He sighed and looked up. *You are a young man now. Have you considered what you will do? I may as well tell you, I had hoped you might join me; by God you are more help than that good-for-nothing son of mine, and more deserving.' He shook his head. *But what is the use of all this effort, unless a man can defend what is his from those who would rather take it than build something for themselves?'

I had been doing some thinking of my own that year, and now I answered, *We shall drive the Saxons off, Uncle, for we are better men. But only so long as we are willing to fight them. That is why I will be a soldier, if I can find a way.'

He looked at me surprised. But then he slowly nodded.

*You are right. We have lost the will; and soon we shall lose the knowledge too, like the masons who can no longer build as our forefathers did, and know only how to patch and mend. We have grown soft, and entrusted our safety to others, while we sit like women, trembling and helpless behind our walls.'

He gave a long sigh. *Well, we have brought it upon ourselves. Look at me: I am fat and old before my time, and what use now are the gold coins buried in my cellar? They will not buy me life, or self-respect. Every year the barbarians return, and every year there are more of them. One day they will drive us from the land and burn our cities, and we shall be blown away like lamp smoke in a gale.'

He ceased, and I stared at him. The bleakness of his vision chilled me. I said, *But Uncle, it need not be so. The Saxons are only men, and so are we.'

He gazed at me like a condemned man peering from the window of his cell. *The voice of brave youth,' he said. *Yet sometimes youth can teach old age wisdom.' He shoved pointlessly at the few papers on his desk. *Take no notice of me, lad; I am being foolish. Go and become a soldier. I honour you for your choice, whatever others may say. And perhaps, with God's grace, you may do some good.'

FOUR.

HARD WINTER CAME ON. Gales scythed up the river from the east, stripping the last dead leaves from the trees, whipping them in swirling eddies against the white- and ochre-painted walls of the houses. Then the wind swung westwards, bringing low cloud and a steady, fine rain, which sat on one's hair, and crept through winter cloaks and tunics.

Beyond the walls, the Saxons were discovering it was easier to break than to build. They ranged around the treeless flatlands outside the city, wet and hungry; everything that might have sustained them, they had already destroyed.

Then one morning we woke to blue skies and sunlight and deserted fields. All that day the citizens looked out from the walls, not daring to venture outside, suspecting a trap.

The Council convened. It was said that the Saxons, being unable to take the city by force, had resorted to trickery, withdrawing only to lure us out. The magistrates deliberated and came up with a plan, calling for volunteers. They would lead out a train of carts piled with food and wine-jars from the city store: if the Saxons were lying in wait, these easy pickings would surely bring them out, like meat thrown to starving wolves.

Next day, we watched from the walls as the mule-carts set out into open country, led by a band of nervous men armed a" uselessly a" with forks and pikes. Everyone scanned the horizon. But nothing stirred in the oak woods on the rising ground to the north; no one emerged from the concealing walls of the ruined farms. The south was clear, all the way to where the hills began to rise and the land was lost from view.

We asked ourselves where the Saxons had gone, and why. Then, on the following morning, came our answer, emerging out of the dawn mist from the east: rank upon rank of armoured men, marching beneath banners of purple and black and gold, with the low winter sun glancing off their burnished helmets and gilded standards a" Roman standards, Roman eagles. It was the imperial army.

A great cheer echoed along the ramparts. As news spread, it was picked up by those in the streets, until it seemed the whole city was cheering.

The army halted on the south side of the river, among the burnt-out villas. A troop of horsemen separated from the rest and took the road to the bridge: straight-backed men in plumed helmets and scarlet cloaks; and in their midst, upon a horse of purest white, a man resplendent in a gold cuirass and helmet, trailing a cloak of purple from his shoulders.

I was on the walls with Ambitus. Down the line a voice asked, *What general is that?'

Someone else cried, *It's no general, look again! It's the emperor himself, come to save us!'

The man who had spoken began dancing a clumsy jig. Everywhere there was merriment and laughing.

The city gates were thrown open; the magistrates hastily assembled. From across the bridge the emperor approached, accompanied by the officials of the imperial household: the grand chamberlain in a fur-collared cloak bordered with bullion; the under-chamberlains, the Marshal of the Court, the Tribune of the Stable, the Master of Offices, the Count of the Imperial Purse, and, following behind them, in strict hieratic order, their liveried clerks and notaries and quaestors.

The emperor sat rigid like a statue, not looking left or right, his features fixed into a look of sublime arrogance; Constans, youngest son of Constantine, of the house of Constantine, a man less than thirty, with the power of a god.

*Today,' said Ambitus dryly, *it seems everyone is the emperor's friend.'

I nodded and said nothing, for that was not the place to express what was in my mind. I was glad, in all that noise and wild joy, to have Ambitus's sardonic presence beside me. I felt a strange solitude. I was in no mood to cheer and laugh. Constans may have driven off the Saxon pirates, but all I could think was that below me in the road, riding on his fine white horse, was the man who had decreed my father's death.

*A crossing in winter!' came Balbus's voice, echoing from his study. *Can anyone remember such a thing?'

*Not I,' said Ambrosius the cloth-merchant, and others spoke up in agreement. Lucretia and Albinus were there, with a crowd of his business friends.

*Ah, there you are, Drusus!' he cried, seeing me at the door. *Did I not tell you we had nothing to fear? I intend to charter a fleet, and bring in wine and spiced sauces, and glassware and Iberian plate. With the army present, there will be demand for luxuries; and gold to pay for them.'

He laughed with pleasure and beamed at his companions. From the corner Lucretia muttered, *Praise be to God!' and fluttered her fingers at me in a gesture of dismissal. I left them talking business and money, and went off to find Sericus.

Constans had made landfall on the flat sands near Richborough. The Saxons, having sacked the town and fort there, had moved on, leaving their black longships where they beached them. Our army, advancing inland, had cornered the main horde in the farm country between Dover and London.

What had followed could hardly be called a battle: the Saxons, faced with a wall of locked shields and trained men, had turned and fled. They were scavengers at heart, and thieves; they were content to rape and murder and burn, but they lacked the discipline to organize themselves into a fighting force. They scattered like barn-rats before a pack of terriers, heedless of the safety of their comrades, and as they fled they ran into Constans's second column, advancing from beyond the ridge.

The few that escaped reached the coast only to find their ships burned, and our men waiting.

Constans was no strategist and had sense enough to know it. He brought with him his most accomplished general a" his name was Gratian a" and placed him in command of the campaign. While Gratian was busy fighting, Constans attended church in London, and the bishop attended Constans, fussing and clucking about him like a mother-in-law at a wedding.

But elsewhere, away from the sycophancy and adulation, people quietly said the old gods had heeded the prayers of the people. They reminded one another that the stormy winter sea had stayed calm while Constans crossed with his bulky troop-carriers, and the sun shone during Gratian's campaign.

The Christians condemned such talk, calling it superstition and devilry. They had a new champion a" the emperor himself a" who was one of them. And yet, for all the emperor's show of public piety, it was whispered (I heard it from Ambitus) that when it came to deciding upon war or peace, or considering the propitious time for a sea-crossing, it was the astrologers and diviners he turned to, not the Christian priests. These ancient seers would study the motions of the planets, and inspect the dissected livers of beasts, and see in them the answers that he sought.

Gratian soon finished his campaign, then Constans toured the province to receive the praise of the grateful citizens. The coastal fort at Richborough was repaired, and he ordered new ones to be built, in an impregnable line all along the eastern coast known as the Saxon Shore. In future the Saxons would have to take the forts before they could move inland; and the forts, it was said, could not be taken.

The Council commissioned a statue of Constans to stand in London's forum, upon a plinth of polished red granite, in a place of honour outside the basilica, with an inscription proclaiming that he had saved the province. I should not mention this statue a" they are common enough, after all a" except that it never arrived. It was carved in Gaul, from finest Carrara marble. But the vessel appointed to ship it to Britain was caught in a storm and sank, a detail a" or an omen a" his advisers prudently kept from the superstitious emperor.

Meanwhile, at the home of Balbus, there was prosperity: he had negotiated a supply contract for the army. Lucretia bought herself a new dress a" a cerise gossamer robe embroidered with bees and flowers a" and invited her friends to a banquet.

One day during this time, returning with Ambitus from my uncle's shop in the forum, we caught sight of the bishop, passing grandly along the far colonnade with his train of pale-faced acolytes. Lately he was everywhere, publicly calling himself a friend of the emperor.

*See there,' said Ambitus, following him with his eyes, *just like a fat goose with her chicks . . . you know where he was during the siege, don't you?'

*In hiding,' I replied. *Everyone knows it.'

*That's not what he says now. He says he was praying night and day for the salvation of the city, and it is thanks to him and his god that the Saxons are gone.'

I laughed. *And who believes that?'

*Constans, for one. Have you been to that side of town lately? He's pulling down what's left of the temple of Diana. You'd better take a last look; it'll be gone before month's end.'

*So he's got his cathedral at last.'

*Well, so far he's got a wasteland and a few broken columns; but all the Christians are crowing about it. I'm surprised your cousin didn't tell you . . . isn't that him there, behind the bishop?'

I glanced round. I had not noticed Albinus before, for he was dressed in coarse homespun, like a pauper, and his hood was pulled up. But I should have known his gangling walk anywhere.

We watched him pass along the colonnade, distaste showing on both our faces. Lately Albinus had become even harder to stomach than usual. While the Saxons had sat outside the walls, fear had cowed him. Now all his old traits had returned, made worse by his promotion in the bishop's staff.

Ambitus turned to me. With sudden vehemence he cried, *I tell you, Drusus, I have had enough of this place! I want to find somewhere without Saxons, and there I shall become a rich man.'

I laughed. He was always so sure. With a grin I said, *Well, the Saxons are gone for good, so Balbus says.'

At this he threw up his eyes. *Oh, Balbus! He always thinks endless summer has come a" until the next winter takes him by surprise. But the barbarians are like wolves around the camp fire, waiting in the shadows till the flame burns weak, and the guard nods off. Will he never see it?'

In late January the fine weather that had lasted all winter finally came to an end. The wind swung round to the north-east, and brought with it a biting cold.

With the destruction wrought by the Saxons, and the requisitions of Constans's army, the supply of charcoal became scarce, for there is little woodland around the city. Balbus was better supplied than most; but even we went short, and what there was my aunt Lucretia kept for the house furnace, and the little embossed brazier in her room, which she always kept as warm as summer. Sericus caught a chill; a small matter, he said, and nothing to fuss over.

During February it went to his chest. By the time the first flower buds appeared on the damson tree outside my window, and the crocuses showed like a snowfall in the fields, he had taken to his bed.

I was asleep when he died. Claritas the housemaid shook me awake and led me by lamplight to where he lay, quiet at last. A learned man, he had spent his last years among people who despised him, and treated him like a common slave.

He was sixty-four.

With Sericus's death my final link with home was broken. A terrible emptiness came over me. When I was not working, I idled away my time watching the game players under the arches by the theatre, or wandering among the market stalls and expensive shops in the forum colonnade. I went to the hippodrome to watch the chariot races, or walked out alone beyond the city walls.

I was like a man who has lost his path, but keeps on walking. The drunks, the gamblers, the street pedlars and old retired courtesans who hung about the taverns by the theatre started to know my face, and when I came they greeted me as one of their own. They were hard folk who found a living where they could, who could fall no further, except into death, if that was worse. They were a comfort to me.

At home I grew closed and taciturn, and for the first time there was justice in Lucretia's words when she called me sullen and aggressive. I fell into street-fights. I came home scratched and bruised. Yet there was a yearning in my soul, for what I could not tell.

What preserved me a" though I did not see it at the time a" were the habits I had been bred to, which little by little had become part of my nature. I rose at cocklight still, and I exercised my body. I pored over Sericus's old books; I clung to life.

Constans sailed away in triumph, conferring the title of count upon Gratian and leaving him behind to order the province.

With peace restored, people dug up the special places in their cellars, or lifted secret flagstones beneath the kitchen pots, or opened bricked-up niches in their walls, and took out the caskets and urns where they had hidden their savings. The smart shops in the forum grew busy; tools sounded from the workshops; the taverns and wineshops filled, and the whores around the dock bought themselves bright dresses for the summer.

One day Ambitus, emerging from an interview with Balbus, drew me aside and said with a grin, *Wish me well. I am away, at last.'

Gratian, he explained, had engaged my uncle to send one of his trading ships to Carthage, to collect the personal effects he had left at his house there. Ambitus was being sent as agent, to supervise this lucrative commission.

I congratulated him. It was what he had worked for.

When, a few days later, I arrived at the dock to see him off, I saw a shrunken old woman clutching at his hand. He pulled away embarrassed; but in a voice invested with more tenderness than I had ever heard from him he said, *Drusus, this is my mother.'

I greeted her civilly. She was shy and soft-spoken, full of emotion at the departure of her son, and reluctant to look at me, lest I see the moisture in her eyes. She was wearing a pretty new dress, with a necklace of coloured glass. The clothes did not suit her, being made for a younger figure; but I could tell she delighted in them.

Soon the pilot shouted orders to cast off. I stood with her on the quayside, waving to Ambitus.

I missed him when he was gone, though I scarcely admitted it, having persuaded myself I had no need of friends. So I busied myself with my own desultory affairs, and revelled in my solitude.

All about the city were unknown faces: soldiers from the new garrison; pompous imperial clerks in their coloured liveries; architects and surveyors from Italy and southern Gaul; officials of the civil service; staff of Count Gratian; and the slaves and retinue of all of these.

Gangs of the city poor were put to work clearing the moss and rampant ivy from the neglected walls; masons repointed the crumbling mortar; and Gratian added a new wing to the long-empty governor's palace, where he had taken up residence.

One early morning, a few weeks after Ambitus had sailed, I made my way up to the great precinct in front of the temple of Diana, and watched with a few others a" Christians, judging from their cheers a" as the last of the mighty granite columns were torn down. The cheers were ugly; the columns had been built to last, and cost the demolishers some effort. Somehow, I was glad of that.

Already, all about the precinct, work had begun on the foundations of the bishop's new cathedral. It would stand, so the triumphant Christians put about, for a thousand years.

Though she disapproved of the baths and the gymnasium, calling them sinful, Lucretia had allowed me to visit them so long as I took Sericus as chaperon. Now that he was dead I went alone, full of anger, defying her to forbid me.

We used to go to the fashionable bath-complex behind the forum, with its high vaulted ceilings and inlaid floors and long ornamental walkways. It was close to home, and considered respectable.

But, during my solitary wanderings, I had discovered another place, in the old part of the city, in the poor neighbourhood between the bishop's residence and the fort, small and run-down, set back from the street under a squat red-painted porch.

It was a place that suited my grim mood. The only patrons were old men who had gone there since they were young, when the neighbourhood had been better. Now they went through habit, and to be with their friends. They sat in twos and threes in the old portico behind, or in the warm room where the heat was gentle, taking no notice of me.

As everyone knows, a youth at the baths can be the object of attention, much of it unwelcome; but here I could exercise in the quiet sand-court beneath the plane trees, undisturbed by anyone.

Until, that is, one afternoon in late spring.

I had arrived at my usual time. I paid the old attendant who sat in his cubby-hole in the vestibule. I stripped, and made my way barefoot over the tiles through to the sand-court at the back.

The old men were in their usual corner under the portico, their stools pulled up, bending over a game of dice. I greeted them, and they muttered back. Then, from behind, I heard the sound of cries and laughter.

I turned to look, and saw what I had come to regard as my private domain occupied by a group of young men, stripped down for exercise, wrestling and tumbling one another, darting and running between the trees of the surrounding gardens.

I glanced back at the old men.

*From the fort,' said one, raising his eyes with a look that said, *Something else to disturb our peace.'

Frowning I took up my hand-weights and went off to a sandy corner beside the wall, and soon, going through my movements, I had ceased to think of the strangers. It was a day of sun and passing showers. As I was finishing the rain came on. I was just about to go inside and clean off when I sensed movement behind me, and caught the rank smell of sweat in my nostrils. I swung round, and found myself staring into a gap-toothed ugly, grinning face. He must have crept up at me through the gardens.

The man turned to his friends with a harsh laugh, amused that he had startled me. He was thickset, like a wrestler. His chest and legs were shaggy with black sand-caked hair.

I glanced to the portico, but the dice-players had gone. Looking at him I said slowly, *You're standing in my light.'

At this the grin dropped from his face. He took a deliberate step forward, blocking me.

*Is that better?' His Latin had the broad accent of Spain.

I ought to have left then. I was no weakling, but I was no match for such a brute. He was broad as an ox. His arms and thighs were knit with great coils of ugly muscle.

But my anger had risen. And so, instead, I locked my eyes on his and said, *Were you born stupid, my friend, or did the wet-nurse drop you on your head?'

I do not know where I got this from; I daresay I had picked it up from the drunks around the theatre. Somewhere behind I heard his friends slapping their thighs and guffawing. But the Spaniard did not laugh. He flinched as if he had been struck. His black eyes bulged and he jutted his jaw into my face. *Hey, pretty boy, didn't your mother warn you not to come alone to places like this?'

*Who said I'm alone?' I answered. It was a cheap trick, but maybe he would believe me. I was starting to realize a" too late a" what I was getting into.

Up above, a sudden breeze shook the branches, scattering drops of cold water. My sweat was drying on me and I shivered. I thought: *Well Drusus, you have brought this on yourself, will you run now like a coward, or will you take a beating?' Yet even as I thought, already I knew the answer, and there was a kind of rage and self-destructiveness in it.

I would not let this brute trample on my pride, whatever it cost me.

I took a step forward. Immediately his hand sprang out, barring my way. With the other he seized my bare shoulder and hauled me round to face him.

I shoved back, resisting; but I might as well have tried to shift the tree-trunk behind me. I watched him, searching his body with my eyes, waiting for the telltale pull of his muscles that would show he was about to strike.

He was strong, and could hurt me badly; I had not doubted it. But now it came to me that, though he was built like a plough-ox, he was as slow as one too.

With a wrestler's move he flicked me round, trapping my head in an elbow-grip. I could feel his other hand snatching at my waist, trying to gain a hold around my midriff. I struggled and fought, and as I twisted, his seeking hand caught on the strap of my loincloth. He heaved, trying to lift me, but instead there was a tearing sound and my loincloth came away.