Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [193]
“I have news that will please you, father. I have been converted at last to the true faith of Christ.” And while Constantius blinked in astonishment he went on. “Before coming here, I destroyed the taurobolium. There will be no more such iniquities at Sarum.”
As he took the news in, Constantius felt tears come to his eyes. “My dear son,” was all that he could say, “I thank God.”
It was only when they were seated, and the servants had brought in a huge bowl of steaming fish, that Placidia, who had been staring at her son’s tonsure thoughtfully, quietly asked:
“And what of Flavia, Petrus. Was she to your liking?”
Petrus gazed back at her serenely. A half smile crossed his face and gently he tapped his shaven head.
“Flavia? I don’t know,” he replied, as though it was the most natural reply in the world. “When I vowed to serve only Christ,” he explained calmly, “I undertook a vow of chastity. I swore never to know woman again. So obviously there was no point in going to see Flavia. I just turned my horse’s head and came back to Sarum.” And while the others were still digesting this appalling news, he went on: “I’ve decided to join Patrick in Ireland. I shall leave in three days.”
The battle of will between Petrus Porteus and his mother lasted not three, but five days. During that time each discovered strengths in the other that surprised them.
It began that first night. While Constantius sat slumped and silent, and Numincus’s sad grey eyes gazed at him in mute appeal, Placidia marshalled her forces carefully.
She had no illusions about his conversion. To her it seemed her son had simply found a new and exciting role to play. But she was careful. She argued with him gently: why did he want to do this? He told her in detail about his conversation with Martinus and his dreams. She listened carefully, then plied him with questions.
“Does God demand that you leave Sarum to be destroyed? What of us? Doesn’t the Bible say, ‘Honour your father and mother’? Will you desert us?”
As she argued, Placidia was wise. She took care never to attack his conversion or to suggest that God had not spoken to him. She did not dispute his visions, but only the interpretation of them. “If God commands you to feed his sheep,” he argued, “how can we be sure he meant the Irish? Isn’t there plenty of work to be done for God in Sarum?”
But Petrus was obdurate. And when she pleaded with him that the villa might be destroyed, he answered passionately:
“It is the city of God we must defend, not the work of man. God will decide the fate of Sarum.”
“And did God demand in the dream that you should be celibate?” she pressed him.
To which he only replied:
“I know my own weakness. A woman would distract me. This way is better.”
They argued until dawn, and as the night wore on and she saw the quiet but unshakable determination of her son, she recognised the ruin of all her hopes. I’d rather he married the girl Sulicena and had children by her, she thought, than had none at all. Whether this was a passing enthusiasm or a genuine vocation – she was not sure which herself – it made little difference if he left for Ireland and perhaps was killed.
“You really mean to leave in three days?”
He nodded.
She wondered if she would ever see him again.
Though they argued quietly like this, hour after hour, the other two men did not join in.
Constantius had no need to. In the first place, he was delighted with his son’s conversion to the true faith. In the second, he saw at once that if his son did as he suggested, then the defence of Sarum would be in his hands again. No one could argue now if he got rid of those German heathens. He would show them what he could do. After a time, during which he had quietly drunk a pitcher of wine to celebrate, he had subsided into sleep.
Numincus sat, as he usually did, only speaking when spoken to, his grey eyes blinking slowly. Some time before dawn, his eyes closed and only opened