Through the crowdlined streets of the city, many of whose people had never even seen the Senior Augustus, the procession moved at a majestic slow pace. At the Temple of Jupiter, Diocletian dismounted from the chariot and, followed one step to the rear by Maximian, entered the temple and approached the altar where the High Priest waited. While the Emperor scattered the traditional incense upon the altar itself, the white ox was brought in through another door by the victimarii, whose job it was to carry out the actual sacrifice.
Seizing the ox by one ear and by the muzzle, one of the victimarii pulled its head down quickly while another struck an expert blow with an axe, stunning the animal so the priest could move in with the ceremonial knife and slash its throat. As the blood poured out, drenching the altar, all those gathered around it lifted their eyes heavenward, calling upon Jupiter Capitolinus to bless them, the city, and the Empire.
Festivals commonly
The visit of Diocletian coincided with one of the festivals commonly celebrated in Rome, the ludi plebeii, in which commoners and nobility alike mingled in the streets and in many balls and entertainments held throughout the city. As Diocletian’s favorite among the military officers at his court, Constantine was naturally invited to these. Since a great ball was held on the evening of the triumph, he left Dacius to choose the guard detail for the night and, dressed in his finest tunic, attended the ceremony.
One of the first people he saw was his former fellow cadet from the corps at Nicomedia, Maxentius. The son of the Augustus of the West was chatting with a group of young men and women, but since he knew none of them Constantine did not break in. Instead, he fortified himself with a glass of wine and some sweetmeats from a platter carried by a slave, while he studied the surging mass of richly dressed people. He was gratified to see that Maxentius, in spite of the magnificence of his dress, was still of no higher rank than a tribune and he would have passed on, searching for some of the court chamberlains from Nicomedia, had not Maxentius seen him.
“Hail to the Emperor’s lackey,” he announced, raising the goblet he held in his hand high in a mock salute, “guardian of the imperial bedchamber and, who knows, probably the imperial chamberpot, too.”
There was a round of laughter, but none, Constantine noticed, from a slender girl with light hair on which was perched a small jeweled circlet, betraying her high position.
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