“I have something for you,” he said under his breath. And then, to my surprise, “Don’t tell your mother.”
I looked at the flash of gold in his outstretched hand. It was a golden seal ring. It did not show a god, or the Emperor’s head. Instead, cut into the amber stone was the Greek letter chi crossed with the letter rho. I knew as soon as I saw it that this piece of jewellery could put me in danger.
“You’re a Christian,” I breathed.
He nodded.
I’d heard plenty of stories about Christians. They were a Jewish sect, but their ideas had spread to others too. They were traitors to the Empire, traitors to the gods. They didn’t pray in the natural way, proudly in public to the holy gods of Rome, but in private, like thieves. And worse stories, too.
“Do you eat human flesh?” I blurted out.
“Of course not!” He looked shocked. “Is that what they say about us?”
It was one of the things they said about them. I had never quite believed it, and looking at Publius, I was sure he did not. But even so, Christians were not just like worshippers of Mithras or Heliogabalus. They refused to worship the gods at all. My father called Christians átheos, which meant godless in Greek. He usually treated all sects and religions equally, but the Christians: those he did not like. I did not know why, but I guessed it was because they did not worship the gods. I understood, because not worshipping the gods was dangerous. It could only lead to destruction, when the gods grew angry at being disrespected and sent down some terrible force. Cities were destroyed by the Earth-shaker Neptune, Jupiter struck with lightning – all these things killed not just Christians but everyone else, too.
Publius was looking at the amulet on my wrist, the one my nurse had given me. I had seen him looking at it before, and now I had a sinking feeling. Christians did not like what they called idols.
“What is that?”
My other hand closed protectively over it.
“My nurse gave it to me. It’s a good-luck charm.”
“If we are to marry,” he said, “you must, like me, abandon false gods and idols.”
I clutched my amulet. I didn’t know what to say. I had no desire to give up my religion. To abandon Diana, Isis, Asclepius, Hygeia and Salus? To throw away my Lares and Penates? I had not realised how important they were to me, until now.
“I can’t do that!”
“I cannot marry a woman who does not share my faith.” He sounded sad. “And I’d like to marry you.”
I remained silent. I wanted to marry him too. But not if it meant giving up everything that meant most to me.
“Do you truly believe there can be any power in this thing?” He caught my wrist gently. “Don’t be afraid. If I throw it in the water, do you think that any of your gods will strike me down?”
I realised I did believe that, because terror hit me like a wave. I liked Publius. I didn’t want him to be destroyed by the furious gods. And I was terrified of losing the amulet, the only thing I had left of Nurse and her love for me, and home itself.
“Let go!” I pulled away from him, turned and went towards the Empress. I heard his footsteps behind me and broke into a run in a blind panic.
The Empress rose to meet me and I ran, sobbing, full tilt into her. It was like running into a steel bar. She grabbed my shoulders and gave me a quick, sharp shake that knocked the tears out of me.
“What has happened?” she asked, seeing my face.
“I want to go home,” I managed to say.
She tutted.
“Young men,” she said with annoyance. She cast a cold look at Publius, who looked terrified. She nodded to the secretary who had come up behind us. “Call the carriage.”
I was shaking, wondering what I could say to explain matters. To be a Christian was a shameful thing for the son of a senator. If I could hide the ring, I thought, then perhaps I could make up some story. But she was not the Empress for nothing. As soon as we sat in the carriage she reached out for my hand that was grasping the ring.
“Dear, what’s that?” she asked. “Let me see your treasure.”
I could not refuse. I handed her the ring. She turned it over and over with some curiosity.
“Are you a Christian?” she said.
I shook my head hard.
“It was a. . . gift from someone,” I muttered, blushing. Then, my tongue lying faster than I knew it could: “I wanted to show Publius. So that there would be no secrets in our marriage.”
“Ah, a gift from some old boyfriend. I see now. But you worship the gods too, I see by this amulet.”
I hastily assured her that my devotion to the gods and ancestors of Rome was total. She did not seem overly concerned by the ring, however. Having the amulet – something normal – on me as well as the ring, seemed to reassure her that I was no Christian. If Publius had been asked before the courts if he was a Christian he would not have been able to deny it, and then he would have been executed.
“Have you heard of Apollonius of Tyana?” she said, handing the ring back to me. “Now he is the one you should be following, not Jesus. He is a true mystic, not a charlatan. He did everything that Jesus claimed to have done, but there are better witnesses to his miracles.”
“I would be happy to read more of him,” I said, eager to please her.
“Good, then I will find some writings for you. There is nothing wrong with seeking for truth in many different places. Only don’t forget: gods are important not because they tell us what to
