“We can make eternal temples of your governor's basilicas,” was his way of putting it. And with his treasury overflowing from donations by Christians, Constantine could consolidate control on his father's provinces, and pay those who'd aided him.
When Constantine arrived in Treveris for the first time, as emperor at the head of his troops, he and Crocus went first to the Temple of Hercules, his father's namesake. It had been rumored that the priests there were agitating against him. The doors to the temple were forced open, and the high priest was found, cowering in the small inner sanctum. The man's face was so pox marked, the legionaries who caught him held him at arm’s length as they brought him to Constantine, as if they thought they might catch something, and that it probably would have been better to leave him where he was.
When asked why he had refused to answer to their knocking, he said that an evil sign had occurred two nights before: a vase had fallen in the temple and had broken into smithereens. The vase had shown Hercules stealing the sacred tripod at Delphi. Since then he had refused to open the temple. Some of his acolytes had taken the sign as meaning an overturning of the order of things.
He said he could not himself determine what the sign meant but was planning to travel to Rome to have it interpreted at the great Temple of Hercules there. He would not read the augers anymore, he said, as the chance of a false reading under the present circumstances were too high.
Constantine laughed at that. He looked around at the numerous vases and statues, which stood in niches along all the walls. “You priests believe anything,” he said. “You're lucky the whole lot wasn't broken.”
While the priest cowered in front of him, Constantine made his demands.
“You will proclaim me Augustus tomorrow, at a special ceremony in front of this temple.” His tone was cold. The priest nodded enthusiastically.
“My men will stay with you all day so that you do not change your mind and run away. As for your omen, it simply signified the arrival of a new emperor, that's all. There will be no need for you to go to Rome. Not until I say so.”
After that, Constantine proclaimed a series of gladiatorial games to be held in honor of his father. They would be the best ever held in Treveris. A new arena and basilica were also planned, dedicated to his father.
He still had to ratify the position he’d been elevated to by his troops with Galerius, the emperor of the east. He knew his western army, if you included Crocus' cavalry, was the largest in his father's old provinces, Britannia, Gaul, Germania and Hispania, but he would still have to tread carefully. Galerius could decide to enforce the rights of the official successor to his father, whose position Constantine had usurped.
Galerius, as senior emperor, officially had the right to nominate the western emperor. Constantine still had a long way to go to consolidate the whole empire under him.
His father's wife, the ex-Empress Theodora, was permitted to keep her apartments in the old palace in Treveris. Constantine moved into the summer palace, downriver, on the opposite western bank.
The governor of Massilia was eventually brought before him for judgment, his sentence decided, and then he was charged. The man was returned to his city, crucified, and his body left to rot outside the gates as an example. The sight of such a once invincible man, so punished, would also be some recompense for the families of those he’d mistreated. The people of Massilia acclaimed Constantine as their savior after that and were loyal to his cause through all his subsequent campaigns.
He also gained the popularity of the plebs. He increased the bread distribution to the freed men of Treveris, and the guilds and colleges of trades were given new contracts throughout his provinces, all at favorable terms.
The day after his public acclamation at Eboracum, a messenger was sent with an image of him being crowned Augustus to Galerius. An accompanying letter informed Galerius of the sad event of his father’s death and lamented the forceful nature of the acclamation that had compelled him to break from soliciting the purple in the constitutional manner.
The letter requested the title “Augusta” bestowed on him by his legions, requesting the emperor to honor the will of the legions in these exceptional circumstances. The title “Augusta” was claimed by Constantine, as he'd agreed not to claim the lesser title of Caesar when he had been released by Galerius.
Constantine also offered to act in concert with Galerius against the common enemies of Rome and reaffirmed his agreement not to raise a hand against his fellow Augusta. He did, however, assert his right to defend himself, if attacked.
The messenger arrived at Nicomedia in time for the festival of the Romani and was taken directly to the emperor. There he nervously prostrated himself, as a crowd of advisors and senior military officers looked on. Galerius read the letter in silence.
“Get up,” he shouted when he'd finished.
The messenger rose slowly, then stumbled, overawed by his surroundings.
“Tell your master I have thrown his image in the fire! He must call himself Caesar, not Augustus. Now get out of here, before I throw you in the fire as well.”
When Constantine heard the news, he was overjoyed. Galerius had given him what he needed, time and legitimacy. He'd granted a lower title than that he'd sought, but he'd ratified his position as his father's successor. For now, there would be no civil war.
Juliana had been asked by Constantine what she desired as her reward, and she'd agreed with Constantine's offer to bring her foster mother to Treveris. It took some time, but eventually Constantine's agents achieved their task.
Her mother arrived in Treveris not long before Juliana's baby was born. The old woman gazed from face to face when she arrived, trying to work out which was her foster daughter. Then, with a burst of surprise and joy, she recognized Juliana. She almost hadn't, due to Juliana's prosperous appearance, her sumptuous embroidered gown, coiffed hair and general well-fed air, and the confident look she now adopted. Juliana was overcome with joy that day. The emotion of all she'd endured burst through and she wept heavily on her mother’s shoulder.
But news arrived the following day, which cast a long shadow over her joy. Advisors were recommending Constantine should marry Maxentius' sister Fausta, to seal a pact between the two imperial houses. Fausta's dowry would be substantial, it was said, and Constantine needed support for his treasury and the building program he’d planned.
A sense of foreboding dogged her for some time after that, and followed her for days until finally, one night, she saw Constantine's father in a dream, calling to her, pleading for his life. She woke in a slick sweat and felt the cold, clammy breath of evil all around. For a moment she wondered if it was coming from within her, so she picked up a hand mirror, and gazed at the face looking back at her. The ringlets she wore her hair in those days, in the new fashion, hung down like curtains on each side of a pale, gaunt face. She looked older than her twenty-two years. She threw away the mirror and with a shudder listened to it smash.
Had she encouraged murder, for selfish reasons? Was all the rest simply an excuse? Can you commit a terrible crime to achieve something good, and be forgiven? She went down on her knees.
When she was alone with him again, when he returned, she asked him what his plans were for his new son.
“We have broken the seal as was foretold. A crown has been given to me and I will conquer all,” replied Constantine. “I will rebuild the empire, and our son will inherit it, as is right for a son. I promise you that.”
She would always remember those words. One day they would come back to haunt her.
Before You Go
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