Theodoric did not build Sant'Apollinare Nuovo as a monastery church. He built it around the year 500 as the palace chapel for his Arian court, a hall with a wooden roof and two long walls of marble columns, and it still carries the finest strip of mosaic in the city. High on the left wall, a procession of virgins in white robes moves from the port of Classe toward the Virgin and Child, led by the three Magi. On the right, a line of martyrs advances from the palace towards Christ enthroned. The walking figures look calm, and their gold background makes the whole nave shimmer.
Look closely, and you can find the edit. When Justinian's armies took Ravenna and the church became orthodox, the mosaics that showed Theodoric's palace and his courtiers were altered, and the figures were removed, leaving curtains and the stray hands of courtiers still resting on the columns. It is a rare physical record of a regime changing its mind, and a favourite detail of guides.
The church changed its name in the ninth century, when the relics of Saint Apollinaris, the city's first bishop, were brought here from Classe for safety, and the word nuovo, new, distinguishes it from the older church that stands out among the pines near the old port.
For riders, Ravenna's historic centre is a restricted zone, so leave the machine at the edge and walk in. The church sits close to the Via di Roma, a short stroll from the station, and the cafes nearby are good for a morning stop. Fuel is easy on the city's outskirts and along the roads to the coast.
The ride that leads on from here goes to the Gessi Bolognesi, the gypsum hills and caves south of Bologna, which are a regional park with sinkholes and old quarries. The road crosses the flat Romagna plain, then climbs to a country of farms and small villages. Evening light on the plain makes the cypress lines glow, and the flatness gives you long views of the distant ridge. Fog in winter, though, can hang in the valleys until mid-morning.