Rule of God (Book Three of the Dominium Dei Trilogy) by Thomas Greanias Page B
Authors: Thomas Greanias
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Athanasius.
He had told her he could forgive her for her tryst with Caesar and the evil offspring growing in her belly, but she didn’t believe him. If his righteous hatred could drive him to kill the father, how could he not hate their child every time he looked at his face? How could he love her every time he looked into her eyes? How could he protect the child or its mother from the Flavians—Young Vespasian, his mother Domitilla, and Domitian’s widow Domitia?
Her foolish lover may have changed Rome’s religion, but he had only traded one Flavian Caesar for another, doing nothing to change their future.
Then there was the whore Ludlumus told her about. Gabrielle. Athanasius had all but confirmed his affection for her in his eyes back in the arena. Even if she had not completely replaced her in the eyes of Athanasius, that he could find hope of love in any other woman was something wholly unimaginable before he left her. Wasn’t that truly, in the end, why he had raced back to confront Domitian? Not to ensure his death, nor even for this adoption certificate implicating Senator Nerva and Senator Lucindus, but this whore’s safety, as Ludlumus had predicted?
He had changed.
If he could turn on Maximus, the man who had brought them together, he would surely turn on the child, and on her.
She, on the other hand, had no one to turn to now. The protection of the palace upon her through Domitian was gone. So was Ludlumus. So was Maximus. Worst of all, so was her beauty, now that she bore the scar on her belly. It was worse than a line on her face. She could pose no longer for the great sculptors of the world. She was disfigured now, hopeless, alone.
She looked down at the rippling water of the Tiber from the stone wall of the bridge. A few boats passed through, but not as many as at night. She could hear the shuffling of feet behind her, mostly the Jews from District 14 feeling safe to cross over into District 8 and the Forum now that Caesar was dead. Would they feel so happy to learn Young Vespasian would make Christianity the official state religion?
She put her hand on her belly and stepped up onto the bridge ledge. She heard somebody shouting in Aramaic, probably to get the attention of the crossing guards at either end of the bridge. They began to run toward her, but she made sure they would not catch her. She looked up at the flock of birds in the sky for one last sign, and their formation flying south only confirmed everything she feared. She lifted up her arms, as if to fly away with them, and fell into space, the rush of wind swallowing her up in everlasting darkness.
The new Caesar, Nerva, was seated in the throne room when Athanasius was brought before him by Secundus. Somehow the adoption certificate of Ludlumus had made its way back into his hands, and Athanasius watched Nerva touch it to a fire. The papyrus burned up, along with any possibility that Young Vespasian would see the throne of Rome.
“Bravo, Athanasius. You have indeed killed a god. The Senate has approved of your actions by eternally condemning Domitian. There will never be a temple, altar, monument or so much as an inscription erected in his honor. Those that exist will be erased.”
“Along with your involvement with the Dei, Senator.”
“Contrary to what you believe, I did not engineer all this. You did. The Senate wants Rome rid of the Flavians forever, which unfortunately includes Young Vespasian, however worthy he might or might not be.”
“Domitian was no god, Nerva. Neither are you.”
“No, I suppose not. But then I never pretended to be, and nobody has mistaken me for one, least of all my peers in the Senate. Why do you think they made me Caesar, and I accepted? You think it was some machination of the Dei? No, Athanasius. I am an old man, a caretaker of this office at best for no more than a few years. And I have no heirs, no ambitions to further my family politically or financially. I believe there can be good
He had told her he could forgive her for her tryst with Caesar and the evil offspring growing in her belly, but she didn’t believe him. If his righteous hatred could drive him to kill the father, how could he not hate their child every time he looked at his face? How could he love her every time he looked into her eyes? How could he protect the child or its mother from the Flavians—Young Vespasian, his mother Domitilla, and Domitian’s widow Domitia?
Her foolish lover may have changed Rome’s religion, but he had only traded one Flavian Caesar for another, doing nothing to change their future.
Then there was the whore Ludlumus told her about. Gabrielle. Athanasius had all but confirmed his affection for her in his eyes back in the arena. Even if she had not completely replaced her in the eyes of Athanasius, that he could find hope of love in any other woman was something wholly unimaginable before he left her. Wasn’t that truly, in the end, why he had raced back to confront Domitian? Not to ensure his death, nor even for this adoption certificate implicating Senator Nerva and Senator Lucindus, but this whore’s safety, as Ludlumus had predicted?
He had changed.
If he could turn on Maximus, the man who had brought them together, he would surely turn on the child, and on her.
She, on the other hand, had no one to turn to now. The protection of the palace upon her through Domitian was gone. So was Ludlumus. So was Maximus. Worst of all, so was her beauty, now that she bore the scar on her belly. It was worse than a line on her face. She could pose no longer for the great sculptors of the world. She was disfigured now, hopeless, alone.
She looked down at the rippling water of the Tiber from the stone wall of the bridge. A few boats passed through, but not as many as at night. She could hear the shuffling of feet behind her, mostly the Jews from District 14 feeling safe to cross over into District 8 and the Forum now that Caesar was dead. Would they feel so happy to learn Young Vespasian would make Christianity the official state religion?
She put her hand on her belly and stepped up onto the bridge ledge. She heard somebody shouting in Aramaic, probably to get the attention of the crossing guards at either end of the bridge. They began to run toward her, but she made sure they would not catch her. She looked up at the flock of birds in the sky for one last sign, and their formation flying south only confirmed everything she feared. She lifted up her arms, as if to fly away with them, and fell into space, the rush of wind swallowing her up in everlasting darkness.
The new Caesar, Nerva, was seated in the throne room when Athanasius was brought before him by Secundus. Somehow the adoption certificate of Ludlumus had made its way back into his hands, and Athanasius watched Nerva touch it to a fire. The papyrus burned up, along with any possibility that Young Vespasian would see the throne of Rome.
“Bravo, Athanasius. You have indeed killed a god. The Senate has approved of your actions by eternally condemning Domitian. There will never be a temple, altar, monument or so much as an inscription erected in his honor. Those that exist will be erased.”
“Along with your involvement with the Dei, Senator.”
“Contrary to what you believe, I did not engineer all this. You did. The Senate wants Rome rid of the Flavians forever, which unfortunately includes Young Vespasian, however worthy he might or might not be.”
“Domitian was no god, Nerva. Neither are you.”
“No, I suppose not. But then I never pretended to be, and nobody has mistaken me for one, least of all my peers in the Senate. Why do you think they made me Caesar, and I accepted? You think it was some machination of the Dei? No, Athanasius. I am an old man, a caretaker of this office at best for no more than a few years. And I have no heirs, no ambitions to further my family politically or financially. I believe there can be good
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