hares, but they had got away. They had stopped for lunch and lit a fire. That was when the boar had emerged from the thicket. It regarded them with keen malevolence in its small eyes, then turned and made off, its short legs jerking out fore and aft. The hounds were slipped. All four men threw themselves into the saddle. The fire was well made, and it was winter. It would not spread. The boar gave them a good chase, scrambling fast up and down the slopes, its trotters kicking out showers of stones, before going to ground in a thick tangle of dead undergrowth. No sooner had the hounds gone in than the boar charged. The men were still swinging down from their mounts, unslinging their spears. The beast made straight for Corvus. There was no time, nothing Ballista or the huntsmen could do. At the last moment, the eirenarch levelled the blade. The impact drove him back two or three steps. The boar impaled itself ever deeper as its fury drove it, snapping up the shaft. When it reached the crossbar, with a foot and a half of steel inside it, the beast died. There was a drop of blood like a tear in each of its eyes.
They ate lunch. Then Ballista and Corvus watched the huntsmen remove the tusks, skin the beast and butcher the meat. Time was passing, and they had set off back. That was when they came across the old man.
Petitioners were the bane of anyone with power in the imperium. They cropped up wherever you went. You were expected to give them a hearing. There was a story that the emperor Hadrian had been out riding one day when an old woman approached him with a petition. Hadrian said he was too busy. She called out after him, 'Then stop being emperor.' Dutifully, he turned back and gave her a hearing. Ballista preferred the story of Mark Antony. Bothered by several petitioners under similar circumstances, he turned and held out the folds of his toga to catch their petitions. Then he walked to the nearest bridge and threw them all in the river.
Indicating for the huntsmen to carry on, Ballista and Corvus reined in. The old man got stiffly to his feet. From under his broad-brimmed hat, he mumbled in up-country Greek that he wished to speak to the kyrios alone. Both Ballista and Corvus looked all around, scanning the hillside. When they were sure the old man was alone, the eirenarch walked his horse on.
The aged petitioner did not speak immediately. He waited until Corvus was well out of earshot. Then he tipped back his hat. He was not nearly as old as Ballista had thought; he was actually quite a young man. He smiled and spoke quietly in good Latin. 'Ave, Marcus Clodius Ballista. My dominus the ab Admissionibus Cledonius sends his greetings. He requests that if you must write to him about political matters, you do so only in the most oblique way and that, in future, you only send a letter by the most reliable of carriers. Macrianus has spies everywhere. If they do not intercept the letter, Censorinus' frumentarii probably will. There are fears that the Comes Largitionum and the Princeps Peregrinorum are drawing ever closer. My dominus regrets that he thinks it would be unwise to talk to the emperor about transferring you to the eastern front and that it would be tantamount to suicide to try to denounce Macrianus. He begs that you try nothing of the sort. Valerian comes to trust and rely more and more on the lame one.'
The man stopped. He looked along the road to where Corvus sat on his horse, waiting. 'Here, you had better take this.' He handed over the papyrus roll and turned to go. Ballista untied and unrolled it. It was blank. He looked after the man. The hillside was bare; the messenger had vanished. Ballista studied the slope carefully. There the man was, moving inconspicuously up a narrow gully. He was good at fieldcraft. But not that good. Alone in his room in the palace, the North African scribe began to write. To Lucius Calpurnius Piso Censorinus, Princeps Peregrinorum, Commander of the Frumentarii. Written at Ephesus, ten days before the ides of March, the anniversary of the accession of the divine emperors Marcus Antoninus and Lucius Verus, in the Consulship of Aemilianus and Bassus. Dominus, I write to inform you of the lamentable state of affairs in Ephesus.
With regard to the schemes of Macrianus, rumours abound. But it is true that still no hard evidence has emerged.
As for Marcus Clodius Ballista himself, I have informed you how at first he applied himself diligently to the apprehension and trial of the atheists, and how at the original executions he even went so far as to seize a bow from one of his guards and shoot three of the criminals dead with his own hand. Happily, this despicable demagoguery failed to bring him the popular acclaim he sought.
Ballista ordered another round of executions to be held at the munera which marked the opening day of the Saturnalia. Organized by the vicarius himself, from the outset it was the poorest of spectacles. In the morning there were few beasts, next to none exotic. At lunchtime, only three Christians had been killed, in the most uninventive ways, when an atheist of equestrian rank called Aulus Valerius Festus was brought into the arena. The crowd democratically clamoured for this arch-criminal to suffer exemplary punishment. The answer Ballista gave via a herald was so haughty as to befit an emperor. When the first stones flew, he was at a loss, not knowing what to do. When a riot erupted, he fled the stadium, his face twitching with terror. The latter I can swear to; I was standing behind him and I saw him clearly as he passed. Back in the palace, sunk in a barbarian stupor, it was two hours before he ordered in the troops. By then the majority of the rioters had dispersed. Those that remained easily avoided the auxiliary archers, except for a handful too drunk to run. None of the ringleaders was apprehended.
The next day, the vicarius posted an edict suspending the execution of Christians as a threat to public order. At the same time he sent reports to the emperor and to the Governor of Asia justifying this measure. Since then, he has discouraged any attempts to seek out more members of this revolting sect. He has postponed the trial of those already in custody. The persecution has come to a halt.
There is no obvious explanation for the change in the attitude of Ballista. It goes without saying that northern barbarians are incapable of any consistency. One moment buoyed up with false pride and confidence, they think they can take on the world. The next they are sunk in the deepest despair and will attempt nothing.
It is noteworthy that Ballista now shuns the zealous Flavius Damianus, instead heeding the dilatory local police chief, the eirenarch Corvus. There is a story that the latter was censured by the then governor some years ago for letting seven well-known young Christian men of Ephesus disappear as if the earth had swallowed them alive during the glorious persecution under the divine emperor Decius.
It is on record that Ballista entered the prison just off the civic agora only accompanied by two of his slaves, and there he talked most amicably with some of the Christian prisoners. What they said is not known.
For the last two months, Ballista has largely withdrawn from the sight of the public. He ventures out of the palace only to hunt – animals rather than atheists – or, in the fashion of Nero, he goes down to the docks dressed as a labourer to drink with common men in low bars, with only his bodyguard Maximus for company. Men of quality are seldom invited to his table, and likewise it is most infrequent that he dines in the houses of the well born.
It is my sad duty to report that Ballista is neglecting, indeed has failed in the sacred mission entrusted to him by our most noble emperor Valerian. Dominus, if I may be so bold as to make a recommendation? Ballista must be removed from the office of vicarius.
Dominus, you write that over the years my reports on Marcus Clodius Ballista have blown hot and cold – I can only repeat rather than try to rival the appositeness of your allusion to the divine poetry of Homer: indeed, sometimes I have praised him as the blind poet did Diomedes and sometimes execrated him as Thersites was in the Iliad. In answer I would remind you of what I said when you were gracious enough to grant me an interview in Antioch before this mission. Consistency must take second place to truthfulness. My loyalty to you and to the emperors means that I must always seek to inform you correctly, even if at times I appear to change my song. As the ink dried, the frumentarius known as Hannibal read the letter over. Unthinkingly, he rubbed his ribcage, where the rock had hit him during the riot. It might be he had again slightly overdone the northern barbarian references but, overall, he was happy with it. Suggesting a course of action was a risk. Frumentarii were merely meant to report. But Censorinus was said to be a man who rewarded initiative. Had not the Princeps Peregrinorum himself once been a humble frumentarius? The right words at the right moment could lift a man high.
The North African signed the report. He reached for his seal: MILES ARCANUS. He would post this report most urgent. It should travel along the cursus publicus at over a hundred miles a day, twice the normal speed. Marcus Clodius Ballista's time as the Vicarius of the Governor of Asia was numbered.
XXII
I keep my vows, thought Ballista. He had kept the vows he had made outside that filthy prison.
