by Bryan Litfin
At last Alexamenos rose from his chair. “I shall retire now, sister,” he said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You should follow soon. We have a long day of travel tomorrow.”
“I’ll come shortly. I just need some time to pray.”
“Good night, then, Lady Junia.”
Alone in the courtyard, Flavia raised her eyes to the dark sky and watched the drops fall like glittering flecks of moonlight. She tried to invite God into her looming Sardinian exile, yet her mind was distracted and unsettled, and the words of a coherent prayer would not come. The dancing flames in the fireplace lulled her into a melancholy silence.
Outside on the lawn, a stick snapped.
Is someone out there? Or is it just an animal?
Flavia rose from her cushioned seat and crossed the courtyard to one of the doorways that led outside. Though she tried to peer into the darkness, she had been staring too long at the fire, so her eyes couldn’t discern anything. A brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the villa’s rear yard. It was entirely empty.
Relieved, Flavia was about to return to her chair when a booming thunderclap made her jump. She sucked in her breath and spun away from the door—and bumped into a man.
Flavia screamed as two hands gripped her shoulders. “Let me go!” she cried, thrashing in her enemy’s grip.
“Flavia! It’s okay! It’s me!”
Rex?
Yes! It’s him! He came back!
One hand remained on her shoulder, and with his other, Rex flipped back his hood. Standing so close to him, Flavia found she had to arch her neck to look at his face. He gazed down at her with genuine affection in his blue eyes. Water dribbled down his cheeks and ran into his chin stubble. Droplets clung to the locks of hair on his forehead that he hadn’t let the barber cut when he assumed his Roman disguise. A slow smile crept across his face as he stared back at Flavia.
“What are you doing here?” she gasped.
“I’ll explain it, but . . .” Rex broke off his words as if considering what to say. The emotion on his face grew intense, almost fierce. He released his grip on her shoulder and threw both arms around her, drawing her into a soggy embrace. Rex held her against his body for a long moment. Just as Flavia was beginning to think the hug might turn into something more amorous, he let her go.
Senator Ignatius stood by the fireplace, warming his hands. Steam rose from his wet woolen cloak. Turning toward the pair, he nodded gently and offered a knowing smile. After unfastening his cloak, he removed it in a shower of little drops and hung it on a wall peg. Rex did the same, then took a seat before the fire. Flavia came and sat beside him on the divan.
“Did something happen out on the road, Uncle?” she asked.
“Indeed, it did. Your friend finally acknowledged his true identity.”
Flavia glanced at Rex, who only shrugged and said, “Let your uncle explain it.”
Senator Ignatius stirred the fire with a poker, then set it on the hearth and faced his niece. “There is something I need to tell you, Flavia. It might surprise you. Yet I believe God has an important role for you to play in what I am about to disclose.”
“I’m listening.”
With the eloquent command of Latin common to all aristocrats, Ignatius began to tell a story that Flavia could never have imagined. He explained that for several years now, he had belonged to a clandestine alliance of senators seeking to overthrow Maxentius and pave the way for Constantine. The secret conspiracy was very hush-hush, for it included members of Rome’s most noble families. All of them had sworn an oath to do everything in their power to bring down the wicked emperor.
Though the news of the conspiracy surprised Flavia, she found what her uncle said next to be even more astounding. He declared that the coming of Rex had been a strange and intriguing development. From the moment Rex arrived, Ignatius had recognized him as a speculator. Flavia was unfamiliar with that term, but Ignatius said it referred to the empire’s most elite warriors—secret operatives trained in hand-to-hand combat, disguises, and stealthy maneuvers behind enemy lines. If Rex was here on a spying mission, that would be something the conspirators would want to support. Ignatius had been torn about whether to reveal the secret alliance to him; but when Rex rode away, the senator finally realized he couldn’t let the opportunity pass. He decided to take a risk and confront the newly arrived spy.
“Your uncle challenged me on the road,” Rex said. “He insisted he knew who I was because he used to be a tribune in charge of a cohort of speculators. I played dumb until he told me about the resistance movement among the senators. Then I knew I had met an important ally. My mission’s objectives would require me to explore the possibilities. So I admitted my identity to him.”
“Rex! This is astounding! I mean, I knew you were a good fighter and everything, but I had no idea you were sent here by Constantine himself! Have you actually met him?”
“Of course. I was his personal bodyguard for a time.”
“Unbelievable! You know the emperor personally! They say he is a Christian. Is that true?”
“Well, he seems drawn to the god Jesus, though I don’t think his beliefs are exactly like yours. Yet it was he who gave me this Christian amulet.” Rex withdrew it from his neckline and cupped it in his palm.
Knuckles rapped on the door that led from the patio to the house. It hung ajar, and Alexamenos was standing in the doorway. “Master Ignatius? Your servant said you asked for me.”
“Yes, come in, my friend! Join us at the fire. I have just informed my niece and young Rex here about the secret conspiracy of which we are a part.”
“Excellent, sir. Then our futures are now bound together, and our lives are permanently intertwined.”
“You two already knew each other?” Flavia asked her uncle. “Before we arrived?” The surprises just kept coming.
“Yes, we ran in the same circles here in Tibur,” Ignatius replied. “By that I mean spiritual circles, as fellow Christians—and as we came to realize later, we had political affinities as well. We found we were both supporters of Constantine. So I asked Alexamenos to join our society. He has some good connections back in Rome.”
After Alexamenos took a seat, Ignatius continued to explain his plan. From his stance next to the fireplace, he leaned forward and looked intently at Flavia. “As I stated before—you, dear one, have an important role to play. We have long been trying to plant someone deep in Maxentius’s palace, but so far we have found no one we could trust. Or at least no one we could trust who was also clever enough to spy on the emperor. But now, Flavia, you would be the perfect candidate.”
“Me? What do I know about spying?”
“Nothing. But you don’t have to. You only need to be clever enough to maintain your secret persona. Then just work hard, stay sharp, and keep your ears open. Information will find its way to you.”
“But you’re talking about the imperial palace! Won’t that get the authorities on my trail again?”
“No! That’s the beauty of our little charade at the crematorium. We did it to set you free so you could live far away, but it opened up some unexpected possibilities. Think about it. You’re dead now, Flavia. Dead and forgotten. The only thing you can’t do is show up in your mansion on the Aventine and try to resume your normal life. So what else? Sure, you could flee to Sardinia. You would definitely disappear. But you could just as easily disappear into Maxentius’s vast palace as a common worker. It’s the last thing anyone would suspect of a fugitive. And there you might actually contribute to the important events rising in our empire.”
“I’m open to it,” Flavia said cautiously, “but the idea seems scary. I’d live in the emperor’s palace? What would I do there?”
Alexamenos put a gentle hand on Flavia’s arm. “Remember, I train the imperial page boys. I have many connections at the palace, so I can easily get you a job up there. You’d fit in with the young girls who work in the emperor’s kitchen. No one at the palace knows you, so they
wouldn’t suspect a thing. And I can provide you a spare room at the Gelotiana House where I live. All you’d have to do is go to work every day and listen for whatever you could pick up.”
Flavia glanced at Rex. “Do you think I should do it?”
Rex nodded, though he grimaced as he did so. “It certainly would help my mission to have an insider deep in the palace,” he acknowledged. “But you’d have to . . .” He made a snipping motion below his ear with two fingers. “And also, no more of this.” Rex rubbed his cheeks with the fingertips of his two hands, then traced his index fingers across his eyelids.
“I don’t need all that,” Flavia said. “I can give it up if I need to.”
“Good. You couldn’t look bad even if you tried, so don’t worry.”
Though Flavia’s mind registered the compliment, her thoughts were racing too quickly to linger over the sweet words. “What about you?” she asked. “What will you do, Rex?”
“Exactly what I’ve been planning all along: enlist in Maxentius’s army and gather intelligence for my lord when he arrives. And also kill that snake Pompeianus if I get a chance.”
Ignatius frowned. “No, Rex. That is not part of our plan.”
“It might be part of my plan,” Rex muttered, then let the matter drop.
Senator Ignatius spread his arms as if to gather everyone together. “My friends, we have all revealed some deadly information to each other tonight. A sacred trust now binds us. I propose we formalize it with a holy promise.”
“Great idea!” Rex said. “Let’s swear an oath.”
“Only a promise before God,” Ignatius countered. “No need to swear upon his name or risk punishments for oath breaking. Just let our yes be yes and our no be no, as the Lord has said.”
Alexamenos jumped up and faced Ignatius. “I promise to serve the Christian emperor and help him succeed.”
“Me too,” Flavia said, rising to join the other men. “It is clear I have been called to this task. Therefore I will do my part.”
Now Rex was the only person still seated. Slowly and with thoughtful deliberation, he glanced at the three others. Finally, he stood up. He reached to the back of his neck, unfastened the thong of his amulet, and held it out in his palm. The incised tau and rho stood out clearly on the medallion’s metal face. Curling his fingers, he enclosed it in his fist.
“If the Christian God really is the creator of all,” Rex said, “let him behold me now. I promise before this God of yours to return to Rome and do whatever I can to prepare the way for Constantine.”
Flavia felt a strong emotion sweep over her as she gazed at Rex. He was so strong, so resolute, so courageous—and also, she had to admit, so handsome as he stood there in the hearth’s soft glow. Firelight danced on his face, highlighting his stark cheekbones and strong jaw. With his wide shoulders and impressive height, Rex seemed capable of achieving anything. Drawn to him by a potent and primordial force, Flavia took up her place at his side, then reached out and clasped his fist in her palm.
“I promise to serve God alongside you,” she said, “no matter what it may require.”
Alexamenos added his hand to the pledge. “And I as well.”
After a moment of prayerful meditation, Ignatius stepped close and covered the hands of the others with his own. “It is indeed a solemn promise we are making here tonight, my friends. I join you freely, for God has called us to a great task. Let us continually ask him to help us see it through. For I have the feeling—”
The senator’s brow wrinkled, and he sighed deeply as he caught Flavia’s eye. She looked back at him, waiting for him to finish his words.
“I have the feeling,” Ignatius continued at last, “that we shall need the full measure of God’s strength before our work is done.”
9
NOVEMBER 311
The pleasant days of early autumn had begun to lapse into a dreary Roman winter. It was November now, and like every year, Flavia was trying to adapt to more chilly drizzle and less beautiful sunshine. Today was yet another one of the rainy days. As she gazed out her window at the Gelotiana House, she could tell it was going to be like that all day.
“Enjoying the view?” Alexamenos asked as he entered the room behind her, obviously joking. The only thing Flavia could see was the rain-drenched wall of an apartment block a short distance away.
She glanced over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. “Of course! I always love to stare at wet bricks.”
Alexamenos laughed at the reply, then came closer and pointed at the plain-looking building. “See those windows right there? Four in a row on the second floor? Guess what it is.”
“Somebody’s residence, I suppose,” Flavia said with a shrug.
“Used to be. But now it’s been turned into a church.”
“Really?” Flavia looked over at her friend, mouth agape, eyebrows arched. “A church right here at the foot of the Palatine? That building touches the Circus Maximus! The emperor passes it every time he comes down to his box to watch the races!”
“I know. Hard to believe. Little does he know what’s happening right under his nose. Quite a few high-level officials attend the church. It’s named for the lady who owns the apartments. She took some rooms off her rental roll and devoted them to sacred use. Her name is Anastasia. Quite an energetic woman. And very devoted to the faith.”
“I wish I could visit,” Flavia said wistfully.
Alexamenos shook his head. “Just keep your head down and do your job. No need to raise suspicions. There will be time in the future to start going to church again.”
“I know. But I miss meeting with the brethren.”
“Maybe you could go out to the Catacombs? There’s a feast coming soon at the Apostolic Monument. The place is less visible to watching eyes.”
Flavia was considering her friend’s remark when, out in the main courtyard, the normal ruckus of the rowdy boys who lived in the house grew louder. Tensions had been running a little high today because everyone was cooped up by the rain. Now a fight seemed to be breaking out.
Alexamenos went to the portico to intervene, and Flavia followed. “Bassus! Zoticus! Break it up!” the teacher barked. “You want to mar those pretty faces with a black eye? You’ve got a banquet tomorrow!”
The mention of disfigurement was more than enough to make the handsome youths back down from whatever had aroused their fighting spirit. When Flavia had arrived a few days earlier at Gelotiana House, she immediately noticed that the boys—from slight youths with still-smooth cheeks to young men who were seventeen like herself—were all extremely good-looking. Their faces were beautiful, their clothes were elegant, and all of them were tall for their age. Yet what Flavia noticed most was their hair. Every single boy had long, thick locks that draped down upon his shoulders. Normally it hung free, but on formal occasions it was braided into plaits. These youths were being trained in the Paedagogium, the school for imperial pages who performed various ceremonial duties in the palace. Apparently, the officials from the government complex on the Palatine Hill needed handsome boys at their constant beck and call. The Roman Empire might be run by a bunch of fat old men, but the slaves who served them were angelic.
“Everybody, back to your duties!” Alexamenos said. “No fighting in the house!”
“He started it, Magister,” the boy named Bassus whined.
“And I’d finish it, too, if we didn’t have a banquet.” Zoticus gave his enemy one last glare, then spun away in disgust. Flavia had met the youth already. He was cocky and arrogant, yet a likeable rascal. At age thirteen, his boyish cuteness was just starting to be tinged with the more rugged edge of a man.
“Let’s talk for a bit, Zoticus. Step into your room.” Alexamenos slipped his arm around his pupil’s shoulder and steered him to the third bedroom from the entrance. The teacher looked over his shoulder and tossed his head at Flavia, indicating she could follow. Alexamenos had been intentional about making her feel welcome among the horde of boys. He include
d her in everything. As for the boys, they had long ago accepted the presence of a few females in their midst. In fact, several of the youths seemed a little too glad about it. Flavia had endured numerous crass comments already, not to mention a couple of advances from the older boys. Her roommate, Chloe, was pregnant by one of the pages, though she didn’t know which one.
Zoticus shared his room with three other pages. Their sleeping couches lined two of the walls, while the third held wooden cabinets for their belongings. The fourth wall was a mass of graffiti scratched into the plaster by the many boys who had passed through the school over the years. One drawing caught Flavia’s eye: a donkey was turning a grinding mill next to the words Toil on, little ass, just as I have toiled, and it will profit you. Evidently, the labors of the schoolboys could feel like drudgery at times, but in the end, the rewards were worth it.
“It’s difficult to go through life so angry all the time,” Alexamenos was telling Zoticus, who was pouting on his bed. “You always seem ready to explode like a volcano. A wise man learns to control his passions.”
“Don’t quote your Christian scriptures at me, Magister. I don’t care what they have to say.”
“The scriptures of my God do counsel against anger, but so do the philosophers. You need look no further than Seneca or Cicero to discover that turbulent passions disrupt the soul. This is wisdom you would do well to heed.”
Zoticus folded his arms across his chest and would say no more, despite Alexamenos’s best efforts. Finally, the teacher gave up and left the boy alone. Flavia was about to depart, too, when she paused and turned to the petulant boy. “You know, girls don’t like angry men,” she advised. “Maybe you should change your ways if you want to catch someone’s eye.”
“What makes you think I don’t already have a girl?” Zoticus snapped. “I’m a grown man now. Look here”—he thrust out his chin—“I have whiskers.”
“I see them, Zoticus. But there’s more to being a man than having to pluck a beard.”