“Not now,” said Florence. “I’m tired and trying to go to sleep, leave me alone.”
Jake’s jaw clenched. You had your chance and you blew it, matey. Then again, did he ever really have a chance? Florence’s voice said it all – it was full of assumption he would comply. But still the thrill of discovery was in him and he would not be fobbed off.
“I think I’ve cracked it,” he said. “I think I know why Britton left us a book by Eusebius!”
There was a pause. “All right, I’m coming,” she said.
“Well then?” Florence began once they had returned to the lobby. “What have you got me out of bed for?”
“Tell me what you know about Constantine’s conversion to Christianity,” said Jake.
She decided to humour him. “It was a battlefield conversion. Supposedly Constantine saw a crucifix in the sky and ordered his men to paint it on their shields. He defeated his pagan rival and Roman Christianity was born.”
“Correct. Now read Eusebius’s account.”
Jake skimmed through Life of Constantine and handed her the book.
About the time of the midday sun, Constantine saw with his own eyes a cross-shape formed from light and a text attached which said, ‘By This Conquer’. Amazement at the spectacle seized him.
“Uh-huh,” said Florence. “‘By This Conquer’ is one of the most famous lines of antiquity. What’s your point?”
“It occurred to me Eusebius could also have been talking about the Book of Thunder.”
Florence narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Eusebius doesn’t write that Constantine saw a ‘Christian cross’ in the sky, or a ‘crucifix’ – that would be the obvious thing to say. Instead he calls it ‘a cross-shape formed from light’. Odd way to put it, don’t you think?”
“Your point is?”
“He could just as easily be describing forked lightning.”
Florence had one hand on her hip.
“Then Eusebius adds, ‘with a text attached’,” Jake continued. “A text attached to a cross of light in the sky that gave prowess in battle. What does that sound like to you?”
“Enlighten me.”
“I think Eusebius was writing about the Disciplina Etrusca – but disguising it as a Christian treatise.”
“I don’t buy it,” said Florence. “At all.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to from that passage alone,” said Jake. “But it’s a theme running through all three books of the biography.” He passed her the volume. “Read from Book One.”
Florence sighed again, but did as he asked.
Today our thought stands helpless, longing to express some of the conventional things.
“Eusebius is writing just after paganism was abandoned,” said Jake. “It’s like he’s pining for the old religion.”
Our thought reaches to the vault of heaven. It pictures God, stripped of all mortal and earthly attire and brilliant in a flashing cloak of light.
“Not exactly the stereotypical image of God,” said Jake. “No flowing beard, no long white robes. And the reader’s left with something that sounds pretty close to sheet lightning.”
“Eusebius’s idea of the Christian God would’ve been totally different to the stereotype you or I have,” Florence retorted. “He lived one thousand seven hundred years ago.”
Jake took the paperback. “Just look at Book Two then – the part where Eusebius is describing the fate of a pretender to the throne named Licinius.”
But he did not elude the Great All-Seeing Eye. Just when he hoped his life was safe he was struck down by a fiery shaft, his whole body consumed with the fire of divine vengeance so his appearance became unrecognizable. Dry, skeletonized bones were all that was left of him.
“But that could’ve been written about –”
“I know. Roger Britton.”
“You’re making the same mistake as before, though,” said Florence. “You’re assuming that because lightning’s mentioned it must have some special significance. But I keep telling you, lightning imagery is shot through all ancient religion, like, I don’t know, like letters in a stick of rock. They were fascinated by it.”
“Just look at Book One then,” Jake pressed.
Bright beams of the light of the true religion brought shining days to those who before had sat in darkness and the shadow of death.
“Bright beams?” he said. “The true religion? Come on!” Florence shook her head. “Still not convinced.” “And there’s this bit, also from Book Two.”
About this time a supernatural appearance was observed. This appearance was seen through the agency of a divine and superior power, and it was a vision which foreshadowed what was shortly coming to pass.
“That does sound like Etruscan religion,” Florence admitted. “But Eusebius created the entire discipline of church history – you’re asking me to believe the classical historian most associated with Christianity was a secret pagan. It’s too much.”
“Eusebius spent a lifetime working on religious scripts,” said Jake. “He of anyone would’ve known how scripture could be encoded with hidden meanings.”
“Great classicists have studied this text,” said Florence shot back. “Scholars have pulled apart every line. You expect me to believe a journalist could spot something the entire discipline has missed?”
“Why else would Roger have left us this book?”
“He was going mad. I’m starting to wonder if you are too.”
“There’s something else.”
“Oh is there? Let’s get it over with then, so I can go back to bed.”
“Eusebius was suspected of being a secret pagan in his own lifetime.”
That threw her. “He was?”
“It’s in the introduction,” he replied, handing her the book.
Suspicions were raised after Eusebius survived persecution of the Christians carried out by Diocletian, one of the last pagan emperors. And how had Eusebius borne himself during this season of peril? A quarter of a century later a grave charge was brought against him affecting his conduct during the persecution. The bishop of Heraclea addressed him: ‘Tell me then, wast thou not with me in prison during the persecution? And I lost an eye for the truth, but thou, as we see, hast received no injury in any part of thy body. Neither hast thou suffered martyrdom, but remained alive with no mutilation. How wast thou released from prison, unless it be that thou didst promise to those who put upon us the pressure of persecution to do that which is unlawful?’
Florence read the passage, read it again. Jake noticed that spots of red had formed high up on each of her cheeks.
Many scholars are highly sceptical of the content of Life of Constantine. Eusebius’s integrity has often attacked by academics. J. Burckhardt wrote, ‘Eusebius utterly falsified Constantine’s likeness’.
“The Emperor Diocletian’s retinue passed through Eusebius’s home town when he was younger,” Jake said. “They might have met. Perhaps Diocletian saw in Eusebius a man on the inside of Christianity, an ally against a dangerous and growing sect. Then along comes Constantine, who does away with the old order completely.”
“Eusebius waited until Constantine’s death to write Life of Constantine,” Florence whispered. “And Constantine’s successors were committed to the new faith of Christianity – it was a time of religious dogma, the burning of books.”
“If Eusebius was a closet pagan, if he was bent on preserving the Etruscan texts … he’d have needed to be crafty.”
Florence was deep in thought. “Could it be?” she said at last. “Could it be that Eusebius hid the Book of Thunder for future generations? That he crafted Life of Constantine as a map?”
“To safeguard it until the fad of Christianity passed.”
“Only it didn’t pass.” Florence’s eyes glinted at the machinations of the ancient scholar. “By This Conquer,” she repeated.