I smiled, having hoped that someone would raise this point.

"Certainly, it makes more sense to see the Highest Power as female, if one must a.s.sign a gender to Deity, for it is the female who gives birth. Even Jesus, whom the Christians say was the son of G.o.d, or even G.o.d himself, had to be born from Maria before he could take human form."

"Well of course!" answered Portia. "That's where the heroes and demi-G.o.ds come from-Hercules, and Aeneas, and the rest of them."

"But the Christians say their Jesus was the only one," observed Lucretia. The rest of the girls contemplated this lack of logic and shook their heads.

"Let us return to the original question," I said when the discussion came to an end. "Pythagoras tells us that the supreme Power is 'a soul pa.s.sing to and fro, and diffused through all parts of the universe, and through all nature, from which all living creatures which are produced derive their life.' This is very much the same teaching as I received among the Druids, except, as I said, that we tend to think of this Power as being female when we give it a gender.

"This being so," I gestured towards thematronae once more, "why do we feel impelled to make images of that which cannot, in truth, be pictured, and divide it up into G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses and give them histories and names? Even the Christians do it-they say their Jesus is the Supreme G.o.d, and yet the stories they tell about him are just like our own hero tales!"

There was a long silence. In a way, I thought, it was unfair to ask these girls to answer a question whose solution had eluded the theologians and philosophers. But perhaps, just because they were female, they might find it easier to understand.

"You have dolls at home, don't you?" I added. "But you know they are not real babies. Why do you love them?"

"Because..." Lucretia said hesitantly after another pause, "I can hold onto them. I pretend they are the babies I will have when I grow up. It is hard to love something that has no face or name."

"I think that is a very good answer, don't you?" I asked, looking around the circle. "In our minds we can understand the Highest G.o.d, but so long as we are in human bodies, living in this rich and varied world, we need images that we can see and touch and love. And each one of them shows us a part of that supreme Power, and all the parts together give us a glimpse of the whole. So the people who insist there is only One G.o.d are right, and so are those who honour the many, but in different ways."

They were nodding, but I could see a glaze of incomprehension in some of their eyes, and others were looking out into the garden, as if they found more truth in the play of light on the leaves. Still, I could hope that something of what I had said would stay with them. Laughing, I dismissed them to go out and play.

For two more years, Diocletian's edict remained in force in Britannia. The year after the edict, when everyone was ordered to sacrifice, a soldier named Alba.n.u.s had been put to death in Verulamium for refusing to do so, and one day I found Vitellia weeping because she had heard that her fourteen-year-old nephew, Pancratus, had been killed in Rome, but in Londinium there were no executions, though the bishop had been imprisoned and stayed under guard.

The Christians continued to meet in their houses, and when even that became too dangerous, I allowed them to hold services in mine. Or rather, in my atrium, since even with veils thrown over my images and altars, the interior was considered too polluted for them to expose the holy things of their G.o.d. They were happy, however, to welcome me to those parts of their service open to the uninitiated.

Nathaniel the rope-maker, who, since he was only a deacon in the church, had escaped arrest with the others, was holding forth to his congregation, the men on one side of the garden and the women on the other, heads covered and eyes cast down in piety.

"Oh G.o.d, the heathen have come into thy inheritance;"he intoned, moving his finger along the line of writing.

Vitellia sat in the first row, eyes closed and lips moving. Why did they not allow her to speak, I wondered, since obviously she knew the holy writings as well as he?

"They have defiled thy holy temple; they have laid Jerusalem in ruins. They have given the bodies of thy servants to the birds of the air for food..."

As he continued I reflected on the appropriateness of the words, which had been written, so I was told, by one of the ancient Jewish kings.

"We have become a taunt to our neighbours, mocked and derided by those round aboutus..."

Apparently those who served the G.o.d of the Jews had always had difficulty in getting along with their neighbours. Was it because they were wrong, or because, as they believed, they were ahead of their time? I had suggested that since the Christians did not believe in our G.o.ds, it could do no harm for them to go through the motions of making an offering, but Vitellia reacted with horror. I realized then that the Christiansdid believe in the G.o.ds, and considered them evil. I did not understand her reasoning, but I had to admire her integrity.

"...let thy compa.s.sion come speedily to meet us, for we are brought very low. Help us, O G.o.d of our salvation, for the glory of thy name..."

For the past few minutes I had been aware of a distant murmur. As Nathaniel paused, it grew louder-the sound of many feet and many voices. The Christians heard it too.

Softly, one of the women began to sing- "The eternal gifts of Christ the King, The martyrs' glorious deeds we sing; And all, with hearts of gladness, raise Due hymns of thankful love and praise..."

I caught Philip's eye and nodded, and he got up and went through the house towards the door.

Then we heard a heavy banging, and even Nathaniel's voice failed. Some of the women were weeping, but others sat straight with burning eyes, as if hoping for martyrdom. And they continued to sing.

"They braved the terrors of the time, No torment shook their faith sublime; Soon, holy death brought peace and rest And light eternal with the blest."

I rose to my feet. "Do not be afraid. I will go out to them."

When I got to the door, Philip had it open, confronting the crowd. I stepped past them, and as the first man opened his lips to speak, stared him down.

"I am Julia Coelia Helena. For twenty years I was the wife of Constantius who is now your Caesar, the mother of his first-born son. And I promise you, it is his wrath that you will feel if you dare to invade my home!"

Behind me, the Christians were still singing- "Redeemer, hear us of thy love, That, with thy martyr host above, Thy servants, too may find a place, And reign forever through thy grace."

"Oh Lady!" the leader shook his head, and I saw that he was laughing. Now I could see that many of those in the crowd had garlands on their heads, or carried wineskins, and I began to realize that the fervent souls who were singing behind me were going to be frustrated in their desire for martyrdom.

"That was never our intention! In the name of Jupiter and Apollo, we are not bent on slaughter, but celebration! Have you not heard the news? Diocletian and Maximian have abdicated, and your Constantius is now Augustus!"

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

AD 305-306.

In my dream I was walking with Constantius along the banks of a river. I could not tell if it was the Rhenus or the Tamesis, for the sky was a dim, featureless grey. It hardly mattered, since my beloved was with me. His features were shadowed, but my body knew the strong grip of his hand. It was unexpectedly sweet, after so many years in which I had denied even my memories, to have his companionship.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked.

"To see me off on my journey-"

"Not again!" I stopped, trying to hold him, but his steady progress drew me on. "Please, do not leave me again!"

"This time," he told me, "it is only by leaving you that I can be with you once more."

"Is night falling?" I asked through my tears.

"No, my beloved, look-it is the morning!"

I blinked, for his face was growing more radiant as the sun rose above the horizon. And then he was all light, slipping through my fingers as I reached out to embrace the dawn...

Light blazed through my eyelids, and someone was banging on the door. I struggled free of the bedclothes, rubbing my eyes as the ordinary reality of my bedchamber, frescoed with scenes of the nymphs of wood and fountain, replaced the misty radiance of my dream. It could not be danger-though Vitellia was still living with me, in a new wing we had built onto the house where no one had ever honoured the G.o.ds. Since Constantius became Augustus, even the pretence of Christian persecution had ceased. But spring sunlight was flooding through the windows. Clearly I was going to get no more sleep, and it was time to start the day.

As I pulled off my sleeping shift and began to wash from the basin I could hear voices below. My hair showed a few threads of silver at the temples, but I still walked everywhere instead of taking the carriage or a chair, and my body was firm. Hrodlind appeared in the doorway, and seeing that I was up, hurried to set out a fresh shift and one of my finer tunicas, the saffron silk with embroideries of wheat sheaves around the hem.

When she saw the surprise on my face she grinned. "You have a visitor, Mistress. You will want to look your best today!"

I considered forcing the truth out of her, but apparently it was not some disaster. I held out my arms for her to pin the gown without a word, suppressing a smile at her expression. She had not expected me to give in so easily.

By the time I approached the dining room, settling a palla of light-weight, creamy wool across my shoulders against the early morning chill, I could smell the tantalizing aroma of nut custard, which Brasilia used to make as a holiday meal when Constantine was a boy. And with that, I stopped short, understanding who, beyond all hope or expectation, my visitor must be.

My heart pounded in my breast and I took a deep breath, grateful for the sense of smell which is the key to memory, and which had given me this warning. Constantine could not be bringing bad news, I thought, or the servants would not have been so cheerful. I waited a little longer, summoning up the courage to face this son whom I had not seen since he had been home for a visit when he was eighteen years old. He had written, of course, but guardedly, as if he suspected his letters were being intercepted. I no longer knew where his heart lay, and I wondered if the intervening thirteen years had changed him more than they had me.

Then I rearranged my palla and made my entrance into the dining room.

A strange officer was sitting by the window, positioned where his moulded bronze cuira.s.s would catch the morning sun. At least he had had the courtesy to remove his helmet. I noted the fair hair, worn rather long with a hint of curl, and my view of him doubled suddenly into the image of a stranger and the recognition that this was Constantine. He had opened the window, and was looking out at the birds splashing in the bath I had set up for them in the atrium, and had not heard me come in.

For a moment longer I indulged myself with the sight of him. A long-sleeved tunic of white wool edged with crimson showed beneath the armour, and well-worn breeches of tan suede. In fact the entire outfit, though it was of the best quality, showed the effects of long use. Perhaps Constantine had not intended to show off, but had come to me in his armour because he had nothing else decent to wear. But I must, I thought then, allow him his pride.

"Uniform becomes you, my son," I said softly.

He turned swiftly and jumped to his feet, surprise changing swiftly to joy that lit his face as if the sun had risen in the room. In the next moment I was being crushed in a hard embrace, held away so that he could look into my face, and hugged again.

"I trust that cuira.s.s is more comfortable from the inside." I smiled ruefully when he let me go, rubbing my flesh where the edges of the armour had dug in.

"One becomes accustomed," he said absently, still holding my hand. After a moment I felt myself flushing beneath that intense gaze. "Oh, my mother, do you know how often I have dreamed of this day? And you have not changed at all!"

That was not so, I thought, smiling back at him. Was the image he had of me so strong that he could not see what I looked like, or was it that most of my changes were inside?

"Sit down, and let Brasilia bring in the breakfast she has been cooking for you," I said at last. "What are you doing here, and how long can you stay?"

"One day only," he said, answering the last question as he sat down. The chair creaked beneath his weight, for he had grown as tall and big-boned as my own father, everything about him just a little larger and more solid than other men.Surely , I thought with satisfaction, watching him,he is worthy to be the Child of Prophecy !

"Father gave me special permission to land here instead of at Eburac.u.m, and tomorrow I must be on my way north to rejoin my legion. The Picts will not wait on my pleasure."

I felt my heart pound suddenly in my breast. Constantius was in Britannia! I suppose I should have expected it. After several years of peace, the wild tribes of the north were trying once more to break the border, and in several places they had overwhelmed the troops stationed on the Wall. It was the responsibility of the ruler of the West to defend Britannia.

I shook my head, trying to deny the sudden, traitorous wish that Constantius had come with his son to Londinium.

"But how do you come to be here at all? I thought you were serving in the East with Galerius-"

Constantine's face grew dark, but clearly, he had learned to control his temper. If he had not, I told myself, no doubt he would not have lived long enough to be sitting in my dining room now.

"Oh, I was," he said grimly. "I was on that dreadful march across the plain east of Carrhae, the one that killed Cra.s.sus and ten legions two hundred years ago. Scarcely a t.i.the of our men made it home again from that campaign. I was surprised Galerius himself survived Diocletian's wrath when we reached Antiochia-did you know he had to walk for a mile behind Diocletian's chariot?"

I shook my head. I was glad now that I had not even known my son was involved in that disaster.

"You did not write to me about this."

Constantine lifted an eyebrow, a habit I recognized as my own.

"My dear mother, my father is an honourable man, and there has always been trust between him and Maximian. Things are quite otherwise in the eastern part of the Empire. Even when I served in Diocletian's household, one of his freedmen read our mail, and Galerius had even less reason to trust me."

I sighed, realizing that my own letters, perhaps in response to the restraint in his, had over the years become increasingly perfunctory, with the result that neither of us really knew the other at all.

Drusilla brought in the porridge and Constantine rose to embrace her. There were tears in her eye when he let her go again.

"Did you go with him on the second campaign as well?" I asked when he had eatena little.

"By that time I was serving in his bodyguard. I have to say that Galerius learns from his mistakes. The Emperor gave him an army of Illyrian veterans and Gothic auxiliaries, and we took the northern route, through the mountains of Armenia where the people were our friends. I will also admit that the man has courage-he scouted the enemy camp by night with only two men to guard him, and led the charge when we overran them. That day, there was enough glory for everyone. Na.r.s.es was put to flight, and the treaty we finally made bids fair to secure our eastern borders for at least a generation."

"Galerius must have appreciated you, to keep you in his guard." I set down my own spoon.

Constantine grinned. "Oh, I can fight. I will not tell you about my narrow escapes-they would only frighten you-but I know the G.o.ds protect me, for I came through both campaigns with scarcely a scratch. Still, I think Galerius wanted me close so he could keep an eye on me. He thinks he will outlive Father, and be supreme, and I am a threat to his plans." Abruptly his gaze grew grim. "How much news about the abdication did they release to the provinces, Mother?"

I looked at him in surprise. "Only that it had taken place, and two men I've never heard of were appointed as Caesars."

"Galerius made those choices," Constantine said through stiff lips. "I don't know what pressure he put on Diocletian to do it-perhaps he threatened civil war. Do you know, the mint at Alexandria had actually minted a coin with my name on it? I was ready to ask Maximian if he would set a date for my wedding to his daughter Fausta, who was betrothed to me when Father was made Caesar, and is finally of age.

Everyone was sure the choice was going to fall on Maximian's son Maxentius and on me.

"We stood waiting on that d.a.m.ned hill, beneath the column of Jupiter, and Diocletian tottered to his feet and complained about how frail he was becoming and that he was seeking rest after his labours, and so my father and Galerius would become the Augustii, and to a.s.sist them he was appointing Maximus Daia and Severus as Caesars! People were whispering, wondering if I had changed my name, until Galerius shoved me aside and pulled out Daia, the son of his sister!"

"Some have said it is just because you and Maxentius are the sons of emperors that you were pa.s.sed over, to avoid establishing a hereditary monarchy," I said mildly.

Constantine swallowed an oath. "I could name you a dozen men who would have been more worthy of the honour! Men I would have been proud to serve. Severus is Galerius's best friend and neither he nor Daia has ever commanded anything bigger than a detachment. Galerius does not want colleagues, but servants, and all Diocletian wants is peace and quiet so that he can continue to believe he saved the Empire!" he said furiously. "Galerius was a good servant, but by the G.o.ds, he will make a poor master.

He is continuing to hara.s.s the Christians in his dominions, when clearly the persecution has failed."

I took a deep breath. "I am surprised he let you go."

Constantine began to laugh. "So was he! Father had written to him, pleading ill-health and requesting my presence. Galerius took his time about replying, and it is amazing how accident-p.r.o.ne I became thereafter. My patrols were ambushed, the beaters who were supposed to hold a boar we were hunting somehow failed, footpads attacked me outside a taverna. Things got so bad I bought a slave to taste my food."

I bit my lip. No use to ask why he had not written to tell me of his danger-the letter would never have arrived. But every morning since he had left me I had prayed for his safety when I made my daily offering.

"Finally, Galerius gave me his permission," Constantine continued. "This was at the end of the day, and he obviously expected me to leave the next morning. But by that time I was wondering if I would live that long. I got a friend in the clerk's office to frank the pa.s.s for the post-horses and did my best not only to out-run pursuit but warning, especially once I was travelling through country Severus holds." He grinned wolfishly, then applied himself to his food.

I sat back with a long sigh, reviewing his story as I waited for my heartbeat to slow.

"And so you came to your father," I said presently. "Was it a ruse, when he said he wanted you because he was ill?"

Constantine sat back with a frown. "Well, I don't know. He says so, but he grows short of breath easily, and he doesn't look well. That is the other reason I insisted on coming to you now. He will not allow the physicians to examine him, and I thought that perhaps you-"

I shook my head. "My darling, that right belongs to another woman. It would only bring pain to both of us if I went to your father now."

My son's frown grew deeper, and I realized that despite, or perhaps even because, he had for so long had to act the part of a loyal subordinate, he disliked not getting his own way. But a mother has certain advantages. I met his grey stare, and in the end it was he who looked away.

After that, things grew easier, and when he had finished eating, I showed him my house and introduced him to Vitellia, and then arm in arm, we made a circuit of the town. Constantine did most of the talking, and I delighted to rediscover this glorious young man whom the G.o.ds had made my son. By the time we returned to Brasilia's most lavish dinner, night was falling. And this time, Constantine waited until morning before he set out once more.

That summer I followed the military news with more interest than I had since the days when I was an army wife in Dalmatia, and the garrison in Londinium, who had been mightily impressed by Constantine, kept me supplied with news. Asclepiodotus, the prefect who had served Constantius so well in the campaign against Allectus, was once again second-in-command of his army. I remembered him as an earnest young officer when we had been stationed in Sirmium.

The man who had been my husband had always been able to inspire devotion. I, after all, had followed him from Avalon. And Constantine still idolized his father. If Galerius had made Constantine Caesar, my son would have supported him as he did his father. As it was, the Eastern Augustus had made two important enemies.

The troops Constantius brought from Germania had landed at Eburac.u.m and joined with selected detachments from the garrisons on the Wall. As the spring turned to summer, they pressed north through the territory of the Votadini, following an ever-retreating enemy all the way past the Bodotria to the vicinity of Mons Graupius, where Tacitus had defeated their ancestors a little over two centuries before.

And there, the reports told us, the Emperor had won a great victory.

This news was proclaimed from the forum and posted on the gates of the Governor's palace. The priestess of Bast, who was one of those to whom I had introduced Constantine, offered her congratulations. I thanked her, but despite the general rejoicing I found myself uneasy, and continued to the Temple of Isis to make an offering.

The G.o.ddess in the shrine was portrayed in the Roman fashion, with a crown of wheat and flowers surmounted by a crescent moon, and flowing draperies. The sounds of commerce outside seemed to fade as I cast frankincense upon the glowing coals in the brazier before the altar.