Chapter 1: Constantine's Tutelage

The silhouette of the distant ridge emerged from a serene darkness. Milky stars in the moonless sky faded as the sun’s rays spread blush upon the eastern sky and dispelled the mist shrouding the plains. Dawn sparkled in eyes of teal as the resurgence of day was beheld. The chill of the night fell away and daylight illuminated the garden.

Seated on a crimson settee, with her lute on her lap, Helena Flavia Constantina took in the natural beauty of the garden. She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of the black birch pine. She wore a light shroud under a heavy woolen cloak, which hung loosely from gold brooches on her shoulders, belted tightly around her waist, and flared slightly down to her calves. Positioning the instrument on her lap, she began plucking it, filling the garden with sounds from her youth. When she had first learned the melody, she had been a young girl living in Drepanum. She was a decade in age then, the same age as her only child.

Constantine emerged, like the sun at dawn, as if summoned by his mother’s rhythm. His kilt, with a gold Greek key design along the hem, stopped short above the knee, exposing his stout young legs. A soft breeze blew through his short wavy hair as his olive eyes stared at Helena. He kissed her on the cheek and she smiled.

"Good morning, mother," he said blithely.

She embraced him with all her warmth, her love, her being.

"Do you wish to join me?" she asked unnecessarily.

"Only if I may play the lute," he said eagerly, then added, as if she might need convincing, "After all, I’ve already interrupted you."

The back of her hand caressed the side of his face. "Only if you think you can keep up."

He looked at her with a grin. "I haven’t spent my days practicing with the tutors for nothing." He took the lute from her, positioning it in front of him to play. His fingers glided along the strings of the instrument, synchronous in time with her singing.