Thus at the age of twenty two, Flavius Valerius Constantinus was not only a father, an eventuality he had been quite too busy during the last months even to consider, but also seemed to have reached a point in his military career beyond which he could hardly expect to go. For the step from tribune to general was a great one and, even though he enjoyed the favor of Diocletian, he knew Galerius would never approve an elevation in rank for one he considered a potential military and political rival.
Upon his return to Alexandria at the end of the brief campaign to humble Busiris and Coptos, Constantine found another letter from his mother. Written hardly a week after the one notifying him of his son’s birth, it contained the tragic news that Minervina, never very strong, had not survived the aftermath of childbirth, succumbing to a fever a few days after the birth of the baby. The letter had arrived almost a month before but had been held in Alexandria, pending his return from the military expedition upriver.
The shock of Minervina’s death was diluted somewhat by the fact that Constantine had not seen her for a full ten months. His only memory now was of a frail, fairhaired girl who was quiet and unassuming. Her features seemed to have blurred in his mind. And as for a child from the seed of his own loins, he found it quite impossible even to envision what the baby would look like. Fortunately he could be sure that Helena would care for Crispus as if he were her own son.
Diocletian was in uniform
Constantine had barely finished the letter from Helena when he was summoned into the presence of the Emperor. He had not even had time to remove his clothing, duststained from the long ride, and soak himself in the bath to which he had been looking forward for days, but he knew better than to keep the Emperor waiting. Diocletian was in uniform, striding up and down in the building he had made his headquarters with a look of anger and annoyance on his face.
“What of your mission?” he demanded before Constantine could speak.
“Your orders were carried out, Dominus. Busiris and Coptos have been leveled to the ground.”
“Perhaps these cursed Egyptians will think twice before they decide again not to pay Rome’s taxes.” Diocletian gave a snort of satisfaction, then paused to survey Constantine from head to foot. “You lost no time in answering my summons, I see.”
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