“I’m not sure I understand all this,” Constantine admitted. “Crocus is an experienced fighter,” Dacius explained, “and the odds were in his favor. If he had killed you during what was called an exhibition, Constantius’ troops could have held Crocus’ tribe responsible and the auxiliaries in Gaul might have been driven to rebellion. On the other hand, if you had killed Crocus, the Gallic tribes would have blamed your father. Either way Galerius felt sure he could win by letting the sham battle become something more serious, hoping Crocus would get excited as he did or that you would be so angry that you would fight back to the death.”
“I almost did.”
“We can be thankful that it all turned out so well,” Marios said fervently.
“I’m glad it’s over,” Dacius agreed.
But it wasn’t over, as Constantine learned when he came into the barracks a few days later and found Crocus packing his equipment and belongings.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Home to Gaul.”
“Did your father send for you?”
“No. Caesar Galerius expelled me from the army.”
“On what grounds?”
“He is Caesar. What grounds does he need?”
“Weren’t you even given a reason?”
“Dacius says it’s because I failed to kill you the other day or because you failed to kill me. Either way I don’t understand.” “It’s very simple,” Constantine said and went on to tell him of his interview with Galerius.
Crocus grinned wryly
“So that’s it.” Crocus grinned wryly. “You and I are being moved around like pieces on a board in a game. And neither has much to say about what square we land on.”
“Why don’t you appeal to the Emperor?”
“Dacius agrees it would do no good. No, friend Constantine. My career in the Roman army is finished and I’m happy in a way.” Crocus even managed to grin. “I’m certainly glad you didn’t kill me, even with this happening. And I could never have forgiven myself for killing you.”
“But what are you going to do?”
“Go home and flog my father’s serfs, I suppose, to prove that I am a man of some importance.”
“My father is Caesar of the West,” Constantine said, “and I’m sure he needs all the trained cavalry officers he can get to put down the Piets and the Caledonians in Britain. I will give you a letter to him, and if you’re not commander of the auxiliary cavalry in the whole Prefecture of Gaul, Britain and Spain by the time I get there, I shall flog you myself.”
The end of the first year of training brought promotions for JL most of the cadets, though the rank they were given was only that of a decurion, who normally commanded ten men. Maxentius, being the son of an Augustus, and Maximin Daia, as the nephew and protege of Caesar Galerius, could look forward to rapid promotion, but Constantine knew he could expect nothing from Galerius. And, since he rarely caught a glimpse of the Emperor, he sometimes doubted whether Diocletian even knew he existed.
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