by Bryan Litfin
For a long moment, Flavia said nothing. At last she arose with great dignity. She stood over the helpless Geta and stared hard at Rex. “I do want the real you, my love. But that man is not a murderer.” She took a step back without breaking off her gaze. “Now do what you will.”
Rex held his sword in both hands and raised it above Geta’s body. The weapon dangled over the crippled warrior like the fang of some hideous beast. As soon as this is finished, you can build your life with Flavia. Just get it over with! The blood on the blade’s tip oozed down the point and dropped onto Geta’s tunic.
“Do it,” Geta snarled with a curl of his lip. “I dare you!”
Twice Rex raised the sword high. Twice he did not follow through.
But on the third time, he did what the whispering voice in his head told him to do.
He hurled the sword away and withdrew to Flavia’s side.
“You’re a coward,” Geta scoffed.
Flavia took Rex’s hand and interlocked her fingers with his. “You are the bravest man I have ever known,” she whispered as she laid her head upon his shoulder.
After all the turbulence and violence of the day, a welcome silence came to Flavia’s house at last. The evening sky had been set ablaze by a distant sunset, and now its light washed the mansion’s garden in a ruddy glow. The servants had found deep hiding places to ride out the storm. Neratius had escaped to some unknown refuge. Even Geta had left the maelstrom, stumbling away like a wounded animal with the help of a garden rake as a crutch.
But Rex was still there, and Flavia clung to him—the one sure and solid fixture in an ever-shifting world. Both of them were wet from their plunge into the cistern, yet neither cared. Rex’s strong arms held Flavia close, providing at least the temporary illusion of safety and well-being. Of course, she had to admit, the feel of his muscular chest against her cheek gave her other feelings besides safety.
“I love you so much, Rex,” she murmured. “I need you with me forever.”
“It turns out I needed you too,” he replied as he played with a loose strand of hair at the back of her neck. “You helped me find myself. I’m glad you believed in me.”
“You aren’t a murderer. I knew it. You had the chance to kill Geta—but you did the right thing.”
“I believe so. But it will have its consequences.”
“At least you have the affidavit! Burn it, Rex! Make it disappear.”
“I will. But what is to keep Geta from writing another? I believe my fate is sealed.”
Flavia sighed deeply. “Only God knows what will happen.”
“Listen to me for a moment. We need to talk.” Rex separated from Flavia so he could look into her eyes, though his strong hands held her waist, keeping her near. “I will do my best to stand between you and harm. You know that, right? I’ll take care of you as long as I’m able, even when no one else will. Everyone has abandoned you except me. I would never do that. However . . .”
Flavia waited silently. Though her heart was screaming, Don’t say it! she knew the terrible words needed to be voiced.
“I fear I will be torn away from you,” Rex finally admitted.
“I know.”
The sad reality overwhelmed Flavia. Sensing the depth of her sorrow, Rex brought her close again. Something intuitive seemed to drive him—a heart-to-heart connection that allowed him to read her emotions and anticipate her needs. His arms enfolded her, drawing her back into an embrace. One of his hands caressed the small of her back in a comforting way. She laid her head on his shoulder, and he rested his cheek against the top of her head. He always takes care of me, no matter the cost, Flavia realized with aching desire.
But what will tomorrow hold?
“Oh, Rex!” she cried, her agony too intense to contain. “Who will take care of me if they drag you away? My father is a beast. And Mother! She’s gone!”
“No!” Rex said. “Take comfort in this! Your mother is alive.”
Flavia gasped, then pulled away just enough to look up at his face. A glimmer of hope had just illumined her dark future. “How can that be?” she exclaimed. “I saw her dead on the floor!”
“It’s true that she tried to kill herself with a dagger. But people don’t realize how hard that is. It’s much harder than what you read in tragic stories. At that angle, it’s difficult to generate enough force. Beyond that, the mind stops you, even when you think you want to do it.”
“So what happened?”
“Lady Sabina had merely wounded herself when I came to her door. She let me in, and I gave her a better idea. I knew Maxentius’s men would leave only if they thought she was dead, so I mixed wine and mandragora from your healer’s kit. Enough of that potion will make you like a dead person—and I gave her a lot! Then I broke off the blade and put the shard in her wound. She will feel sick when she wakens, and her injuries will have to heal. But they are flesh wounds. She will live for a long time, untouched by filthy Maxentius.”
Flavia glanced up at Rex, awed by what he had done. His warrior’s strength, his quick thinking, his confident boldness—all of it constantly deployed for Flavia’s advantage. She locked eyes with him, searching those blue Germanic depths. Rex stared back, long and hard, unwilling to look anywhere else. Clearly, this man wanted her. Yet Rex’s intense gaze was communicating something more than his obvious masculine desire. Though Flavia could sense his powerful sexual attraction, her heart melted when, with sudden clarity, she recognized the softness in Rex’s expression for what it really was: true, abiding love.
Yes. The real thing. Love for her as his only beloved. His chosen one.
It was all there in his gaze. Rex was shouting it with his eyes. Mere words could never have said it so profoundly.
“Ohhh, Rex,” she sighed. “My love for you is like . . .” Flavia hunted for the right image. “Like a great ocean wave,” she said at last, “so powerful and impossible to hold back!” She lifted both hands to the back of his head, savoring the tickle of his soft military stubble against her palms. “I am yours, Brandulf Rex. Yours forever and ever.”
“And I receive you, Flavia. I return your love with everything I have. With my body and”—he pounded his chest with his fist—“even more, my soul. I’ve loved you since I first saw you in the Forum. The whole world was against you, but in that moment, I fell in love. Flavia, do you understand me? Do you know how I feel? Ach! I’m sorry. I’m not a man of great eloquence. How do I say this right?”
Rex paused, struggling for words, which Flavia found sweetly attractive in someone so otherwise capable. “It has been my greatest happiness,” Rex went on, “an honor, a true privilege, to care for you. To look out for you, to stand between you and harm. But I made a choice just now. And I can’t stop the forces that will tear us apart. I don’t see any way for us to spend our lives together. I’m about to be condemned as a criminal. They might even execute me.”
“No! Rex, don’t say that!”
“It has to be said because it’s true. We have to recognize what just happened. Your God asked something of me, Flavia. And I gave it to him because of you. It was the greatest gift I could ever give, because it came at my own greatest cost.”
Flavia hung her head, nodding slowly. Tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “I understand that, Rex. It’s what the Christian faith is all about.”
“I know. I see it now. Your God is true and good.”
“He’s your God too.”
“Yes. And I’m going to need him in whatever future I have left.”
They fell silent then, holding on to each other for solace and comfort because there was no one else to give it and nothing else to do. For a long time they remained like that, savoring one another’s quiet presence.
But as their emotions roiled within them, their embrace abruptly intensified into something more. Flavia felt it happen, and she opened herself to it.
Pressed up against Rex—body to body and heart to heart—Flavia found that her desire
had become more than she could contain. Though she didn’t intend to abandon her morals, neither did she intend to remain an unkissed innocent any longer. If this was to be her only intimacy with Rex, she would make it worthy of remembrance forever.
“You’re shaking, Flavia,” Rex whispered in her ear.
“Yes. You make me weak.”
“I make you strong, my beloved.”
It was true. And so sweet.
Rex bent down his head. With the lightest possible touch, his lips caressed the soft skin behind her ear.
“Just kiss me, Rex,” Flavia said. She had never felt like this before, never experienced a feeling so intense.
“We Germani value the art of romance,” he replied. “We believe a man should take his time with the woman he loves.”
“Ohhh, Rex! You love me? You really do?” She tipped back her head and closed her eyes. He cupped the back of her head and drew her face toward his.
“Always and forever, I am for you,” he declared.
He kissed her then, for the first and maybe the only time. The affection was so real, the exchange of love so true, that Flavia gave herself to the purity and rightness of this moment—and gave her heart to this man.
When at last they parted, Flavia stayed in Rex’s embrace, and he in hers, and they refused to let the moment go. A day of reckoning would surely come. Suffering was no doubt on its way. But that was then, and this was now, and the present was unspeakably good.
15
FEBRUARY 313
Sitting down on the jewel-encrusted throne, Constantine couldn’t help but appreciate its fine craftsmanship and ornate beauty. He glanced around the throne room, marveling at the high quality of its architecture. Maximian did a good job with this palace, he thought. Too bad he tried to kill me. He was an effective ruler and a good ally for a time. Now, of course, Maximian was dead—hung from the rafters by Constantine’s bodyguards in Gaul a few years ago. His son Maxentius was dead too, killed at the battle last October. And yet, while the family line of Maximian was broken, his legacy lived on through the splendid palace at Mediolanum.
It seemed strange to Constantine that this northern Italian city was, technically speaking, the capital of the Western Roman Empire. Perhaps some purists would insist that Rome should always retain that distinction, and in an informal way, it still did. Yet when the enemies of today were crossing the Alps with their armies of barbarian mercenaries, they weren’t hitting Rome first. They were attacking cities like Mediolanum, situated in the center of the Padus River plain that swept across northern Italy. And that meant Mediolanum had taken on new imperial significance.
Though Constantine had been only a boy at the time, he remembered when Emperor Diocletian made Mediolanum the new western capital because of its strategic location. As part of the honor, the city was updated with the imperial palace under a gorgeous dome, a new racetrack, magnificent baths dedicated to Hercules, and imposing defensive walls.
Mediolanum has plenty of imperial glory, Constantine decided. It will make a fitting venue for my sister’s wedding.
The emperor turned to his secretary, a pale-skinned eunuch with a shock of red hair that signaled his northern origins. “How are the wedding plans coming along?” he asked. “I haven’t heard anything about it.”
“The plans are proceeding, Your Highness. It’s going to be a grand affair. Very lavish.”
“Excellent! A royal wedding doesn’t happen often. Let’s hope it forms a strong enough alliance to keep Licinius and me together for many years.”
The emperor gave a little chuckle, knowing how quickly rivalries could develop between powerful men. Will my new brother-in-law always be on my side? Not likely! Constantine shook away the question as a topic for another day.
“So when does my sister arrive?” he asked the secretary.
“We expect Lady Constantia to reach Mediolanum sometime next week. The nuptials can happen soon after that.”
“Very good. Licinius told me yesterday he’s anxious to get it over with. Our enemy Daia is riding out against us, and Licinius must confront him. Tell the bishop he has two days after my sister gets here to make final plans. On the third day, he will perform the wedding.”
“You are referring to Bishop Ossius? The Spaniard?”
“Yes, that’s the one. It is to be a Christian wedding.”
Though the secretary nodded, his face was perplexed. “No pagan priest? It might be more auspicious to include at least one.”
“Absolutely not! Licinius and I follow the catholic faith now. It was the mighty sign of Christ that gave me the victory in Italy. I intend to honor my obligations to the Christian God.” Constantine shifted in his seat, signaling his readiness to do business. “Speaking of that religion, I believe it is part of our agenda today, is it not? Let us proceed with the day’s duties.”
The royal secretary called for his assistant to come forward with a dossier of imperial documents. Constantine affixed his signature to the ones he accepted and ordered corrections for those that still needed work. Most of the items were perfunctory. After about an hour, the list was whittled to the final two. The secretary had declared these to be the weightiest matters. The next to last topic was the new imperial policy toward Christians.
“We have drafted the letter of toleration to be dispatched from you and your brother-in-law,” the red-haired eunuch said. “It will go out to the governors of the Eastern provinces as soon as you approve it.”
“Read it to me,” Constantine commanded. “It has to be worded just right. No room for other interpretations by those who might wish to disregard it.”
The secretary bent his head closer to the wax tablet that served as the rough draft of the important letter. He cleared his throat and began reading:
When I, Constantine Augustus, as well as I, Licinius Augustus, met on a happy occasion at Mediolanum, we took the opportunity to consider everything that related to the public’s best interest and security. We thought that, among the many things we perceived would be profitable for the majority of the people, the first order of business was to secure proper reverence for the Divinity. Thus we granted to Christians and everyone else the freedom to follow the religion each one preferred, so that whatever Divinity is seated in heaven might be favorable and well-disposed toward us, and to all who have been placed under our rule.
In light of this beneficial strategy and completely logical way of thinking, we believed it appropriate that absolutely no one should be denied the right to devote himself to the observance of the Christian faith, or to whatever religion he might deem most fitting. Thus the supreme Divinity, whose religion we follow with free minds, may be inclined to show us his usual favor and benevolence in every way.
Therefore it has pleased us to cancel every one of the regulations about the Christian faith formerly sent to your office in various letters. Now anyone who has the desire to observe the religion of the Christians should hasten to do so freely and openly without any disturbance or molestation. We thought this should be commended to your care with utmost clarity, so you might know we have granted to those Christians an unhindered and unconditional right to practice their religion. And when you see that we have awarded them this freedom, you will understand that others, too, have been given the same open and unrestricted right of religious observance, as is fitting in our peaceful times.
Thus every person shall have free opportunity to engage in whatever religion he has chosen. We have decreed this so it won’t seem we have discriminated against any form of worship or religion.*
“Stop there,” Constantine interrupted. He turned and signaled for his adviser, the brilliant orator Lactantius, to approach. “Listen to the rest of this. Tell me if it is what the Christians will need.” The emperor motioned for the secretary to continue.
The remainder of the letter dealt with the restitution of church properties that had been confiscated by the state. Although most of the western provinces had already returned them, not all t
he Eastern governors had complied. The joint letter from Constantine and Licinius made it clear that every ruler in the provinces they controlled was obligated to do so right away. The letter was to be proclaimed in the streets and posted where all could see it. At last, the catholic church throughout the empire was going to get its lands back.
“How does that sound to your Christian ears?” Constantine asked Lactantius. “Is it sufficient?”
“It is gracious beyond measure, Your Highness. The one true God will certainly be favorable to such an obedient servant. It is as though you are an instrument for good in the hand of the Almighty.”
“Perhaps that is what I am,” the emperor mused. He considered the idea for a moment, then brought his attention back to the present. “Lactantius, I want you to personally deliver this letter to Nicomedia. When you arrive, you shall resume your chair of Latin rhetoric as a professor serving the imperial court.”
A wide smile broke out across the eminent scholar’s face. “Thank you, Your Majesty!” he gushed. “I am greatly honored!”
The red-haired secretary received Constantine’s seal of approval on the letter of toleration, then gave it to his assistant for copying and dissemination. Turning back to the emperor, he folded his hands behind his back and lowered his eyes. “We have one final item to address, Your Highness. I am afraid it is a somewhat distressing matter.”
“Let’s get it over with, then. It is almost time for my bath.”
“I have a legal document here from a respected speculator in the Second Italian Legion. It is his sworn testimony from the battle at Verona.”
“About the man who fled?”
“Yes. This affidavit declares who it was. And it gives the kind of details that only an eyewitness could know. There can be no doubt that it’s authentic and accurate.”
Constantine’s eyes narrowed, and he made fists with both hands as he attempted to control the sudden burst of rage that coursed through him. He thought back to that deadly moment when Pompeianus’s forces were pressing close—and one lone speculator went galloping away while the rest laid down their lives for their commander. If we have found that man, he must certainly die!