervina had once desired.

Constantine went down on all fours on the moist earth.

"Come on, son," Constantine encouraged.

The boy mounted him and Constantine imitated the
motions of a horse. Laughter replaced the previous sadness as
Crispus tugged on Constantine's hair like the reins of a stallion.
He yanked hard and his father gently threw his rider. He tickled
him on the ground, then abruptly stopped.

"What do you want to do today?" Crispus shrugged his
shoulders in response. He took him by the hand. "Come on."
Constantine guided his son to his horse.

"If the animal loses its balance, loosen your grip on the
reins, it will adjust by itself." Constantine guided his son as they
sat on the black-maned horse. Crispus sat in front of Constantine,
who cautiously instructed his son on how to use the reins. The
muscular horse walked along the postal road, passing by soldiers

moving in the opposite direction. Constantine allowed his son to
control the reins by himself, while he held him around the waist.

His little hands grasped the leather and he felt like a
warrior. "Faster, faster," he said.

"Ok, hold on tight." The child was too small to kick the
horse so Constantine used his own legs for that purpose. In no
time, the fearless child was in control of the horse in a canter.
Crispus tightened his thighs and feet as the horse bounced him
up and down. Both riders were smiling with glee.

Constantine spent the next days and nights with his son, as
his time with Crispus was coming to a gradual end. The emperor
had made arrangements to leave Sirmium and Constantine would
have no choice but to accompany him.

Diocletian sent a messenger to Constantius in order to
notify him ofMinervina's death. The messenger returned with a
response from Constantius. Diocletian waited for Constantine to
take a seat next to him before the messenger read the letter aloud.

'"I write to you with a heavy heart. I cannot help but
wonder what my son is feeling, for I know that he must have
cared deeply for this woman, whom he married and who bore
him a healthy boy. It is a great honor that he has to be with him
in his time of need. Because the reason for her death cannot be
determined, I fear for my grandson's safety. I have not asked any
favors of Your Grace, nor have I needed to do so in the past.
However, I ask now with all humility, to please allow my
grandson to come to my court in Treves. I have sent men along
with your messenger to bring you the early tax collections and
booty from the recent campaign. If the child is permitted, these
very men will escort him to Treves. Thank you for your gracious
generosity in handling these matters. Regarding local matters.
The Alamani—'" The messenger stopped, interrupted by the
emperor.

"Enough," Diocletian commanded. He extended his arm
and the messenger placed the papyrus in his hand, before leaving
him to be alone with Constantine.

Constantius' words had created a taut atmosphere in the
room, while Diocletian decided the fate ofConstantine's child.

The emperor turned to Constantine as he had made up his
mind. "Leam from the Caesar. He is tactful in his requests and
reports." Diocletian grinned, receiving no response from
Constantine. "I cannot allow the boy to accompany us to Antioch
and the various other courts I will be required to travel to. It is
just too tedious, you understand."

Constantine nodded.

"By the same token, I cannot leave him here alone to be
cared for by a strange maidservant. Therefore, I have no choice
but to grant Constantius his request."

Constantine smiled with relief.

"Mind you, Constantine, I do this only because your father
has served Rome well, and his son is loyal to me and will
continue to be until I no longer am emperor."

"Yes, I swear it by the eyes of the gods." He kneeled and
kissed Diocletian's hand. "Thank you. I will surely never forget
all that you have done for me. Excuse me while I prepare for my
son's departure."

Diocletian sat back alone in the room, smiling. He had
made one of the most honorable decisions of his career, and he
knew it.

"Remember to behave and respect your grandfather,"
Constantine reminded the child. He lifted Crispus up and handed
him to a stout centurion who placed the child in front of him on
top of the roan mare.

"Yes, father," Crispus said, anticipating the adventure.

Constantine observed the centurion who held his son in
place. "Protect him on the journey."

"Like he was my own," the centurion responded. The
centurion saluted and galloped off to join the rest of the men at

the gate. Between the beat of the hooves on the pavement,
Constantine heard his son's voice.

"I love you, father!"

He vanished outside the city walls. It would be the last
time Constantine would see Crispus as a child.