Cast Not the Day (6 page)

Like a rising sickness, understanding dawned within me. ‘But sir,’ I answered slowly, ‘it is not the religion of my ancestors.’

He laughed – a careful, calculated laugh, devoid of humour – and when he spoke again there was a new edge to his voice. ‘Nor was it the religion of the great emperor Constantine, who was raised an unbeliever, as everyone knows. Yet he saw the truth and followed it, by God’s grace. If he could, so can you. Besides, there is much to be gained, and’ – with a significant pause – ‘much to be lost. No, no, do not discomfit yourself, I am not asking for an answer now. Still, I think we understand each other, and I can see you are no fool. Take account of your situation . . . But do not delay too long, for your father’s sake.’

I found Sericus in his room, seated on the edge of his bed, reading a book and trying to ignore the noise from the kitchens. When I told him what had happened, he stared at me and said, ‘You cannot put your trust in such a man. It is out of the question.’

‘But Sericus, he says he can help us!’

‘So he says, but a decent man does not invite a poor guest to dinner and then ask him to pay for it after. Let us say you agree to what he asks, what will come then? What will be his next demand? How indeed do you know he will do anything at all for you? And by then you will have made a public commitment – for that is how he wishes to use you – and you will not be able to retract without disgrace.’ He shook his head. ‘No, there is an ill smell about the whole business; your father would tell you never to deal with a man who promised a kindness upon such a condition. No gentleman would behave thus.’

‘Then do you forbid it?’ I asked.

He began to answer, but then he hesitated, frowning at the mildew-speckled wall. ‘No, Drusus,’ he said eventually, ‘I cannot forbid it, for I cannot know the secret places of this bishop’s mind. I am old, and you will soon be a man. This is a question you must decide for yourself.’

T
HAT NIGHT
I
LAY IN BED
, staring at the black rafters and wrestling with my thoughts.

When, earlier that day, I had at last left the bishop’s residence, for the first time I had been truly angry with Albinus.

‘You deceived me!’ I shouted at him.

But he had merely given me a look of blank wonder, as if such things were normal and I was making much out of little. When I went on and pressed him, he shrugged, saying, ‘Mother wanted it, and the bishop told me to bring you. What are you so angry for? You would not have come otherwise.’

After that I gave up, not trusting myself to speak to him further.

I knew Sericus was right. It would be disgraceful to submit to such a man as the bishop. His promises of assistance had been vague, his tone and expression almost mocking. I had no assurance that he intended to do even what he said, or whether his influence, which he seemed to think so much of, counted for anything at the court of Constans.

I considered going to Balbus, and laying the whole matter before him. But he was not the kind of man to understand such intrigue, and instinct told me he would go straight to my aunt, and she to the bishop. Everything could be denied; anything I said against the bishop could be dismissed as the frustrated imaginings of a resentful boy, the son of a traitor.

Thus my thoughts turned, and my mouth felt dry and bitter, as if I had eaten rotten fruit. And behind it all, the prospect of home beckoned, like the glimmer of bright morning beyond a closed door.

So I was at a loss, and did not know where to turn. But it happened, next day, that I fell to talking with Ambitus, my friend at Balbus’s office.

I had gone with him to the city dock, to see to the loading of a cargo of olive oil bound for Lincoln. We were making our way back up the narrow alleyways when from ahead there came the sound of men shouting. All along the street, people were craning their heads from the windows to see what the fuss was. Then, rounding the corner, we walked into a large crowd blocking our way.

At first I could not believe what I saw. I had expected, I suppose, some sort of tavern brawl. But instead I saw the crowd had with one mind set upon a building, a small antique temple with fine delicate columns and steps at the front, which I had often passed on my errands to the city dock. It was, I knew, a shrine to Mercury, of the sort one saw all about this part of town, Mercury being the god of traders and merchants.

We pushed our way forward. The crowd broke out in a sudden cheer as a great slab of marble facing came crashing down from the side of the temple and shattered on the flagstones.

‘But why are they doing this?’ I cried, shouting into Ambitus’s ear over the din.

He gave me a grim look. ‘It is nothing new. Every few weeks there is an attack like this. They will not stop till every temple is gone. But see, even now they are afraid. They stand back, and dare not venture inside.’

He was right. For all the mob’s noise and cheering, not one of them dared mount the steps under the porch, where in the dark interior the image of the god waited in his shrine. They were like men setting upon some noble captive beast, darting forward to strike and wound, but too timid to make the kill.

I stared in disgust. Only then did I think to ask, ‘But who are these people?’

He turned to me. ‘Do you really not know? Why, they are Christians of course. Who else?’

I remembered then how Albinus had held back when I had ventured into Diana’s temple. For all his ridiculing of the gods, he too was afraid of what he mocked.

Just then the crowd broke into a cheer. We craned our heads to look. A gaunt-faced youth had stepped out and was advancing with a rope, prancing to and fro, swinging the rope about his head and smirking at the bystanders, who were egging him on with cries of encouragement and motions of their arms. After making a show of this for some little time he suddenly darted up the steps at the front of the temple, hurriedly laced a noose around one of the fluted columns, and tossed the rope-end to the crowd.

There were cries of exertion; the rope jerked taut – but nothing happened.

Others ran forward to help. A shout went up and they heaved again. The rope – a mooring line taken, I suppose, from the nearby docks – strained and creaked. The temple stood firm. But then, just as I thought they might give up, mortar dust began to rain down onto the steps. With a grinding crack the column shifted on its base, then broke at the point where the noose was wrapped around it, and toppled forward like a stack of packing-crates.

All around us, the mob let out a howl of joy. They surged forward, and set about beating and kicking the broken cylinders as if they had some life in them. An old woman was standing in front of us, screaming and jigging about and waving her fist in the air. Suddenly, as if she had been struck, she swung round and glared at me with red, wild eyes.

I gazed back at her, transfixed. Her features were flushed, her black-toothed mouth was flecked with spittle. It was like the look of the Gorgon.

Suddenly Ambitus thrust himself forward. ‘What is it, old woman?’ he shouted.

She jabbed a filthy hand at him. ‘Why do you hold back? Why aren’t you cheering and praising like the rest?’ She began casting her eyes about and calling.

‘Come on,’ said Ambitus, shouting in my ear over the din, ‘before she brings her friends.’

We hurried away, pushing through the wild crowd. Behind, I heard the woman screeching insults and curses.

‘Anyway,’ said Ambitus, when we were clear of the worst of the mob, and could talk without shouting, ‘why are you so shocked? I thought you were one of them.’

‘Not I!’ I cried indignantly.

‘No?’ He shrugged. ‘Well, it’s none of my concern.’

‘But why on earth, Ambitus, should you suppose it?’

‘Everyone in your house is Christian. Or haven’t you noticed?’

‘Yes, of course I’ve noticed. But they don’t go about breaking up temples, do they?’

‘No, they don’t. They leave that to the mob. Come, Drusus! The mob do not act alone. They never do. They are guided and instructed and encouraged by others, who never get their hands dirty and never show their faces.’

‘In any case,’ I said, ‘I am not a Christian.’

He frowned and tossed his head. ‘It doesn’t matter. As I said, it’s none of my concern.’

We walked on. Presently I said crossly, ‘And you, Ambitus? What about you? You have never told me. Are you not a Christian too, then?’

‘I?’ He laughed. He reached to his tunic and took out a coin, and held it up between his thumb and forefinger. ‘See this?’ he said, fixing my eye, ‘this is what I trust in.’

‘A coin? What are you talking about?’

‘Money. The great all-powerful god. It is what makes me free.’ He placed the silver piece carefully back into his purse. ‘As for the rest, what do I care if they tear down Mercury’s temple? Let them do it. What has Mercury done for me?’

He strode on, glaring at the dirty pavement.

‘Do you know how I came to learn this trade? My father was a dockhand. He was a drunk and a good-for-nothing, and gambled away everything he earned. When he was incapable, which was most of the time, he sent me here to do his work for him. Then, when I was eleven, the plague took him. One day he was his usual drunken self, the next he was gone, just like that.’ He held up his open palm and blew, as a man might blow off a feather.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

‘Don’t be. I hated him. He left us with nothing, of course, like the wastrel that he was. My mother would have starved, but for what I brought in, and I was forced to turn my hand to what I could find – and some of it would make you blush, Drusus, if I told you of it, which I won’t. So let the Christians play their games, as long as they leave me alone. Needs must . . . or have you not learned that yet?’

He jerked his head and spat in the gutter. But then he paused, and tapped my arm gently with his small brown fist.

‘I am sorry, Drusus. That was unfair of me.’

I looked into his face. ‘So you know, then, about my father?’

He nodded. ‘Everyone knows. Albinus made sure of it. What do you think those gossiping fools talk of in the office when you’re not there?’

I shook my head. I could feel the colour rising in my face. I considered for a moment. Then I said, ‘Ambitus, I need some advice.’

‘Only ask.’

And so I told him about the bishop.

He heard me out in silence. When I had finished he whistled slowly through his teeth and pulling me into a doorway said, ‘Listen to me, Drusus. I don’t usually give advice to people, but your tutor is right: you cannot trust that man. He would be a laughing stock in this town if he weren’t so dangerous. There is nothing he will not do to get what he wants.’

He nodded back down the street. ‘Who do you suppose was behind
that
? It happens every month or so. The Council complains to the bishop; the bishop says he had nothing to do with it, and for a while things are quiet. Then something else happens. And it is not only buildings that are harmed: people have died. You saw that old woman. She would have torn us apart with her bare hands if she could, just because we were not screaming like the rest. Understand this: the bishop wants power, and he stops at nothing to get his way.’

‘But Ambitus, why does he want
me
? Why do I matter so much to him?’

He gave a bitter laugh. ‘Think as he thinks, Drusus – if you can bring yourself so low. You are the son of an aristocrat, and so you are useful. Well-born fathers keep their sons away from him – and their daughters too, for they also have their uses. And until the men with real influence – the Notables and the Illustrious and the rest – take him seriously, he must make do with the city rabble who count for nothing. Everyone else thinks he is a joke.’

I frowned, and stared down the sloping street. The nook where we were standing led to the back yard of a tavern. The air smelled rancid; someone had pissed in the doorway.

‘I believe everything you tell me, Ambitus,’ I said eventually. ‘I’ve met him, and I do not trust him. But if I refuse and my father dies, what then?’ I paused, biting my lip. It was this thought that I had returned to, again and again, during the long night.

He let out a sigh. I felt his hand close about my arm and I turned to him.