Rule of God

V

Once again Helena had been summoned to join Caesar for dinner at the palace. She feared the worst, expecting to find the head of her beloved Athanasius served up for them on a silver platter. When she arrived at the private dining room, however, she discovered the death they were to celebrate was that of Caesar’s latest astrologer, Ascletario. And Domitian was nowhere to greet her, only an ashen Latinus.

“What happened?” she asked the comic.

“The emperor ordered Ascletario to be burned alive today,” Latinus told her. “As he was not feeling well, he sent me over to enjoy the entertainment for myself. Everything was in order for the performance. There was a small crowd, the body was bound and laid upon the pyre, and the fire kindled. It was all hugely predictable, I thought, when suddenly there arose a dread storm of wind and rain, which drove all the spectators away and extinguished the fire.”

A bad omen, to be sure, Helena thought, but to ruin dinner for Domitian? “So that was it?”

“No!” said Latinus. “His body was still on the pyre when a pack of passing dogs ran out and tore it to pieces! It was just as Ascletario had predicted!”

Helena covered her mouth. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Latinus nodded. “I know! It was something out of one of Athanasius’s plays.”

It was! she thought. It was a sign!

She suddenly felt dizzy, however, like she would vomit.

“Dear Helena, I am so sorry,” Latinus said. “I didn’t mean to bring up…”

She shook her head. “I’m not well. Excuse me.”

She ran past a column and down a marble corridor to a guest bath and promptly threw up into a basin. She breathed heavily, trying to steady herself, then vomited again. Oh, how the acid burned the back of her throat. She spat out what was left from her mouth, and then washed her face in a fresh bowl of water.

A dread now replaced the explosion of joy she had experienced only a moment ago. Even if Athanasius were still alive, she thought, and even if he were to return triumphant to Rome by some miracle, how can I ever face him in my condition?

A storm of anguish and grief churned inside her as the belief sank in that no matter what her beloved’s fate, her own hopes for a brighter future were nothing now but an illusion.

Several times she poured the cool, clean water over her face, and then looked up into the brass mirror to see the distorted reflection of Ludlumus and froze.

“So the goddess is with child,” he told her in the mirror. “It’s Domitian’s, isn’t it?”

She said nothing.

“Poor Athanasius really did leave nothing behind, did he?”

“Stop it, Ludlumus,” she said and turned to face him, still feeling flush. “I know he’s still alive. If he were dead, Domitian would have shown me his head. He’s alive.”

“And so is Domitian’s heir in your belly, Helena. I’d keep that to yourself for as long as you can.”

“I’m planning to,” she said, then paused. “Why should you care?”

“I’d hate to see you come to any harm at the hands of the empress Domitia or the widow of Flavius Clemens. After all, if you bear Domitian’s heir, he hardly needs the spare. Young Vespasian and Young Domitian are as good as dead. I should think their mother would do all she could to prevent that, use whatever means at her disposal to save her children.”

Helena said nothing, only watched his long face as he studied her.

“But would you do likewise, I wonder? After all, if your beloved Athanasius ever did show up, would he even want you now? Regardless of whatever happened after September 18, to ask a man to stare at the little face of his enemy the rest of his life is probably asking more than any man could give. Then again, you are the great Helena. For you, Athanasius might do anything.”

She felt her throat tighten and turned to vomit into the bowl of water. Gagging, she looked up into the brass mirror. Ludlumus was gone.