Claudia studied this for a while, then walked up the left-hand portico. She was safe here: the spell-caster outside was one of Sylvester's spies, and there would be other men around the temple, Sylvester's guards. The Presbyter might not move through Rome with all the power of a consul, but he still had those he could whistle up to protect himself. Claudia stood by a pillar and smiled to herself. She was fascinated by that. Sylvester preached the word of the gentle Christ, and yet, not two years out of the catacombs, the Christians were beginning to surround themselves with all the trappings of power: spies, guards, wealth and places of worship.

Claudia recalled the events of the previous night. Once Helena had left, Polybius and his cronies had begun to celebrate. Claudia was too tired and had retired immediately to bed, waking before dawn to wash and dress herself, break her fast in the kitchen and slip out here to the Temple of Minerva to meet Sylvester as he'd demanded in that cryptic note he'd pushed into her hand. She wondered what he wanted.

'A place of death.'

Claudia glanced up sharply. The figure at the far end of the portico, leaning against a pillar, walked slowly towards her. Sylvester's pace quickened as he approached, his face wreathed in a smile, hands out in friendship. Claudia met him and clasped his hands. Sylvester put an arm around her shoulder and gently guided her further up the temple.

'A place of death, Claudia, but fascinating, isn't it?' He paused and gestured around. 'The old Rome is dying, and that's good.' He grinned. 'The ancients could never make up their minds which god to worship. Look.'

He pointed to a fresco on the wall depicting the Egyptian God of the Sun, Horus, with a hawk's head, a sceptre in his right hand and an ankh, the symbol of life, in the other; to the left of this was a painting of the god Api with a crescent moon between his horns. They moved further down the temple to another faded scene celebrating Dionysus leading a procession of satyrs, cupids and panthers. In another fresco the wine god sprawled in a chariot pulled by a centaur whilst above this dancers were engaged in a frenzied ritual, robes open, cups in one hand, laurel wreaths in the other. The colours were faded but they vigorously celebrated the rites of one of Rome's favourite gods.

'All dying.' Claudia caught the note of triumph in Sylvester's voice. 'The gods of Rome are dying. Soon there will only be the one true God.'

'Is that why you brought me here?' Claudia asked. 'To gloat in triumph over old gods dying and new gods rising?'

Sylvester laughed and squatted down at the base of a pillar, gesturing at Claudia to join him. He opened the small leather pannier looped around his neck and brought out a linen cloth, which he delicately unfolded. He broke the bread and cheese, then, dipping into the satchel again, brought out a wineskin. Claudia, hungry, ate quickly, taking drinks from the watered wine, still staring round this deserted place of worship.

'You haven't answered my question,' she said.

'You know why I have asked you here.' Sylvester paused between mouthfuls. 'The virgin martyr Fulgentia,- is she one of Uncle Polybius' tricks?'

'I don't know,' Claudia replied.

'If she is,' Sylvester wagged a warning finger, 'he'll feel the Empress' fury.'

'We shall all feel the Empress' fury,' Claudia replied wearily. 'Presbyter, I cannot answer that. What Polybius has told the Empress seems to be the truth: the corpse was discovered in his garden.'

'Very good, very good,' Sylvester soothed. 'But do tell me,' he glanced at her sharply, 'if the full truth emerges.'

'What will happen to her corpse?' Claudia asked curiously. 'The Empress talked of a church.'

'That's what I am telling you, Claudia. All over Rome, places like this are being given to us. Imperial palaces, old temples, including the Pantheon, will be blessed with the presence of the Christ Lord, and all this will be forgotten. Just as these frescos commemorate Dionysus, so our churches will be full of Christian art, of the Fish, the Keys, the memories of those who died for their faith, like Fulgentia or our great Apostles Peter and Paul.'

'And you support that?' Claudia asked curiously. 'The Empress' hunger for relics? The manger Christ was born in, the clothing of the Apostles, the bodies of dead virgin martyrs?'

'It all helps, Claudia,' Sylvester replied. 'Anything to fortify, strengthen, encourage the faith of the people,- miracles like that of Fulgentia are useful to us.'

'But it is not just that,' Claudia said. 'You have brought me here for something else.'

'Of course!'

Sylvester folded the piece of linen and put it back in the leather satchel, then picked up the wineskin, and offered it to Claudia, who shook her head. He took another deep gulp and put the stopper back.

'These abductions,' he began.

Claudia was tempted to tell him to mind his own business, but she needed Sylvester as much as he needed her, to discover certain matters in the mind of the Empress.

'Well?' he asked. 'I know the Empress has placed great trust in you, and these abductions worry her deeply.'

'And why should they worry you, Presbyter?'

'Because,' Sylvester took a deep breath, 'because whatever upsets the Empress and her son upsets the Church of Rome. Look at these paintings.' He waved around. 'They are made up of little scenes: a figure, a garden, a wine press, all brought to life and connected by the brush of the artist. So it is with Rome, Claudia. What concerns the Empress in one area might affect another.'

'Do they have so much power,' Claudia asked, 'the powerful ones, the senators and their like?'

'Not really,' Sylvester scratched the back of his neck, 'but they can be a distraction. Constantine, as you know, is building up his army, settling affairs at home so he can march east. There must be no delay. Licinius in Nicomedea must be brought to battle and destroyed. Constantine needs the support of these bankers, generals, merchants, men and women with great influence.'

'And the Lady Urbana and her good friend Cassia?'

'Ah.' Sylvester's face broke into a smile. 'If Helena is a committed Christian, so are Urbana and Cassia. True, both, how can I put it, enjoyed vivid lives, dramatic careers, before they converted, but those two are very powerful, particularly the Lady Urbana. She is more zealous in the Christian Way than even the Empress. You know about the Magdalena?'

Claudia nodded.

'Lady Urbana believes that Mary Magdalene may have married, and from her will spring a great dynasty of kings, but more importantly the Lady Urbana is searching the southern cities of Gaul for the corpse of Mary Magdalene to bring it back to Rome. If she did, it would be a veritable triumph, the body of a woman so close to Christ.'

'Do you believe all this?' Claudia tried to keep the cynicism out of her voice. if the Lady Urbana believes it,' Sylvester retorted coldly, 'then she has my support. What you must do, Claudia, is make sure the Empress' business is brought to a successful conclusion.'

Claudia got to her feet and tightened the cord around her waist, adjusting the needle-thin dagger sheath on her belt. She'd left her cloak at home and forgotten her walking stick. She felt strangely vulnerable staring down at this powerful priest who was studying her so closely; she also felt angry. Who was he to give her orders? She was not of his faith. She squatted down close to Sylvester and held his gaze.

'Are you threatening me, priest? Why should I help you? Why should I keep you informed? Think on that.' She rose, spun on her heel and walked hot-faced towards the door.

'Claudia,' Sylvester's voice was friendly, 'Claudia, let us not part in anger. Come back.' He paused. 'Murranus, Polybius…'

'Murranus, Polybius,' she turned, 'what about them? Don't threaten me, Sylvester, I warn you, and don't threaten those I love. I will have you as my friend, my ally, but if you threaten me, you will be my enemy.'