Claudia rose, walked into the orchard and brought back the parcel the searcher had given her. She undid the cloth and they all stared at the old legionary sword, its polished hilt shimmering blueish in the sunlight, the ruby in the ivory handle glowing with its hidden fire. She picked the sword up, balancing it in both hands.

‘I think this could be the sword,’ she declared evenly. ‘It feels like a legionary sword, I mean the balance. The blade is polished and is rather old, though the handle’s new, which makes it a little top heavy, I mean with the ivory and the ruby.’

‘Where. . where?’ Timothaeus’s voice faltered.

‘Where? Where?’ Claudia teased. ‘There, there! I realised you had stolen the sword, Timothaeus, but you’re a good man, a devout Christian.’ She ticked the points off on her fingers. ‘You wouldn’t sell it; that would be sacrilege and highly dangerous. You wouldn’t keep it for yourself; that would be selfish and very dangerous. Thirdly, you couldn’t give it over to the Church; they would immediately hand it back to the Empress.’

‘So?’ Narcissus spoke as if he was choking.

‘I came to the logical conclusion.’ Claudia smiled. ‘If this was the sword responsible for the martyrdom of the Blessed Paul, then what better place for it than the shrine, the monument which now covers his tomb on the road to Ostia, the very place where the Apostle Paul was executed? Now, I was back in Rome before you so that I could get everything prepared. I met an old gentleman, a friend of mine, Sallust the Searcher. He literally has a legion of relatives, and it was simply a matter of him organising these to watch the most famous Christian holy spots around the city, with a particularly close guard over the tomb of the Blessed Paul. Sallust himself watched that! This was the first time you had been back in Rome since the sword was stolen. You smuggled it from the Villa Pulchra and I realised you would try and get rid of it as soon as possible.’

‘I thought I was being-’

‘Watched?’ Claudia asked. ‘Of course you were, just as you ordered Narcissus to watch me.’

Timothaeus swallowed hard.

‘Do you know something?’ Claudia put the sword down beside her, covered it with the cloth, leaned across and patted both Timothaeus and Narcissus on the face. ‘If I ever go back to acting and organise my own troupe, I will ask you two to join. What a performance! Surely you are going to ask me how I discovered this? How I found out? Oh, don’t be frightened, Timothaeus. I’m not going to have you arrested.’

Both men smiled in relief. Claudia got to her feet and brought out the bucket of sand and the sharp kitchen knife.

‘Once upon a time,’ she smiled, ‘there was a very devout Christian steward called Timothaeus, who truly believed in the teaching of Christ. Being a non-Jew, a former pagan, he had a special devotion to the Apostle Paul, who, I understand, first brought Christ’s teaching to the Gentiles. Didn’t Paul preach in Antioch; that’s the first place your sect were called Christians, wasn’t it? Anyway, Timothaeus is also a loyal servant of the Empress; he adores her. Thanks to her and her son, the Christians have been allowed out of the catacombs. The Empress Helena flirts with Christianity: will she, won’t she convert? She also has a deep interest in all things Christian. The Empire is being ransacked as the Augusta searches for the True Cross, the Crown of Thorns, the spear which pierced Christ’s side, the nails driven into his wrists. Helena’s one great prize is the Holy Sword which cut the Blessed Paul’s neck and was splashed with his holy blood. She organises a great debate at the Villa Pulchra and decides to put the sword on show.

‘Of course, in any royal palace things go missing, so she chooses that cellar, where the sword will hang from a hook and chain above a pit of sand. If anyone tries to touch it, they’ll mark the sand where their feet will sink deep. The chain is suspended so you would have to stretch out with a rod to pull it close and unhook the sword. The cellar has no windows and is guarded by the Augusta’s German ruffians, whilst the heavy door is kept locked by two different keys. One held by you, and the other by Burrus.’

Claudia picked up Timothaeus’s goblet and pressed it into his hands. ‘Go on,’ she urged, ‘drink. And you too, Narcissus.’ She paused, staring up through the branches of a tree. ‘As I said, Timothaeus, you are a devout Christian; you also have scruples.’

‘What are they?’ Narcissus intervened.

‘You know full well: doubts, uncertainties. You were rather repelled, weren’t you, Timothaeus, by such a sacred Christian relic being owned by pagans and put on display to be visited by the likes of Chrysis, or, worse still, the followers of Arianism, Justin and his gang. You saw it as blasphemy, a form of violation. So you decided not to steal it, but to take it from the gaze of the vulgar and return it to a more sacred spot. You’d do it in such a way that no one could be blamed or punished, but you needed help. Now I know, you know, that Narcissus is a Christian. He secured his post at the Villa Pulchra because of the influence of the powerful Sylvester. Narcissus is your drinking partner, isn’t he, Timothaeus, someone you confide in? And because you are the steward at the palace, you also exert a lot of influence.’

‘Are you saying we both stole it?’ Narcissus asked.

‘Of course I am. Timothaeus, as I said, is full of scruples. He prayed for divine guidance. How could he take such a sword so cleverly guarded? I suppose the gods answer our prayers in peculiar ways; in this case, the answer was Burrus.’

‘He had nothing to do with it,’ Timothaeus blurted out.

‘Precisely,’ Claudia replied, ‘but he was the answer to your prayer. Burrus and his guards are highly superstitious. They wouldn’t go into the cellar or anywhere near the Holy Sword. So, Timothaeus, you laid your plans. You pretended to have a bad leg and, the day before, walked into the cellar with a stick, which you left there hidden in some crevice or by the wall. I remember one of the guards asking about your leg but you quickly dismissed it. Anyway, the following day you returned. By now, Burrus and his guards were used to your routine; they were quite happy to let you in and out. You moved quickly. You took one of the stools, placed it near the sandpit, grasped your walking cane, climbed on the stool and dragged the chain closer. You unhooked the sword, climbed down, hid the walking stick away and moved the stool back.’

‘And the sword?’ Timothaeus asked.

Claudia picked up the kitchen knife and drove it deep into the sand in the bucket.

‘You buried it in the sand.’

‘But they would have noticed.’

‘Oh, don’t say that the sand would have been disturbed. You’d already prepared for that eventuality. Notice how the blade of the kitchen knife sinks deep.’ Claudia pressed on it until the hilt almost disappeared. ‘I remember standing on that sand,’ she continued. ‘It was finely grained. My feet sank deep, well over my ankles. You could either have driven the sword in hilt first, or hidden it and covered it with sand. You may even have practised that in the days beforehand. You then pretended to faint. Your hand and arm brushed the sand, so if anyone did notice anything untoward, they would see it as the effect of your faint. Poor Timothaeus, overcome by fright! Of course, Burrus and his guards become curious and look in. They see what’s happened and raise the alarm. Now, the person who should be dealing with the crisis is lying in a dead faint in the cellar, and the Augusta hasn’t arrived yet. There’s a great deal of chaos and consternation, people running about, and lo and behold, by mere chance,’ Claudia leaned over and patted Narcissus’s hand, ‘there’s a slave from the House of Mourning who happens to be a Christian and a close friend of the now prostrate steward. I mean, what were you doing there, Narcissus?’