Night had already fallen by the time the camp was established. While some of the men ate, others took torches and explored what remained of the buildings of the town, in case any Persians were hiding there. Constantine and King Tiridates were eating the usual evening meal of Roman soldiers on the march, cakes of grain and oil washed down with sour wine, when a shout came from one of the searching parties. They went immediately to where the soldier who had shouted was standing before one of the larger ruins. In the light of the torch he carried, his face was as pale as if he had seen a ghost.
“What is it, soldier?” Dacius demanded.
“I think I saw a spirit in there, sir.”
Dacius took the torch from the man’s trembling hand and drew his sword, as did Constantine and Tiridates. Gingerly they entered through a broken section of wall what had apparently been a large Romanstyle house, from the looks of what remained. It was built around the usual open court, now grown up with brambles and reeds, and they had gone only a few paces inside the main part of the structure when ahead of them they saw revealed in the flaming light of the torch, the thing that had so startled the soldier.
It was a large picture painted on a wall of one of the rooms or rather two which had been thrown together by tearing out an intervening wall, from the looks of it a painting of a shepherd with his flock around him and carrying a lamb in his arms.
Dacius exclaimed
“By the thunderbolts of Jove!” Dacius exclaimed. “What is it?”
Tiridates gave the answer. “This house must have been used as a church by the Christians. I’ve seen paintings like this in my own kingdom. The shepherd is the man they call Jesus of Nazareth.”
“The son of their god?” Constantine exclaimed.
“Yes.”
Dacius whistled softly. “I hear that the Christians claim he can save people from death. If he saves us from the Persians tomorrow, I’ll make a sacrifice to him when we get back to Nicomedia.”
“Many Christians live in my country,” Tiridates said as they stood in the ruins studying the painting. “They are a peaceful people and harm no one so I don’t trouble them. Dura or Europos as it is often called now has been a ruin for at least a hundred years, so these pictures must have been painted before that.”
Constantine noticed a number of his own command among the soldiers looking into the ruined building. “Are any of you Christians?” he asked.
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