Rule of God (Book Three of the Dominium Dei Trilogy) by Thomas Greanias Page A
Authors: Thomas Greanias
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told me about your whore in Cappadocia. Gabrielle.”
“What are you saying? She was a girl I met who helped me.”
“Liar!” Helena screamed. “You’ve known her your whole life. Before you even came to Rome. I heard you call her name in the night while you dreamed in our own bed!”
She pushed him away and marched out toward the Gate of Death.
“Helena!” he called after her.
But she didn’t stop. Nor could the wheels he had set in motion. He knew he had to get to the palace, to finish what he had started. He knew the moment to choose was before him: his love of Helena or hatred of Domitian. But it was for the love of Helena he hated Domitian and had to see him dead.
XII
A thanasius raced through the long private tunnel from the emperor’s box at the Coliseum to the Palace of the Flavians. The Praetorian Guard at the other end didn’t stop him as he exited into the lower offices of the palace. Nobody did. It was as if they were mere observers and, however the drama ended, would carry on the affairs of state without pause.
He raced up the small, narrow staircase he had memorized from Stephanus’s map and could hear Stephanus’s cries even before he came upon the small group of palace staff and gladiators outside the locked bed chambers of Caesar.
There wasn’t a single Praetorian in sight save Clodianus, one of Virtus’s co-conspirators. Clodianus was closest to the door, sword out, as if he didn’t know whether he was supposed to keep Domitian from coming out, or his assassins from swooping in. Then there was Parthenius, who had led Domitian into the trap, along with his freedman Maximus. Saturius, Domitian’s principal chamberlain, stood apart, ashen and paralyzed. Most of all, there was the palpable fear in the air that Domitian would emerge and none would have the courage to cut him down.
Athanasius, hearing curses and threats from Domitian, knew he had to act fast. He was as guilty as any of these conspirators, more so even, regardless of who spilled Domitian’s blood. Striding up to Clodianus with authority, he took the sword from the guard’s hand and barked orders to Saturius.
“Unlock the doors!” he shouted. “Now!”
Saturius fumbled with the key. When he finally managed to slide it into the lock, Athanasius pushed him aside and burst into Domitian’s chambers.
Stephanus was lying on the floor, his eyes gauged out, choking on his own blood, gasping for breath. Standing over him was Domitian, bleeding from his stomach, dagger in hand. He barely had time to stagger back before Athanasius charged him straight on with Clodianus’s sword, angled down from his shoulder.
Domitian gasped as he stared. “Athanasius!”
“I told you I’d be back to kill the gods,” Athanasius said, plowing his sword through Domitian’s throat and pinning him to the wall. “You first.”
The jaw of Rome’s Lord and God dropped, his blood spraying over Athanasius, who didn’t withdraw his sword until he saw the light flicker out of the emperor’s eyes. He then removed it, and the lifeless body slid to the floor.
Silence descended on the bloody scene as Athanasius dropped to his knees next to Stephanus. It was clear he was dead. Athanasius gazed at the ghastly hollows where shining eyes had been, put his hand upon the cracked skull and honored him by committing his spirit to God the Father in the name of Jesus.
Then, as if the stillness was their cue, the crowd outside burst into the room, weapons at the ready. They all descended on Domitian’s corpse like vultures to each take their stabs, if only to satisfy their own fears that the despot was dead.
The blast of mournful horns and lowered flags announced the death of Caesar by the time a dazed Helena reached the Sublicius Bridge. It was now packed with people liberated from a suffocating cloud of uncertainty.
She, however, was now bound to the black abyss before her.
Domitian was dead, she knew, and so too was her future with
“What are you saying? She was a girl I met who helped me.”
“Liar!” Helena screamed. “You’ve known her your whole life. Before you even came to Rome. I heard you call her name in the night while you dreamed in our own bed!”
She pushed him away and marched out toward the Gate of Death.
“Helena!” he called after her.
But she didn’t stop. Nor could the wheels he had set in motion. He knew he had to get to the palace, to finish what he had started. He knew the moment to choose was before him: his love of Helena or hatred of Domitian. But it was for the love of Helena he hated Domitian and had to see him dead.
XII
A thanasius raced through the long private tunnel from the emperor’s box at the Coliseum to the Palace of the Flavians. The Praetorian Guard at the other end didn’t stop him as he exited into the lower offices of the palace. Nobody did. It was as if they were mere observers and, however the drama ended, would carry on the affairs of state without pause.
He raced up the small, narrow staircase he had memorized from Stephanus’s map and could hear Stephanus’s cries even before he came upon the small group of palace staff and gladiators outside the locked bed chambers of Caesar.
There wasn’t a single Praetorian in sight save Clodianus, one of Virtus’s co-conspirators. Clodianus was closest to the door, sword out, as if he didn’t know whether he was supposed to keep Domitian from coming out, or his assassins from swooping in. Then there was Parthenius, who had led Domitian into the trap, along with his freedman Maximus. Saturius, Domitian’s principal chamberlain, stood apart, ashen and paralyzed. Most of all, there was the palpable fear in the air that Domitian would emerge and none would have the courage to cut him down.
Athanasius, hearing curses and threats from Domitian, knew he had to act fast. He was as guilty as any of these conspirators, more so even, regardless of who spilled Domitian’s blood. Striding up to Clodianus with authority, he took the sword from the guard’s hand and barked orders to Saturius.
“Unlock the doors!” he shouted. “Now!”
Saturius fumbled with the key. When he finally managed to slide it into the lock, Athanasius pushed him aside and burst into Domitian’s chambers.
Stephanus was lying on the floor, his eyes gauged out, choking on his own blood, gasping for breath. Standing over him was Domitian, bleeding from his stomach, dagger in hand. He barely had time to stagger back before Athanasius charged him straight on with Clodianus’s sword, angled down from his shoulder.
Domitian gasped as he stared. “Athanasius!”
“I told you I’d be back to kill the gods,” Athanasius said, plowing his sword through Domitian’s throat and pinning him to the wall. “You first.”
The jaw of Rome’s Lord and God dropped, his blood spraying over Athanasius, who didn’t withdraw his sword until he saw the light flicker out of the emperor’s eyes. He then removed it, and the lifeless body slid to the floor.
Silence descended on the bloody scene as Athanasius dropped to his knees next to Stephanus. It was clear he was dead. Athanasius gazed at the ghastly hollows where shining eyes had been, put his hand upon the cracked skull and honored him by committing his spirit to God the Father in the name of Jesus.
Then, as if the stillness was their cue, the crowd outside burst into the room, weapons at the ready. They all descended on Domitian’s corpse like vultures to each take their stabs, if only to satisfy their own fears that the despot was dead.
The blast of mournful horns and lowered flags announced the death of Caesar by the time a dazed Helena reached the Sublicius Bridge. It was now packed with people liberated from a suffocating cloud of uncertainty.
She, however, was now bound to the black abyss before her.
Domitian was dead, she knew, and so too was her future with
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