She suddenly felt dizzy, however, like she would vomit.
“Dear Helena, I am so sorry,” Latinus said. “I didn’t mean to bring up…”
She shook her head. “I’m not well. Excuse me.”
She ran past a column and down a marble corridor to a guest bath and promptly threw up into a basin. She breathed heavily, trying to steady herself, then vomited again. Oh, how the acid burned the back of her throat. She spat out what was left from her mouth, and then washed her face in a fresh bowl of water.
A dread now replaced the explosion of joy she had experienced only a moment ago. Even if Athanasius were still alive, she thought, and even if he were to return triumphant to Rome by some miracle, how can I ever face him in my condition?
A storm of anguish and grief churned inside her as the belief sank in that no matter what her beloved’s fate, her own hopes for a brighter future were nothing now but an illusion.
Several times she poured the cool, clean water over her face, and then looked up into the brass mirror to see the distorted reflection of Ludlumus and froze.
“So the goddess is with child,” he told her in the mirror. “It’s Domitian’s, isn’t it?”
She said nothing.
“Poor Athanasius really did leave nothing behind, did he?”
“Stop it, Ludlumus,” she said and turned to face him, still feeling flush. “I know he’s still alive. If he were dead, Domitian would have shown me his head. He’s alive.”
“And so is Domitian’s heir in your belly, Helena. I’d keep that to yourself for as long as you can.”
“I’m planning to,” she said, then paused. “Why should you care?”
“I’d hate to see you come to any harm at the hands of the empress Domitia or the widow of Flavius Clemens. After all, if you bear Domitian’s heir, he hardly needs the spare. Young Vespasian and Young Domitian are as good as dead. I should think their mother would do all she could to prevent that, use whatever means at her disposal to save her children.”
Helena said nothing, only watched his long face as he studied her.
“But would you do likewise, I wonder? After all, if your beloved Athanasius ever did show up, would he even want you now? Regardless of whatever happened after September 18, to ask a man to stare at the little face of his enemy the rest of his life is probably asking more than any man could give. Then again, you are the great Helena. For you, Athanasius might do anything.”
She felt her throat tighten and turned to vomit into the bowl of water. Gagging, she looked up into the brass mirror. Ludlumus was gone.
VI
No one arriving at the Dovilin villa that night for the Harvest Banquet would have guessed from all the festive lights and music that the host’s only son had just died, thought Athanasius as he emerged from the cover of the grapevines. His face was shaved clean and he was back in his polished tribune’s uniform, with a swagger to match. None of the staff gave him a second look as he rounded the bathhouse and passed by the outdoor kitchen to enter the back of the villa. There he quickly picked up a cup of Dovilin wine from a floating tray and joined the guests swirling about the courtyards, fountains, flautists and harpists.
It was as if Vibius, scion of the great Dei co-founder Dovilin, never existed. Athanasius wondered what that would mean for Cota now, and could only hope he wouldn’t see her this evening, or rather be seen by her. No doubt Dovilin already sent her away or banished her from public display.
Everywhere he looked there were oversized amphorae, some open and some sealed, lined up for effect before they departed with the guests back to wherever they all came from. He was scanning the main courtyard to see if there were any faces from Rome he might recognize when he heard a voice from behind him say, “Tribune!”
Athanasius turned to see the very legate he had served at the dinner only days before in this very house. His uniform, too, bore the rank of tribune. “Tribune,” Athanasius reciprocated with a mild salute of his cup before he drank.
“Do I know you?” the legate asked. “You look familiar.”
Athanasius shrugged. “I first joined up during the Dacian War and served with the Praetorian in Rome, Third Cohort. How about you?”
“I’m with the XVI Flavia legion now. So you served under the Prefect Aeolus with the Praetorian?”
“No,” Athanasius replied as calmly as he could, and quickly decided to lift Virtus’s background. “Third Cohort under the Prefect Secundus.”
The legate, who introduced himself as Gracchus, seemed satisfied enough. “I thought I knew everybody from the Roman faction here tonight,” he said. “What brings you to the Lord’s Vineyard?”
“This,” said Athanasius and held up his wine in such a way as to display his Dei ring.
Gracchus’s look was priceless. “General, sir. I am sorry.”
“No apologies necessary, Gracchus. We need to be vigilant. You asked me why I’m here. I’m here to observe. I’m here to observe you, Gracchus. I’m here to observe the work of the Lord’s Vineyard. I’m here to observe everything. I miss nothing. Neither should you. Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open. If there is anything out of the ordinary, report it to me immediately.”
“Yes, General.”
“Now go see if Senator Celsus or his representative from Rome is here. Tell him only that this tribune would like a word with him by that bust of Dovilin over there near the harpist.”
It was all the man could do to keep from saluting as he disappeared.
Athanasius swallowed hard and walked over toward the bust of Dovilin, as if to admire the craggy face, warts and all. He took another sip of wine and casually glanced around in time to see old Dovilin himself take a position before a large tapestry draped dramatically over the columns of the peristyle on the other side of the courtyard. The tapestry displayed a map of the empire, but it was divided along lines Athanasius had never seen before.
There was a gong and the music stopped, as did all the clinking of cups and trays shortly thereafter. All eyes focused on Dovilin as he cleared his throat.
“Welcome to the Harvest!” he announced. “Tonight we celebrate our wines and the work of the Lord’s Vineyard. Of the hundreds of Christian leaders we have discovered throughout the Roman empire in the past 30 years, only a few of you have been invited here tonight. You are the successful, experienced and high-placed believers in trade, the military and government. We are an invisible world army led by Christ, and tonight our ranks grow yet again.”
Several dozen young men and women were brought forward for debut, a fresh crop of new recruits for the Lord’s Vineyard. Athanasius could only wonder how many of them, if any, understood they were enlisting in Dominium Dei, let alone in what capacities.
“These young men and women will be joining you on your journeys back to your God-given stations in Roman society. God does as he wishes with the armies of heaven and the peoples of the earth. We are the new chosen. God has chosen us to do His will on earth as it is in heaven. As above, so below.”
“As above, so below,” the guests responded in unison.
Dovilin said, “Now come lay hands on your new soldiers and pray for them as they help us build Christ’s kingdom.”
Athanasius watched as the guests stepped forward to join their intended foot soldiers for Jesus and place their hands on the young heads and shoulders. As they closed their eyes, Dovilin led the prayer, and Athanasius realized with some satisfaction that the local Bishop Paul, being but a bit player, was nowhere to be found among the august ranks of these super-Christians.
“Lord Jesus Christ, son of God,” Dovilin prayed. “Thy kingdom come and Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Bless your servants gathered here tonight. Protect them in the presence of their enemies. For theirs is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.”