29 Sign of Beauty, Sign of Glory at, and gardening also. In his old age he gave up the former so he could better enjoy the latter. Before that, his underling had persuaded him to persecute the Christians, which he did, as he did all things, with real efficiency. “Artichokes would have been better,” she said to herself. “Domina?” “Ah, centurion, I was thinking about an emperor. Anything yet?” “Rubble is all.” “Almost all,” she said. Rubble was what they left of the church in her father’s city. By then she was in Britain with Constantinus. She was making her deliberate way toward Christ. She had seen too much of the world to be hasty. A Greek philosopher could oil the world with his words; and oil meant money and power. The dark priests of Britain terrified the people; and terror meant money and power. Augustus and Rome were god and goddess, and they were nothing without money and power. Christ was not only different. He was that whole world turned upside down. “Mother,” said Constantinus one day, “I have had a dream.” They were outside of Rome, and her son was fighting for control over the west. Mother and son had been nudging one another along the Christian
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