Constantine, no stranger to terraces and towers and the general opulence of a coastal city, was stunned when they entered Rome. On both of his sides there were two towers with an arch between them.
He could see proud Roman soldiers and senators leading the arch, with plebeians and animals below them. The order of things, as seen by his father and his people.
Since it wouldn’t do to have him enter Rome with a whip cracking over his head, something the centurion had not been able to remove, he was bathed just before they reached the suburbs and placed in a toga. He was still made to walk on foot, but with the ghouls of Antonius, not with the slaves.
Constantine craned his head and resisted the urge to touch the stone arch. This was something magical before him, and all the blood, sweat and general discomfort of the journey was worth it in the boy’s eyes.
His sandals clicked along the paved road, and he could even see the aqueducts crisscrossing the city. He would spend the rest of his childhood here. To be trained in arms and rhetoric, city planning and economics and all the building blocks needed to make an empire that last. All that was needed to nourish his dream.
A wedding procession stopped their caravan. He could see the bride, a beautiful young thing with black thick hair and a slender figure and the groom, an old man, probably a senator.
They passed by him, and the bride’s eyes widened.
“Dominos Constantine!” She exclaimed and the procession halted and everyone looked at him. Constantine’s many near whippings stopped him from fidgeting, despite him wanting to.
He didn’t know this woman, despite her knowing him. He half remembered a wedding invitation to Gnaeus Pompeius’ wedding. This must be Julius Caesar’s daughter, then. Julia.
“Domina Julia, I am happy to be here, in the eternal city, on this most fortunate day in your life,” Constantine kissed her hand and she kissed both of his cheeks. “Consul Gnaeus Pompeius, congratulations are in order.”
As Gnaeus Pompeius reached out to envelop Constantine in a one-armed hug, the young boy heard mutterings behind him.
“Who is that child?”
“A bastard of a noble, probably. For him to have come from the Balkans,” Constantine gritted his teeth. He may be a bastard, but, one day, he would have an empire worthy of ballads while these people will become forgotten relics of the past.
“Ignore them, young Constantine,” whispered Gnaeus Pompeius. “During my time as consul, I had to content with many naysayers. I must insist that you follow the procession and attend my wedding. I will be insulted if you do not. Your retinue can go on without you, and I will send a century to escort you to your home. I know where it is.”
Constantine, send a look towards Beshter and Antonius’s covered wagon, and then attempted to think about what his father would have wanted. Surely, the vampires would come to the wedding after dark. If not, he would rather bear the whip than to insult a consul. One of the two most powerful men in the Republic.
“Let me tell my mentors that I will be going with you, Gnaeus Pompeius, and then we can depart,” the aged consul nodded and Constantine walked with as much dignity as he could muster towards the covered wagon.
Knocking on it, he heard grumbling from inside.
“Yes, Tine?” Beshter’s melodic voice was laced with annoyance. Which chipped at Constantine.
“I have been invited to the wedding feast of consul Gnaeus Pompeius, Beshter. I can’t refuse to go,” Beshter huffed from inside.
“You will spend more time in the training yard tomorrow to make up for your lack of thought today,” Constantine could already hear the whip swing over his head. “And after we denied that upstart, your presence twice! No matter. Go, have fun and eat something that isn’t stale bread for once.”
“Constantine,” the boy straightened up when he heard Antonius’s voice. “Make us proud with your demeanor. And, if you can, pick your first wife from among the nobility.”
Constantine blushed but nodded. He was going to stay away from the girls. No matter what Antonius had told him. Deciding he had gotten off easily, he turned around and Gnaeus Pompeius motioned for him to step behind Julia and pick up her shroud in the place of her handmaid.
Constantine did so, surprised at the strange honor, and the procession began anew with people throwing flower petals around and loud music making Constantine giddy for the festivities to come.
As it was the custom, first they would celebrate in Julia’s father, Gaius Julius Caesar’s home. And then, they would make the sacrifice and go to Pompeius’ estate.
In the Caesar home, they were greeted by Atia Balba, the stunning niece of Julius Caesar and her two children, Octavian and Octavia. The place was decorated lavishly with silk and fresco, and Constantine did his best not to gawk at the opulence of the marble building and its thyine furniture. If someone told him that it was all Greek made, he wouldn’t be surprised.
“And who is this charming young fellow, Gnaeus Pompeius?” Constantine turned to look at Atia Balba, who regarded him with mirth in her eyes.
“Constantine Romulus. He just arrived in time for my wedding. All the way from Odessos. What a wonderful young man, right, Atia Balba?” Pompeius bristled with thinly vailed pride, and Constantine blushed under the unspoken praise.
“Only one person has the name of our founder as a last name. Welcome, Constantine, son of Rome and Helena. The humble house of Caesar welcomes you and wishes to give you sincere apologies that our patriarch is not here to greet you. Gaul keeps him busy,” Atia Balba nudged her daughter towards Constantine, who huffed and looked at him expectantly.
“Well, aren’t you going to offer me your elbow, Dominos?” Constantine blinked and did just that. Then, he was led away from the adults and into what he later duped the children corner.
