‘Help! Help!’

The shouting could be heard all over the palace. Ferox rushed into the Pontifex’s bedroom.

‘Help me! Help me!’

‘What is the matter, your grace?’

‘Where am I?’

‘You are in your bed, in the palace. You are home; you are safe’.

Coelestinus opened his eyes and looked at his servant, but Ferox realised that the Pontifex could not see him. The old man was still dreaming; was somewhere else; another place.

Ferox held the Pope in his arms, cradling him out of his nightmare until the frail body went limp.

What are you dreaming about, old man? Your youthful adventures? Your concubines? Your military tales? Not that I believe any of them! Your dream of ruling the Western Empire?...

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