The head gaoler shut the door behind them. The air was close and fetid. Ballista could feel it catching in his throat, could sense the prison stench seeping into his clothes.
'You are not a soldier, and they are not your brothers!' The voice was raised in anger.
As they were in the large, outermost cell, it was only gloomy rather than completely dark. There was a slit window high up on the front wall and, by its light, Ballista could see the two men quite clearly. They were a few paces away, in front of a partition made of an old cloak, a couple of blankets and a shirt. The men were standing face to face. They looked almost identical. The intensity of their dispute had prevented them noticing the new arrivals.
'You are mistaken, Gaius. Like all Christians, I am a soldier of Christ. We will not serve in the armies of the emperor here on earth, but we pray for him. Now we pray for Valerian to revert to his previous mild and gentle nature, to cast off the evil advice of the lame serpent Macrianus.'
The other snorted with derision. 'You are a fool. You are the one who has listened to evil advice. These Christians are not our sort. They are ignorant, unwashed hoi polloi. They are not your brothers. Think of your real family. I am your brother. You will lose your equestrian status. You will die. The imperial fiscus will take your estate. Will you leave your wife and children destitute – the widow and orphans of a convicted traitor?' The speaker thrust his face forward aggressively.
Ballista knew who the two men were now: Aulus Valerius Festus, the Christian of equestrian rank whom he had tried and remanded in prison; the other, now revealed as the Christian's brother, the mysterious man from the agora, the one Ballista had thought he recognized, who had hurried away.
'We have a saying of our Lord Jesus Christ: 'He who loves his father or his mother or his wife or his children or his brothers or his family more than me is not worthy of me.' '
It was the last straw. Gaius Valerius Festus punched his brother savagely in the face. The Christian sat down hard on his arse. His brother loomed over him. Ballista stepped forward and caught his arm. He swung round angrily. A momentary look of confusion crossed his face, then he spat, 'This is no brother of mine. Burn him with the slaves and illiterates he loves so much.' He shook off the northerner's hand and stormed out.
Maximus and Demetrius helped the Christian to his feet. 'Your brother has a forceful line in argument,' said Ballista.
Aulus looked Ballista in the eye. 'My brother has always been the victim of strong passions. I pray for him, that he will see the true light. I pray for you all.'
As the Christian held his gaze, a sudden realization struck Ballista. Among his people in the far north, it was thought right that a freeman should look another in the eye, no matter what their respective status. Clearly, these Christians thought something similar. It was not the way of the Romans; with them, the inferior should quickly look down or away. When he had first arrived in the imperium, Ballista had inadvertently caused offence on several occasions, but these Christians had all been born within the imperium. It was as if they deliberately courted a charge of insolence.
'Malus, perversus, maleficus… the stars of heaven are swept down to earth by the dragon's tale.'
Ballista was not alone in jumping at the words. They came from under a bundle of rags in one of the far corners. 'Kakos, kakoskelos malista Macrianus… the vine which the right hand of God planted is ravaged by the solitary, well-horned stag.' A closer look revealed an elderly, unkempt man.
'Forgive my brother in Christ,' said Aulus. 'The spirit of the Lord is in him. He talks in tongues.'
The old man raved on. 'I see a sideways-walking goat… Come! And I saw, and behold, a pale horse, and its rider's name was Death.'
'The spirit will soon leave him,' Aulus said. 'He has fasted for two days and nights, not a mouthful of food, not a drop to drink. He has little strength. His devout soul nourishes itself by continuous prayer.' Indeed, the old man's voice had already fallen to little more than a whisper as he, it seemed, listed a number of angels who would blow trumpets and relished the ghastly things that humanity would suffer in the aftermath.
'He is an inspiration to us all,' Aulus continued reverently. 'He has nearly attained sixty years and never once lapsed from bodily continence.'
'A sixty-year-old virgin,' exclaimed Maximus. 'No wonder he is off his head.' He shook his head in wonder. 'I cannot see this religion catching on at all with my countrymen.'
The mumbling of the aged Christian dropped into inaudibility.
'I came to see you,' said Ballista. He looked for somewhere to sit. There was just one bed. He remained standing. The cell was moderately filthy. He really could not believe the accusation of Flavius Damianus that Christian sympathizers came to the prison to have sex with the condemned.
'As you see, I have leisure to talk,' said Aulus with a smile.
'Aulus Valerius Festus,' began Ballista with some formality, 'when you were brought before me, I gave you time to reconsider. You have had – '
'Three months and seventeen days,' supplied Demetrius.
'Ample time,' Ballista continued. 'You are one of the honestiores, an educated man from one of the leading families of Ephesus, a member of the Boule of the city, an equestrian of Rome. Will you not renounce this treasonous cult of slaves and the humiliores?'
'I am a Christian. We do nothing treasonous. Night and day we pray for the emperor and the imperium.'
If your first tactic does not bring down the wall, try another, thought Ballista. 'You meet before dawn and after sunset, secretly, in the dark, like conspirators. You remind the educated of Catiline and his band in the monograph of Sallust: meeting at midnight to swear foul oaths, drink human blood and plot the fall of Rome.'
'We do nothing of the sort. We merely remove ourselves from the prying eyes of our neighbours and those in our families who might inform against us.'
'The authorities say you reject their power. Do you deny you call a meeting of your cult an ecclesia, an assembly?'
'It is just a word.' Aulus spread his hands wide. 'Our Lord ordered us 'to render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's'.'
'I have been talking to those who have returned to the traditional gods and reading some of your books.' Ballista was pleased to see the Christian's annoying calm somewhat disturbed by this. 'Your holy man Paul told you to ignore Roman judges and take your disputes to the priests you call Bishops.'
The Christian was silent for a time. Then he burst out, ' 'Answer not a fool according to his folly!' '
In the long silence that followed, the mutterings of the aged Christian could again be heard: seals, dragons, horns; woe, misery, unhappiness. Flies buzzed somewhere in the distance. Near at hand, someone moved behind the partition.
'I will give you one last chance. If you do not take it, I will have to order your execution,' snapped Ballista. 'Just offer a pinch of incense and a prayer to Zeus, and you can go free.'
'I will not. I am a Christian. 'He who sacrifices to the gods, and not to God, shall be destroyed.' ' Aulus' voice was loud, sonorous, implacable.
'Can you not say the words and believe what you like in your heart?'
'Never! What would you have me be? One of the Helkesaites? A follower of heretics like Basilides or Heracleon?' He glared with self-righteousness.
'I have no idea what you are talking about,' said Ballista. 'You mean there is more than one type of Christian?'
'Never! There is but one holy church. The ones I named are cursed heretics. And they will burn for ever in hellfire!' He laughed a strange laugh. 'You have already released several of these heretics. They think themselves clever. They think themselves Christians. Fools! They will discover different on judgement day.'
A thought struck Ballista. 'Do you know anything of the Christian priest Theodotus who betrayed Arete?'
'He was no Christian, but a foul heretic, a follower of the Phrygian whores, a Montanist – even now his pitch- black soul is tormented in Hell,' thundered Aulus. 'Any true son of the Catholic Church knows the Apocalypse will not fall for at least another two hundred years.'
Before Ballista could pursue Aulus' mysterious statements, the makeshift curtain parted and the young Christian mother who had appeared before Ballista on trial looked through. She addressed herself to Ballista. 'I have just got my child to sleep. Can you be quiet?' She spoke with the icy self-possession the northerner remembered.
'Of course.' Somewhat taken aback, Ballista spoke quickly to her. 'I will decide your place of exile soon. I
