Shaphan was about to speak when Helena approached the pair. “Sir, our friend simply meant to say we’ve come to the forest to hunt. It’s common enough among the rural folk. We take a deer on a nice summer’s day, broil some meat, enjoy some ale, and take home the rest for later.”
The guardsman eyed her suspiciously.
“Would you like a few steaks?” Lina called from across the clearing. She pointed toward the carcass with her knife.
“Gimme the liver instead,” the soldier answered. “And some ale.”
Lina wrapped the meat in a cloth and brought it to the man along with a gourd bottle. The man uncorked the bottle and guzzled from it, then pitched it to his companion, who finished it off and dropped it on the ground.
“You say you’re from Edgeton?” the first soldier asked.
Stratetix nodded. “My wife and I are. The others live in Vingin.”
“Maybe you’re outlaws? Robbers?”
“We’d be rather poor robbers,” Stratetix said, smiling with his hands spread. “We have no weapons but hunters’ tools. And where’s all our loot?”
Ach! What a stupid thing to say!
The guardsman glanced around. “I don’t know. You tell me, robber! Where’d you hide your treasure?” Walking to the hollow oak tree, he reached inside the hole and began to feel around.
Stratetix swallowed. His heart thudded in his chest. Protect us, mighty Deu!
The soldier removed a tuft of leaves and twigs. He picked out an acorn and flicked it at Stratetix. “A peasant’s treasure,” he said with a sneer on his face. “Grind it into flour and bake yourself a cake.” He stalked off and mounted his horse.
“Don’t make a habit of hiding in the woods,” one of the men ordered as they turned to go. “Her Eminence the High Priestess might think you’re plotting rebellion.”
The little group in the forest watched the soldiers leave.
“Maybe we are,” Shaphan muttered under his breath.
Sitting before a mirror, Ana brushed out her light amber hair, then pinned it high on her head in a classic style. A few months earlier it had been cut jagged at the nape of her neck, but now it had grown out, and she was glad for that. Her gown was unadorned, though not drab, and she wore just a little color on her cheeks. Glancing in the mirror again, she decided against any lipstick.
There was a knock on the door to her guest room at the Christiani basilica in Roma. “It’s time,” Teo called from the other side.
Ana answered the door and found Teo grinning at her: tall, rangy, and as handsome as ever. Somehow his dark hair managed to seem tousled and combed at the same time, as if he had run his fingers through it but was too manly to do much more than that. His tunic was a dark wine color, and his black boots were newly polished. Ana decided he looked exactly like what he was: a rugged man of the wilderness who had cleaned up for a formal event.
“I brought you this,” Teo said, holding out a delicate white rose. “I’m not sure why. I just saw it in a market and thought of you.”
“It’s lovely, Teo.” She threaded the rose blossom in her hair, then took his arm. “Let’s go.”
In the hallway they met a warder, who escorted them to the Painted Chapel adjacent to the Christiani basilica. Other dignitaries and their attendants had gathered outside the chapel as well. Ana spotted a heavyset man with a shaggy beard.
“Psst! Liber,” she whispered, waving at him with bended fingers.
The man grinned from ear to ear and waved back energetically. “Hi, Stasia!” he called. Though a few people glanced at the feeble-minded giant, he didn’t seem to notice.
A herald in formal livery rang a handbell to quiet the crowd. “Attention, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the First Council of Roma! You are hereby summoned into the presence of the Holy Father of the Universal Communion of the Christiani. You may now proceed to your seats.”
Two dark-paneled doors swung open. The sonorous chanting of monks wafted from the chapel, accompanied by harpists. One by one the assembled dignitaries marched through the door. Most were Knights of the Cross, aristocratic men from the region around Roma who supported the Christiani faith. Yet some of the delegates were from other lands as well. The elderly teacher Sol was present, along with Vanita Labella, together representing the kingdom of Ulmbartia. The Overseer from the Forbidden Zone was escorted into the chapel by his assistant, Brother Toni. A newly freed slave, now clothed in elegant attire instead of rags, represented far-off Marsay. Even Liber had a role: not only was he honored as the man whose memory had preserved the New Testament, he also represented the Beloved—those people whose bodies or minds were frail, but whose gentle hearts were well loved by their Creator.
Teo and Ana entered last, for they represented the most distant land of all: Chiveis, a mountain kingdom unknown to any of the other council members. Ana marveled at the chapel’s elaborate architecture. The floor was decorated with a series of concentric rings, while the walls and ceiling bore a stunning array of painted images. On the far wall, a beardless Iesus stood out against a blue backdrop. His arm was raised in judgment, while sinners, saints, angels, and demons swirled around him. The chanting monks gave the whole place an otherworldly feel as Ana proceeded down the central aisle. The lesser attendees sat in benches on either side, but Ana followed Teo through an altar screen to an area where high-backed chairs had been arranged in a circle. At the head of the circle, the Papa sat on a small cathedra that was, according to his custom, lower than all the other seats. The herald motioned toward the last remaining chair. When Ana sat down in it, the monks’ chanting ceased. Their tones echoed away as a solemn hush descended on the hall.
The Papa stood up and spread his arms. “Brothers and sisters, I welcome you in the name of Deus and his son, Iesus Christus! Truly you have come to this place at a propitious time, and for a momentous occasion.” The Papa walked in a full circle, gazing at each guest, then approached a table in the midst of them all. A beautiful chest was upon it. He reached inside and retrieved a leather-bound book, which he placed on a nearby pulpit. Flipping it open he said, “I can think of no better way to begin the First Council of Roma than by hearing from our God.” Nods of agreement and even a few hurrahs erupted from the gathered dignitaries.
Lectors entered the chapel then, men and women trained to read in their clear, sweet voices. The Papa declared the entire New Testament would be read aloud to the gathered council. Short breaks were to be given for refreshments, and a light luncheon would be served at noon each day. Quills and parchments for note-taking were supplied to the participants, many of whom were hearing the words of Deu for the first time.
For two days the lectors read while the delegates listened. Ana was one of the privileged few who had already read the entire New Testament. She hadn’t wanted to wait for the printed version being prepared for the Chiveisi, so she devoured Teo’s translations as quickly as they came from his hand. Yet now as she heard the Sacred Writing read all at once, its words struck her afresh with their mystic power and inner beauty. The four biographies of Iesus Christus and the writings of his faithful followers recounted a divine story that the world desperately needed. For centuries the Sacred Writing had lain dormant. Now it was bursting forth once more.
On the morning of the third day the council members arrived with a heightened sense of expectation. The book had been read aloud from start to finish. What did the leader of the Christiani have planned?
“Greetings to you this hot summer morning,” the Papa said after the delegates had filed into the Painted Chapel. “We have heard from Deus these past two days. Now it is our turn to speak.”
The Papa explained that the purpose of the council was to determine the contours of the Christiani message. Though many topics would be discussed, the goal was to distill an essential proclamation. Later, theologians with gifted minds could spend fruitful hours exploring the details. Surely the Holy Book deserved a thorough examination. Yet here at the outset, the book’s basic ideas ha
d to be agreed upon by all.
Several participants wanted the council to produce a creed that could be memorized by the faithful. While this idea had its advocates, others thought a creed could become rote and meaningless. Ana noticed that Teo, who had remained silent during the initial discussion, now seemed to have something to say. At last he spoke up.
“My friends, I agree the council must produce a statement with fixed wording that can be memorized. However, if we make our statement too rigid it will not be flexible enough to meet the various circumstances that may arise. We need something between a formal creed and a blank page.”
As Teo spoke with scholarly insight, the delegates’ faces grew thoughtful. “I suggest we define a list of important words,” he said. “Consider the nature of words. They are fixed in their meaning, yet only to a certain degree. Take the word boat, for example. It can mean a sorry little rowboat with holes in it, or it can refer to a great merchant ship. Boats come in all shapes and sizes. I propose we identify some key words from the scriptures. These would be our fixed points of consensus. Yet as we go forth proclaiming the message of Deus, the words could be explained with different nuances as the occasion may demand.”
The council liked the idea. “How many words shall we choose, Teofil of Chiveis?” the Overseer called.
Teo wasn’t sure. “What do you suggest, friends?”
Some delegates said seven, others ten, and a few even wanted forty. No one seemed to agree.
Off to the side, Liber fidgeted in his chair. Ana could see he had an idea but was afraid to speak his mind before such a prestigious and intellectual crowd. “Excuse me,” she said, rising from her seat. “I believe we should consider the wisdom of the Beloved.” Ana swept her hand toward Liber.
The big man glanced nervously around the room but finally found his voice. “This is the story Stasia told me,” he announced. “Long ago the Father in the Sky chose twelve brothers to be his people. But they disobeyed. Then Iesus came. And what did he do? He picked twelve men to follow him. So I say we should have twelve words.” Liber crossed his arms over his chest, nodded emphatically, and fell silent.
“Twelve words it shall be,” the Papa declared.
Yet the decision to choose the Twelve Words only opened the door to more debate. For nearly a week the delegates searched the Sacred Writing as they sought to determine the essence of the Christiani message. Some council members highlighted the moral lifestyle required of Deus’s followers, while others emphasized social action on behalf of the oppressed. A third group wanted to focus on the life, death, and glorious rising of Iesus Christus. Ana and Teo felt drawn to this view, yet they could not deny the importance of the other topics.
At last the council began to choose specific words. One by one they fell into place until eleven had been chosen. Only one word remained unselected. Ana wrote the words on her parchment with a few notes of clarification:
CREATION—everything made by Deu
SIN—Adam and all his children rebelled
SACRIFICE—animal blood covered the sins of Israël
IESUS CHRISTUS—his sacrifice conquered death
FAITH—all must repent, believe
WASHING—the sacred water binds us to Iesus
HOLINESS—Christiani must live righteously
REMEMBRANCE—in the Meal, we share in Iesus’s sacrifice
LOVE—Deu gave it to us; we must give it to others
PROCLAMATION—the Christiani message is for all who will hear it
HOPE—never despair, Iesus will return and make things right
Having put eleven words in place, the council seemed close to finishing its task, but the twelfth word proved difficult. Ana began to grow frustrated as the productive exchange descended into wrangling. Finally she had had enough.
“Brothers and sisters,” she said, “throughout this council we have followed the leading of Deus. We have prayed for his guidance. Now I believe we need to follow his will yet again.”
Ana could tell the delegates thought she was going to propose another word to add to the debate, but that wasn’t what she had in mind. “I suggest we call the council to a close. We have chosen eleven words. No doubt there is a twelfth, for it is a sacred number, as our brother Liber has reminded us. Yet should we demand to know all things? Does almighty Deus owe us an answer right now? We have our eleven words. That is enough for the moment, is it not? Let us commit the matter to prayer. Perhaps in the timing of the Eternal One, he will lead us to the final word.”
As Ana sat down she could see her idea would prevail. It made sense to the other delegates, who had accomplished so much good work already. They voted to adjourn—but to Ana’s surprise, Teo abstained from the vote.
The following morning she made a point of going early to Teo’s guest room at the basilica. She brought breakfast on a tray: soft-boiled eggs, hot porridge with honey, and thin ale. He answered her knock, still a little groggy from sleep.
She smiled at him. “Something to eat?”
“Yeah, sounds good. Come in.”
He closed the door behind her, and they took seats at a table, making awkward small talk as they ate. At last Ana broached the subject she had come to discuss. “Are you mad at me about the council?”
Teo paused, setting down his spoonful of porridge. “Not really. I just didn’t want to give up.”
“Why?”
“Leaving a task unfinished isn’t my way of doing things. It feels like quitting. We shouldn’t shrink back when things get difficult.”
Ana thought of all the dangers she had faced at Teo’s side. On more than one occasion she had saved his life. How can he call me a quitter? Of all people, he should know I don’t quit when things get difficult!
“I don’t think we were quitting,” she said.
“It felt like it. We decided to identify twelve words. That’s what we should have done. No loose ends.”
“Maybe they’re not loose ends.”
“What are they then?”
“Just things we don’t know yet. A mystery we have to live with for a time.”
“It’s hard to carry out a task when you leave unfinished business like that.”
“Perhaps Deu isn’t as worried about accomplishing tasks as you are.” Ana intended her words to be a challenge, and she didn’t back down.
Teo cleared his throat and gazed out the window. Ana waited until he turned back to her. “Deu expects us to take action,” he said, “and right now my action is to go to Marsay. The ship has arrived in port. I’m supposed to leave tomorrow.”
Ana felt her heart jump. Deu had given Teo a mission, and she supported it. Yet she didn’t want him to depart with tension hanging between them.
“I hope you know I’m behind you,” she said. “I want you to do what the Papa has asked. I want you to do it well—whatever it takes. And then I want you to . . . come back to me.” Ana paused, her voice thick with emotion. “Don’t ever leave me, Teo,” she said softly.
His expression grew tender. He reached for her hand. The two lovers caught each other’s eyes as slow smiles spread across their faces. Ana felt the tension drain away.
“I will return to you this fall,” Teo vowed.
“And I’ll be here waiting for you,” Ana replied.
C H A P T E R
2
The Clan Boss believed there was no better time to be on the island of Sessalay than during la vendemmia, the annual grape harvest. Though the sun was still warm, it didn’t blaze like it did in high summer. The peasants were happy, stomping the grapes with abandon. The plentiful food and drink meant dancing and feasting lasted long into the night. As the Clan Boss gazed across the orange groves and vineyards of his Sessalayan estate, he often liked to pretend he was nothing but a prosperous gentleman farmer. But then his worries would press in, reminding him he was actually the head of an international crime syndicate.
Things had been tumultuous for the Clan lately. The slave trade had been disrupted earl
ier in the summer by a revolt at the marble quarries on the mainland. Although that disaster primarily affected the society of assassins called the Exterminati, the disruption was felt by the Clan as well. Fortunately the excellent revenues from extortion, prostitution, and smuggling had offset the losses from the human trafficking division of the enterprise. The Clan Boss knew holy Mulciber must have been smiling on him this year.
A butler walked through the double glass doors onto the veranda where the boss was sitting in the sunshine. The crime lord had been hoping someone would show up soon with a drink, and to his delight the butler now handed him a glass of chilled marsala. Another glass remained on the tray. When the boss offered a quizzical glance, the servant said, “The district manager of Roma has come to see you with urgent news.”
The boss huffed. “What kind of news? I’ve had far too much bad news out of Roma lately.”
“He says this is good news.”
“I’ll hear him out. Bring him to me.”
The butler went inside the villa and returned with the visitor. The man was expensively dressed like so many of the high-ranking Clansmen. Good! the boss thought. Who says crime has to be uncivilized?
After the appropriate greetings and formalities were exchanged, the district manager got straight down to business. Opening his satchel, he placed some vials and scraps of metal on a table. The boss had never seen anything like it.
“What kind of silliness is this?”
“I know it seems strange. But what you are looking at is the most destructive weapon I’ve ever seen. It’s like a thunderstorm in a bottle. This stuff gouged a crater in a city pavement.”
The boss raised his eyebrows. “One tiny bottle can do that?”
“I believe it was a more substantial quantity. Still, the same powder is contained in these vials.”
“What is it?”
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