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lion’s jaws!’

Chapter 5
    Darkness settled on Constantinople as the revelry from inside the Imperial Palace rolled out over the rooftops. Senator Tarquitius drew the crisp night air into his lungs, resting his elbows on the balcony to marvel at the burgeoning city as he sipped watered wine from a fine silver chalice.
    Things were certainly looking up for him since his expulsion of that damned slave Pavo; the crone’s words haunted his nightmares still, but at least now he knew he could not harm the boy and her curse could not take effect. As for the rest of her rasping diatribe…well, that could wait.
    Now, here he was in his element. All the ingredients were present; Roman aristocracy, slackened morals and high spirits. This potent recipe had provided him with the ideal political stepping-stone here in Constantine’s
Nova Roma
. Even the steeliest opponent would drop his guard after a skinful of wine and the close attention of an exotic slave girl. Eventually, promises would be made and secrets revealed to his crystal-clear mind. Political careers soared and crashed on such sensitive information. Tarquitius had taught the senate a valuable lesson with his dealings; he was a player in this age of imperial upheaval.
    The blossoming of the Christian faith had gripped the minds of the people and provided another channel entirely for the brave and ambitious to seize power. To adopt the worshipping of a Judean that their ancestors had brutally murdered seemed to fit snugly with the expedient madness of the empire of recent times. Only a few generations previously, citizens had cheered as the lions ripped out the throats of Christians bound to posts in the arena. Now, Rome had pompously nominated herself at the head of the faith, and in direct contact with the Christian God. Now, a new breed of madness held sway with Emperor Valens; Arianism, the stream of Christianity the emperor favoured, had been forced upon the faithful from the plebs all the way up the ecclesiastical tree. Unhappy clergy tend to be more receptive to the ideas of a senator, he mused. Now, he smirked, the fruit was ripe for picking.
    A shriek of laughter pierced the air together with a crash of breaking glass. Tarquitius’ ears twitched as he heard approaching footsteps. Gently, he slid back into the shadows and watched the doorway.
    A whitecloaked and hooded figure emerged, awaiting some form of greeting.
    ‘Senator, are you here?’
    Tarquitius smirked, and then silently slid into the pale light afforded by the torch above the doorway. The cloaked figure remained unaware of his presence until he spoke in a cool tone.
    ‘Tired of the orgy already?’
    The cloaked figure spun round, startled.
    ‘Senator, you nearly scared the life from me.’
    Tarquitius grinned, revelling in the chill of the engagement. This partnership was a frosty one; frosty but necessary in order to obtain the greatness he was born for.
    ‘Good evening, Your Eminence. I apologise for startling you, but you can never be too careful in a tender situation such as this.’
    The cloaked figure lowered his hood to reveal craggy features, framed by a thick crop of snow-white hair. Tarquitius wondered at his own ingenuity in forging a partnership with this character; Bishop Evagrius, Patriarch of Constantinople, a mortal apparently in direct contact with God.
    The bishop smiled. ‘Indeed, noble senator, I trust the only people who know of this meeting are standing here?’
    ‘Of course, Your Eminence,’ Tarquitius replied, echoing the bishop’s tone. The concealed presence of his bodyguard Fronto in the darkness by the door meant indeed that all those who knew of this encounter were indeed on this balcony.
    ‘Then let us discuss the progress of our common objective. What of the Bosporus reconnaissance?’
    Straight to it, thought Tarquitius. The fragile facade of this holy man hid a steely core, and he had certainly used this to bash his way through the hierarchy of the Holy