Harry Sidebottom - King of Kings

'Off to our left is the main theatre. It contains a wonderful statue of the muse Calliope as the Tyche, the Fortune, of Antioch.' The ab Admissionibus resumed his soothing chatter. 'Some of the more ignorant locals think…'

After a time they turned left into a side street heading up towards the foothills of Mount Silpius. Soon they were deep in the residential district of Epiphania: on either side, well-built houses of limestone and basalt. The horses stretched out their necks and trod carefully as the street steepened. Over everything loomed the switchback wall of the mountain.

They passed the Temple of Dionysus, and Cledonius pulled up in front of a large townhouse. The long blank wall of the residence was broken by a gate flanked by two columns of imported marble. A porter appeared.

'Tell the Domina Julia that her husband has returned,' Cledonius said.

For a moment the porter seemed confused, looking at the small cavalcade. With a miniscule gesture Cledonius indicated Ballista. Smartly the porter stepped over and held the bridle of Ballista's horse as the northerner dismounted.

'Welcome home, Dominus.' The porter bowed. Presumably he was either a hired local or a recent purchase. As Ballista thanked and said goodbye to Cledonius the porter ordered a boy to run and inform the domina of the happy event.

'Please follow me, Dominus.'

Ballista watched Cledonius and his servants ride on, then turned and followed the porter.

As they entered the house they walked over a mosaic of a naked hunchback sporting an improbably large erection. Obviously the owner of the rented house was a man of some superstition, who feared the envy of his fellow townsmen. Ballista smiled. There were many worse grotesques that could deflect the evil eye from one's front door, and this one to some extent mirrored what was on Ballista's mind.

At the end of a long dark corridor was an open courtyard. Ballista stopped when he emerged into the sunshine. There was a pool in the middle, reflecting dappled light up on to the surrounding columns. He looked into it. At the bottom was another mosaic. This one was an innocent scene of marine life: fishes, a dolphin and an octopus.

Ballista hesitated. He leant on one of the columns and closed his eyes. The reflected sunlight played on his closed eyelids. He felt strangely nervous and unsure. How would Julia receive him? It had been a long time. Would she still want him? With a sick feeling, he faced up to a fear he seldom let himself consider. Had she taken a lover? The morality of the metropolis, let alone that of the imperial court, was not that of his northern upbringing. There was no point hanging around here. Do not think, just act. Somehow the mantra that he had used to force himself through so many things seemed singularly inappropriate here.

Ballista opened his eyes and nodded to the porter, who led him across the courtyard and deeper into the house.

They crossed a dining room, more mosaics on the floor and paintings on the wall passing unnoticed. The porter stopped and opened a double door to the private apartments.

'Domina, your husband, Marcus Clodius Ballista.' The porter stepped back and Ballista walked into the room. The door closed behind him.

Julia stood very still on the far side of the room. She was flanked by two maids, each a step behind her. Decorously, she stepped forward.

'Dominus.' Her voice betrayed no emotion. Modestly, she kept her eyes down. She was every inch the Roman matron of the past receiving her husband back from the wars.

'Domina.' Ballista leant down. Julia brought her head up. Their eyes met. Hers gave nothing away. He kissed her gently on the lips. She looked down again.

'Will you sit?' She indicated a couch. Ballista sat.

'Would you care for a drink?'

Ballista nodded. She told one of her maids to bring wine and water, the other to bring a bowl of warm water and towels.

The maids left and the silence stretched. Julia kept her eyes down. Ballista sat very still. He stifled a yawn.

The maids returned. Julia told them that she would see to the comfort of the dominus herself. They should go and make sure that the bath was hot. The maids left once more.

She mixed a glass of wine and water and handed it to Ballista. She moved the bowl of water close to him and sank to her knees. He took a drink. With firm hands she pulled off his boots. Taking first one then the other of his feet, she began to wash them. The water splashed up on to his trousers.

'They are getting wet. You should take them off,' she said. Was there a hint of a smile before she looked down and her long black hair hid her face?

Ballista stood and pushed down his undergarments with his trousers and stepped out of them. He sat. She began washing his feet again. The tension was getting to him. His chest felt tight, his palms slick with sweat.

Julia looked up, into his face. She smiled.

With one movement, Ballista got to his feet. Putting his hands under her arms, he pulled her up with him. He kissed her. Her tongue darted into his mouth.

After a few moments she pulled a little away from him. 'My family warned me of this when they married me off to a barbarian — that I would be a slave to his dreadful lusts.'

Ballista grinned. 'Paulla' — he called her by the name her family used, 'Little One', then by his own affectionate diminutive, 'Paullula.' She stepped back and unfastened her tunic, letting it drop to the floor. She was wearing nothing underneath. Her body looked breathtakingly good. He bent and kissed her breasts, licking them, the nipples stiffening under his tongue.

He straightened up and looked in her eyes. 'It has been a very long time.' She did not reply, but taking his hand, turned and led him to a couch.

'Yes, it has been a long time,' she said. Her hands pushed his tunic up out of the way. There were some other travellers on the road up to Daphne, but even after just three days it was a relief to be free of the crowds of Antioch.

Up to Daphne. It seemed strange to Maximus the bodyguard. He had noticed it when they were here the previous year. No matter where the locals set out from when they travelled to the suburb, they always said that they were going up to Daphne. But sure it was a pleasant enough trip. As soon as you cleared the south gate of the city there was the river, the great Orontes, rolling along to the right, and off to the left began the varied gardens, the springs, houses and shrines hidden among the groves. As you went on and the road edged away from the river, on both sides were shady vineyards and rose gardens. And all along, at no great interval, were the things that gave pleasure to a man like Maximus, the baths and the inns, and the lively looking girls around them.

At first they had ridden close together, the three adults on their horses and the boy on the pony. Ballista talked to the son, but Isangrim did not answer. The boy seemed withdrawn, even sullen. You could not expect to vanish from a child's life for over a year and straightaway be welcomed back. Yet it was embarrassing. Maximus and the Greek secretary Demetrius let their horses drop back. They looked around in the autumn sunshine.

Around midday a pleasant breeze began to blow from the southwest up the valley of the Orontes. The sleeves of the riders' tunics rustled in the wind. The boy started to talk. Then he wanted to ride with his father. Things were all right. Isangrim transferred to his father's horse. Ballista threw Maximus the lead reins of the pony. Ballista trotted on. The boy, clinging tightly to his father's back, was laughing.

It had a sly, nasty nature did the pony. Now they were stopped, it tried to sidle up to bite Maximus' horse. The Hibernian put his boot into its shoulder. The pony eyed the man's leg and showed its yellow teeth before deciding better of it and moving away. Maximus leant forward and played with his mount's ears.