'Then this mass of scars is all that is left of your famous Prophecy.' Cornelius peered, pointing to the letters with his finger. 'Well, if it's an acrostic it's cleverer than the one on your wall, Thalius. That one made sense whether you read it up or down, back or forth. This one doesn't make sense any which way!'
'But I think it does,' Aurelia said. Tension shaped her aged, vulpine face, and Thalius wondered how he could ever have found her attractive. She said, 'It is how I visualised it, but now I can see it-here, see the A and O in the lower left, upper right corners. Alpha and omega-remember? This is an acrostic compiled by and for Christians, just like the Pater Noster.'
But how could that be? Thalius wondered, chilled. For if the old legends were correct the acrostic came from a poem written down in the year of the birth of Christ, when there were no Christians.
Cornelius said, 'But there is another A, another O-never mind! Can you decipher this jumble?'
'With the start and end points of the A and O, I think I can, yes.'
'Then do it, woman!'
Aurelia paused, staring at the scar for a long breath. Suddenly, quite uncharacteristically, she seemed hesitant. 'First we must be sure we want to know.' She turned away from the boy. 'You Romans have a word for such a moment as this, Cornelius: discrimen, a crucial, life-shaping decision, a choice that might lead to triumph or catastrophe. Even if I can read the Prophecy, should we follow its advice? Constantine's elevation may be the most significant event ever to have occurred in Britannia. Rome is the world's greatest power, and decisions made by emperors cause history to shudder. And now we propose to deflect an emperor from his mighty path. History's Weaver may want this, but do we? Are we sure? Cornelius?'
Cornelius considered. 'If left unchecked this emperor will dissipate the very strengths that have made Rome strong. Rome must rediscover itself-and if Constantine is the man to lead that revival I will be happy. But he must be shown the way. And you, madam?'
'I am concerned for Britain. We are being taxed to death. And if the heart of the empire is moved east, the west could wither. Yes, he must be deflected before his course is set. I'm sure. And you, Thalius? Will you follow the Prophecy?'
Thalius, heart thumping, tried to think it through.
The others forever took a partial view, it seemed to him. The fact was the world was a different place from the arena in which Rome had achieved its first dazzling successes. Now there was no room to expand, and from the heart of Asia whole peoples were on the march, fleeing drought and famine.
The Romans were not technical innovators, but, Thalius believed, they were social innovators. They had already put themselves through one vast transformation, when the pressures of running their huge acquisitions had become too great for the fraught political processes of a republic, and the emperors had been hatched. Now in response to the pressures of a new age, Constantine was attempting a still more drastic metamorphosis as he tried to weld a conglomeration of differently developed provinces into a single nation, tightly controlled under one man's authority, and bound together by the theological cement of Christianity. It seemed to Thalius that Constantine might be hailed by future generations as truly great, as a genius of his kind.
But what of Christianity? If, in preserving Rome, the Church was corrupted or destroyed, Thalius concluded sadly, the loss to mankind would be greater even than if Rome fell. So what was to be done?
He closed his eyes in brief prayer, seeking guidance. If only Constantine could see the effect of his policies on his subjects, perhaps he could use consent, not force, to unite the empire around a new set of goals to meet the challenges of the age-rebuild the empire as a truly Christian nation-and all fifty, sixty million of its citizens could move forward together. A letter, he thought: yes, a letter signed by a spectrum of concerned but good-hearted individuals-a letter backed by the mysterious authority of the Prophecy-that might encourage the Emperor to clarify his own thinking on many issues. Perhaps it could be circulated to other concerned groups. A petition, then. Standing there, eyes closed, he imagined how he might draft the first paragraph-he would need advice on the honorific to be used when addressing a modern emperor-
'Falling asleep, Thalius?' Cornelius's voice was sardonic.
Thalius's eyes snapped open.
Aurelia was watching him, her face impassive. 'What are you thinking, Thalius?'
Irritated, defensive, he said, 'I am thinking that even Constantine's actions are trivial compared to the greater forces that shape our age. I am thinking that perhaps we are simply distracting ourselves from the uncertainty of the future with a word game.'
'Perhaps that's so,' Cornelius said, apparently not offended. 'And perhaps we aren't as shallow as you seem to believe, Thalius. Whatever you say we are faced with a decision. What will you do?'
Thalius, embarrassed by his outburst, took a deep breath. 'I am with you.' He glanced at Aurelia. 'Read the Prophecy.'
Aurelia stepped towards the boy, who, with the dogged, choice-free patience of a born slave, continued to wait, back bent, tunic pulled over his head. With surprising tenderness Aurelia touched his shoulder. 'I'm sorry, child. It will be over in a moment.' And with one manicured fingertip she began to trace the acrostic. PEEO NERR OSRI ACTA
'From A to O, alpha to omega-bottom left to upper right, for by your tradition God is always to be found on the right hand side, am I correct, Thalius? This is a path to God, then, the true route for the pious. But it is a long and tangled path. How do we proceed? I believe these diagonal letters are a clue: C, O, and then up to the N…C-O-N referring to Constantine perhaps? And then I suppose we follow the diagonal back down again-S, T-and then to the corner-A, and work our way back up the long diagonal…'
Thalius held his breath as the trail of her finger, working back and forth along the diagonals of the square, picked out words: A* CONSTARE* PERIRE* O
'From alpha to omega,' he read. 'To stand firm. To die.'
Cornelius straightened up and snorted. 'Is that it? It's not even a sentence. A nice motto for you pious types, I suppose. Hold true in death and you will be led to God. Fine. But it's no use to us, is it?'
Aurelia said, 'Look again, you fool. There are layers of meaning. Can you not see it? Constare-Constantine-perire…'
And in that moment Thalius saw the meaning of the message. The scrap of text was three hundred years old, yet it was quite specific, and it went to the heart of his own modern dilemma like an arrow from a bow.
If the true Church was to survive, Constantine had to die.
The slave boy was beginning to tremble.
XI
After Audax was sold to Thalius, he had been brought all the way across the country to the coast at a place called Rutupiae. Then he was taken through an immense city and across a huge river, through mile after mile of a green land of farms and canals and ditches, and at last to another city, Camulodunum. Now he was bundled into Thalius's cart once again to be hauled off to what Tarcho called 'the Wall'.
Tarcho tried to explain where he was going, with maps sketched in the dirt with sticks. Audax didn't understand what a map was in the first place, and north, south, east and west were all the same to him.
And he didn't want to leave Thalius's house in Camulodunum, because of the food. He had been fed in the kitchen, with the slaves and servants, and sometimes Tarcho joined him. It was better food than he had had in his life. Sometimes he was given so much that he stopped being hungry, so much food he couldn't finish it. Tarcho promised that Audax would never go hungry, he could always share Tarcho's bread.