Athanasius said, “According to the Book of Revelation, Jesus lauds the church in Ephesus for its sound doctrine, for not falling into apostasy.”
“Its doctrine is fine,” Cleo told him. “In practice, however, it has been hopelessly compromised. John knows it. But Bishop Timothy, who is a disciple of Paul’s, and his second, Polycarp, who is a disciple of John’s, apparently don’t. I suspect John is sending you to Polycarp because he doesn’t trust Timothy’s disciples, who are thick with the Dei. I know these men, because they run me too.”
Athanasius looked her in the eye. “Tell me everything.”
For the first time since entering her cabin, Cleo smiled.
Over several hours Cleo explained to Athanasius what she knew about the Dei, working backward from her own experience aboard the Sea Nymph to the opium dens and whore houses the Dei operated in ports all around the Great Sea, to the flesh they shipped out of Ephesus—women to the temples, and men to feed the galleys, the mines and the Games in Rome.
“But where do these people come from?” Athanasius asked.
“There are caves in the hinterlands of Asia Minor,” she told him. “Vast, endless caves where the Christians hide in underground cities. Tens of thousands of them. Most live there because they have nowhere else to live, and they crawl out into the day to work as field laborers if they can find work. Many others have moved there for protection from Roman troops, who have better things to do than crawl into holes in the ground. And a vast majority are convinced the world is about to end and have shut themselves in with their families and food stores in preparation.”
Athanasius listened carefully. He had heard rumors of these underground cities, much like the urban legends of catacombs beneath Rome, where a growing army of Christians were breeding to one day surface and overwhelm the city like locusts. But he had chalked that up to Domitian’s propaganda machinery, which always seemed to go into full motion just before the start of the Games every summer.
“What do the caves have to do with the Dei, Cleo?”
“I told you, the caves are where the Dei gets its flesh to feed the Games,” she explained. “Masked men dressed like the Minotaur of Greek mythology make raids to grab young girls and men and terrify the population. The Christians think they are armed bands of local gypsies. But they are Dei. They drug the men and women with opium, and bring them to the port cities, the biggest of which is Ephesus. The women become whores, the men mostly slaves or gladiators, and are shipped out to the far corners of the empire, never to return.”
More myths and mysteries, he thought. Each seemed to reveal yet another when it came to Dominium Dei. He had been led to believe that the Dei was an imperial organization. But Cleo was describing something else, something more like a trade organization based on commerce, not politics. “So the Dei sells opium and flesh for money?”
“No, secrets. They use their sex clubs and ships like this: The Dei employ young boys and girls to have sex with customers and blackmail them. The Christians are the easiest marks and make no trouble. Bishops who come to Ephesus for church conferences, for example, are often lured into compromise and then, once under the control of the Dei, are sent back to their provincial churches.”
“None resist?” Athanasius asked.
“No,” she said. “I tell my own girls that God has given them free wills. The only opium they use is for the pleasure of their guests. The ones who are Christians, they are ashamed to go back to their hometowns and families. The few who have are shunned and come back to me. Only one girl, a very young girl who was terribly mistreated, went back to the caves to warn the others and never came back. I heard she was alive, but that was months ago. Today, God knows.”
“Why don’t you resist?”
“I do,” she said. “I stay employed by the Dei in order to help the real Church and men like John—and my girls. I cannot choose their life for them. But I can do my best to keep them safe as much as depends on me.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Two reasons,” she said. “The first is that you said something about the Dei being an imperial organization. Perhaps it is. But in Asia Minor it is very much associated with the Church.”
“Why don’t the bishops denounce it?”
“They do,” Cleo said. “That is, they denounce murderous acts like the slaying of the astrologer Caelus, despite their belief that astrology is of the devil. But they don’t know about everything else the Dei does. They don’t even know that their prime benefactors are members of the Dei, because their society in the Church goes by a different name than it does in public.”
“What name is that?”
“The Lord’s Vineyard. It’s a fellowship of tradesmen and commercial businessmen.”
“And the Lord’s Vineyard and the Dei are one and the same?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“I know that the owner of this ship is a member of the Dei by the code name Poseidon. He is the Dei chief in Ephesus. I also believe he is a member of the church there, and a representative of the Lord’s Vineyard. His daughter goes by the name Urania and runs a honey trap in Ephesus called the Club Urania, using her girls to nab men who go there. Her father then ships them off to Rome along with more girls and opium. If you find him, he might be able to lead you to the head of the Dei itself in Asia Minor.”
“What’s his real name?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “One of my girls claimed to have seen his face during a church communion. But before she could give us his name, she disappeared.”
Athanasius nodded. “What is the second reason you are telling me this?”
“I was not always this way, and neither were my girls,” she answered. “I want you to remember this, to remind the church leaders, if you live long enough to meet them. Now, rest up. You’ll need it.”
And with that warning, Cleo rose to her feet and left him alone in her cabin. As soon as the door shut behind her, Athanasius fell fast asleep.
VII
When Athanasius disembarked from his tether in the harbor of Ephesus, he looked like a new man. His hair had been soaked in brilliantine and carefully cropped like a Roman nobleman’s by Cleo’s girls back on the Sea Nymph, now on its way to Alexandria. The papers he had forged himself stated that his name was Clement. Amazing how different he looked with so little effort and free of the weight of a tribune’s armor. But then, as he discovered so often in the theater, a little was often all it took.
The first advertisement etched into the pavement that Athanasius saw upon his arrival was for the Club Urania that Cleo had warned him about. He read several more as he walked along, head down, unwilling to look up for fear of being recognized by any of the Roman troops on the docks who may have let off from the Pegasus anchored offshore. Captain Andros had beat the Sea Nymph to Ephesus, and Athanasius wanted no interruptions between the dock and the city’s library where he was to make the drop and connect with John’s man in Ephesus.
The bustling city of Ephesus was almost half as big as Rome—more than 500,000 citizens—and was traditionally Greek, feeling more like home to Athanasius than the exotic “gateway to the East” it was to Roman visitors. Many came to see the city’s famed Temple of Artemis, the largest building in the world and more than six hundred years old, and its many-breasted statue of the Lady of Ephesus that beckoned every sailor who stepped ashore.
Built on the slopes of Pion Hill, Ephesus served as the commercial capital of the Asian provinces. The roads were paved with marble and the colonnaded shopping streets with fine mosaics. Sloping up the hill to the grand villas overlooking the city was Curettes Way, named after the priests of the city who led the regular processions and festivals to honor Domitian. For a city dominated by Greek ethnicity, Ephesus took great pride as a steward of Roman religion and thus had a history of clubbing Christians, starting when the apostle Paul spoke in the theater decades ago.