As a decurion of the training maniples, Constantine was allowed much more freedom than while a cadet. And since Drepanum was not far away, he was able to visit his mother occasionally. Helena was comfortably established in the town, where she had many relatives, and was well supplied with funds sent regularly by his father from his capital at Treves in Gaul. It was from his mother that Constantine learned of the birth of a half brother, his father’s son by Theodora, the stepdaughter of the Emperor Maximian. And when he was told that this son bore the same name as he, any hope of succeeding to his father’s position as Caesar, and perhaps as Augustus, was dealt a body blow.
He was thoughtful and even resentful as he rode back to Nicomedia in the afternoon. But upon his return to the barracks he had no time to mope, for Dacius greeted him with news that the decurion in charge of a detail guarding the imperial gardens had fallen ill and ordered him to take the other man’s place.
The gardens of the palace were beautiful, with terraced banks of flowers and shrubs and the musical rush of water from a succession of fountains, each at a lower level than the one above.
Constantine disposed his men in the posts they were to walk and having finished this chore paused at the end of the tour beside a quiet pool, where the moon penetrated through the branches of the trees to cast a dappled pattern of shadows and light upon the water. Lost in gloom, he turned quickly when he heard a movement almost at his elbow and his hand dropped to the hilt of his sword.
“An officer who is not alert doesn’t live very long,” a heavy voice said. Recognizing Emperor Diocletian, Constantine came rigidly to attention.
I just finished inspecting them
“My men are walking their posts, Dominus.” He gave Rome’s Emperor the title of an oriental monarch, which he was known to prefer to that of Imperator. “I just finished inspecting them.” “And being young, your mind turned to other things?”
“Yes, Dominus.”
“What is your name, Decurion?”
“Flavius Valerius Constantinus.”
“Constantius’ son?”
“Yes, Dominus.”
“I knew your mother well, when Constantius was courting her. She was very beautiful.”
“For a barmaid?” From the depths of his frustration over the news he had heard at Drepanum, Constantine spoke bitterly and impetuously.
“Your mother’s parents operated an inn on the Imperial Post Road, a legitimate business which they conducted honestly,” Diocletian said sharply. Then he added in a tone less harsh, “But I suppose some here have accused you of being nothus because she was a concubina.”
“Yes, Dominus.”
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