Death of the Son, EP 7: Apollon's Tale

Death of the Son, Episode Seven: Apollon's Tale

[Episode One; Episode Two; Episode Three; Episode Four; Episode Five; Episode Six]

When they reached Hosius' chambers again, after a long, silent tramp through the streets and corridors (Theodotus having to run to keep up with Hosius' heedless strides), the rooms were empty.

Theodotus glanced at Hosius in surprise, but the old man was still silent; after a few minutes, he crossed the sitting room into his private cell, and the door shut with a click. 

Theodotus shook his head in frustrated resignation. I demanded that we meet with Constantine; and he agreed. But he will need time to adjust to what we just discovered. 

Theodotus, though, needed no such time, at least in his own mind. He began pacing the floors of the chamber, around the chairs and tables piled with scrolls and codices, around and around and around.

So we are all doomed. Very soon now, Helena will leave Rome; and Constantine will learn what we have done. And if we do not reach him first...who knows what he will do? Perhaps he will send his soldiers here, and arrest us. Hosius and Eustathius will be disgraced; and I will be punished as a scapegoat for them all. And all I will have to comfort myself with is that I fulfilled my bishop's commands, that I upheld my penance, that I solved the puzzle. 

But how can I solve the puzzle? Helena instigated Fausta's death; about that there can be no doubt. But who else was involved? Who were these conspirators Constantine made use of, who were so afraid of her being publicly tried, who were so afraid of a secret she might tell?

The slave Flavius told me that a one-eyed man had led Fausta to her death; a martyr? A terrible thought...and then the slave-woman told me that a priest had accosted her, heard her story, and forgiven her sins, swearing her to silence; the same man, or another? And if he was not the same man, how would he have known what had taken place? Or even known to interrogate the slaves? 

Somewhere in this palace, there is another clergyman, or many perhaps, who knows as much as me, or more. But why? Is he responsible for what has happened, covering his tracks, or only curious? Is he an ally, or an enemy?

And still we are no closer to learning why Crispus himself was put to death. Helena blamed Fausta for instigating Crispus' death, to advance her own childrens' claim to the throne. But what evidence did she have? None at all. Hosius and Eustathius are engaged in theological controversy, with Eusebius and many others...they claim Crispus for an ally, but was he? They blame their theological opponents for his death, but what evidence do they have? None at all. 

It is all mirage, a phantom. This is not an investigation; it is a ghost story, a myth, a hall lined with mirrors. And why should it be an investigation at all? What mystery is it that Emperors kill? That men of violence commit violence? We clergy, so recently escaped from the Persecution, should know that better than anyone. And yet we wish to delude ourselves into believing Constantine is different;  just as we delude ourselves into believing that behind petty human wickedness, cruelty, violence, there is some higher purpose at work, for good or evil. The Persecution was not a plan of God, or the Devil; it was merely policy. There is no mystery in Constantine killing his son. Crispus was a war hero, a great general, a gifted administrator; a natural successor; a natural threat. Why shouldn't Constantine kill him?

And what am I doing here, now, in this palace, dressed in deacon's robes, investigating the death of Emperors at the command of a Christian bishop? I was only a poor man. The Tetrarchs made me a soldier, made me kill, for their own purposes. The old man drove me into the clergy for his own purposes. Vitalis made me work in the Episcopal Court for his own purposes. And then Eustathius, forced me to come here. He, too, is playing politics, stirring up controversy and conflict for his own reasons. He is an ideologue, a fanatic; such men are not to be trusted. He told me nothing. And I am less than a pawn.

He stopped walking abruptly, breathing heavily; and as if at a signal, the door opened, and Apollon tumbled into the room.

Yet the old priest looked nothing like the assured, well-groomed operator of the morning; his hair was wildly askew, standing out at all angles, his chlamys slipped off his shoulder to expose the tunic underneath. He was breathing hard, as if he had just been running, and he nearly fell over Theodotus before he noticed he was there. Gasping for breath, he said, in a voice that was hardly a whisper, "They have taken him."

It took nearly an hour for Theodotus to calm down the old man, ply him with water and wine, and get him to speak. This was the story he told.

"When you left to see Helena, I went with the priests of Hosius' retinue; there are six of them, all martyrs. Demetrius, Quintanius, and Strategius are all from Spain. Demetrius' family owns an olive press near Caesaraugusta--oh yes, of course, I can tell you more about that later. Dracontius is an envoy from Alexandria, from the bishop there. Eleutherius is from Greece, Kymatius is an Ethiopian whose family owns a shipping business near Carthage, very well educated man who--

In any event, they brought me up to date on recent events here, including the theological debates with the apostate Eusebius. I was able to peruse a copy of that accursed man's most recent work against Eustathius...and there are troubling developments. He is now openly saying that those who speak of only one ousia for the Father and Son should be regarded as--

Very well, perhaps that can wait also. In any case, what they told me was remarkable enough, and so I immediately began drafting a letter to our lord Eustathius, to inform him of all the new developments, including all that you have told me--a letter I suppose I shall now have to tear up and begin again.

What has happened? Oh, yes, of course. Well you see, to start...rather than return to our rooms, I asked Demetrius if I might use his master's writing supplies instead, and so I retired to the room there that Hosius uses for such purposes. A very fine collection of books, and excellent parchment, very expensive, the kind that they make only from cows that have been reared on the Peloponnesus, and specially prepared with--oh, alright.

When I had gotten the letter drafted, but not filled in the details, then there was a knock at the door. It was Kymatius; a fine-looking man, though of course a bit unusual. Far be it from me to judge any man by his appearance, though; as my mother always said--

He was very troubled, and asked to speak with me in strict confidence, and seek my counsel. I of course assured him that I would never break confidence with anyone. I told him the story of the eunuch from Tyre, who had told me such an incredible story that to this day I long to share it with everyone, but since he made me swear not to, I have never breathed a word of it, not even when my mother--

Oh yes. He told me that for some time he had suspected that there was someone in Hosius' inner circle--one of these six priests, I mean--who was in communication with the enemy. A spy.

What enemy? Well, he said that he had seen Euphration lurking in the hallways outside; and seen strange servants and messengers visiting as well, who he suspected might also be friends of Euphration.

Who is Euphration? Oh, I'm sorry, I assumed you knew...though of course, why should you? You have never been anywhere near Caesarea.

Caesarea? Oh yes, he is Eusebius' secretary. Anamneunsis. Very skilled, education at the library there, Origen's library. One of his most trusted confidants, helps in the drafting of his works.

In any event, besides that, he was suspicious of how Eusebius might have learned that Crispus was working with us. As he let slip in conversation once that he did. Before his death, of course. 

Oh yes, I still have not told you just what Crispus was doing with us, Eustathius and his friends. Well, to tell the truth, Eustathius preferred that you should not know. He said--but I understand that that has all changed now. You have the right to know.

Crispus was at the Great Council, with his father, when the accursed Arius was condemned. He did not speak at all during the sessions--in this acting more wisely than his father, who rather made a fool of himself, in my judgment, speaking at length and repeatedly on every issue he could but saying some very questionable things that most of the bishops preferred to--but in the evenings and mornings he sought out many of the bishops for private conversations. Crispus, that is. And--well, he had some education in Plato and the later Academics, Xenocrates in particular, and he was very interested in what the bishops had to say in response to his questions. He spoke often with Eustathius, with Alexander, with Lucian, and many other wise men; and they were very impressed with him.

In any event, after the council, he kept in touch with many bishops, including Eustathius. He would send letters with his questions and observations. You see, he had begun a programme of study in the Sacred Scriptures and the Christian doctors, and he pursued it very diligently...but of course, many questions come up in such studies. Many apparent inconsistencies...such as the questions that Origen raises, very interesting, about the origins of the soul, whether it is contained within the seed or--oh, yes, sorry.

Well, all this was very straightforward until quite recently; when he began reporting more, well, political things to Eustathius. About...well, about Eusebius. And Arius. How his father had begun reading some of Arius' treatises...and how he found them quite compelling. When Eusebius was allowed to come to court...well, Eustathius panicked. He wrote a long letter to Crispus...very incautious, I'm afraid. He told him all of what had happened between the two of them...how he had been elected with Hosius' help, how he had excommunicated Eusebius, how Eusebius had come to Antioch and preached sermons there against his theology, how Eusebius should have been condemned at the Great Council, but how he escaped with obfuscations, and with Constantine's help. He begged Crispus to intercede with his father against the man; and of course, at the same time, he began writing those tracts against Eusebius that I'm sure you've read...no...? Oh, really.

In any case, Crispus was in contact with others as well...including with Alexander, and his secretary, and Lucian, and many others. So we cannot be sure. But, well...it was not long after Eustathius' letter was delivered that Crispus was killed. And...well, you must have noticed how quickly Eustathius learned of Crispus' death? It has been barely six months since it happened; and that could only have been possible if...I see you understand.

Yes, it was an envoy from Crispus himself who told him; and the envoy was sent before he was killed. Months before. There was no letter...merely one of his servants, who told him that the Emperor was dead. Eusthatius, of course, immediately feared the worst...that he himself was responsible for Crispus' death, that Crispus had tried to intercede with his father against Eusebius as he suggested, that Constantine had then killed him at Eusebius' instigation. 

You look doubtful; well, perhaps you're right. I hope so. 

In any event, where was I...? Oh yes, of course, Kymatius' suspicions. Of course, if there were a spy for Eusebius in Hosius' inner circle all along, then everything might be different. I listened to Kymatius very seriously, and I asked him who he suspected it might be. He said...well, he suspected Demetrius, who is very educated and interested in theology. Helps Hosius with his works. But that seemed very unlikely to me, for the same reason. What reason would anyone who understands the Gospel have to aid Eusebius' accursed lies? 

Kymatius said to me, I remember it well: 'Hosius is a great man, but he is naive. I worked in business with my father. Men are not always duplicitous because they choose to be; they deceive themselves in their own interests daily, hourly, without even thinking. Hosius thinks that martyrs would not lie or commit grave sins or believe falsehoods; but those who have suffered great things are often easy prey to those who offer relief from the burdens of life.' 

He...well, Demetrius suffered very much from the Persecution. Kymatius lost his eye, of course, but...he thinks that a man like that, who had suffered so much, would desire security above all else. And be willing to do anything to...

What? Which of them have lost an eye? Why would that be important? If you insist, I suppose...yes, Demetrius, Strategius, and Eleutherius have all lost an eye. Tall...? Why, you saw them all a matter of hours ago, but...but yes, all three of them are tall. And all three have greying hair. Do you suspect something? 

In any event, we discussed the various members of the inner circle, and who might be more rationally suspected; but I could make no headway, so I asked him, 'Is there anyone else we might talk to who might be able to help us? Who has kept better watch over Euphration's activities, or might have seen our spy coming and going?' And after thinking, he took me to Nepotianus.

Who is Nepotianus? We met him this morning, you do not remember? ...no? Well, he is a priest of the diocese of Ancyra, a very wise man, older. He worked for the Imperial chancery in Nicomedia for many years, before the Persecution of course, and he has the best memory of anyone I have ever known. He is rather tall, with a slight stoop, and a greying beard and long, curly hair, and a very soft voice. His family--

Well, we went to see him, just Kymatius and myself. We took a back route, through narrow corridors, and Kymatius was very quiet. And...well, I had a very odd sensation the whole time. Like we were being watched...or followed. It is the same sensation I had when I was in prison...you know, during the Persecution. That someone was watching, with malice, and intending harm.

When we arrived at the chambers where the priests from Ancyra was staying, Nepotianus was gone; apparently, he had gone to a reception hosted by the bishop of Arles. So we set off there, guided by another priest from Ancyra, a man by the name of Tyrannion...

When we reached the reception, there were about thirty people present, including slaves and deacons and attendants. Nepotianus was deep in conversation with Terentius, a priest from Dacia Ripensis, and they were discussing the recent decisions made by Valens, the newly elected bishop of Mursa Major, who they suspected might be planning some move against Alexander and the Egyptians. You see...well, perhaps later.

In any case, Nepotianus was not very happy to see us, and I admit I was surprised. He was very brusque with Kymatius in particular, and asked him, rather sarcastically, how he could allow himself to be seen in such low company after his recent conquests. 

I was naturally very surprised by that, as you can imagine, but we finally managed to extract Nepotianus and lead him to a smaller chamber where I laid out Kymatius' suspicions and asked him what he thought. He shot a very suspicious glance at Kymatius, but finally, after much prompting, agreed reluctantly that there was some source of information within Hosius' chambers...that despite his seclusion, many people, including Eusebius, seemed well-informed about his activities.

As for Euphration, he had kept him under careful observation for some time, and had not seen him or any of his deacons or servants go anywhere near Hosius' chambers. He said that, so far as he knew, only one priest from Hosius' chambers had been seen coming and going at odd hours without permission...and shot another rather nasty glare at Kymatius as he did so. 

Finally, he said that if someone was passing information from Hosius, it must be done in some way in writing...perhaps by the servants who bring in the meals and take out the cutlery, and clean at night. He said that there would be very many easy ways to convey information by such a route...whether by hiding a letter in a dish, or some more coded route. Such thing, he said, are not uncommon at court. He refused to say any more.

When he had returned to the reception, the two of us began going back to Hosius' chambers; Kymatius said that perhaps we might be able to question the servants, or at least look at the dishes left to be taken away and see if we could find a message.

As we were walking, though, I asked Kymatius why Nepotianus was angry at him. At first, he merely glanced at me sidelong and said that they disagreed on a point of theology, concerning the proper age for Chrismation...but I did not believe that for a second. (There is no such debate today between those in Asia Minor and those in Spain; it is in Gaul and Illyricum that they have begun to do odd things). 

I confess that I was at a loss for how to proceed, beginning many circuitous conversations, on the weather, clerical dress in North Africa, the rates of shipping in the Mediterranean after Constantine's defeat of Licinius, in the hope of drawing out further information. But finally I remembered how you questioned people, and after a prayer to the Blessed Martyr Barbara decided to become more direct. I told him that I knew he was lying, and that I would have to ask Hosius about it if he did not tell me honestly.

So after becoming very angry, he admitted, very reluctantly, that for a number of months now, starting before Crispus' death, he had been leaving without his master's knowledge and attending receptions put on by the Empress Fausta. When I asked him why, if he was trying to gain information or support for Hosius, or move against Eusebius, he looked rather embarrassed and at first refused to answer. 

Finally, he said, with a downcast frown, that he found after becoming a priest that he missed the company of women, and that Fausta and her ladies were very beautiful. He swore, though, that he had done nothing to disgrace his calling, merely allowed himself to be flattered and wined and dined by the pious women of the court in a manner, he said, not unreminiscent of his life with his family before the Persecution. 'When I could see women better,' he said, gesturing toward his eye, and laughing. 

Then his face grew serious again. 'It is as I said; Hosius is naive. He would spend days locked up in spiritual conferences with Helena in her palace, with all her ladies, and never even considered the possibility of scandal, let alone temptation. Nor does he keep tabs at all on what those in his retinue are doing. He locks himself up, and assumes we are all in seclusion as well.'

Well, I was shocked by this, but not overly so; I have been a priest for a very long time. I told him firmly that this was an understandable lapse, given their presence at court and long inactivity, but that it must change from here on out; and he laughed and said that, of course, since Fausta's death, this would be no concern. 

'Even before...Fausta was not a popular woman. Few clergy would attend her gatherings; and after a while, only me. She was...a very frightened woman. There was more talking than drinking. And she had no one to confide in, I think, except me. I was almost her spiritual father.' He looked terribly sad when he said this; I will always remember how he looked at that moment, his mouth curled down, his one eye a dark hole, and the other reflecting flickering light from an oil lamp. He looked...oh, there are no words. Like a martyr. Like many both of us have seen.

But I could tell that there was still something he was not telling me, and so I asked, casually enough, when he had learned of Fausta's death. He looked utterly terrified, for just a moment, and stammered something about "the day after."

But now I really had him in my grasp; and I told him, seriously enough, that spending time with women was not, in itself, sinful, but that lying was, especially lying about a serious matter to a confrere. Then he was silent for a long time, and said that I was right, that deception was at the heart of it all. For him, and for whoever among them was giving information to Eusebius.

I asked him, then, directly, if he wasn't the spy after all? But he denied it, and swore an oath by the Blessed Martyrs Peter and Paul. And finally he said that he thought that we were all in great trouble, and that only the Blessed Martyrs perhaps could help us. 'It is better for martyrs when they die and go to God. When they remain on earth, they fare very badly.' And he laughed.

I asked him, then, directly, again, if he knew anything about Fausta's death, about how she had died and who had killed her. He sighed very deeply and nodded his head.

We had stopped walking, and were standing in a small sitting room at this moment, and there were several slaves waiting to attend on us; but I dismissed them, sat down, and asked him to sit down as well. I looked carefully into the two corridors on either side of us but saw no one. Would to God in heaven I had seen.

Kymatius did not sit, but he put his head in his hands. He said, 'I was with her on the night she died; I have told no one, but someone knows of it. Someone is trying to kill me, I think, because of it.'

I asked him why he thought someone was trying to kill him. He said, 'Every time I have left Hosius' chambers, I have felt that someone is following me. Once they tried to catch me, and I was forced to run. But even in the chambers...I think poison has been placed in my wine. I drank only a little bit, and grew sick; I have stopped drinking wine. I think it is the spy, that he is trying to silence me. You must...' He looked around then, as if hearing something, but there was nothing I could notice.

I asked him what had happened the night Fausta had died. He said that he had been awakened by a knocking on his door. 'When I went to the chamber door, it was one of Fausta's slaves. Marina. I think it was Marina. She is very pious, and I had heard her confession before. She told me to come quickly, that her mistress needed me. I told her to be more quiet. We priests sleep two to a cell in Hosius' chambers, and I was afraid that Eleutherius might have be awakened as well. Most who have slept in Roman prisons are light sleepers. But when he did not stir, I followed her.'

I asked him where they had gone. He said that at first, he had been led to Fausta's chambers. That she was there, surrounded by her slaves and ladies, and that all of them were weeping. 'She said...that she had spoken to her husband that night. That he had told her that she must die. She...she asked me to hear her confession. And afterwards...she asked me about what it had been like. When I was in prison, when they took my eye, when I thought I was going to die. I...tried my best to comfort her. To explain what I had felt; the prayers I had prayed to the Lord Jesus. And then when there was nothing left to say I accompanied her to the baths, where she said that Constantine's men would be waiting for her. They were going to make it look like an accident. She wept as she went, wringing her hands and telling us to pray for her husband, for her children.' 

Kymatius did not weep, you understand; and he was very still as he spoke, with his one eye almost closed, and his head on his chest. After he said these things, he was silent for a long time. 

I asked him what had happened next, and he only said that when they reached the baths, there were slaves waiting for her, from the Emperor. And that they did not allow him, or any of her other attendants, to accompany Fausta further; he was wearing only the simple tunic he sleeps in, and so he supposes they thought he was a slave as well. All of Fausta's slaves were very upset by what had happened, and many felt responsible; he heard the confessions of several of them, and as a precaution, swore them to silence. To protect them, he said, from anyone who might harm them because of what they knew. And when that was done, and no word had come from Fausta, he left, and went back to his bed, so as not to be discovered. 

Then he was silent for a long time; and finally he said, very slowly, that there was one more thing that I should know. That Fausta had told him a secret, a secret that Crispus had told her before he died. 'She said...that if she died, then there would be no one left who knew it. And she did not think this was right that no one should know it. And so she told it to me.' 

He looked at me, very seriously, then, and said. 'And now I may die. And if I do...you must know this secret as well.'

But just then...it was very strange. It was as if someone, somewhere had been listening to us all the while...waiting. As soon as he said those words, men came into the room, through both doors. They were dressed in black; but I knew who they were. They were slaves of the Emperor; I had seen some of them at his side, or carrying out his orders, at the public gatherings. Kymatius screamed and tried to run, but they grabbed him. They threw him to the ground, held his arms together, and dragged him from the room as he struggled. He was...a very large and strong man, but there were many of them. I...I confess with shame that I said and did nothing. Only sat there, terrified, hoping they would not come for me as well.

As they took him, though, Kymatius was looking at me and trying to speak all the while; but they covered his mouth with their hands. Once he dragged himself away for a moment, but I only understood one word: 'Licinius.' I was terrified, and ran back here all the way, weeping, wailing, I do not mind telling you. I do not know what they will do to him. I do not..."

Apollon slumped down in his chair, his mind no doubt reliving all the horrors of the Persecution. Theodotus' mind was racing. 

So the one-eyed man I have been seeking, who accompanied by Fausta and absolve Marina, was no Eusebian, but one of Hosius' inner circle...

But why would he say Licinius? The Emperor of the East, defeated and executed by Constantine only two years past? What secret could there possibly be that involved this man?

Theodotus turned back. All that can wait. "You've done very well, Apollon. I...you shouldn't blame yourself for what happened. I don't believe they would kill a priest; let alone one so close to Hosius. And Hosius himself will be able to intercede for him with the Emperor." 

He sat down slowly. "As for the spy...I don't know, I don't have enough information now to decide that. It's possible there never was one; Kymatius could well have let slip more when with Fausta than he remembered, and there are other ways to gain information. His wine may have been poisoned by a slave, or he may have been imagining that. The Emperor's servants might have simply searched the rooms when they cleaned them, and stolen and read Hosius' papers. Until we know more..."

He took a deep breath, controlling himself with difficulty. Every nerve in his body was fired and demanding to act; and his mind was racing to find out more information. But Hosius and Apollon both were utterly spent, and he, too, was physically tired from a nearly sleepless night and a long day full of emotion and activity. No matter how close he was to solving the puzzle, he knew he must rest.

If the old man had taught him anything, it was this discipline of rest and patience; for him always the most difficult. He could still remember the old man's mantra, repeated so often during his first months as a deacon: "Do today's duties today, and then rest; only in this way will you have the strength for tomorrow's duties. Only in this way will you ever finish what you started."

"Right now...right now you should rest, Apollon. We will return to our chambers now and eat dinner together, and then go to bed. We...we both need sleep. We will see Hosius again in the morning, and can tell him everything then."

The walk back to their chambers was long; the sunset light, occasionally visible in a courtyard or through a window, transforming the marble from patterns of white, black, and tawny to sheets of brilliant fire. All the way, Apollon glanced nervously over his shoulder; and even Theodotus found his soldier's instincts asserting themselves despite himself, scanning every room or corridor, tensing at every corner, his body preparing itself for combat at each approaching dignitary. 

When it came, though, it took him entirely by surprise. As they rounded a corner in a long hallway, a black-clad slave raced into their path, brandishing something in his hands; Apollon screamed and froze; and before he knew what he was doing, Theodotus had grabbed the slave by the arm, twisted him around, and slammed him to the ground. 

It was only once the slave was squirming on the ground that he realized his mistake. The implement in his hand was not a weapon, but a scroll; and the slave himself looked utterly terrified and bewildered to find himself being attacked by a deacon. 

After a long moment, Theodotus let go of the slave and helped him to his feet. "I...I apologize." After a moment, he realized that it was one of the two slaves he had seen the night before, the dark-haired Roman. "Callistus...?" He tried tentatively. 

"Well, deacon," the slave said, rising to his feet. "I confess you've risen a great deal in my estimation since we met. Not only do you skulk around in the middle of the night talking to slaves, but you also clearly have had the benefit of life in an army camp. And are expecting an attack." He studied Theodotus thoughtfully, running his hand across his beardless chin. "Perhaps Flavius was not such a fool too..."

"I...yes, well..." Theodotus stammered, trying desperately to regain his self-control and composure. "Please tell Flavius again that I am grateful for his assistance, and that I would be happy to receive any more information he might have. Particularly...particularly about a priest named Kymatius who...who has had some contact with the slaves himself." He eyed Apollon, who still stood frozen in terror at his side.

Callistus bowed, still a little sarcastically. "Very well. But surely you want to know why I was running so hard to catch the two of you? I found your chambers empty, and just now barely missed you in that bishop's rooms."

Theodotus bowed, enjoying Callistus' shock again. "Proceed."

"I was sent to inform you that the Emperor will be holding a public audience in the morning, at the Basilica, beginning at the third hour. He requests both of you to be present there."

Theodotus took a step back. This was the very last thing he had expected. "A public audience...? But...I had been told that he had stopped having them since Crispus' dea...in the last several months."

Callistus shrugged. "That is correct. But apparently he has decided to begin them again. Who can say why? An Emperor can do as he pleases."

Theodotus nodded, and after a second Callistus headed on his way. But all the way back to their chambers, his mind continued to race.

As they reached their doors, he laughed aloud.

"Well...I told Hosius I wanted to see Constantine; and now in a few hours I will see Constantine, along with everyone else."

And to his great surprise, he slept deeply that night, without dreams.