“But they were of the same substance!” Ossius replied, “Homoousios,” he added the Greek term, “Light from Light, True God from True God!”
“Could we not say Homoiousios? Of like substance?” offered Eusebius rather desperately. I had heard that he was noted for his writings on Church history, a scholar who would care about every shade of meaning.
Constantine shook his head. “Consubstantialis— “of the same substance”, has been good enough for us in Rome. Let men interpret it as they will. Then we can address ourselves to objects more within our power. All these fine words are distracting us from reality, and we become no better than the philosophers who reason about a thing without looking at it at all.
“If the bishops, who are the pastors of the people, attack each other, the people will fight as well,” he went on. “You should never have raised such questions, and if they were raised, they should not have been answered! This is philosophical frivolity! With the Persians on our eastern borders and the Germans to the north, I have enough to worry about without these squabbles. I beg you—give me back peaceful nights so that I can live in the pure light of the Spirit and use my energy for the protection of the Empire!”
During this speech both bishops had gone a little pale.
“Consubstantialis?” said Eusebius weakly. “Well, perhaps we can get them to agree on that. My lord, I will bear your word to my brethren.”
“No—I will come myself,” answered the Emperor. “Perhaps if I plead with them in person they will understand!”
The two bishops abased themselves, foreheads touching the marble floor, and backed away from the imperial presence. Constantine smiled as if he had persuaded them, and I suppose he had, for though he might not be their master in logic, he was surely their superior in power.
At least my son did not require me to bow down before him. I shifted my weight to the other hip and addressed a prayer to the Son, whatever His relationship to the Father might be, that the imperial audience would not last too long.
No part of the palace at Nicomedia could be called home-like, but the red dining salon was small enough that our voices did not echo when a dozen people were gathered there. Fausta was reclining on a couch upholstered in crimson brocade which clashed with the purple tunica she wore. Neither colour suited her complexion, but perhaps the flush was due to wine. After giving Constantine three sons, she had borne him two daughters, Constantina, and a new baby whom they had named after me. Her figure had suffered, and palace gossip said that she no longer shared a bed with the Emperor. On the other hand, Constantine was not sleeping with anyone else, but whether this was the result of morality or because he was incapable no one dared surmise.
It occurred to me that in my old age I was becoming cynical, and I gestured to the servant to bring me some wine as well. These days I found getting up and down from a dining couch more trouble than it was worth, and had claimed a comfortably padded chair, but all of us rose as the Emperor came in.
His couch groaned a little as he stretched himself upon it, but his bulk was more muscle than fat, even now. Swiftly the servants set tables before us and began to bring in the food.
“Do you think that the bishops will be able to agree on the wording of the creed?” I asked. These days I had little appetite, and a few bites of the cuttle-fish croquettes in liquamen had been enough for me.
“It is necessary that they do so. I must make that clear,” answered Constantine.
“If they know what’s good for them, they’ll comply!” Fausta giggled. There was an uncomfortable silence, as everyone immediately thought of Licinius and his young son, who despite Constantine’s pledge to his half-sister (who was married to Licinius) to spare them, had been executed only a few weeks before.
“I meant, of course, for the sake of their souls,” Fausta added, and someone suppressed a snort of laughter, for the Empress, unlike the rest of the imperial family, was still avowedly pagan. Constantine was frowning, but he continued to chew steadily on the stuffed shoulder of wild boar they had just brought in.