*Be calm, young man; there is no need to raise your voice. We have many followers: but that is not enough. We need high-born friends a" notables, men who carry weight in the province, who can persuade other simpler folk. We are resisted, you see. We need men of authority . . .' He paused, then added in a tone I was not intended to miss, *. . . or their sons.'

Like a rising sickness, understanding dawned within me. *But sir,' I answered slowly, *it is not the religion of my ancestors.'

He laughed a" a careful, calculated laugh, devoid of humour a" and when he spoke again there was a new edge to his voice. *Nor was it the religion of the great emperor Constantine, who was raised an unbeliever, as everyone knows. Yet he saw the truth and followed it, by God's grace. If he could, so can you. Besides, there is much to be gained, and' a" with a significant pause a" *much to be lost. No, no, do not discomfit yourself, I am not asking for an answer now. Still, I think we understand each other, and I can see you are no fool. Take account of your situation . . . But do not delay too long, for your father's sake.'

I found Sericus in his room, seated on the edge of his bed, reading a book and trying to ignore the noise from the kitchens. When I told him what had happened, he stared at me and said, *You cannot put your trust in such a man. It is out of the question.'

*But Sericus, he says he can help us!'

*So he says, but a decent man does not invite a poor guest to dinner and then ask him to pay for it after. Let us say you agree to what he asks, what will come then? What will be his next demand? How indeed do you know he will do anything at all for you? And by then you will have made a public commitment a" for that is how he wishes to use you a" and you will not be able to retract without disgrace.' He shook his head. *No, there is an ill smell about the whole business; your father would tell you never to deal with a man who promised a kindness upon such a condition. No gentleman would behave thus.'

*Then do you forbid it?' I asked.

He began to answer, but then he hesitated, frowning at the mildew-speckled wall. *No, Drusus,' he said eventually, *I cannot forbid it, for I cannot know the secret places of this bishop's mind. I am old, and you will soon be a man. This is a question you must decide for yourself.'

THREE.

THAT NIGHT I LAY IN BED, staring at the black rafters and wrestling with my thoughts.

When, earlier that day, I had at last left the bishop's residence, for the first time I had been truly angry with Albinus.

*You deceived me!' I shouted at him.

But he had merely given me a look of blank wonder, as if such things were normal and I was making much out of little. When I went on and pressed him, he shrugged, saying, *Mother wanted it, and the bishop told me to bring you. What are you so angry for? You would not have come otherwise.'

After that I gave up, not trusting myself to speak to him further.

I knew Sericus was right. It would be disgraceful to submit to such a man as the bishop. His promises of assistance had been vague, his tone and expression almost mocking. I had no assurance that he intended to do even what he said, or whether his influence, which he seemed to think so much of, counted for anything at the court of Constans.

I considered going to Balbus, and laying the whole matter before him. But he was not the kind of man to understand such intrigue, and instinct told me he would go straight to my aunt, and she to the bishop. Everything could be denied; anything I said against the bishop could be dismissed as the frustrated imaginings of a resentful boy, the son of a traitor.

Thus my thoughts turned, and my mouth felt dry and bitter, as if I had eaten rotten fruit. And behind it all, the prospect of home beckoned, like the glimmer of bright morning beyond a closed door.

So I was at a loss, and did not know where to turn. But it happened, next day, that I fell to talking with Ambitus, my friend at Balbus's office.

I had gone with him to the city dock, to see to the loading of a cargo of olive oil bound for Lincoln. We were making our way back up the narrow alleyways when from ahead there came the sound of men shouting. All along the street, people were craning their heads from the windows to see what the fuss was. Then, rounding the corner, we walked into a large crowd blocking our way.

At first I could not believe what I saw. I had expected, I suppose, some sort of tavern brawl. But instead I saw the crowd had with one mind set upon a building, a small antique temple with fine delicate columns and steps at the front, which I had often passed on my errands to the city dock. It was, I knew, a shrine to Mercury, of the sort one saw all about this part of town, Mercury being the god of traders and merchants.

We pushed our way forward. The crowd broke out in a sudden cheer as a great slab of marble facing came crashing down from the side of the temple and shattered on the flagstones.

*But why are they doing this?' I cried, shouting into Ambitus's ear over the din.

He gave me a grim look. *It is nothing new. Every few weeks there is an attack like this. They will not stop till every temple is gone. But see, even now they are afraid. They stand back, and dare not venture inside.'

He was right. For all the mob's noise and cheering, not one of them dared mount the steps under the porch, where in the dark interior the image of the god waited in his shrine. They were like men setting upon some noble captive beast, darting forward to strike and wound, but too timid to make the kill.

I stared in disgust. Only then did I think to ask, *But who are these people?'

He turned to me. *Do you really not know? Why, they are Christians of course. Who else?'

I remembered then how Albinus had held back when I had ventured into Diana's temple. For all his ridiculing of the gods, he too was afraid of what he mocked.

Just then the crowd broke into a cheer. We craned our heads to look. A gaunt-faced youth had stepped out and was advancing with a rope, prancing to and fro, swinging the rope about his head and smirking at the bystanders, who were egging him on with cries of encouragement and motions of their arms. After making a show of this for some little time he suddenly darted up the steps at the front of the temple, hurriedly laced a noose around one of the fluted columns, and tossed the rope-end to the crowd.

There were cries of exertion; the rope jerked taut a" but nothing happened.

Others ran forward to help. A shout went up and they heaved again. The rope a" a mooring line taken, I suppose, from the nearby docks a" strained and creaked. The temple stood firm. But then, just as I thought they might give up, mortar dust began to rain down onto the steps. With a grinding crack the column shifted on its base, then broke at the point where the noose was wrapped around it, and toppled forward like a stack of packing-crates.

All around us, the mob let out a howl of joy. They surged forward, and set about beating and kicking the broken cylinders as if they had some life in them. An old woman was standing in front of us, screaming and jigging about and waving her fist in the air. Suddenly, as if she had been struck, she swung round and glared at me with red, wild eyes.

I gazed back at her, transfixed. Her features were flushed, her black-toothed mouth was flecked with spittle. It was like the look of the Gorgon.

Suddenly Ambitus thrust himself forward. *What is it, old woman?' he shouted.

She jabbed a filthy hand at him. *Why do you hold back? Why aren't you cheering and praising like the rest?' She began casting her eyes about and calling.

*Come on,' said Ambitus, shouting in my ear over the din, *before she brings her friends.'

We hurried away, pushing through the wild crowd. Behind, I heard the woman screeching insults and curses.

*Anyway,' said Ambitus, when we were clear of the worst of the mob, and could talk without shouting, *why are you so shocked? I thought you were one of them.'

*Not I!' I cried indignantly.

*No?' He shrugged. *Well, it's none of my concern.'

*But why on earth, Ambitus, should you suppose it?'

*Everyone in your house is Christian. Or haven't you noticed?'

*Yes, of course I've noticed. But they don't go about breaking up temples, do they?'

*No, they don't. They leave that to the mob. Come, Drusus! The mob do not act alone. They never do. They are guided and instructed and encouraged by others, who never get their hands dirty and never show their faces.'

*In any case,' I said, *I am not a Christian.'

He frowned and tossed his head. *It doesn't matter. As I said, it's none of my concern.'

We walked on. Presently I said crossly, *And you, Ambitus? What about you? You have never told me. Are you not a Christian too, then?'

*I?' He laughed. He reached to his tunic and took out a coin, and held it up between his thumb and forefinger. *See this?' he said, fixing my eye, *this is what I trust in.'

*A coin? What are you talking about?'

*Money. The great all-powerful god. It is what makes me free.' He placed the silver piece carefully back into his purse. *As for the rest, what do I care if they tear down Mercury's temple? Let them do it. What has Mercury done for me?'

He strode on, glaring at the dirty pavement.

*Do you know how I came to learn this trade? My father was a dockhand. He was a drunk and a good-for-nothing, and gambled away everything he earned. When he was incapable, which was most of the time, he sent me here to do his work for him. Then, when I was eleven, the plague took him. One day he was his usual drunken self, the next he was gone, just like that.' He held up his open palm and blew, as a man might blow off a feather.

*I'm sorry,' I said.

*Don't be. I hated him. He left us with nothing, of course, like the wastrel that he was. My mother would have starved, but for what I brought in, and I was forced to turn my hand to what I could find a" and some of it would make you blush, Drusus, if I told you of it, which I won't. So let the Christians play their games, as long as they leave me alone. Needs must . . . or have you not learned that yet?'

He jerked his head and spat in the gutter. But then he paused, and tapped my arm gently with his small brown fist.

*I am sorry, Drusus. That was unfair of me.'

I looked into his face. *So you know, then, about my father?'

He nodded. *Everyone knows. Albinus made sure of it. What do you think those gossiping fools talk of in the office when you're not there?'

I shook my head. I could feel the colour rising in my face. I considered for a moment. Then I said, *Ambitus, I need some advice.'

*Only ask.'

And so I told him about the bishop.

He heard me out in silence. When I had finished he whistled slowly through his teeth and pulling me into a doorway said, *Listen to me, Drusus. I don't usually give advice to people, but your tutor is right: you cannot trust that man. He would be a laughing stock in this town if he weren't so dangerous. There is nothing he will not do to get what he wants.'

He nodded back down the street. *Who do you suppose was behind that? It happens every month or so. The Council complains to the bishop; the bishop says he had nothing to do with it, and for a while things are quiet. Then something else happens. And it is not only buildings that are harmed: people have died. You saw that old woman. She would have torn us apart with her bare hands if she could, just because we were not screaming like the rest. Understand this: the bishop wants power, and he stops at nothing to get his way.'

*But Ambitus, why does he want me? Why do I matter so much to him?'

He gave a bitter laugh. *Think as he thinks, Drusus a" if you can bring yourself so low. You are the son of an aristocrat, and so you are useful. Well-born fathers keep their sons away from him a" and their daughters too, for they also have their uses. And until the men with real influence a" the Notables and the Illustrious and the rest a" take him seriously, he must make do with the city rabble who count for nothing. Everyone else thinks he is a joke.'

I frowned, and stared down the sloping street. The nook where we were standing led to the back yard of a tavern. The air smelled rancid; someone had pissed in the doorway.

*I believe everything you tell me, Ambitus,' I said eventually. *I've met him, and I do not trust him. But if I refuse and my father dies, what then?' I paused, biting my lip. It was this thought that I had returned to, again and again, during the long night.

He let out a sigh. I felt his hand close about my arm and I turned to him.

*You had better hear this from me, since your uncle will not tell you. If the emperor intended to execute your father, he will already be dead. If not, then nothing that fat fool the bishop does will make any difference. He thinks he is important, and because no one dares stand up to him, his friends can break temples and bully good citizens. But in truth he is no more than a cock preening himself on a midden. Take it from me, Drusus: forget him, and forget your father too.'

He looked round. From an upper window across the street a raddled crone was calling out to us, enquiring if we were in the market for a girl, or maybe one each, or perhaps a boy. Ambitus threw her a fluent gesture and she withdrew, clucking.

*Let's get away from here,' he said. And when we were walking once more, *Have you told Balbus any of this?'

*No.' I told him why.

*Quite right; he would go running straight to her, like a dog to its master. He's good at his trade, but hopeless otherwise. I don't suppose you know this, but Lucretia is the daughter of a shipwright, and a miserable second-rate one at that. Balbus found her serving in some dockside tavern, and if he hadn't taken a fancy to her she'd still be there now. I'll tell you this too: if she is involved, then she will be trying to promote her own advantage, either by enriching herself a" if there's money behind it a" or by obtaining favours for that brat of hers. I imagine the bishop has promised a great deal, if she reels you in. No, friend, don't let them use you. You'll be sorry otherwise.'

We said no more. After what I had seen that morning, and what I had heard from Ambitus, it seemed to me that ugliness and cruelty was the true heart of life, and all else nothing but empty dreams. I felt sick with the world, and with all humanity.

We parted at the streetside colonnade of Balbus's offices. I thanked Ambitus for his advice, and told him I was going to walk for a while, and consider what to do.

At first I had no clear purpose, but as I went I conceived the notion that I needed to be free of the noise of men. Coming to the eastern gate I passed through, taking the open track into the marsh scrub on the north side of the river.

A sharp wind had picked up, snapping at the tall grass and urging flat, turbid cloud inland from the east. At a low rise, beside a tangle of gorse, I sat, and pulled my cloak around me, and looked out over the mud-flats. The tide had peaked. It was turning now, starting to ebb. In the distance a coaster was making its way upriver, its lines taut, its buff square sail straining in the wind.

I looked down, and pulled idly at the long grass. I felt a great coldness in my heart; but now, at last, I saw what I must do. I would submit to the bishop, and let him use me as he chose. The trade he offered was shameful; yet nothing else was possible. If I refused him for the sake of my pride and honour, the knowledge that I had left my father to his death would dwell with me forever. The bishop had seen that, and sprung his clever trap. He had used my weakness.

I filled my lungs with the chill air and let out a bitter laugh. What anyway was honour to me, with all else lost? It was just another empty dream. Easier by far to live like Ambitus, seeking for self, worshipping coin, and trusting no one. And though I told myself I did not care, yet I felt something precious, like a spark of light, flee protesting from my soul.

The sound of far-off shouting pierced my thoughts. I glanced up. On the deck of the coaster the pilot was waving his arms and calling towards the shore, words I could not make out. I scanned the water without much interest, thinking perhaps a man had fallen in; but there was no one in the river, no panicked flailing of arms or splashing on the surface.

Suddenly the vessel veered shorewards, making for the deep-water dock where Balbus kept his warehouse. Something was wrong. The pilot was signalling to the men on the wharf. I could see them in the distance, cupping their ears to show they could not hear.

I stirred myself and, being in no hurry to return home, decided to investigate. I set off at a jog, taking the river-side path. By the time I arrived the ship was alongside, its bow hitched clumsily to a bollard, its stern swinging out with the current, untethered and forgotten.

The pilot and crew were on the quay, talking urgently to a gathering crowd. I pushed in to listen. Even before I heard the dread word being passed back from man to man I had guessed. I had seen the look on the men's faces. For no one grows up on Britain's shores ignorant of the wild raiders who come from the sea, the death-bringing Saxons.

I pushed in closer. Someone said, *How many ships?' Another, turning impatiently, cried, *What matter how many? Let the man finish.' But by now others had arrived who had not heard. The pilot drew his breath and in a torrent of words began again.

He had been sailing round the coast from Richborough a" a voyage he made many times each year. Joining the estuary, he had spied hidden in the marsh inlets a flotilla of Saxon longships, lying in wait among the tall rushes. They must have been foraging inland, or raiding, for they had not followed him. Even so, his crew, he said, had been for beaching the ship on the opposite shore and running for their lives. But he had kept his head and sailed on.

Already word was spreading along the wharf, and I could hear the fear in the men's voices, catching from one to the other, like flame in tinder. Already some were running back to the city. Discarded crates and baskets lay abandoned on the quayside.

The group around me began to scatter. Someone, in his haste to escape, shoved me aside. I stumbled. Suddenly an iron hand clapped onto my shoulder. I cried out and turned. It was my uncle's black-toothed foreman, Gaius.

*What are you doing here?' he cried over the din. *Where is Balbus?'

I said I was alone.

*Then come at once, and hurry, before the gates are closed against us.'

It is said that rumour travels faster than a running man. By the time I reached Balbus's house the news had preceded me, and had amplified with the telling, so that one might have supposed an army of Saxons were already within the walls, sacking the city.

The house-slaves were running about; and at the sound of the door, Lucretia came clattering down the passage, wailing and crying, dressed in her silk dressing-robe and little gold-strapped house-slippers, with her elaborate hair falling about her face, and her eyes smeared with kohl.

Seeing me, she ran and snatched me by the shoulders. *Where is he?' she cried, shaking me so hard that my sleeve tore.

*Who?' I asked, staring.

*Albinus! My own darling Albinus! Is he not with you? Where then? Have you not heard? The Saxons are here!'

I told her I had not seen Albinus all day, and tried to calm her. There were no Saxons; only a rumour of boats in the estuary. But she would not listen. She kept on shaking me, demanding to know where her precious Albinus was, her voice rising louder and louder as she lost all control.

It was only when thickset, shaven-headed Gaius stepped up and said, in the hard voice he used on the stevedores, *He was alone, madam, as he has already told you,' that she finally released me. For a moment she glared at him. Then she flung herself round and went flailing and sobbing down the corridor, calling for her maids.

I looked at Gaius; and he looked back at me. Then, across the dark atrium, I caught sight of Balbus, standing solemn-faced in his study doorway.