Death was not to be feared. The army tried to convince its soldiers of that, and so did half the philosophers whether they sat in their great Schools in Athens or other cities, or were the wild-eyed, ragged-arsed vagrants hanging around marketplaces. Odd how everyone wanted you to stop being afraid. Domitius chuckled to himself in the darkness. Meant they knew that deep down everyone was afraid, whether of judgement or empty darkness. He chuckled again. Well, he was in the empty darkness now and it was not so bad.

Domitius was sure that he was not going to Heaven yet and that somehow he would come through this. He could not understand why, but the feeling was growing stronger and stronger, and with it came worry, for he would loathe himself if he could not save Sara – the angel who had tended him back to life. It would also be nice to show old John that not all Romans were bad, and protect bumbling Simon from the worst of the world. The younger Simon had not seemed to like him too much, so he might have to save him out of spite. Hard to be indebted to someone you do not like. That would teach the bastard, he thought, the language of the barracks coming naturally to his mind.

That evening the guard did not bring food, but just a drink. ‘Quickly, brother,’ he whispered to Domitius, leaning close. ‘Our prayers have been answered, but you must have a care. Do what they ask of you.’

Two men appeared through the door. Domitius thought that they were the same guards who had taken the other prisoner, although he could not be sure. One went to the wall and unhooked the chain. The other held a torch, the firelight dazzling.

He slapped the Roman hard on his cheek. ‘Head up!’ The other guard fiddled with the neck collar and unlocked it. After that he did the same with the shackles on Domitius’ ankles.

‘Get up!’ The one with the torch slapped him again. Domitius stood, and felt his legs weak beneath him. His knees shook and there was a pain in his feet, and he slumped down.

The next blow knocked him over. ‘Up!’ The Christian guard grabbed his shoulders and helped haul him up. He squeezed the Roman’s arm presumably in a gesture of reassurance. Domitius wondered what the believers in Nicopolis had been praying for on his behalf, but his belief that he would live through all of this was only going stronger. Then he wondered whether prisoners about to be thrown to the lions had the same foolish thoughts. This cannot possibly happen to me. He must have smiled, and the guard noticed it in spite of his unkempt beard, for another blow followed.

‘Come with us.’

It was agony to walk, and he blinked to shield his eyes from the torchlight, as he was half led, half dragged along the corridor, up some stairs, around a corner and up some more stairs and out into a courtyard. The sun was setting, the sky to the west above the courtyard walls a blaze of red and orange, so that even with his eyes shut he saw a great ball of light.