Alex Kolker Books

         The centurions led Eusebius through the garden to the other end of the atrium, but instead of passing down the hallway and out of the villa entirely, they turned right and walked down the portico to a set of double doors at the far end.

          The doors led into a rectangular, high-ceilinged room filled with people.  Benches lining the two longer walls were the only furniture.  Those who weren’t lucky enough to have secured a seat ambled around the room restlessly.  Some sat sagging on the floor.  Eusebius saw Christian bishops and priests and a handful of their pagan counterparts, groups of well-dressed men who were either Nicaea’s elite or part of the imperial court itself, a scattering of plebeians, and a performing troupe off to one side practicing their craft.  And soldiers – everywhere there were soldiers.

          The centurions strode right down the center of the room.  The crowd parted for them without a word and Eusebius followed closely in their wake.  He felt embarrassed, conspicuous: how must these supplicants feel, having waited in this hall for hours, only to see this newcomer get led straight to the front of the line.

          To the front of the line and past it.  The centurions led Eusebius to the double doors at the far end of the hall, carved in a Turkish geometric pattern and leafed in gold.  They knocked and both doors immediately swung open.

          The room beyond was almost as long as the one behind them.  This time, however, there was furniture and ornamentation everywhere: columns of flawless marble with giant braziers burning between them, couches upholstered in velvet, tables and cabinets of all shapes and sizes, and dozens of statues in a wide variety of styles.  Swords and armor pieces, both Roman and foreign, hung along the walls.  The floors were covered with dozens of animal skins, including some species that Eusebius didn’t recognize.  Musicians playing lyres must have been tucked away somewhere: gentle music underlay the general murmur of the small groups of people scattered throughout the room.

          Even here, the centurions led him straight forward, ignoring everyone else around them.  They were leading Eusebius inexorably in the direction of the golden throne at the far end of the hall.

          They were almost to the raised dais that the throne sat upon when the decorations around them subtly changed.  The furniture, though still of the highest quality, looked sturdier and more utilitarian.  Instead of arms and armor decorating the walls, there hung tapestry-sized maps depicting various locations throughout the Empire and beyond.  One looked as if it mapped the territories of the Huns and Goths and Vandals; the other showed the distribution of cities across Persia.  Had circumstances been any different, Eusebius could have stood studying those maps for days.

          The clots of people had thinned out as well, and soon Eusebius found himself facing only a contingent of guards in full armor, a man in bishop’s robes, and the Emperor himself.

          Constantine had been watching him approach this entire time, his gaze sharp and unwavering.  Although Eusebius knew that the Emperor was in his mid-fifties, and the streaks of grey at his temples confirmed it, his muscles, bronze skin, and set of his jaw made him look twenty years younger.  Eusebius understood now how just the sight of this man had been enough to inspire fierce loyalty in his troops.  He had met many leaders in his life who carried themselves like boys parading around in their father’s clothes.  The man sitting before him had the genuine look of the master of every living soul and every inch of land that circled the Mediterranean Sea.

          The centurion who had been leading Eusebius now bowed to the Emperor and stepped away from the dais to join his companion.  The Emperor's personal guard had fallen back as well, standing at the ready but at a respectable distance.  The only thing between Eusebius and the Emperor now was the lip of the dais, tall enough that the top of Eusebius’ head was level with Constantine’s knee.  Eusebius humbled himself even further with a deep bow.  “May Christ be with you, your Majesty.”

          “And also with you,” Constantine responded in heavily accented Greek.  Then he added, “Do you speak Latin well enough to converse in it?”

          “Of course, Majesty,” Eusebius replied in Latin.  “I am fluent in both languages, and Aramaic as well.”  Calm down, he told himself.  You sound like a child seeking out his father’s praise.

          Constantine gestured towards the bishop standing beside the throne.  “Do you know Bishop Hosius of Corduba?”

          “Quite intimately,” Eusebius said.  “Just a few months ago he and Bishop Alexander declared me an Arian and tried to get me excommunicated.”  Hosius made no reaction to this comment, so Eusebius decided to be civil.  He bowed and said, “Christ be with you, brother.”

          “And also with you,” Hosius replied noncommittally.

          Constantine shifted in his seat now, but said nothing.  He stared at Eusebius for several moments, pursing his lips as if he’d forgotten why he’d summoned him.

          At last he spoke.  “I’m honored to meet you, Eusebius.  I’ve read your Ecclesiastical History.  It was most instructive when I was learning about my new religion.”

          “I’m humbled, Majesty.”

          “I’ve also heard good things about you as a man of faith,” Constantine said.  “Wise, well-read, fair-minded, and always eager to keep the peace.”

          “Thank you, Majesty.”

          Constantine’s brow furrowed.  “You probably understand this whole Arian business better than I do.  Do you feel there’s a chance at reconciliation?”

          “Between men of good faith, there is always a chance,” Eusebius replied.

          “Others aren’t so sure,” Constantine said, waving a hand in Hosius’ direction.  “And still others wouldn’t accept peace even if it were tailor-made for them.”

          “I am aware of this, Majesty.”

          “Good, good,” Constantine said.  “As for me, my stake in this is simple.  I didn’t spend the better part of two decades unifying my empire just to see it all fall apart again because of some squabble over a minor article of faith.”

          It’s hardly minor, Eusebius thought, but he knew better than to say it.

          Constantine had paused again, closely examining Eusebius’ face.  Eusebius stook stock-still, unsure of the protocols.

          “Alexander of Alexandria insists that you’re as much a heretic as Arius himself,” Constantine said.

          “But that’s –” Eusebius began, but the Emperor’s upraised hand – not to mention the sudden look of shock in Hosius’ eyes – stopped him.

          “Eusebius of Nicomedia claims that you’re a traitor to their cause, turning against them to save your own skin.”

          Eusebius just stood there now, listening.

          “In fact,” Constantine continued, “in all of my conversations with those two stubborn jackasses, the only thing I’ve been able to get them to agree upon is that you’re on the other one’s side.”  Constantine leaned forward in his throne now, towering over Eusebius.  “Do you know what that makes you to me, Bishop?”

          “An enigma?” Eusebius ventured.

          The Emperor chuckled.  “Useful.”

          “Majesty?”

          “It makes you an excellent beachhead upon which to build a compromise,” the Emperor explained.  “As far as I can tell, you’re the only person who’s ever been able to bridge the gap between these competing philosophies.  Your learning, and your unsurpassed knowledge of Church history, and the respect that this has earned you with your brothers increases that value.”

          Eusebius nodded, his head swimming.  “What can I do to be of service, Majesty?”

           Constantine gestured toward Hosius again.  “If you were my advisor on church matters, Eusebius, what course of action would you recommend for this Council?”

          "I wouldn't dare to presume," Eusebius said.

          The Emperor smiled, but there was no mirth in it.  "Try me."

          Eusebius paused for a moment to consider.  “I think the biggest barrier to peace is that everyone is focused on the one or two ways in which Arius and Alexander’s philosophies differ.  No one seems to remember the hundreds of different ways that they agree.”

          Constantine nodded, and even Hosius looked thoughtful.  “Change the conversation,” Constantine said with a nod. “And how would you recommend we do that?”

          “It might be enough just to suggest it,” Eusebius answered.  “Arianism has been an issue in the eastern half of the Empire for many years now, but there will be plenty of bishops at the Council from the West who haven’t been involved at all.”

          “It’s true, Majesty,” Hosius said.  “I’ve been meeting with my brother bishops from Hispania as they arrive.  Several from Gaul as well.  Most of them know that there have been accusations of heresy between their brothers, but they don’t have much detail on what the points of contention are.”

          “Hmm,” Constantine murmured, considering.  “But just because they’re new to the subject doesn’t mean they won’t quickly take sides.  And no telling which side they’ll take when they do.”

          “At least they’d still be easier to sway than the Arians and the Alexandrians,” Eusebius pointed out.  “If the zealots on either side were willing to budge, they’d have done so by now.  The outcome of this Council will be decided by the will of everyone else in the middle.”

          For the briefest instant, Constantine brightened – but he quickly suppressed it, setting his face stern again.  “That’s very true,” he said.  “And maybe we could....”  His voice trailed off, and then he glanced back over his shoulder.  “What do you think, Hosius?  Would he suit our purposes?”

          Hosius' eyes flicked over to Eusebius.  “I’m not sure I trust him, Majesty.”

          “I suppose there’s only one way to find out,” Constantine said.  He turned back to Eusebius.  “I am Emperor.  Every time I speak in the Council hall, the conversation will come to a halt.  Hosius will be the one presiding, so he has to remain neutral.  We’ve been looking for a third – someone who the other bishops will listen to, but without close ties to either side.  Someone who can steer the conversation the way we want it to go when we need it to.  How do you feel about serving in that role?”

          “And this ‘steering’ – it would be steering everyone in the direction of reconciliation?”

          “That would be the plan, yes.”

          Eusebius paused to study Hosius’ face, and then the Emperor’s.  “That's all I've ever wished for in this matter, Your Majesty.  I would be honored to serve."

          “Excellent,” Constantine said.  “Then these are your instructions.  You are my concealed dagger.  Until I know which way I need to point the blade, I need to keep it sheathed.  So I need you to stay out of the conversation.  I don’t want anyone to start forming opinions of which side you’re on, because we don’t know yet which side you’ll need to be on to tip the balance the way we want it to go.  Do you understand?”

          “I do.”

          “Join in only when I call you out specifically,” Constantine added.  “If I have to do that in the middle of a Council session, then it should be pretty obvious what it is I need you to do.  Until then, I want you to focus on listening.  I’ll call for you in a few days and we can compare notes and consider next steps.”

          Another surprise.  Another twin jolt of pride and fear.

          Eusebius bowed.  “As you wish, Majesty.”

          The Emperor lifted two fingers on his left hand and suddenly the two centurions were flanking Eusebius again.  “If you serve me well,” Constantine said, “I’ll be in your debt.”

          “There’s no need,” Eusebius assured him.  “Just being of service is reward enough.”

          Constantine laughed openly when he said this.

          “Majesty?” Eusebius asked.

          “If I ever told Alexander or Eusebius I’d be in their debt, they’d leap upon it like starving dogs.”

          “Wouldn’t you say, Majesty, that that’s the part of the problem?”