The Last Temple

by Hank Hanegraaff

  “Well,” Ruso said, breaking into Vitas’s thoughts. “I presume the day was eventful?”

  “I had a conversation with Alypia. Her health is poor. All her strivings, it appears, will be of no use to her.”

  Ruso nodded. “A castle of sand. Washed away by rain. We need always remember the surest foundation and where our efforts should be directed.”

  It almost felt like Ruso was lecturing Vitas, and it mildly irritated him, so he abruptly changed the subject.

  “I was followed,” Vitas said.

  “What?” Ruso lost his relaxed pose and sat upright, shifting his weight onto his feet, ready to rise. “Who? Where?”

  Both understood the terrible consequences of discovery. The key to Vitas’s activities in Rome was that he not be found by Nero or by Nero’s closest men, Helius and Tigellinus. Not only would it end Vitas’s life; Ruso would be ordered to commit suicide, and his property would be confiscated by Nero.

  Vitas waved him back. “I was not followed here. It was near the tavern. You can trust that I took as many evasive steps as possible to lose any other followers before returning here. Jerome is always behind me. He’s the one who first let me know about the young man who pursued me to Alypia’s villa, and he helped me trap the follower.”

  “You don’t know who sent the man?”

  “I have no guesses.” Which wasn’t true. But the stakes were too high to speak candidly. “It wasn’t Nerva.”

  “How can you be certain?”

  “I was followed long before going to the tavern. If Nerva were involved, he would have had someone waiting when I picked up the letter.”

  Ruso leaned forward again. “Nerva has sent you a message.”

  “He has chosen a place and time for me to meet tonight with those who oppose Nero, to deliver what Vespasian has instructed me. There could not be a better chance than this. I have the scroll from the archives.”

  This time, Ruso did stand in a swift move of excitement that could not be contained. “Where?”

  “I have hidden it again,” Vitas said. “Tonight, at the meeting, I’ll have it with me.”

  “What does the scroll hold?”

  “I haven’t broken the seal. Not until the meeting with Nerva and Vespasian’s supporters. Tomorrow, it is yours, I promise, for I understand your curiosity.”

  Ruso began to pace. “Of course. Of course.” He stopped. “Tonight. I’ll send you with a retinue of my slaves as protection.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Vitas said. “I’ll have Jerome.”

  “You understand, don’t you, how dangerous this is? Helius and Tigellinus.”

  Though Nero was emperor, Helius and Tigellinus were the two men who made sure each of Nero’s whims was immediately granted, from hiring assassins to supplying young men and women for Nero’s depravities. Their continued power depended on Nero’s.

  When Vitas nodded, Ruso continued. “Helius and Tigellinus, it is rumored, have promised freedom and immense reward to any slave who alerts them to a gathering of seditious men. If Helius and Tigellinus can imprison in one fell swoop those they can prove are conspiring against Nero, the revolt is over. Galba commits suicide, and the generals at the heads of other legions will once again meekly do Rome’s bidding.”

  “If I travel with Jerome, there is far less chance that I will draw attention to myself.”

  “You must be careful. Helius and Tigellinus would give half a kingdom for the capture of the conspirators and another half a kingdom for that scroll.” Ruso finished with a grim smile. “And they want you dead too.”

  Prima Fax

  Full moon. An evening still and hot, with sheet lightning flickering above the seven hills of Rome.

  The thickness of the air and sense of a gathering storm brought Vitas back to the night when he’d first defied Nero and begun the chain of events that had expelled him from Nero’s inner circle.

  Two and a half years earlier, Vitas had stalked Nero on a night just like this, following the emperor through the royal gardens. Nero was wearing an elaborate costume made of skins pieced together from animals imported to the arenas: leopard skin over his body; arms and legs covered by skin from a bear’s legs, complete with claws at his feet and hands; two pairs of eagle’s wings sewn onto the back; and a lion’s head covering Nero’s own.

  Vitas had followed Nero that evening because back then, Vitas was the single man in Nero’s inner circle whom the Senate trusted, and he felt like a thin string holding the Senate and the emperor together. Vitas had to know what the emperor was doing in the garden.

  As Nero began attacking prisoners in the guise of this beast, Vitas could endure the emperor’s madness no more. He’d stepped in to stop it, and the only thing that had saved Vitas from the emperor’s wrath that night was a miraculous earthquake.

  Since then, Nero’s evils had worsened on a scale unseen by the Romans, even after enduring Caligula. Nero, the man who had slept with his own mother and then assassinated her, who had castrated a slave because the boy reminded him of the wife he had kicked to death and in a public ceremony had then wed the boy. In the arenas, he’d tortured thousands of followers of the Christos, clapping in glee at their horrible deaths. He’d ordered statues of himself placed in temples across the empire, commanding his citizens to treat him as a god.

  Tonight, in a way, Vitas again stalked the emperor. With the same tension in the heat of a similar evening, Vitas was completing another circle. If things went wrong, however, he doubted an earthquake would save him this time.

  He felt the way he did just before battle. Coiled. The difference was that here he needed to compress the rage that boiled inside of him when he thought of Nero and all that Nero had inflicted on Sophia. If Vitas allowed his emotion to reign, he would lose his effectiveness as a warrior.

  Still, he could not escape the thought. Vitas was in Rome. Either Nero would die. Or Vitas would die.

  Jerome walked beside him through the streets that led to a mansion only hundreds of yards away from the royal gardens. And Vitas, holding a scroll that Helius feared could undermine the emperor, was to meet the small circle of men who would determine Nero’s fate.

  And the fate of an empire.

  At the ten-foot-high wall that surrounded the grounds of the mansion, Jerome pushed at a gate. It opened on silent hinges.

  Any other night, the gate would have been locked and guarded. Tonight, those invited inside the walls had been told it would be open for a specific period of time.

  Vitas followed Jerome inside. They walked down a path between shrubs, lit by torches set strategically along either side.

  Almost as if materializing from the darkness, soldiers stepped out from the shrubs in full armor, swords drawn, completely surrounding Vitas and Jerome.

  Vitas drew his own sword. With a massive blow, Jerome knocked it loose from his hand.

  “Stop!” a voice barked from behind the soldiers. The man who had given the command stepped through and tossed a rope toward Jerome.

  “Search him for the scroll,” the man said. “And bind his hands.”

  Vitas well knew who spoke.

  Helius. The man who had ruled Rome while Nero was in Greece. The man who had gone to Greece to bring Nero back to keep power. The man who hated Vitas with as much depth as the ocean.

  Daylight would have shown the feminine features of a face as sleek as a leopard’s, the almost-orange eyes, and the twisted smile of a man in love with himself. Torchlight threw his face into shadows but could not conceal the gleam of the triumphant smile.

  Lightning flickered, briefly filling the far sky.

  None of the soldiers moved forward to obey Helius’s command.

  Instead, Jerome patted Vitas until he found the scroll and tossed it to Helius. Jerome spun Vitas and quickly wrapped the rope around his wrists, tying his hands behind his back.

  When that was complete, Helius nodded at the soldiers nearest him; they swarmed Jerome and knocked him to the ground unconsc
ious, then used more rope to bind the giant.

  When this was complete and there was no danger for Helius, he stepped toward Vitas and used the side of a dagger to stroke his enemy’s cheek.

  “Usually I don’t enjoy blood on my hands,” Helius said. “But I’m going to make an exception for you, Vitas.”

  “Could you share the pleasure with me?” This came from another man stepping into the torchlight, with the wolfish grin that had for years terrified all but the richest and most powerful in Rome.

  Tigellinus closed the distance to Vitas and savagely kicked him in the belly. Vitas fell to the ground, retching.

  “Enough,” Helius spoke to Tigellinus. “We had agreed that it would serve our purpose to butcher him alive in front of those inside. Once they see how we deal with him, they’ll fight each other to be the first to name all the others who support their cause.”

  “I know, I know,” Tigellinus said, breathing heavily. “But sometimes a man needs to give in to temptation. You of all people would understand.”

  Helius laughed softly.

  Vitas was still on the ground, trying to wipe the edges of his mouth on his shoulder. He expected another brutal kick, but there was a commotion instead at the rear of the soldiers.

  “Found another!” one soldier reported. “He sneaked in through the gate behind them.”

  There was a dragging sound.

  “Who is this?” Helius demanded.

  Vitas took another kick in the ribs and realized the question had been directed at him.

  “Who is this?” Helius hissed, leaning down toward Vitas. He grabbed Vitas by the hair and twisted his head to look at the man captured by the soldiers.

  A soldier was holding a torch near the face of the new prisoner. Vitas saw clearly it was the same man who had followed him into the alley by the tavern. The stranger’s face showed no fear, only resolution.

  “Ask him yourself,” Vitas said.

  “We’ll see how long your defiance lasts when I begin to open you with a knife,” Helius said, then turned to Tigellinus. “Take all of them with you to make the arrests.” He pointed at the intruder. “Keep him with you too. We’ll get all of them in one room to watch what happens to Vitas. By dawn, Rome will be Nero’s again.”

  Tigellinus waved the soldiers to follow him, and even before the sound of their footsteps had receded, Helius knelt beside the unconscious Jerome. A flash of lightning showed the dagger in his hand.

  “Sideways through the ribs,” Helius said. “Straight into the heart. You’ll wish you died this quickly.”

  “Let him live.” On his feet, Vitas pulled his hands out from behind his back and withdrew the short sword he’d concealed under his toga. “And I promise you’ll make it through the night too.”

  If Helius was surprised that Vitas had loosened his bonds, he didn’t show it. Instead, Helius countered by placing the point of the dagger beneath Jerome’s chin. “Step closer, and I’ll drive this into the roof of his mouth.”

  “You are safe as long as he is safe,” Vitas said.

  “And I only need to stay safe until Tigellinus returns with the soldiers,” Helius responded. “Run while you can.”

  “You held Jerome’s family hostage,” Vitas said. “You told him to find me and kill me and return with my insignia, or his family would be dead. I’m guessing only you and Tigellinus and Jerome have knowledge of this. So ask yourself, which one passed it along to me? Either way, this evening is not going to end as you expected.”

  Helius continued kneeling, holding the dagger loosely under Jerome’s throat. “I’ll humor you,” he said. “Let’s continue this conversation.”

  Another sheet of lightning flickered silently above the hills. The approaching storm was so distant that the rumbling would barely reach them in the next thirty seconds.

  “You pretend it’s about amusement,” Vitas said. “But you are asking yourself right now: Which one told? If Tigellinus, then how else has he betrayed you? If Jerome, then what else do I know?”

  “Tigellinus has as much to lose as I do if Nero is deposed. He betrays me, he betrays himself.”

  “But,” Vitas said, “Jerome is mute. How could he tell anyone? And wasn’t that the beauty of threatening to kill his family? Ask yourself, though. Why would I care to protect him from your knife if I believed he had betrayed me?”

  Helius glanced backward, obviously waiting for Tigellinus and his soldiers to appear.

  “You won’t be rescued,” Vitas said. “You’ll find the scroll to be nothing but empty parchment. And the men in togas you watched enter this garden to meet inside? Tigellinus is about to attempt to arrest hand-chosen soldiers, loyal not to Nero but to the empire. The meeting you are trying to prevent is taking place halfway across the city.”

  “Liar.” But the word rang with a hint of desperation.

  “How do you get a mute to talk?” Vitas said. “You give him a voice.”

  Vitas had spent a lot of time in contemplation over this. His heart had ached for Jerome, who so obviously loved his family but had only the simplest of gestures to respond to his children.

  “The man does not speak,” Helius said.

  “But he writes,” Vitas said.

  In the months in Alexandria, Vitas had found a way to give purpose to Arella and solve the mystery of why Jerome had nearly murdered him in the market in the aftermath of the camel stampede.

  When at last Jerome learned to write, he’d put into letter what he could not speak aloud, describing how his children had been kidnapped and how Helius had threatened the entire family if Jerome did not find a way to kill Vitas.

  But Helius and Tigellinus had not counted on the anguish Jerome faced at the prospect, and that when finally given the chance, Jerome would be unable to betray his masters but would choose instead for Vitas to kill him.

  “I came to Rome,” Vitas said, “knowing that once Jerome returned to his family, you would seize the opportunity to again get at me through him. I expected you here tonight because he let me know how he’d led you here earlier and, through gestures, given you an idea of what was happening tonight.”

  The storm was closer now, and the rumbling of distant thunder louder.

  Vitas looked over his own shoulder, then back to Helius, and raised his voice to be heard clearly. “You would be wise to drop that dagger,” Vitas said. “See the torches coming onto the grounds? Soldiers from the Praetorian Guard. It means they’ve abandoned the palace because Nero’s fate has been decided. He no longer rules the empire. Galba has been declared.”

  Helius shrieked rage.

  “Drop the knife or die,” Vitas said. “Drop the knife and take your chances that Galba lets you live.”

  Helius didn’t hesitate.

  Coward that he was, he dropped the knife.

  Concubia

  Soldiers brought Tigellinus forward, his hands chained.

  “You,” Tigellinus spat at Vitas. “You expected this.”

  Vitas nodded.

  “It was remarkable,” said the young man whom Vitas had caught following him. “We entered the room, and all those other soldiers raised their swords in defense. Their leader said the imperial guard no longer served Nero, and that if Tigellinus didn’t surrender, all would be guilty of treason against Galba.”

  Again Vitas nodded.

  “We have a new emperor,” the young man said, almost in disbelief.

  “We have a new emperor,” Vitas said. “Unless he has committed suicide. Messengers have been dispatched to bring him the news that Nero is now considered a fugitive.”

  “And you were part of this?”

  “I was.”

  “Then please help me,” the young man said. “You have the authority to order soldiers to go with us to the palace. To rescue Hezron’s daughter.”

  “Not without answers,” Vitas said. “Who are you, and why have you been following me?”

  The man pulled on his arm. “As we walk, please. If the palace is empty, we
don’t have time to waste. Who knows what Nero will do once he finds himself abandoned. Hezron’s daughter, Leah. She’s there, among others.”

  Vitas waved over the commander. “You’ll give me some men as guards?”

  “Without hesitation,” he said. He pointed at four men. “You, go with him. Do as he orders. Understand?”

  The soldiers, carrying swords and wearing breastplates, nodded.

  The young man pulled on Vitas’s arm and hurried him forward, down the path toward the street on the other side of the wall that protected the gardens.

  “You know my father,” the young man said as they walked. “Ben-Aryeh.”

  “Chayim? You are Chayim? But Hezron said you were dead.”

  “To protect me,” Chayim said. “To protect Leah.”

  They reached the gate. The first rain spatters hit them, and both quickened their pace, striding into a growing wind. The edge of the storm had arrived.

  “More than a year ago,” Chayim said, “Helius and Tigellinus sent me in pursuit of an old man and the woman he was protecting. I was told that if I didn’t return with the woman, Leah would be killed. I had no inkling it was your wife they wanted. Or that the old man was my father.”

  “You found them,” Vitas said. “On the island of Patmos. Your father had been jailed.”

  “You know what happened there,” Chayim said. “At least from his point of view.”

  Already Chayim was panting. Vitas had no doubt it was because of his unnatural thinness. The man needed food, and Vitas could guess as to why.

  “Your father told me that you had a chance to identify Sophia as the woman you’d been sent to find. And that you denied it was her.” Vitas put a hand on Chayim’s shoulder. “For that, you have my eternal gratitude. You gave her freedom and allowed her to find me.”

  “I wasn’t doing it for you,” Chayim said. “It was for my father. You can’t imagine how I felt when he looked up at me from the jail cell. In his eyes, I had become a Roman persecutor of Jews and of Christians. Worse, he was right.”