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

at the sight of the ghost, come to take him down to Hades with him.
    “Athanasius!” he said in a low, horrified whisper. “They killed you, not I! It wasn’t my fault! I did my best to save you!”
    “We’ll see about that,” Athanasius said. “Get dressed.”
    •    •    •
    The Tabularium was the national archives of the Roman Empire, housing its official records and the offices of many city officials. It was built into the front slope of Capitoline Hill, just below the Temple of Jupiter and next to the dreaded Tullianum prison from which Athanasius had escaped on a similar night like this not that long ago. Looking more like a fortress to hide Rome’s secrets than a basilica of information, Athanasius thought, the Tabularium’s imposing three-level façade was built from blocks of grey, volcanic peperino and travertine stone.
    “He allegedly was torn apart by his own animals under the arena floor this morning,” Pliny was telling him about Ludlumus as they entered the empty Forum square. “An accident, they say, something about an unbolted gate in the tiger pens. I simply assumed Domitian was behind it. All sorts of crazy things have been happening lately, and now you show up, back from the dead, dressed up as a tribune.”
    “Well, you are the ghost hunter.” Athanasius could see the single-door entrance at the bottom of the Tabularium’s tall, fortified base. At the top of the base were small windows cut out of the facade, and above them the Doric and Corinthian arcades.
    “If there is any trace of the ghost of Mucianus, we’ll find him here,” Pliny told Athanasius. “I’m curious myself, especially with the demise of Ludlumus and your connection of his father to the Dei. You know, I’ve consulted with him in the past about ghosts. And now you show up with all these revelations. Maybe something really is going on today. It brings back all the chills of Pompeii.”
    But Athanasius was still looking at the squat Tullianum prison next door, wondering whatever happened to old smashface the warden, before turning his attention to the two guards outside the entrance to the Tabularium.
    The guards recognized Pliny on sight and allowed them inside without trouble. As they passed through the interlocking interior vaults of concrete, Athanasius felt his pulse quicken at the thought that he was on the verge of discovering the secret fate of Mucianus while bracing himself for the probability that all tracks of the Dei ghost had been erased and that he, Virtus and Stephanus were running blind into what promised to be an epic, historic morning, however Rome stood at the end of the day.
    “Over here is where the deeds, records and laws are housed,” Pliny said as he followed a particularly austere corridor to a large vault, where they found a skeleton of a clerk with hollow cheeks. “Hello, Hortus.”
    Hortus didn’t appear surprised to see them here at this hour, and Athanasius suspected that most senators did their archive skullduggery themselves at night rather than send their staff by day.
    “I need some old documents for Senator Sura in order to update them and submit them for approval to the senate. I need everything for these seven years.”
    Athanasius watched Pliny sign a wax tablet and list the band of years starting with the Year of Four Emperors.
    The clerk looked at the tablet, back to Pliny and then to him, the mysterious tribune who said nothing. Hortus seemed surprised by the wide band of years. “This will take some time,” he said, “and higher-level authority.”
    “I have my supervisor’s authority, Senator Nerva,” Pliny said and presented an identification token.
    Hortus nodded.
    Athanasius watched the ghoul disappear to the back and asked Pliny, “You trust old Nerva?”
    “Yes, and you’re going to have to, because if you do kill Domitian today, you’ll need Nerva’s help to confirm the succession of Young Vespasian. He’s old, has no heirs and is trusted by