I looked back at the tools with a start of horror. Once he had pointed it out I could imagine it all too easily. Bound to the wood by the iron rings and the straps, and then skinned alive. How horrible! Even worse than crucifixion. Surely all incarnate gods didn’t have to end up dying in horrible ways? Surely? Aristomache said Yayzu had come back in his divine form, but she hadn’t mentioned what he’d done to the torturers afterward. I hoped it was something really appropriate.

I swallowed, nodded, and climbed the stairs to sit in the front row by Phaedrus, on the other side of the arena from Kebes’s friends. I looked over at the judges. Neleus smiled at me reassuringly. Erinna was frowning again. I looked down at the little knives where they were laid out so neatly. Everyone in the crowd seemed to recognize them. This must be something they did often enough to have the tools for it. And, most disturbing of all, they came crowding into the colosseum and brought their children to watch.

Kebes had seated himself on a camp stool and was tapping his fingers impatiently. Father stood still and looked at Aristomache.

Aristomache came forward and said something quietly to both men. They both shook their heads. She sighed, and held both hands forward to the crowd, palms out. “You are here to witness a formal musical challenge of one original composition, for any instrument,” she began. Everyone immediately fell silent, except one baby whose crying sounded loud in the sudden stillness. The acoustics were wonderful. “Between Pytheas of the Just City and Matthias of Lucia. The victor is to do what he wants to the vanquished. Will you two show mercy, as this is just a personal quarrel, and give up this enmity and compete for a prize?”

“Never,” Kebes said.

“There is a place for vengeance in my religion,” Father said.

Aristomache looked pained, and so did some of the other judges from Lucia.

“An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,” Kebes said, clearly quoting something. “Christianity has room for vengeance too, especially upon heathens and heretics.” At the word “heretics” there was a stirring and muttering in the crowd.

“Can’t you forgive?” Aristomache pleaded.

“And what have I done to you anyway, beyond existing?” Father asked, mildly, his words pitched perfectly to be heard everywhere in the colosseum. Even the crying baby fell silent.

“This isn’t a trial,” Kebes snarled at Father. “We’re not here to rehearse grievances. And while Lucia is a Christian city, this is permissible by our laws. It’s a free contest, freely entered into.”