Rule of God

VII

Stephanus was shaking as the Praetorians marched him through the private residences of the Palace of the Flavians to Caesar’s bedchamber. Caesar had finished his midday bath and was freshly dressed in royal robes and enjoying his sweets when Stephanus was escorted inside.

“Ah, Stephanus, I haven’t seen you since you worked for my cousin the consul,” Domitian said, referring to Flavius Clemens whom he had executed. “You’ll have to see the boys while you are here.”

“If Caesar allows it,” Stephanus said humbly.

“So what’s this I hear that about my niece Domitilla persecuting the loyal servant of my late cousin for defrauding her?”

“I stole nothing, Your Excellency.”

“Of course you didn’t, Stephanus. Why would you? The Flavians have been kind to you, even the traitors like my cousin. Did she do that to you? You seem to be in some pain.”

Domitian was referring to the bandage wrapped around Stephanus’s left arm.

“An accident, sir. She meant no harm.”

“But, of course she did, Stephanus. On the other hand, I will offer you generosity and grace. You will continue to do the work of correspondence between Caesar and his niece Domitilla and her sons. Only now, like the boys, you will live here and not that island to which I exiled my niece.”

“Thank you, Your Excellency. Thank you,” Stephanus repeated when the prefect of the Praetorian, Secundus, marched inside the bedchambers without warning.

“Your Excellency, I am sorry to be so bold, but there is news out of Asia Minor.”

Stephanus drew back so as not to be in the way, nor give Caesar easy reason to dismiss him. Perhaps this was news that he too had to hear. News from Athanasius or about him.

“Your assassin Orion is dead.”

“Dead?” Domitian repeated. “He can’t die. He’s the one who does the killing.”

“It gets worse, sir,” Secundus went on. “The Dovilins are dead too.”

“The Dovilins!”

“Everybody’s dead.”

Stephanus wasn’t sure if that meant Athanasius too, but it looked like Domitian had trouble standing as he began to pace the room.

“So Athanasius is dead too.”

“We think so, Your Excellency. We don’t know.”

“Don’t know?” roared Domitian, and Stephanus drew back in genuine terror. “Don’t know!”

Secundus kept his ground. “It’s impossible to identify the remains of so many, Your Excellency,” he said. “But spies have disclosed to your legions the location of the so-called Angel’s Pass into the mountains of Cappadocia.”

Stephanus saw fire suddenly flare up in the emperor’s otherwise dull eyes. “Angel’s Pass! At last!” Then he paused to summon up royal authority. “Orders are given to XII Fulminate and XVI Flavia legions in Cappadocia to use the passage of the Angel’s Pass to commence full-scale invasion of the cave systems surrounding the former Dovilin Vineyards. They are to exterminate the Christians inside, every last man, woman and child, in reprisal for their attacks upon Rome and its representatives.”

“Hail, Caesar!” saluted Secundus and left, leaving Stephanus alone with his new employer.

Domitian continued to pace and spew words of wrath, as if he didn’t see him. Finally he spotted Stephanus and barked, “You! What are you still doing here? Leave me!”

“Yes, Your Excellency,” Stephanus said and scrambled out.

A few minutes later he passed Secundus near the offices behind the palace, and the prefect acknowledged him with a cool nod.

Virtus was right. He was in.

Aboard the Sea Nymph en route to Rome, Athanasius reviewed the encrypted message and map from Virtus that Polycarp had given him back in Ephesus. Using the Caesar shift code to decipher the message, Athanasius learned that the conspirators in Rome were clear about the general plan to assassinate Caesar. But they were confused about some of the particulars. This was fine with Athanasius, as he wanted to reveal the details in person and only at the last possible moment to avoid any betrayals from a Dei infiltrator.

The key information in the report was that Virtus had met with his former superior in the Praetorian, the prefect Secundus, and secured his word that while the Praetorian wouldn’t support the assassination of Domitian on September 18, they wouldn’t stop it either.

So Virtus would be free to enter the imperial bedchamber while Caesar was out and remove the dagger Domitian had hidden under his pillow. It was important for Caesar to be defenseless when Stephanus entered the bedchamber later in the day, claiming to have uncovered a conspiracy, and then stab him to death with his own dagger, thus avenging the death of Flavius Clemens.

The dagger would be hidden under the bandages around Stephanus’s left arm. His wound was a ruse to lower Domitian’s defenses for when the moment finally came.

Stephanus had visited Caesar often enough to draw a detailed map of the bedchambers, which Athanasius now studied.

The biggest doubts the conspirators in Rome had, according to Virtus, concerned the timing of the attack, and whether to do it while Domitian was in the bath at midday or later on at supper.

Athanasius planned to tell them upon his arrival that the attack would take place at precisely the prophetic hour of 9 o’clock that morning, but that Domitian should be informed beforehand that the hour had passed and it was 10 o’clock. That would let Caesar’s guard down even more, and in elation of having survived his doomsday hour be more vulnerable than ever to surprise.

The important thing at that point, Athanasius concluded, was to steer Domitian to the illusory safety of his bedchambers, get Stephanus in, then lock the doors from the outside, which Virtus said Secundus assured him could be done.

His hostess Cleo entered his cabin on the Sea Nymph. “All work and no play for the tribune has the girls worried you prefer the Nubian oarsmen.”

“You know I need to be focused,” he told her, turning back to the crude map of the palace around Domitian’s bedroom that Stephanus had drawn for Virtus.

But Cleo didn’t move. “Like your focus on Gabrielle?”

Athanasius pushed himself back from his scheme and looked at Cleo. He had told her what had happened. “Say what you have to say, Cleo.”

“I know her too, Athanasius. She would not have done all that she did for you if she didn’t love you, and you left her in the middle of all that?”

“All what, Cleo?”

“The ruins of the Dei and the underground church in Asia Minor,” she said. “You were a dead man when you crossed my litter on Patmos. I helped you get to Cappadocia as much as John and Polycarp did. All their fears and all your hopes have gone unrealized. And thousands of innocents are about to suffer because of your vendetta against Rome.”

“I have done great wrong, Cleo, I confess it now. I can no longer call myself an innocent man. But make no mistake, the underground Christians in Cappadocia were suffering long before I walked into their caves, and regardless of my own vendetta, Rome has had one from the start. I changed none of that. But that doesn’t mean I can’t change something. If all goes well, there will be a new Caesar.”

“And if you fail to kill Domitian?”

“You’ll stay anchored off Ostia, and I will escape with Helena.”

“What if she doesn’t want to escape with you?” Cleo asked. “We don’t really know how eager Helen of Troy was to return to Greece.”

“She’ll come with me,” Athanasius insisted. “She’ll run with me.”

Cleo sighed. “I suppose I would if I were in her place,” she said. “But what if you kill Domitian and it still accomplishes nothing? You said you also have to kill whomever you believe to be the Dei successor to Mucianus.”

“And I will, as soon as I find him,” Athanasius said darkly, unrolling his collection of interrogation knives. “My old rival Ludlumus has no problem with self-expression, but I think he can be persuaded if needed to reveal everything he knows about the Dei.”