Solomon's Throne (8 page)

He wondered at the third letter, as it was dictated by Paul himself, to the Church in Jerusalem. Apparently it had never been delivered, a victim of the persecutions no doubt. Written in Paul’s clear voice, it was merely a congratulations on the appointment of Peter as their bishop. It was unfortunate that the letter had not arrived to encourage the people, as they were always sorely in need.

He rolled the scroll back up and opened the last one in the box, which was a sad reminder of the mental deterioration his father had undergone. It was written in the handwriting of a child, random words and symbols, with no meaning whatsoever.

Keeping the other three scrolls in the box, Antonius threw the last one in the fire. That was not how he wanted to remember his father, and not how he wanted his children to know him. He packed the basket back up, hefted it to his shoulder, and went out to the courtyard to join his cousins as they worked on their boat. He set it near the door, and put his cloak on it. Soon he would go home to Sicilia, but for now, he would enjoy his family.

Rome

AD 264

Camillus burst into the bishop’s apartments, sweating and out of breath. He had walked as swiftly as he was able through the market crowd, fearing the dreadful temper of the man who was second only to the new Pope. In fact, the mood of Bishop Iraneaus had been made considerably worse by the election of Dionysius as the Bishop of Rome three months before. A man of power and grasping aspiration, Iraneaus had coveted the appointment for himself. After, that is, Emperor Valerian had been executed and the new emperor, Gallienus, had issued his “edict of tolerance.” Increasing Rome’s treasury was probably the motive for such permissiveness rather than religious generosity, but it had ended the persecution nonetheless.

“You are late,” Iraneaus said, looking at the priest down his patrician nose. Camillus bowed and nodded his apology.

“Yes, your grace. I apologize.” He kept his eyes focused on a cracked marble tile at his feet. A full minute passed, and the young man could feel the bishop’s eyes on him.

“And have you no reason for this?” Iraneaus finally asked impatiently.

“It was a personal matter, sir. My brother had need of me, and his home is some distance from the city. It will not happen again.”

“Indeed,” Iraneaus said as he raised a goblet of wine to his lips. He tidied his already obsessively neat writing desk, putting a quill and parchment to the side. “We have much to do today, and now less time to accomplish it. Dionysius has thus far been unable to unite the bishops, and the Church remains in disarray, as you know.” Camillus nodded his head at this oft-heard complaint. “Had I been elected, of course, I would have imposed much stricter discipline on the churches, and a great deal of the money that has been given by our patrons would have made its way here, to Rome. As it stands now, however, Dionysius has perpetuated his dictum of austerity, and is losing ground to the growing Church in the East. This is not acceptable.” He slammed his fist down. Camillus did not start. He was used to such outbursts. “Power must remain here, in Rome, as God Himself intended. We must send a letter to those bishops who chose to elect Dionysius and inform them of his folly. He will be made to step down.”

Camillus merely stood, hands clasped in front of him, his mind racing back to the visit with his brother.

Anthony lived on a small estate outside of Rome. He had survived persecution by keeping his faith largely to himself, a sore point between the brothers. However, when Camillus received the letter of invitation, he had welcomed removing himself from the teeming city, and left in the mid-afternoon so as to arrive for supper. When they had finished an excellent—and, to Camillus, decadent—meal of hen with fresh baked bread and ripe grapes, Anthony sat back and wiped his knife on his trousers. He looked at his younger brother, the priest, and smiled gravely.

“Things have changed for your Church now, brother,” he said.

“Indeed, but for the better, it appears,” Camillus said. “Dionysius is trying to reignite enthusiasm for the Church now that the Emperor has granted us all clemency. He is a man unused to power, but he is respected by most.”

“I suspect that he is not respected by those bishops who have used their position to gain wealth, to have children, even estates…?” Anthony ended on a question. Camillus looked embarrassed, knowing he was speaking of Iraneaus, among others.

“No, he is not popular with some,” he agreed.

“And those who are wealthy are now powerful, and have garnered powerful friends.” Anthony stated flatly. “You might find yourself on the losing side, my brother.”

Camillus nodded unhappily. “I fear so, but I am not free to go where I choose.”

“If you could help Dionysius, you could.”

“What help could I be to him? I am a priest, that is all.”

Anthony studied him for a long moment, then rose to his feet. He gestured for his brother to remain at the table, and left the room. Returning with a stout wooden box, he placed it in front of Camillus. “Open it,” he said.

Obediently, the priest opened the box, and looked at the scroll nestled on a swath of fine cloth. He looked askance at his brother, who nodded. Camillus removed the scroll and carefully opened it. He knit his brows in concentration as he worked out the Greek. “Meu Deus…” he breathed, looking again at Anthony. “Where did this come from?”

“It has been in the family. The scribe was our ancestor, and when he died, his belongings were given to his son, in Sicilia. No one thought it important then, and indeed, it wasn’t. But now… As the Church tries to regain its strength and power, it would be quite a blow, would it not?”

“It would destroy us,” Camillus agreed.

“What would happen if you took that letter to Dionysius, and gave it to him to use against those bishops like Iraneaus who would seek to unseat him?”

Camillus looked confused. “I don’t understand,” he said.

“That letter would destroy the Church of Rome. Without the Church of Rome, those bishops who have no family wealth of their own would be left with no money, no power. They are doing things they have no right to do, they are a disgrace. And they are greedy. Dionysius, however, is truly a man of faith. He wants to spread our religion around the world as Christ commanded, through the Church. But I believe he would follow the Great Commission should the Church cease to exist. If Dionysius made this letter known to those who oppose him, and if he threatens to make the letter public should they continue to oppose him… Well, those men know that he serves God first, and the Church second. It is why they oppose him so strongly. I think they will have to support him, albeit through gritted teeth.”

Camillus pondered. His brother was ten years older, and had amassed wealth against all odds by buying and selling goods brought to Rome from the far reaches of the Empire. He had friends in the upper echelons of Roman society, and consequently a much better understanding of politics than the young priest had. And if there was one thing that Camillus had learned during his time under the thumb of Bishop Iraneus, it was that the Church was rife with politics.

“If it doesn’t work, you have lost nothing,” Anthony said. “But I believe it will. I believe this letter has come down to us from Paul himself for just such a time.”

Camillus nodded, and rolled up the scroll. “I will seek a meeting with Dionysius when I return. We can but try.” Anthony smiled, satisfied, and poured them both more of the rich red wine that had been made from his own vineyard.

It took five weeks for Camillus to attain an audience with the Bishop of Rome, and he spent the entire night prior to the designated time praying in his rooms. Dionysius received him graciously, one man of the cloth to the other, and the younger man relaxed at once. After the opening pleasantries, he came straight to the point, and handed the scroll to the bishop. With raised eyebrows, Dionysius opened the letter and read. When he was finished he looked up in dismay.

“And what do you propose to do with this letter, young man? Have you come to threaten me?” He sounded disappointed more than angry, and Camillus put his hands up defensively.

“No, sir! No! Let me explain,” he said, and went on to lay out all that Anthony had said to him, including his own role as the secretary to Iraneaus. When he had finished, he clasped his hands tightly in front of him and said, “If you choose to do nothing with the letter, I will return it to my brother and say nothing. I have no desire to hurt the Church, nor you, your grace. It is to protect her that I have come to you with this.”

Dionysius sat in a chair at his desk, deep in thought. “Please leave this with me. I will pray and reach a decision within a fortnight. I only ask that you fast and pray until you hear from me, that I might do the Lord’s will in this matter.” He nodded gravely at Camillus, who bowed and quickly left the room.

When Camillus next appeared before the Bishop of Rome, he felt like a condemned man facing the scourge. He had been fasting and praying diligently for two months, having had no word from Dionysius in that time, and was quite sure that he would be punished for stirring up a hornet’s nest. The time had not been all bad, as Iraneaus had left, alone, for what he deemed “a necessary tour of the outlying regions”. In other words, he had gone to shore up support for his upcoming effort to depose the Pope.

Dionysius was sitting at a small table in his simply appointed office. He had a meal spread out before him, and a place was set opposite. He waved Camillus to sit.

“Good morning, young man. I trust you are well?” Dionysius said with a small smile.

Detecting no anger in the man, Camillus nodded. “Yes, sir, thank you. And you?”

Dionysius smiled wider. “I am quite well, thanks to you.” At Camillus’ confusion, he continued, “Two weeks ago, I sent an invitation to Bishop Iraneaus and his supporters to gather here for a meeting. At that meeting, I read to them your letter…” He watched Camillus closely. The priest leaned forward in his chair. He had not seen Iraneaus for over a month, and had not heard a whisper of gossip about this gathering. Dionysius smiled.

“I presented the facts, as you presented them to me, and I made it known that I would make the letter public should they continue to undermine both the Church, and my duly appointed election to this office. I speculated that, should that happen, of course they would continue to be the fine Christian men that they are, but perhaps their… influence would wane. Perhaps, in fact, they would be forced to return to families where they had no inheritance or wealth. Made to support the children they have produced on, let us say, a farmer’s income. Of course, those children would be helpful in their fields and vineyards…” Dionysius stood up and clapped Camillus on the shoulder.