Wrath of Rome (Book Two of the Dominium Dei Trilogy) by Thomas Greanias
Authors: Thomas Greanias
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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
W hen 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.
Athanasius had been here several times before, mostly to launch various performances and sign off on the merchandise from the sleazy local idolmaker Supremus. He had also consulted on the design of the grand new library that had been proposed for the city by Julius Celsus Polemaenus, a local Greek who had become quite rich in Rome. The current library to which he was headed was small and only a single story. By financing a three-story edifice, Celsus was angling to win the governorship of Asia from Domitian in the near future. Athanasius had always considered the Celsus family sellouts for so easily
“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
W hen 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.
Athanasius had been here several times before, mostly to launch various performances and sign off on the merchandise from the sleazy local idolmaker Supremus. He had also consulted on the design of the grand new library that had been proposed for the city by Julius Celsus Polemaenus, a local Greek who had become quite rich in Rome. The current library to which he was headed was small and only a single story. By financing a three-story edifice, Celsus was angling to win the governorship of Asia from Domitian in the near future. Athanasius had always considered the Celsus family sellouts for so easily
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