The mists of the night had still not lifted from the countryside when they had taken to the fields in a southward direction outside Hadrianopolis and shortly found themselves on the Via Eg natia, one of the Empire’s main thoroughfares leading westward toward Rome. The passage of the two travelers across the mouth of the Mare Adriaticum, just north of the straits of Otranto that formed its mouth, had been easy for the winds had been fair an omen, Constantine hoped, for the success of the remainder of the trip. The fishing boat they hired had made it in little more than a day and night of sailing, with Dacius seasick much of the time. When they had shown their orders at the port of Brundisium they had been furnished horses for the ride across the lower part of the bootshaped peninsula to Neapolis.
Impatient at Dacius’ delay in returning, although he had been gone little more than an hour, Constantine stepped out upon the balcony outside his window and breathed deeply of the salt tinged air that came from the harbor with the freshening evening breeze. It was his first visit to the thriving new center called Neapolis, and his first glimpse of the area as they had ridden into the city from the east had impressed him greatly.
Attested by rich groves
The fertility of the land around it was attested by rich groves of olives and grape arbors lush with heavy fruit, furnishing, Dacius said, some of the finest wine in the Empire. Villas, often almost hidden by the trees, studded the hills and dotted the seashore. And not far from the city itself was the thriving Roman port of Puteoli, where Constantine and Dacius hoped to find a galley bound for the mouth of the river Rhodanus or Rhone, as it was more often called near the city of Massilia,f from whence they could follow that broad water highway into the very heart of Gaul.
The sound of footsteps in the hall outside brought Constantine from the balcony into the room. When they stopped before the door, he rushed to open it before Dacius could knock with the agreedupon signal. Dacius’ frown told him the centurion did not approve of his impetuousness, but whatever guilt he felt was dissipated when Fausta hurled herself into his arms.
“You have an hour, and this time leave the door locked until I give you the signal.” Dacius closed it, leaving the two lovers to
Brindisi f Marseille
gether, and for a long, precious moment, while they kissed passionately and clung to each other, there was no need for words. Then Fausta pushed herself away until she could look into his eyes.
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