Constantius' Last Will: A Fevered Decision or Divine Destiny?

Salve, citizens of Rome! It's Gossipia Gladiatrix, your favorite voice of the vox populi, here to dissect the latest development that’s got everybody's togas in a twist - the dying will of Emperor Constantius Chlorus. No, dear readers, it's not about his stash of denarii. It's about who’s going to wear the laurel wreath next.

So, buckle up your sandals, because this ride through the Roman political circus is as bumpy as Appian Way after a heavy rain!

In the wee hours of the morning, Constantius, shivering from fever but still clutching onto his sanity like a senator to his privileges, named his son, Constantine, as his successor. I know, shocker.

Now, let's be real. Constantius naming his own progeny as his successor is about as surprising as a sea battle in the middle of the Colosseum. But the circumstances? Ah, there's the rub! It begs the question: does the fevered decision of an ailing emperor hold water or is it the divine destiny our augurs never saw coming?

For those of you who've been too busy with your daily bread and circuses, let me outline the situation. Constantius was on a ‘summer vacation’ in Eboracum (Modern day York for the provincially challenged), fighting pesky Picts rather than sipping Falernian wine on a beach. As his health collapsed faster than the Republic after Caesar's stabby surprise party, he had a last-minute epiphany.

He declared, "My son Constantine shall succeed me." Now, isn’t that a tidy little package bequeathed to Rome; one that no amount of fevered hallucinations could unwrap?

Constantine, bless his heart, was busy in Gaul, probably having a whale of a time, oblivious to the fact that he was about to be slapped with the imperial purple faster than a gladiator can say "Veni, vidi, vici."

Ah, but should we rally behind this fevered decision? On the one hand, Constantine is a chip off the old block - experienced, strategic and, let's face it, as charming as Bacchus on a bender. On the other hand, he’s about as Roman as a Norseman in a toga.

But fear not, fellow Romans! History is rife with unanticipated leaders who have dazzled us with their brilliance. And if Constantine turns out to be more Nero than Augustus, well, we've survived worse, haven't we?

In these tumultuous times, I urge you, fellow Romans, to keep your heads high, your minds open, and your satirical tongues sharp