At last Thalius, his heart thumping, was beckoned forward towards Constantine’s dais - but his way was blocked by the man whose response had brought him so far.

Ulpius Cornelius, aged perhaps forty, wore a purple-edged toga. He was tall, angular, thin, his hair black and swept back, his mouth small and down-turned, his prominent nose ideal for looking down on people. Before him Thalius felt poor and shabby, a low-class provincial. If Constantine looked like an eastern potentate Cornelius was every bit the classic Roman - and therefore out of place in Constantine’s court.

Cornelius, consulting a list, looked Thalius over keenly. ‘So you are the prophet,’ he began bluntly.

‘I wouldn’t call myself that,’ Thalius said, embarrassed and disconcerted. ‘It is a legend of my family that—’ ‘But in your letter you did speak of a prophecy. Of specific warnings of an uncertain future, of momentous events unfolding in our lifetimes - events that might deflect the course of history forever. Yes?’ His Latin was so pure it sounded strangulated.

‘Sir, I am a Christian. I am here because of my concerns over the future of men’s souls, not—’

‘Yes, yes. But I am what is now referred to as a “pagan”, what I would call a defender of Roman tradition. I have precious little interest in your slaves’ cult. It is not your anguished proclamations of faith that caught my eye, citizen, but your claims about this Prophecy. I researched your family in the libraries in Rome and Alexandria. I even traced a mention in the biographies of the Emperor Claudius himself. Imagine that! And there is indeed something about a Prophecy there ... But you say the Prophecy is lost.’

‘Not entirely,’ Thalius said.

Cornelius raised one plucked eyebrow. Thalius was urged to say more, but he felt Tarcho touch his arm, and he stayed silent. Cornelius seemed to notice this interplay, and looked at Tarcho with new interest. He stepped closer to Thalius and spoke more quietly. ‘Listen to me. Things are changing. The empire is not as our grandfathers would have recognised it, and soon it will change again, one way or another. The question is how it will change. If your Prophecy has any validity at all it may be a very powerful weapon in this time of great historical flux.’

Thalius heard only one word. ‘“Weapon”?’

Cornelius studied him. ‘In your muddled way you want to deal with Constantine, don’t you? You want to alter the course he has set himself on.’

‘I’m not sure I’d put it like that—’

‘You’ll find you’re not alone. There are many of us who have reservations about the Emperor, reservations which have nothing to do with Christ but with the traditions of Rome - and their survival, and the survival of city and empire, into the future. Do you see?’

‘I think so. But I—’