Claudia watched the Empress. Helena hadn’t eaten or drunk anything. Claudia suddenly realised someone was missing: Helena’s shadow, the man who had first recruited Claudia for the imperial service, the Christian priest and scribe Anastasius. Why had the Empress left him in Rome? What else was happening? Were there other dangers like those beacon lights? Claudia wondered why the Empress had quarrelled with her son. Moreover, since the poet had left, messengers had been coming in and out of the chamber as if informing Helena about something important happening elsewhere in the villa. Claudia stared round and suppressed a shiver. Helena had taken over the supper party. Before it had even begun she had insisted that everyone had to stay and be entertained. Was there a sinister reason behind that?

‘Licinius is going to die soon.’ Chrysis was now in full flow. ‘It’s been predicted by a Syrian priest that he will die violently. So he has prepared twisted ropes of purple silk so he can hang himself if necessary, and a golden sword on which he can fall when the day of judgement arrives.’ Chrysis was now staring hard-eyed at his imperial master. ‘Licinius expects death. They say he has poisons hidden away in amethysts and emeralds. He has built a very high tower with gold and jewelled slabs beneath on to which he can throw himself. Perhaps it is time, your Excellency,’ he finished with a flourish, ‘that Licinius was encouraged to play more meaningfully with these toys.’

His words were greeted by a thunderous roar of approval. Goblets were raised in toast. Constantine stared round, his heavy-jowled face flushed, nodding in agreement. The musicians struck up a tune, but they were so drunk Chrysis told them to shut up. Rufinus the banker used the occasion to turn back to Claudia.

‘Are you still worried about Murranus?’

‘I am,’ she smiled, ‘and intrigued by what Chrysis said. Did you really think Murranus would kill a man clearly incapacitated?’

Rufinus shrugged. ‘That’s the law of the amphitheatre, Claudia. I’ve seen gladiators trip or fall ill; it’s not saved them from death. But I’ll tell you something,’ he gave a lopsided grin, ‘or I’ll repeat myself. There’s big money being moved around, a great deal going on Murranus to win.’

‘But that’s not the end of it,’ Claudia interrupted. ‘He will have to face Meleager the Magnificent, the Marvel of a Million Cities.’

‘Would you like to meet him?’ Rufinus asked. ‘Meleager? He’s been in the villa since you arrived. Meleager,’ Rufinus called across to the dark-haired stranger Claudia had noticed earlier. ‘You best come over here, I want to introduce someone to you.’

Meleager slid from the couch and came across. He was tall, and just the way he walked reminded Claudia of a panther in a cage. He was thick-set and heavily built but moved as gracefully as any dancer. He crouched down before Rufinus and stared at Claudia. He had deep, close-set eyes, high cheek bones, a slightly twisted nose, and thin lips above a firm chin. His black hair had been cut and dressed to cover a hideous scar close to his left ear. Claudia looked at his wrist; there was no purple tattoo.

‘Meleager, can I introduce young Claudia, messenger and maid of the Augusta, dear friend of Murranus, whom you shall meet in the arena?’

‘My lady.’ Meleager took Claudia’s hand and raised it to his lips. ‘Your friend has won a great reputation. I hope to meet him at the games held in honour of the Emperor’s birthday. My lady, are you well?’

Claudia’s mouth had gone dry. She wanted Meleager to let go of her hand. She didn’t want him to know how cold she had gone. He might not have had any tattoo on his wrist, but up close she recognised that voice, she recalled the smell, a mixture of perfume and sweat; even his touch was familiar. This was the man who had raped her, the killer of poor Felix.

‘I. .’ Claudia’s eyelids fluttered. She prayed she wouldn’t faint. The room was moving. ‘Do you know something,’ she laughed, withdrawing her hand quickly, ‘I’ve drunk far too much wine, I need to be sick.’ And, scrambling off the couch, she fled the chamber.

She didn’t know where she was going. She raced past guards and sentries, ignoring the challenge of an officer. She ran down a colonnaded walk, climbed a wall and fled into the darkness. She reached a tree and felt she could go no further. Her legs were growing heavy and a terrible pain pounded in the back of her head. She felt as if her breath had stopped and, falling to her knees, she was violently sick. As she retched she wiped the hand that Meleager had held, to brush away not just his touch but the very skin. She continued to be sick until her belly was empty; the acid bubbled at the back of her throat but she felt better. She moved away and lay face-down on the grass. It was wet and cool, just like that sand where she and Felix had been playing. He had been hunting for shells when the shadow had appeared. She began to cry, just letting the tears come.

‘Claudia! Claudia!’ She felt her hair being stroked, and tensed. A hand grasped her shoulder and pulled her gently over; she didn’t resist but let herself flop, and stared up at an anxious-faced Sylvester. He took off his cloak, put it over her and sat beside her, plucking at the grass.

‘I saw you leave. The others thought you were going to be sick. Claudia, you are never sick, you are never drunk! What happened there? Meleager thinks he frightened you.’

‘He did,’ Claudia replied, and struggled to sit up. She took Sylvester’s cloak and wrapped it round her shoulders. ‘He terrified me, Magister. He’s the one!’

‘The one?’

‘The man who raped me and killed my brother.’

‘Impossible! You saw the tattoo?’

‘It’s been washed off.’ Claudia felt her strength returning. ‘I know it’s him, I’ll never forget his smell, that voice. .’

‘Hush now.’ Sylvester took her face in his hands. ‘I’m a priest of Christ, Claudia, so what I’m going to say is hard. You must pretend, as you have done since that terrifying night. If justice is to be done, then let God take care of it. I swear by His Holy name that He will. Meleager is a gladiator. If he suspects, even for a few seconds, that you know who he truly is, then you are in very grave danger. No, no.’ He pressed his fingers against Claudia’s lips. ‘Claudia, I beg you by all that is holy, hide your face and curb your heart! I swear that if God does not act, I will. I owe you that.’ He took his fingers away. ‘Think, Claudia,’ he added, his words hissing through the darkness, ‘think of yourself, and of Felix!’

Claudia stared into the night. The pain was going, her stomach was empty and she felt hungry. So many thoughts milled about. Sylvester was stroking her hair just like her father used to. She leaned against his hand.

‘Help me up,’ she whispered, ‘then I’ll help myself.’

Claudia, unsteady on her feet, walked into the darkness and paused. She turned, cocking her head slightly.

‘What was that?’ she asked. ‘Did you hear it, Magister?’ She tried to sift the noises of the night. ‘The clash of weapons, cries and yells?’

Sylvester listened intently. Claudia heard the sounds again. They were coming from somewhere to the south, beyond the villa walls.

‘What is happening?’ She was glad of the distraction. She listened again but the sounds had faded. She recalled those beacon fires, Helena poring over the maps. ‘What is going on, Sylvester?’

‘I don’t know.’ Sylvester shrugged. ‘In the early evening Augusta was very busy. Have you noticed Anastasius is missing? She has left him to watch things in Rome. She has also sent an urgent message to the main German camp not far away. Did you observe her at the supper party? She was very distracted. She didn’t want anyone to leave the triclinium. In fact,’ Sylvester smiled through the darkness, ‘it was she who told me to follow you.’

‘Well, I’m safe and I will go and change.’ Claudia lifted her hand. ‘Sylvester, I thank you. I will act on your advice and,’ she added, ‘keep a still tongue in my head.’