of Rome. Rumors raged that Nero had set the fires, but a few harsh reprisals should end the murmuring of the masses driven from their smoldering homes. To stop the accusations, Nero had dispatched a unit of executioners to catch the arsonists whom he claimed were Christianios.
Plautius knew the Christianios sounded strange even by Roman standards. The great city was already filled with members of every odd group, from bizarre cults to practitioners of the Terebullium, a rite where members walked under the slit throat of a bull to allow the animal's blood to flow over their naked bodies.
But the Christianios were different. These believers followed a crucified Jew whom the Roman army had killed in Jerusalem. Arising before the sun came up, they gathered in catacombs where no decent Roman dared go at night. The reports that they drank blood and ate flesh were answered with whispers that it was only wine and bread, but the stories persisted.
In the darkness before him, Plautius recognized the outline of the stone entrance to the Circus. Huge arches ran across the front of the racetrack joined with houses that stood along the far edge and to the rear. Holding his arm up to stop the soldiers, Plautius turned in the saddle.
"Scipio, a significant number of innocent Roman citizens lives over there. Remember, we only want the Christianios; don't let your troops get blade happy."
Scipio nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Charge onto the racetrack and go immediately to the far back side," Plautius shouted to the soldiers. "Grab everyone and haul them into the arena where we can interrogate them. No indiscriminate killing! Just gather the citizens together. "He pulled his sword from its sheath. "Attack!"
With a hard kick, Plautius sent his horse racing through the archway toward the farthest end of the track where the tall Egyptian obelisk towered over them. With a leap, he slid off the stallion and ran up the stone tier that lined the race course. His intent was to be the first into the stone-walled houses and to catch one of these so-called believers.
"Take the men to the left," he called to Scipio. "I'm going straight ahead."
Plautius hustled toward the two-story house just a few feet back from the top of the steps. Out of the corner of his eye, he recognized a small clay marker near the bottom of the door. Two linked half circles made a sign that looked like a fish. Maybe the sign indicated the mark of a fisherman. The house could be important.
Plautius flattened against the side of the front wall and listened. His men were making far too much noise securing the horses and climbing the bleachers. People would be awakened and investigate the racket. Pointing his sword straight ahead, Plautius rushed into a narrow entryway only to discover a short passageway led into an interior garden area with bedrooms situated around the open space. No one stirred in any of the rooms, suggesting it could be a trap. Gossips reported that the believers didn't kill—they were pacifists. Of course, rumors were rumors. Plautius exercised caution.
He bent near the ground to make himself a smaller target. As he drew closer to a doorway, he smelled olive oil. Peeking in, he saw an oil lamp still burning in one corner. The usual low, flat Roman bed with covers thrown back suggested someone had just leaped up and disappeared into the night.
Plautius carefully stepped into the room. A clay pitcher had been tipped over on the floor and cracked. A stylus and ink pot stood next to a wall. The terrazzo tiled floor with geometrical motifs looked normal enough. Then Plautius saw the fragment.
A piece of papyrus with a torn edge lay on the floor near the door. It appeared to be a section of a scroll or part of a writing that had been ripped off when someone dashed out. Moving closer to the flame of the small oil lamp, Plautius recognized the writing as Greek:
They went out and fled from the tomb; for trembling and astonishment had come upon them; and they said nothing to any one, for they were afraid. But behold Jesus of Nazareth returned on that very night and stood in their midst. The apostles were afraid and retreated from him, but Jesus raised his hand and showed them the wound on his wrist where the soldiers had driven the nail through. "Be not afraid. I bring you peace. Come and see for I have gained the victory over death and