‘No, Claudia, we are talking about a fighter. You described to me in great detail what happened; I told you to do that, to clear your mind, purge your soul.’ Sylvester made a circular movement with his fingers. ‘Could your attacker, the murderer of your brother, be a gladiator?’
He half smiled at the hiss of disapproval from Claudia. ‘No, no,’ he added gently, pushing a lock of hair away from her forehead. ‘Claudia, reflect! Gladiators are killers, often lonely men. Oh, they are hero-worshipped, but only because they have killed someone. They are in constant training. The women who worship them are either whores or degenerates from court. No,’ his smile widened, ‘I’m not talking about you and Murranus; he is very fortunate! I’m talking about those who hang about the gladiator schools and want nothing more than to give their bodies. Next time you mix with Murranus’s friends look at them carefully, consider what I’ve said. Was your attacker looking for fresh prey? An innocent maid? Some respectable young woman, a change from the usual? It’s common enough.’ Sylvester sighed. ‘As the Lord of Light knows!’
Claudia stared at the far wall as if fascinated by the graffiti there: figures of men and women joining hands around a table and, underneath, Christian symbols about eternal life. She noticed the Alpha and Omega, the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet, the symbols of the Christian God. She was distracted by what Sylvester had said. Sometime soon, when she was in a darkened room by herself, she would meditate, reflect on what he had said. She felt a spark of excitement, a secret thrill, as if she realised she was on the verge of the truth.
Sylvester broke off another piece of cheese, popped it in his mouth and walked over to examine the graffiti. Claudia sighed noisily.
‘Why am I here this morning? Why now?’
‘The Villa Pulchra, at Tibur,’ Sylvester replied, eager to change the subject. ‘Two matters of importance. The Empress Helena, as you may know, is collecting Christian relics. She seems to have a passion for them; her agents are scouring the countryside around Jerusalem searching for the True Cross. The Empress Helena believes she has found the sword used in the execution of the apostle St Paul. She has put it on show in a special room in the Villa Pulchra, a sort of exhibition when certain philosophers, the rhetoricians from Capua, debate matters of doctrine.’
‘And?’
‘To cut a long story short, yesterday afternoon, or so our agents tell us, the sword disappeared. The chamber or cellar has no secret entrances, and it was guarded by mercenaries. The door could only be opened by two keys. Timothaeus the steward held one of these, Burrus, the scruffy German who adores Helena, the other. Anyway,’ Sylvester bit into a fig, ‘yesterday afternoon Timothaeus, as usual, decided to check on the sword. The door was opened. Burrus, because he is frightened of the place, stayed outside. Timothaeus went in. Burrus heard a thump and a cry but dismissed this. A short while later he peered in. Timothaeus was lying by the circle of sand.’
‘Circle of sand?’
‘Yes, you will see, it stretches beneath where the sword hung from a chain. Only yesterday afternoon, the chain was empty. The sword was gone.’
‘And Timothaeus?’
‘Burrus thought he was dead, but the man had simply fallen in a faint. The alarm was raised, the guards called, Timothaeus was removed and the chamber searched. But no sword was found. A true miracle.’ Sylvester grinned. ‘Timothaeus believes that because of the squabbling between Christians, the Angel of the Lord came and removed the sword.’
‘Of course, it was stolen?’
‘So it seems, but by whom, why and how are truly a mystery. The Augusta will not be pleased. She will send for you. In fact, I’m sure that a message or messenger will have already arrived at the She-Asses ordering you to the Villa Pulchra.’
‘But there’s something else, isn’t there?’
‘Oh yes, there’s always something else. The Emperor has invited six rhetoricians, self-proclaimed philosophers, from the School of Oratory at Capua, a prestigious academy where many scholars study theology and philosophy and perfect their public speaking skills. It’s now become a thorn in the side for us, as the Arian heresy flourishes there. One of its most skilled advocates is a scholar called Justin.’
‘What is the bone of contention?’
‘The bone, Claudia? Why, the truth of our faith. Who is God? How does God act?’
‘I’m not a philosopher, I’m certainly not a Christian.’
‘No, you’re better,’ Sylvester retorted. ‘You are a woman of integrity with a keen mind and sharp wits. This is what we believe, Claudia. Our God is a triune God, three persons in one. The Father, pure spirit, sees an image of himself; that image is the Son, eternal and real, like the Father but not the Father. For all eternity the Father has always coexisted with His image. He loves that image and the love which exists between them is another person, the Spirit. Three persons but one God. Our faith teaches that the Son became incarnate, Jesus Christ, God yet man, confined yet infinite. The Arians, however, preach a different faith which would destroy the Trinity and reduce Christ to some glorified angel.’
‘And?’
‘The Arians must not win the debate. I will be joining you at the Villa Pulchra, Claudia, to persuade the Empress to give us her support. I want the Arian heresy to be destroyed and our unity maintained.’
‘What happens if they resist?’
Sylvester rubbed his cheeks with his hands. ‘More stringent methods might be necessary; a diseased limb must be cut off.’
‘You mean, you’ll have them killed? You Christians who love each other?’
‘Heresy in our Church is like treason in the State.’
‘But what about the love of Christ?’ Claudia teased.
‘Let Christ love them,’ Sylvester replied tartly. ‘The Church must survive, but that is only one half of the problem.’ He paused to collect his thoughts. ‘On the one hand we have men like Timothaeus the steward; he is orthodox to the point of fanaticism. He doesn’t like the debate, he thinks the Arians should shut up or be silenced. On the other side are the likes of Chrysis, Constantine’s agent and chamberlain, a pagan born and bred. He rejoices at these divisions amongst the Christians; he will ridicule the debate, try and cast us all as agitators.’
‘But there’ll be your Bishop’s representative, the one who will defend orthodox teaching?’
‘Oh yes,’ Sylvester laughed sharply, ‘and he might do more harm than good. Athanasius is hot-tempered, a true firebrand.’
‘Do you think any of these philosophers could have stolen the sword? They were present when the relic disappeared?’
‘It’s possible. They could have seen it as something sacred to Christianity, not to be put on show by pagans. Others could have stolen it, soldiers, officials. Chrysis was coming and going to the villa; he would like nothing better than to upset the Christians. Or,’ Sylvester took a deep breath, ‘it could have been an ordinary thief, attracted by the ivory hilt or the sparkling ruby. But that’s not important, Claudia.’ Sylvester gestured around. ‘What do we care about graves, relics, philosophical debate? The Church is leaving the catacombs, it must remain strong. At this moment in time we are tolerated, not accepted. One day we shall be. We shall be the Empire. Can you imagine it, Claudia?’ he whispered. ‘Church and State, working as one, the City of God?’ His voice trailed away and he sat dreaming his own dreams of Empire before recollecting where he was. ‘I understand your friend Murranus is in difficulties?’
‘Murranus is always in difficulties.’ Claudia got to her feet, picked up her cloak and staff. ‘So we meet again at the Villa Pulchra?’
‘I’m leaving for there now.’ Sylvester smiled up at her. ‘I’ll arrive within the hour and see what mischief is planned.’