Free Rule of God (Book Three of the Dominium Dei Trilogy) by Thomas Greanias Page A

hand—exposing the Dei and assassinating Domitian in one fell swoop. Two birds with one stone cast at Rome.
    And he was that stone.
    He couldn’t feel. Couldn’t waver. Couldn’t look back.
    Still, he wondered how Gabrielle and the others were doing.
    No, he had to put thoughts of her and the poor souls in the caves away. He had to focus on Domitian as a lifeless corpse, a god fallen.
    He had to focus on killing a god, and in so doing giving all Rome hope.
    The taxi turned down a hill and then a wide, well-lit boulevard to reach the Apollo. It boasted a lively tavern on the street, and a courtyard leading to an entrance to the rooms above in the back.
    “This is it,” he said to the driver, holding out payment, his hand trembling ever so slightly.
    “Ask for Venus,” the driver said, motioning to the whorehouse next door. “You won’t regret it.”
    Athanasius watched him move down the road and pick up some sailors who could barely hold themselves upright. The taxi then headed back to the piers.
    Athanasius walked around the back through the gate into a courtyard with fountains and fire pits, and then inside the small room with a counter. He ignored it and headed up the stairs to room 34.
    There was Virtus, looking distressed. Behind him was a woman, a nursemaid in a smock, covered with blood. And there was another woman in the bed, moaning, clutching her stomach. Blood was running across her body. Athanasius immediately ran to her bedside.
    The woman’s face was contorted by pain, but it was clear that it was Helena.
    Athanasius sank to the floor beside the bed.
    Virtus closed the door behind him and spoke in a low but urgent tone. “She’s been stabbed.”
    “I can see that!” Athanasius barked. “Helena! Helena!”
    She opened her eyes. “Athanasius, it is you? You’re alive. You cannot see my shame.”
    “Who did this to you, Helena? Tell me.”
    “No, Athanasius, let me die. Leave me!” she wailed, while the nursemaid put a hand over her mouth to quiet her.
    “How could you let this happen?” he growled at Virtus.
    “She did it to herself, to kill the child.”
    Athanasius stared at him. “What child?”
    “The one growing inside her belly. Domitian’s child.”
    Helena looked like she had died, and Athanasius tried to shake her when the nurse pulled him away. “She’s still breathing. She’ll survive. So will the child. She missed with the knife, but the cut is deep.”
    Virtus said, “We can only pray for her now. There is much to discuss but so very little time. Everything is happening so fast.”
    But Athanasius was furious. This was a disaster, and he hadn’t yet stepped foot in Rome. Helena was pregnant with Domitian’s child, and she had tried to take its life along her own. Now this nursemaid and others were involved, and what was supposed to be a quiet reunion had turned into an unfolding tragedy.
    Athanasius could hardly speak. Still, Virtus was right. There was no time. The wheels of fate were in motion, and if he didn’t roll with them, he would be ground to dust. “Let her sleep. But if things go badly, she needs to be ready to leave with me on the Sea Nymph later today. Now let’s go find the identity of Mucianus’s successor in the Dei.”
    Virtus paused. “You are chasing ghosts, Athanasius.”
    “No, Virtus,” Athanasius told him, whipping out his sword. “I know where Ludlumus lives. We will take him and make him talk.”
    “That’s the thing,” Virtus said, stammering, and Athanasius could feel the bad news coming. “Ludlumus is dead.”

IX
    P liny the Younger liked to retire early and rise early. He was fast asleep when his bed shook and he opened his eyes to see a figure standing at the foot of his bed with a sword to his throat. “Boo!”
    Pliny was about to cry out when he felt the point of the blade at his throat and saw the ghost put his finger to his lips. And then, as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of his room, he recognized the figure and shook