‘Again.’

‘Yes, my lord, again. There’s just no way around it. After that we may have to watch where the earth goes.’

‘The earth?’ Arrian was once again puzzled.

‘If you were up on those walls and saw mounds of fresh earth piling up, wouldn’t you be suspicious?’

‘I just might,’ Arrian conceded. ‘I suppose I just might.’

‘On that admission, and if there is nothing else?’ Crispinus stared around the room. ‘Then you are dismissed. Those of you who do not have duties, I suggest you get as much rest as you can – and look forward to the day when we shall all feast up in their citadel, whether as conquerors or new allies. Goodnight to you all.’

Nicopolis

The sixth day of the siege

DOMITIUS KEPT TRACK of time only through the meals. In what seemed to be the morning, his food was spilled or spat upon, and the guard hit him harder and more often each day. He was sure one of his teeth was loose, and suspected that the last kick had broken a rib. In the evening, the Christian, whose name was Apollodorus, brought him much better food as well as a kind word. His companion in the cell no longer spoke, and did not seem to sleep either. Whenever Domitius was awake, the hunched figure was there, eyes gleaming faintly from the crack of light coming under the door. Then one morning, two men came with the usual guard, unlocked the prisoner’s chain and led him away, shackles clinking. The guard did not pay much attention to Domitius, apart from a half-hearted kick.

Left alone, Domitius wondered for a while whether he would miss the company, before deciding that he would not. He prayed for a while, and found himself thinking of the family who had taken him in. He prayed for Sara most of all, because he had heard enough of sieges to know that women suffered the most when soldiers broke through the walls and ran amok. It would be cruel if he had rescued her from slavery and degradation only for her to be raped and sold or even killed, and most likely to see her family cut down. So Domitius prayed for her safety, and it seemed natural to ask such a boon for one of God’s chosen people. Passover must have come and gone while he was in prison. Would this new horror pass by his friends’ house? He wondered whether old John was up on the walls doing his weak best to fight off the enemies of his youth, and found himself laughing when he thought of Simon, whose eyesight was so poor that if he threw a stone he was as likely to strike friend as foe.

Somewhere above, the sun trod its path across the sky. The legion – he wondered which legion and whether he knew anyone out there or whether it was even his own VI Ferrata, sent this way instead of to the north – would be toiling at the siege works. A deserter found in an enemy city could not look forward to much that was good, although perhaps it would help that the enemy had locked him up. Domitius wondered whether he could pretend to have been a spy all along, at least for long enough to slip away. For some reason he did not think his story would end here. It was not faith, and some said a true believer should welcome death since it meant a blessed life in the presence of the Lord. ‘In my Father’s house are many mansions.’ The words kept going through his mind, although he could not remember whether he had read them or heard them.