Paul Doherty - The Song of the Gladiator

‘That will be enough,’ Dacius called out. ‘That will be enough, Murranus! Dear boy, do turn round.’

The gladiator did so. Dacius still sat at the table, but two of his gang had dragged Polybius to his feet, whilst another forced the tip of his dagger under the taverner’s chin.

‘Fair exchange is no robbery,’ Dacius lisped as he rose to his feet and came swaying across the room. He looked Murranus over from head to toe. ‘I must say, dear boy, you are very fast. I do hope, however, you will be just as fast in the arena.’

Snapping his fingers, Dacius swaggered out of the tavern. Polybius was sent flying towards his wife, while Murranus lowered his dagger, grabbed the oaf by the hair and, giving him a good kick in the backside, sent him staggering after the rest. Polybius ran across, barred the door then slid down to the ground, face in his hands.

‘Come on now.’ Murranus went across and helped him to his feet. ‘They’re just bullies; they croak like bullfrogs.’

‘They’re nasty,’ Polybius replied. ‘Even the rats in the sewer would give them a wide berth.’

Murranus helped him back to the table, went to console Poppaoe and brought back two clean goblets. He filled both and thrust one into Polybius’s hand, then sat down opposite.

‘Why didn’t you kill him? I mean Spicerius,’ Polybius said, lowering his cup. ‘Did you know anything about this before it started?’

‘Before any great fight,’ Murranus replied, ‘you hear rumours, but it’s mere chaff in the wind, nothing to worry about. Spicerius and I were both aware of large amounts of money changing hands. But why did Dacius bet on me, why were they so certain?’

‘It could be one person,’ Polybius replied. ‘Someone, somewhere, has put a large amount of money on you to win; the bet’s been frozen, so they send the Dacians in.’

‘No, no it’s more than that.’ Murranus dipped a finger into his wine and ran it round his lips. ‘Remember, Polybius, they are not only betting for me to win, but for Spicerius to lose. However, as little Claudia always tells me, life is never as simple as that. .’

‘I thought this meeting,’ Claudia moved on the stool, ‘was about theology, your Jesus Christ being truly God?’

‘Claudia, Claudia,’ Sylvester patted her on the arm, ‘do you think we Christians are different from anyone else? There are two qualifications for joining our sect: the first is to acknowledge you are a sinner; the second is to realise that only the good Lord can change you. Our founder was, is,’ he corrected himself, ‘God, but our community is a collection of sinners.’ He struck his breast. ‘Myself included. We fight, we betray, we lust, we steal, we kill.’

‘Does Helena know this?’

‘Of course she does. However, Helena views the Christian Church as a means to invigorate the Empire and bind it closer together. Above all, she realises that the vast army of the poor regard our Church, with its promise of resurrection to Eternal Life, as their only comfort in this vale of tears. The Christian community,’ Sylvester continued, ‘has always been riven by dissent. Our Church is almost three hundred years old, but right from the start we have had betrayal and treachery. One of Christ’s own followers, Judas, betrayed him to crucifixion. Peter, who later came to Rome, denied ever knowing him.’

Claudia listened carefully. She had never confessed this to anyone, but although she didn’t accept the Christian religion, she was still fascinated by its teaching and, above all, its effect on the vast population of the poor of Rome.

‘Our Church,’ Sylvester held up his hands as if holding a bowl, ‘has come out of the catacombs; it no longer hides underground. The shadows are gone, but now is also the time to settle grievances, to fight for power, to claim a place in the sun. Ten years ago, the old Emperor, Diocletian, launched the most savage persecution of the Christian Church. Our followers were roped in from as far away as Britain and the borders of Persia. You must have heard about the hideous spectacles in the Flavian amphitheatre. Men, women and children torn to pieces by wild animals or subjected to the most humiliating death.’

‘I was a child,’ Claudia whispered. ‘I remember my father hiding Christian symbols. One morning, I think it was around the feast of Lupercalia, soldiers came to search our house.’

‘Your parents were most fortunate,’ Sylvester replied. ‘Others were not. When a Christian was arrested, he was given the opportunity to purge himself, to sprinkle incense before a statue of the Emperor or the Standards of Rome. Naturally, many people succumbed; faced with the terror of death, they took the easy way out.’

‘And what happened to those?’

‘They were given a new name, a term of derision, the “Lapsi”, the Fallen Ones. According to some members of our Church, these Lapsi should never be forgiven. Others, myself included, believe this is too harsh. The Lapsi should do penance, yes, but eventually be forgiven and re-admitted to the community.’

‘How does this affect our philosophers?’

Sylvester grinned sourly.

‘If you think the Lapsi are bad, they are not the worst. There is another group of sinners, nicknamed the Iscariots, after the man who betrayed Christ, Judas Iscariot. These are men and women who not only renounced their religion but offered, either for reward or to escape punishment, to lead the authorities to other Christian communities. Your father’s house was searched, Claudia, probably because of an informant.’ Sylvester drew a deep breath. ‘Now, during Diocletian’s persecution, the school of Capua was already marked down as a Christian community. Many of its teachers and scholars were known to be followers of Christ.’ He shrugged. ‘At least in theory. About six years ago, however, the authorities were given very precise information about where to search, who to look for, all the evidence they would need. At least forty people were arrested, thirty of whom were dispatched to Rome for execution.’

Claudia whistled under her breath.

‘Now according to Athanasius, such traitors are amongst the Arian group. This morning he is going to divert the Empress’s attention to this issue.’

‘But why?’ Claudia asked. ‘Constantine doesn’t care what happened six years ago. He is not a Christian and really couldn’t give a damn about a mealy-mouthed traitor in your community!’

‘Ah, yes,’ Sylvester sighed, ‘but Athanasius will argue that such traitors betrayed their own kind; they sent innocent men, women and children to their deaths. He might well argue that such people still lurk in the Christian community. .’

‘I see.’ Claudia nodded. ‘And people who betray once will betray again?’

‘Precisely,’ Sylvester agreed. ‘Athanasius will hint that if such men and women are prepared to betray the Bishop of Rome, why not the Emperor of Rome?’

‘But Athanasius is one of yours. Why not just tell him to keep his mouth shut?’

‘We’ve already tried,’ Sylvester retorted. ‘You’ve met Athanasius, fiery-tempered and hot-eyed, but he’s only half the problem. He claims that Justin, the leader of the Arian party, will level the same accusations of betrayal at the orthodox party. What I want you to do, Claudia, is have a word with the Empress. I do not want to show my hand in public.’

‘But you’ve told me this for another reason, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, I have,’ Sylvester conceded. ‘Now you see, Claudia, how truly we Christians love each other! So much so,’ he added wryly, ‘that we are prepared to kill and maim. I only learned this morning about what is going to happen. I’ve heard rumours and it has to be stopped.’

‘And that other reason?’ Claudia asked.