I suspected, also, that while I was away the Syrian girl, Martha, had said more about the manner of her healing than I would have liked. When I did go abroad, people bowed even more deeply than my rank required, and offerings of flowers were often left at my gates.
In the same period, Constantine had relieved his feelings by directly attacking pagan religion for the first time. He had the prophets of Apollo at Didyma and Antioch killed, and destroyed the shrine of Aesclepius at Aigai. But the greater part of his wrath was directed towards what he called immorality. Increasingly strict laws against seduction, even when it was a willing elopement, were prescribed, and the temples where priestesses served Aphrodite pulled down.
I heard Sylvester clear his throat and realized that he was still waiting.
“The Emperor is in the audience chamber, Augusta. It is not good for mother and son to live in estrangement. If you do not feel well enough to rise, may he come to you here?”
I have no son, I thought bitterly, but I nodded. Constantine was still the Emperor.
Cunoarda rearranged the folds of my woollen mantle more becomingly. Spring had come to Rome, but I still felt cold. These days I spent most of my time in the small chamber with its British hangings—Constantine had never been here before. The dogs, sensing my tension, got up as he entered, and I motioned them back to their accustomed place at my feet.
“Are you not happy with your palace, Mother?” he asked, looking around him. “Surely you have somewhere to sit that is more… appropriate…”
Bishop Sylvester, whose own private chambers were even less luxurious, winced a little, but kept still.
“The room is comfortable and easy to keep warm. You must forgive an old woman her eccentricities, my lord,” I replied.
“But your health is good—” He looked at me in sudden concern. “You can travel.”
I frowned. “Where would you send me?” Was I about to be exiled?
Constantine straightened, his expression brightening. “To the Holy Land, mother, to Palestine!”
I blinked up at him, confused. I knew that Jesus had lived in Palestine, but after all, his own country had rejected him. These days it was one of the poorest of our provinces. Antiochia and Alexandria were the great Christian centres of the Empire.
“Our Lord once walked that sacred earth! Every stone He touched is holy. But except for Caesarea, there are only a few house-churches in the entire province. The sites of His miracles, which should be thronged with pilgrims, have no shrines!” Constantine’s face flushed with excitement.
“That is unfortunate, but I do not understand—”
“I will build them! Work at the site of the Holy Sepulchre is progressing. Bishop Macarius has sent me some pieces of the True Cross already—I will give you one for your chapel here. To beautify the places where God manifested Himself will be my penance and my offering. Surely then He will forgive me my great sin!”
An offering, I thought cynically, but hardly a penance, except perhaps for those whose taxes would support this ambitious programme of construction. I nodded, still wondering why my blessing was required.
“I want to do it now, but the Visigoths are restless and the Persians will have to be dealt with soon. I cannot take the time to visit Palestine, but you could go as my representative. You would know how to find the sacred places and how to bless them,” he drew breath and added ingenuously, “and show the East that the family of the Emperor is still strong!”
“That would be a difficult journey for a woman of my years,” I said, trying to conceal my astonishment.
“Eusebius of Caesarea will take good care of you. Palestine is a land flowing with milk and honey, and the sun is warm Constantine’s voice was cajoling, but his eyes were full of dreams.
“I will have to pray over this…” That was something to which he could not object.
“I must go now, but Bishop Sylvester is still here. He will explain.” Constantine started to embrace me, his sanguine smile faltering a little as his eyes met mine, and compromised by kissing my outstretched hand.