“I know that the Lord has plans for you, Athanasius. Plans for good and not for evil, to give you and all of us a future and a hope.”
Athanasius loosened his hold on his dagger and brought his empty hands forward. “I have no future, Stephanus. I have no hope.”
“You have stood up to the gods of Rome tonight, Athanasius. You are the one who will lead us to topple the empire and create a new Christian world.”
“I thought Jesus is supposed to do that,” Athanasius said.
“We must prepare the way.”
“Isn’t Jesus The Way?”
Stephanus nodded. “You are very clever, like Paul was. Jesus is indeed The Way, and He is not willing that any perish but all come to repentance.”
Athanasius felt a bump and looked into the waters to see the corpse of some slave who had likely fallen off a barge. “Too late for him, I suppose.”
“But not for the millions of souls under the boot of Rome.”
Athanasius could barely see straight in the fog, let alone think with all this madness. Didn’t Stephanus understand that he was leaving Rome, never to return because there was nothing for him left to return to? Domitian had stolen his future. “A million died in the Judean War, Stephanus, and a Christian war would cost tens of millions of lives.”
“It need only cost one,” Stephanus said with shining eyes. “September 18 is not so far away. Imagine Domitian gone and Young Vespasian succeeding him. We’d have a Christian emperor. A Christian Rome. A Christian world. No slave or free. Male or female. Jew or Gentile. All would be equal. There would be peace on earth. No more fears. No more tears.”
No more tears? What naïve nonsense, Athanasius thought. Surely Domitian would have something to say about that, and about September 18. And if not Domitian, he realized, then Dominium Dei. Athanasius had seen the reach of the organization tonight with Maximus. What good would it do the Christians to cut the head off a Hydra when another would simply take its place and make short order of any so-called Christian emperor, which itself was an oxymoron clearly beyond this simpleton’s grasp.
Domitian, and Rome with him, was simply too powerful to fight.
Athanasius saw no future hope in this river fog down the Tiber to Ostia, only a glimpse of the harbor’s great lighthouse at the end. The bonfire at the top of its towering edifice seemed to watch them like a great eye as they floated silently past the travertine piers toward the hulking Pegasus docked at Pier 34. Athanasius said goodbye to Stephanus, who prayed for his return to Rome and said that he and others would be awaiting his orders.
Athanasius wondered if he’d survive the night, let alone ever return to Rome. But at this point Stephanus was his only friend in Rome. So to amuse him he played the role of Chiron and said, “Tell your friends that Chiron lives and Domitian shall die.”
“Amen,” Stephanus said with gusto as Athanasius shoved him off.
* * *
As Athanasius crossed the rows of warehouses and winches to Pier 34, he took in the slaves and dockworkers loading and unloading the great ships. They were the true cogs of the Roman machine that worked around the clock to keep the empire going. Straight ahead of him a centurion stood at the gangway to the Pegasus. Athanasius realized he had no identification papers and tensed up as he approached. He had to instantly establish his identity before there could be any doubt.
“Centurion, is my trunk on board?” he said with a token salute that flashed his ring.
The centurion didn’t have to look, transfixed as he was on the ranking shoulder straps. “Tribune, we were beginning to wonder.”
“I’m here, let’s go,” Athanasius said gruffly.
Athanasius marched up the gangway to find a deck full of Roman soldiers waiting for him. He started, and then saw they were at attention, along with the ship’s captain, a Greek who introduced himself as Captain Andros.
“Tribune, we have 80 troops, and a crew of 180 oarsmen, sailors and marines at your command.”
Athanasius decided that in his present company the less he said the better. “Anchors away, Captain. I will retire to my quarters and will not be disturbed until morning.”
“At your orders, Tribune. Your belongings have already been stored on board. Galen here will show you to your quarters.”
Athanasius followed the wiry steward across the long deck, taking in the sea air, aware of the captain barking orders, of shouts returned, anchors pulled and the sudden quake of the wooden planks beneath his feet as two hundred oars hit the water. The Pegasus lurched forward.
His quarters were at the sterncastle, reached by two wooden steps and an outside door. There was a bed inside along with a built-in desk beneath a small window. On the desk was a tray with bread, cheese and a pitcher of wine. Beside it were shelves and a personal locker. The locker was open, and he could see a locked trunk. Athanasius looked up to see Galen staring at the ring on his finger.
“That will be all, Galen.”
Galen nodded and left, shutting the door behind him.
At last alone, Athanasius exhaled and immediately poured himself a cup of wine and gulped it down. Then he took two big bites of the bread, almost choking on the mouthful as he did, and looked out his little window. He could see several chariots and units converging on the shrinking docks. But they were too late. The anchors were up and the loaded ship was pulling away from the pier, already out by three lengths of the Circus Maximus, clearing the stone breakers and entering the Tyrrhenian Sea into the gathering fog of darkness.
Jupiter, he had made it, he thought, as he watched the nightmare of this tragic day fade like the lighthouse of Ostia in the fog. He felt his lips tremble. He wiped his mouth and saw blood, not wine. Then he stared into the wine cup and watched it fall as if in slow motion from his loosening hand and crash to the floor. And then he plunged into darkness.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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The Chiron Confession dd-1 Page 9
