Several long corridors eventually led them to a private changing room where a man was undressing with the help of two slaves. He had curly black hair, a beard and moustache and skin darker than the average Roman’s. There was a subtle air of desperation about him.
He remained aloof, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of fear when he saw Veitch. ‘Is this the one?’
‘Jack Churchill, Brother of Dragons. The first and last.’
The man nodded thoughtfully as the slaves removed his toga. A black metallic spider gleamed on his left breast.
‘My name is Marcus Aurelius Valerius Maxentius,’ he said to Church without looking at him. ‘This city is mine. Soon this Empire will be mine. And you are mine now, as all things shall fall to me.’
‘Don’t bother talking down to him,’ Veitch said dispassionately. ‘He’s a smartarse. He probably knows more about you than you know about yourself.’
Church did know Maxentius. Despite the bravado the Roman exhibited, he was a man defined by failure. He was the son of the emperor Maximian, but had suffered the indignity of being passed over for high office when both Maximian and Diocletian had resigned the previous year.
His future held even worse. In a few weeks, after the death of Constantius in Eboracum, his son Constantine would gain the rank of Caesar, leaving Maxentius out in the cold once again. It would drive Maxentius to months of political intrigue to gain the title of Augustus he so desperately wanted, only to lose it, and his life, in a war with Constantine six years hence.
Church recalled all the textbooks he had read about that turning point in world history. When Constantine’s army met Maxentius’s forces on the Plain of Mihian outside the gates of Rome, Constantine was said to have sought the aid of the gods and was rewarded by the appearance of a flaming cross in the sky.
The next day, Constantine’s men bore crosses on their shields and carried a Christian standard. Maxentius and his men were driven back to a pontoon bridge over the Tiber, which collapsed under their weight. Thousands were drowned, including Maxentius. Constantine went on to become Rome’s first Christian emperor and his support led to Christianity becoming the dominant religion of Western Europe. Was this crucial moment in history the reason behind the Army of the Ten Billion Spider’s interest?
Maxentius snorted, but Church could see that Veitch’s comment troubled him. The Roman walked into the tepidarium, beckoning for Veitch to follow.
‘The spider is controlling him,’ Church said, ‘but he’s got more free will than the others I’ve seen under their influence.’
‘That’s how they need him. Now get your arse in there.’ Veitch shoved Church roughly.
In the cool air of the large vaulted hall, Maxentius flexed his muscles to acclimatise himself. He gave Church a cursory glance. ‘He does not look like a fearsome enemy.’
‘He’s the one. Now, you better keep close tabs on him because he’s a tricky bastard and if he gets to his sword your guts will be experiencing life on the outside.’
‘It is one of the three great swords?’ Maxentius said hungrily.
‘One of them, but not the greatest. Not Caledfwlch. This stupid bastard has hidden that one so he can find it again in the future to defend the land. Before he even knows what it is.’
‘But it has the power?’ Maxentius urged.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll wring it out like a sponge. You’ll get everything you want. Things are going to turn out in a whole new way.’
There it was: the confirmation Church needed.
‘I’ve had the sword sent to the temple,’ Veitch continued. ‘I’ve got other business here. Can I count on you to get him to the temple without any screw-ups?’
‘Of course.’ Maxentius clapped his hands and several guards emerged from an annexe.
‘Sorry, mate,’ Veitch said to Church superciliously, ‘but as my old nan used to say, your goose is cooked.’
16
The guards propelled Church to the Forum Romanum, which swarmed with life, though only a few paid any attention to his passing. Church bided his time in the hope that an opportunity for escape would present itself.
After a few minutes he was herded down the Argileto, the ancient road between the Basilica Aemilla and the Curia Julia where the senate had met for more than 250 years. There, in a walled compound, stood a temple built of wood, which signified its great age even in a city as ancient as Rome. Two gates at the entrance to the compound stood open, and between them was a bust with four heads.
‘Kneel before the god of gods!’ One of the guards roughly shoved Church to his knees before the bust.