Constantine accepted the letter and, recognizing his mother’s seal, ripped it open. Flavia Iulia Helena was a remarkable woman. Born a stable maid, she had used her wits and charm to rise in society, eventually marrying the governor of Dalmatia. Since his death she’d spent most of her time unearthing relics in Jerusalem.
“Beloved Son,” he read, “I write today from Palestine, near the site of Christ’s tomb. Please accept Bishop Macarius as my emissary and grant him an audience. He brings an offer of certain victory over the forces of evil.”
Constantine raised an eyebrow. Certain victory?
“Macarius carries relics of astonishing power,” she continued. “They can render your army invincible, if its cause is just. Son, I know you believe the Empire should tolerate all religions. To prove your sincerity, swear two things: First, promise to extend the religious freedom you granted Gaul, Spain, and Britain to the entire Empire. Second, promise to honor the Christian God by razing the vulgar temple Hadrian built near Calvary and constructing a grand cathedral in its stead. May divine favor preserve your successes together with the good of the state. May God grant you victory!”
He pondered the unusual offer. His first thought was to disregard it as mere superstition, but he’d learned to value his mother’s counsel. She’d advised his father and helped him achieve great things. He understood her appeal for religious freedom. Helena was a devout Christian, a follower of a faith that was illegal throughout most of the empire. Politically, it would be difficult to legalize Christianity, but if the offer was legitimate…
“Summon the emissary,” Constantine ordered. The guards ushered in Bishop Macarius, who bowed respectfully.
“I’m told you bring powerful relics. Show me.”
Constantine gazed in wonder at the shining disks, each golden as the sun, and listened to angelic voices. Two scribes, one Greek, one Roman, translated the message. When Constantine heard “In this sign, you will conquer,” he knew just what to do. That night, as his troops prepared for battle, Constantine commanded them to paint a new sigil on their shields: chi (X) crossed by rho (P).
Wicked Maxentius brooded in his palace. His situation was dire. The populace was beginning to support that son of a harlot Constantine. Citizens cheered for him, shouting acclamations during circus games. At the afternoon chariot races, spectators taunted Maxentius, chanting that Constantine was invincible. Maxentius knew Rome’s defenses could withstand a long siege, but if the people turned against him, he might not survive.
A messenger approached.
“What news?”
“Master, the keepers of the Sibylline Books have seen a prophecy. It foretells that the enemy of Rome will die tomorrow, on the anniversary of your accession.”
Maxentius was elated. He believed his anniversary to be a lucky day. Confident of victory, he issued bold new orders: “Prepare the army. Tomorrow we march north to defeat Constantine in open battle. We’ll see who is invincible.”
Maxentius crossed the Milvian Bridge, a stone structure carrying the Via Flaminia across the Tiber. Holding the bridge was crucial to defending Rome. He organized his force, which was twice the size of Constantine’s, into long lines with their backs to the river.
Soon, Constantine’s soldiers appeared. Instead of traditional standards, their shields displayed the mysterious new insignia. The army deployed along the length of Maxentius’s line and attacked. It was not a long battle: Constantine’s cavalry routed that of Maxentius. Constantine then sent his infantry, who pushed the rest of Maxentius’s troops into the Tiber. Many were slaughtered or drowned. The disciplined praetorians at first held, but under relentless assault they finally broke. Fearing defeat, Maxentius ordered a retreat. Only one escape route remained: the bridge. Then, miraculously, the bridge collapsed. All of Maxentius’s soldiers were killed or taken prisoner. Maxentius himself drowned in an attempt to swim across the river.
Constantine entered the city in triumph. Jubilant that the enemy of Rome had finally been defeated, crowds celebrated their new emperor’s grand entrance, parading Maxentius’s severed head through the streets. Constantine returned seized property, recalled exiles, released political prisoners, and offered the Senate a role in his government. He forgave Maxentius’s supporters and vowed to extend religious tolerance throughout the empire. In response, the Senate proclaimed him “the greatest Augustus.”
For almost thirty years Constantine traveled with the golden disks and marched under the chi-rho symbol, which came to be known as the Labarum. Thus armed, he achieved victories at Cibalae, Adrianople, the Hellespont, and Chrysopolis. After Constantine’s death, the sacred relics remained in Rome, protecting the Eternal City from evil.
Gabe burst into Jess’s bedroom. She grabbed a towel and covered herself. Gabe hadn’t even noticed that she was naked. He locked the door behind him. “How high is the balcony?”
“What? Why do you—”
“Those men are outside! Can we climb down?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Furious, Gabe ran his hands through his hair, trying to think. Jess pointed to her bathroom. “How about that window?”
He raced into the tiny room. Its tiled floor was covered with dirty laundry and towels. Just outside the window was a big swamp oak. One branch looked close enough to reach. Standing on the toilet, he unlatched the window and tried to lift it, but several coats of paint had sealed it shut. After quickly donning jeans and a sweatshirt, Jess rushed to help. She locked the door as Gabe drew a Swiss Army knife from his pocket, flipped it open, and began gouging into cracks. Seconds later the two of them heaved against the pane. Wood split with a loud crack. Holding the window open, Gabe kicked the mesh screen. It bent, snapped off, and dropped. Involuntarily, Jess gulped.
Someone was now rapping on the apartment door.
“Hurry!”
Taking Jess’s hand, Gabe helped her up. Nervously, she poked her bare feet through the opening, then, with a dancer’s grace, eased herself out. Balanced on the sill, she let her heels glide across the dry stucco ledge until they wedged against a decorative corner piece. Gripping tightly, Jess looked down. She’d be lucky to survive, she thought. She studied the oak. Its closest branch was four feet away though it seemed miles. Jess glanced back at Gabe, eyes asking if this evacuation was absolutely necessary. As if in reply, the apartment door crashed open.
“Go, you’ll make it,” Gabe said urgently.
Jess took a breath and jumped.
She hit the branch hard, scraping her cheek and biting her tongue. Rough bark bit into her skin. Terrified, she hugged the tree and tasted warm blood. With supreme effort, Jess overcame her fear and began inching down the trunk. She found a solid foothold and descended the next stage with relative ease, moving from branch to branch. Ten feet aboveground she chose a sturdy limb, let herself hang from it, and then dropped to the ground.
After determining that no bones had broken, Jess watched her heavyset friend try to replicate her actions. Feeling helpless, she stage-whispered encouragement, but it was useless. He’d snagged a belt loop on the latch. The bathroom door gave way and angry voices shouted in Arabic. Desperate, Gabe leaped headlong through the opening, clawed the nearest branch, swung, and tried to wrap his legs around the trunk. Unable to bear his weight, the limb snapped, and Gabe fell three stories.
Inside Simon’s villa Paul strode back and forth, occasionally peering over Ava’s shoulder or out the window.
She raised her eyes from the notebook. “Will you please stop pacing? You’re driving me crazy.”
“What? Oh, sorry. Are you almost done?”