“Like Dacius?” He could imagine the story Maximian had told her and which she seemed to have believed.

“Or some others.” She had missed entirely the irony in his voice. “Father says he will yield up Massilia to you, so there will be no bloodshed.”

“On what terms?”

“Why must you be so suspicious, when he is only trying to help you? At least show some gratitude to him for guarding your realm when you were reported to have been killed while chasing Germans.”

“This courier who brought word of my death,” Constantine said. “Did you see him?”

“Of course. Do you think I would have accepted the report, if I hadn’t heard it with my own ears?”

“No, I suppose not,” he admitted.

“Then you’re going to accept Father’s offer?”

City of Massilia

“You and the baby plus the city of Massilia in return for his life? I would be less than grateful if I didn’t.”

“I told him you would be generous.”

From outside came the sound of marching men and Dacius soon appeared, at the head of a detail of troops. The old soldier looked somewhat the worse for wear and his face was grim. Behind him, a prisoner, stumbled Maximian looking small and insignificant without his purple cloak.

Dacius halted the detail and saluted. “The city is yours, Augustus,” he reported. “And one prisoner.”

“I demand the arrest of General Dacius for seizing me when I was preparing to surrender Massilia to you.” Maximian stepped forward to embrace his soninlaw, but something in Constantine’s gaze stopped him. “Thank Hercules you are safe, my son I” he said lamely. “We were told that you were dead.”

“Thank you for looking after my family and my kingdom,” Constantine said coldly, and ordered a detail to take Fausta, the baby and Maximian to Arles by chariot. He watched the little party disappear into the night toward where the chariots were located, then turned and, putting his arm about Dacius’ shoulder, guided his old friend into the tent and poured him a cup of wine.

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