Rule of God (Book Three of the Dominium Dei Trilogy) Read Online Free Page A

bath would be nice.”
    And it was, regardless of the limited affections of Cassiopia, clearly under orders from Cota. The heated water and oils soaked into his skin that had been caked with dust and dirt over the weeks, and he realized how much hot water was the very definition of civilization. Then he thought of Gabrielle working his relief in the fields, answering to Vibius at the winery and Bishop Paul in the caves. When he stepped out and into his new wardrobe and sandals, he felt so clean on the outside and yet still so filthy inside. In short, he felt very Roman, and thus, he supposed, better prepared to meet Dovilin’s guests.
    •    •    •
    They worked in threes, these First Fruits, so that night Athanasius set the triclinium while Brutus and a young man named Claudius poured the wine for Dovilin and his two guests, the well-connected legates from the XII Fulminate and XVI Flavia legions in Cappadocia. A third guest, who apparently accompanied one of the legates, stood at attention in a corner, staring at Athanasius.
    It was the Roman assassin from Ephesus, the one with the gash down his face from forehead to chin. The one who earlier in Corinth killed his mother and his niece.
    From the moment their eyes first locked, Athanasius thought he was dead. But the man said nothing, simply stood at attention in the opposite corner of the room, staring at Athanasius and making it clear that he knew exactly who he was staring at.
    “You have to learn to rule the world,” Dovilin was telling his guests.
    The two Romans looked at each other, mystified.
    “We already do, Dovilin,” said the legate from XVI Flavia. “The Roman empire and its influence stretch across the entire earth.”
    Athanasius caught a glance from Dovilin, and now had to assume that the old man knew everything: that Croesus, Samuel Ben-Deker’s sponsor, was dead, that Samuel Ben-Deker wasn’t who he claimed to be but somebody else entirely, and that this assassin standing in the corner had already informed him that he was Athanasius of Athens.
    “Your fortresses, roads, ships and government, yes, of course,” Dovilin went on with the Romans. “But it’s the hearts of men I’m talking about.”
    “I think I know what you mean, Dovilin,” Legate XII theorized as Brutus and Claudius poured rivers of endless Dovilin wine into their bottomless cups. “Vesapsian’s genius was in improving the provincial infrastructure here in Asia Minor and thus facilitating our defense of the eastern frontier, all without firing an arrow.”
    Legate XVI echoed his agreement. “We must always be ready for war with the Parthians over Armenia. But Domitian is too preoccupied with the Christians.”
    “Maybe,” said Dovilin with a worldly, patrician air that promised the perspective of the bigger picture. “But he has carried on his father’s plans for the construction of road networks in Asia Minor for troop movements, and the increased settlements associated with your expanded military bases have done more to open up commerce than anything else, enriching us all.”
    That was the magic word, Athanasius thought. Commerce. This was the true work of the Lord’s Vineyard.
    “All of you are more than military men. Your families are wealthy, beyond the equestrian ranks. Like General Trajan, your wealth and power here can grow far beyond your service to Rome.”
    Now the two legates were extremely interested, hanging on every parsed and patiently strung word coming from Dovilin’s lips.
    “Your families have olives, oil and grains. Mine has wine.”
    “I see how you can sell much Dovilin wine through us to our legions and the local governors of Asia Minor,” said Legate XVI. “But I fail to see how much you and your household staff could purchase from us.”
    “You forget the Christians in the caves all over Cappadocia, gentlemen. Hundreds of thousands. Individually, they have little in possessions or money. But as a whole they are a market bigger