The Chiron Confession (Dominium Dei) by Thomas Greanias Read Free Book Online

weapons before entering. He also saw the black cutouts of snipers against the night sky—archers on the rooftops.
    “You were right, Helena. The Pompey could never match the warmth of this reception for my audience.”
    “Athanasius, please,” she said, smoothing the folds of her fashionable stola dress. “Remember our company tonight.”
    There were indeed plenty of purple stripes on many of the fine togas in the line to get inside—senators and magistrates. Plenty of gold stripes, too, on the military officers, and a rainbow of tunics on proud display from the celebrated charioteers. Fashion-conscious women had their hair dyed honey gold and piled on top with ringlets like Helena’s. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was Helena’s hair on some of them; every time hers was cut it was sold for wigs and extensions. Diamond and sapphire brooches held up shimmering stolas, draped to emphasize heaving bosoms.
    “I don’t see old Max yet,” he said, scanning the crowd. “Could he be inside already?”
    “You know he hasn’t been well lately, Athanasius, especially after his last visit to the palace.”
    “I forgot. But this is my night. He’ll be here. I know it.”
    When their turn came, a footman announced their arrival while their names were checked off the guest list on a tablet. Once inside the expansive audience hall, however, the lack of any real reception for Athanasius hit him hard with the crushing reality that nobody was here to see his play. They were here to be seen. That included his lead actor, the comic Latinus, whom Athanasius was able to pick out through the towering Phrygian marble columns. He was standing under the extravagant frieze on the far wall, easy smiles as always, talking to their mutual lawyer, Pliny the Younger.
    “Latinus should be backstage in the courtyard getting ready for his performance,” Athanasius complained to Helena.
    “This is his real performance, Athanasius.” She sounded frustrated with him already, and the evening had barely begun. “And it’s yours too. We need to play to our audience before and after.
Opus Gloria
is simply the middle act. You must accept that and let your work speak for itself. Here’s your chance.”
    Athanasius turned to see the Empress Domitia floating toward them in a splendid, bejeweled dress. “Our guest of honor has arrived!” Domitia said as she embraced him and then kissed Helena. “You are the image of perfection, Helena, as always.”
    Domitia was flanked by two boys. She cheerfully introduced them as Vespasian and Domitian. With a start Athanasius realized that these were the sons of Flavius Clemens, the consul executed just that morning. They had a dazed look about them, understandably, and he could only imagine their terror now that they had to live under the same roof as the monster who had murdered their father.
    “Helena, I have several very muscular gladiators and charioteers who wish to meet you in person,” Domitia said with a wink. “You don’t mind, Athanasius?”
    “Not at all,” he said as the empress dragged a reluctant Helena off and he waved her away with a smile.
    He grabbed a crystal glass of wine from a floating silver tray and headed straight toward Latinus and Pliny. By the time he arrived, however, Latinus had managed to escape before Athanasius could scold him.
    “You needn’t worry, Athanasius,” Pliny assured him with a wry smile. “Latinus is already putting on his fake breasts, face paint and costume.”
    Pliny was his friend and lawyer. But he was also a government magistrate and liaison for his public art with the Flavian administration. His job, everybody else had apparently agreed, was to even out Athanasius’s complaints with calm explanations and assurances, and make sure the money came in as fast as Athanasius could spend it on Helena.
    “I only hope he didn’t have too much of this wine before the show.” Athanasius swirled his wine and noticed the seal of Caesar engraved into the