The Song of the Gladiator (14 page)

‘Of course not!’ Dacius lisped. ‘That little bastard wouldn’t let me anywhere near him.’

‘Did you know he was going to be drugged?’ Murranus pushed his face closer. ‘You knew something was going to happen?’

‘I couldn’t believe my eyes.’ Dacius waved his hands. ‘There was the great Spicerius staggering around like a drunk; you should have put your sword straight through his throat!’

‘I could see something was wrong,’ Murranus replied, ‘and, as I’ve said, I’m a fighter not a murderer.’ He blew a kiss into Dacius’s face. ‘Next time you might win your bet, but it will be the result of a fair fight.’

‘Fair fight?’ Dacius raised his plucked eyebrows. ‘Fair or not, you’d better win!’

‘This is a lovely tavern.’ One of Dacius’s henchmen spoke up, a raw-faced man with a broken nose and slobbery lips. He patted Polybius on the arm. ‘You always have to be careful against fire, don’t you? You never know when one is going to break out.’ The oaf picked up Polybius’s cup and sipped from it. ‘And then, of course, there’s your comely niece – what’s her name, Claudia? She’s at the Villa Pulchra, isn’t she? We know she’s there, and we’ve got friends there who can—’

Murranus’s fist smashed on to the table. He grabbed the knife kept in a crack beneath the tabletop, knocked two of the Dacians aside and launched a furious assault on the oaf, who now hastily tried to retreat under a rain of blows and kicks. Eventually Murranus cornered him and grabbed him by the hair. Pressing the tip of the knife into his opponent’s fleshy throat, Murranus became aware of Poppaoe standing in the kitchen doorway, screaming. Other regulars now threw open the door and thronged in, overcoming their fear of this gang of roughnecks.

‘That will be enough,’ Dacius called out. ‘That will be enough, Murranus! Dear boy, do turn round.’

The gladiator did so. Dacius still sat at the table, but two of his gang had dragged Polybius to his feet, whilst another forced the tip of his dagger under the taverner’s chin.

‘Fair exchange is no robbery,’ Dacius lisped as he rose to his feet and came swaying across the room. He looked Murranus over from head to toe. ‘I must say, dear boy, you are very fast. I do hope, however, you will be just as fast in the arena.’

Snapping his fingers, Dacius swaggered out of the tavern. Polybius was sent flying towards his wife, while Murranus lowered his dagger, grabbed the oaf by the hair and, giving him a good kick in the backside, sent him staggering after the rest. Polybius ran across, barred the door then slid down to the ground, face in his hands.

‘Come on now.’ Murranus went across and helped him to his feet. ‘They’re just bullies; they croak like bullfrogs.’

‘They’re nasty,’ Polybius replied. ‘Even the rats in the sewer would give them a wide berth.’

Murranus helped him back to the table, went to console Poppaoe and brought back two clean goblets. He filled both and thrust one into Polybius’s hand, then sat down opposite.

‘Why didn’t you kill him? I mean Spicerius,’ Polybius said, lowering his cup. ‘Did you know anything about this before it started?’

‘Before any great fight,’ Murranus replied, ‘you hear rumours, but it’s mere chaff in the wind, nothing to worry about. Spicerius and I were both aware of large amounts of money changing hands. But why did Dacius bet on me, why were they so certain?’

‘It could be one person,’ Polybius replied. ‘Someone, somewhere, has put a large amount of money on you to win; the bet’s been frozen, so they send the Dacians in.’

‘No, no it’s more than that.’ Murranus dipped a finger into his wine and ran it round his lips. ‘Remember, Polybius, they are not only betting for me to win, but for Spicerius to lose. However, as little Claudia always tells me, life is never as simple as that . . .’

‘I thought this meeting,’ Claudia moved on the stool, ‘was about theology, your Jesus Christ being truly God?’

‘Claudia, Claudia,’ Sylvester patted her on the arm, ‘do you think we Christians are different from anyone else? There are two qualifications for joining our sect: the first is to acknowledge you are a sinner; the second is to realise that only the good Lord can change you. Our founder was, is,’ he corrected himself, ‘God, but our community is a collection of sinners.’ He struck his breast. ‘Myself included. We fight, we betray, we lust, we steal, we kill.’

‘Does Helena know this?’

‘Of course she does. However, Helena views the Christian Church as a means to invigorate the Empire and bind it closer together. Above all, she realises that the vast army of the poor regard our Church, with its promise of resurrection to Eternal Life, as their only comfort in this vale of tears. The Christian community,’ Sylvester continued, ‘has always been riven by dissent. Our Church is almost three hundred years old, but right from the start we have had betrayal and treachery. One of Christ’s own followers, Judas, betrayed him to crucifixion. Peter, who later came to Rome, denied ever knowing him.’

Claudia listened carefully. She had never confessed this to anyone, but although she didn’t accept the Christian religion, she was still fascinated by its teaching and, above all, its effect on the vast population of the poor of Rome.

‘Our Church,’ Sylvester held up his hands as if holding a bowl, ‘has come out of the catacombs; it no longer hides underground. The shadows are gone, but now is also the time to settle grievances, to fight for power, to claim a place in the sun. Ten years ago, the old Emperor, Diocletian, launched the most savage persecution of the Christian Church. Our followers were roped in from as far away as Britain and the borders of Persia. You must have heard about the hideous spectacles in the Flavian amphitheatre. Men, women and children torn to pieces by wild animals or subjected to the most humiliating death.’

‘I was a child,’ Claudia whispered. ‘I remember my father hiding Christian symbols. One morning, I think it was around the feast of Lupercalia, soldiers came to search our house.’

‘Your parents were most fortunate,’ Sylvester replied. ‘Others were not. When a Christian was arrested, he was given the opportunity to purge himself, to sprinkle incense before a statue of the Emperor or the Standards of Rome. Naturally, many people succumbed; faced with the terror of death, they took the easy way out.’

‘And what happened to those?’

‘They were given a new name, a term of derision, the “Lapsi”, the Fallen Ones. According to some members of our Church, these Lapsi should never be forgiven. Others, myself included, believe this is too harsh. The Lapsi should do penance, yes, but eventually be forgiven and re-admitted to the community.’

‘How does this affect our philosophers?’

Sylvester grinned sourly.

‘If you think the Lapsi are bad, they are not the worst. There is another group of sinners, nicknamed the Iscariots, after the man who betrayed Christ, Judas Iscariot. These are men and women who not only renounced their religion but offered, either for reward or to escape punishment, to lead the authorities to other Christian communities. Your father’s house was searched, Claudia, probably because of an informant.’ Sylvester drew a deep breath. ‘Now, during Diocletian’s persecution, the school of Capua was already marked down as a Christian community. Many of its teachers and scholars were known to be followers of Christ.’ He shrugged. ‘At least in theory. About six years ago, however, the authorities were given very precise information about where to search, who to look for, all the evidence they would need. At least forty people were arrested, thirty of whom were dispatched to Rome for execution.’

Claudia whistled under her breath.

‘Now according to Athanasius, such traitors are amongst the Arian group. This morning he is going to divert the Empress’s attention to this issue.’

‘But why?’ Claudia asked. ‘Constantine doesn’t care what happened six years ago. He is not a Christian and really couldn’t give a damn about a mealy-mouthed traitor in your community!’

‘Ah, yes,’ Sylvester sighed, ‘but Athanasius will argue that such traitors betrayed their own kind; they sent innocent men, women and children to their deaths. He might well argue that such people still lurk in the Christian community . . .’

‘I see.’ Claudia nodded. ‘And people who betray once will betray again?’

‘Precisely,’ Sylvester agreed. ‘Athanasius will hint that if such men and women are prepared to betray the Bishop of Rome, why not the Emperor of Rome?’

‘But Athanasius is one of yours. Why not just tell him to keep his mouth shut?’

‘We’ve already tried,’ Sylvester retorted. ‘You’ve met Athanasius, fiery-tempered and hot-eyed, but he’s only half the problem. He claims that Justin, the leader of the Arian party, will level the same accusations of betrayal at the orthodox party. What I want you to do, Claudia, is have a word with the Empress. I do not want to show my hand in public.’

‘But you’ve told me this for another reason, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, I have,’ Sylvester conceded. ‘Now you see, Claudia, how truly we Christians love each other! So much so,’ he added wryly, ‘that we are prepared to kill and maim. I only learned this morning about what is going to happen. I’ve heard rumours and it has to be stopped.’

‘And that other reason?’ Claudia asked.

Sylvester patted her on the shoulder and rose to his feet. ‘Dionysius’s murder may be connected to these allegations. I don’t know, but I have a feeling here,’ he tapped his hand on his chest, ‘that Dionysius may not be the last to die at the Villa Pulchra.’

 

When Sylvester had left, Claudia sat on the stool, staring down at her sandalled feet. Outside in the passageway she could hear talk and laughter as the court assembled in the peristyle garden. She got to her feet and left the chamber, forcing her way through the throng until she was out in the full blaze of sunlight. She sighed with relief; the Empress Helena now sat enthroned next to her son, but from the confusion amongst the scribes, Claudia gathered the debate had yet to begin. Pushing and shoving, excusing herself volubly, she made her way through the crowd. She reached the line of soldiers which protected any access to the imperial presence. A soldier brought up his shield. Claudia caught sight of Gaius and shouted his name. The officer came hurrying across, pulling forward the folds of his toga to shroud his head against the sun.

‘Why, Claudia,’ Gaius smiled down at her, ‘the Empress was wondering where you were.’

‘I need to speak to her urgently.’

Gaius beckoned her through and, grasping her by the shoulder, steered her between the imperial thrones. Claudia crouched down to the Empress’s right.

‘Why, little mouse.’ Helena didn’t even move her head in acknowledgement. ‘I saw you coming. Have you been talking to Sylvester?’ She turned and winked at Claudia. ‘What did you think of my performance this morning? I just hope none of those lovely boys stole that holy relic, but that will have to wait. What do you want?’

Claudia told the Empress in short, sharp sentences how Sylvester had warned that the debate might be used by both parties to level the most serious allegations against each other. Helena heard her out, now and again nodding in agreement, then dismissed her with a flick of her fingers and turned to talk to her son.

From behind the imperial thrones, Claudia watched how Chrysis imposed order as the orators took their stools either side of the peristyle pool. The chamberlain’s introduction was short and slightly sardonic as he bowed mockingly to both sides. He was well aware of his audience. The Christians might be supported by the Emperor, but there were many in court who regarded the new sect with either amusement at best, or, in some cases, downright hostility. Chrysis was about to withdraw when the Emperor raised his hand and proclaimed in ringing tones that the meeting was to be about matters of theology and nothing else. He warned sharply that if any orator wandered from the agenda set before them, that speaker would face his most severe displeasure. The imperial proclamation caused consternation on both sides, a great deal of leaning and whispering.

‘We are waiting,’ Chrysis sang out, gesturing towards the podium. Athanasius rose to his feet, bowed to the Emperor and his mother, then climbed on to the podium, carefully arranging his sheets of vellum. He stared round at the various notables and sketched a dramatic cross in the air before pausing head down, as if in prayer. Claudia watched with interest. She herself often amused her uncle’s guests with mime or playing out some role from one of the great classics. She recognised another actor in Athanasius. He began slowly, body tensed, voice rather low, but then relaxed, his voice echoing rich and mellow. Athanasius was also a scholar with a deep knowledge of the Greek tongue, not some bare-arsed philosopher or sophist playing with words or posing questions without giving answers. He immediately impressed his audience with quotations from the classics, before turning to his main theme, defining in very technical terms the Trinity and its three persons, Father, Son and Holy Ghost. He presented the dogma as radical and revolutionary, and cited one of the great Christian writers, John, quoting, he claimed, the first line of an account of a man who had lived and worked with Christ, seen him die and witnessed his Resurrection.

‘John writes,’ Athanasius paused, one finger jabbing the air, ‘that our witness actually declares, “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.”’ His mellow voice concentrated on the Greek for ‘the Word’, Ολογος, and he emphasised this before moving on to other texts which showed that the Word became Flesh. Justin was eager to intervene, but Athanasius was now in full flow, quoting further from the Gospels as well as from the writings of John, to demonstrate that Christ had claimed that he and the Father were one.

Claudia listened intently, drawn by the power of Athanasius’s oratory as well as by his critical scholarship, which was making a deep impression on his audience. Even Constantine was listening carefully, whilst Helena was tapping her foot, a common gesture when she was pleased. Claudia studied the faces around her. She glimpsed Gaius Tullius, eyes closed in concentration, Timothaeus beaming with pride, whilst beside him Sylvester nodded in agreement. She wanted to stay and listen but decided this was the best time to visit the scene of Dionysius’s murder. She slipped away from the crowd, along a warren of passageways and out through the garden into the orchard beyond. She entered the trees and noticed scuff marks on the ground, but she couldn’t decide if these had anything to do with the murder or were the traces of those who found the corpse.