“Don’t touch me!...” She hissed at her daughter, “…you know I hate to be touched!” She’d thrown off Cairo’s hands and pushed her away from the fountain.
In his hiding place across the lawn, beneath the slender willow branches, Mr Underhill braced himself, his fists clenched tight. He could not hear what they were saying but their movements told him that they were arguing.
Eve pointed an accusing finger at Cairo and stepped forward, with each step forward Cairo stepped backwards, they were crossing the lawn towards the willow. It was Eve's voice that Mr Underhill heard first,
“You are not going to be like me! Why do you think I've kept you away from people all your life! You're not going down that the same road to hell that I went…” Eve was becoming increasingly agitated, every thought she had making her more angry, “…Like I told you, I've had children before, and, one way or another, they all died!
YOU… they moved one step
ARE… another step
NOT… step,
LIKE… step,
ME!” Her pointing finger had turned to a fist and she seemed about to punch her daughter in the face when, with an almost inaudible rush Mr Underhill stepped out of hiding behind Cairo. Mother and daughter were both startled by his sudden huge dark presence, Cairo was first to recognise him and quickly pressed herself close against him, he felt as solid and immovable as her tree. Eve had stopped in her tracks, staring up at the huge man's grim face. She’d been in many dangerous situations before and did not feel in the least intimidated after she had recognised him. She was, however, lost for words.
“I'll talk to you tomorrow!” She rounded and headed back towards the house, calling over her shoulder,
“And I think it's past your bedtime!”
*
Rome - AD69
By engineering the emperor Nero’s death the gladiatrix had brought anarchy to Rome. One after another, the military generals stepped up to to claim the vacant throne only to be turned over in a bloody and costly series of devastating battles. Vitellius was first to claim the throne proper, although his tenure was short-lived. And eventually it was Vespasian who emerged victorious, placing himself upon the throne with an iron-fist rule.
The gladiatrix had fled Nero’s court after his death and had sought anonymity amongst the hoi-polloi. But the mediocrity of common life was too much for her to endure for long and the lure of fighting became too strong to resist. She joined the hand-to-hand battles raging through the war-torn city. She fought with any that crossed her path and slew many of the innocent. And it was she who helped to capture Vitellius in the heart of the city, roaring cheers as Vespasian’s soldiers hacked him to pieces in the Forum.
Driven mad with the lust for more blood-letting the gladiatrix spurned the opportunity to cease fighting and drove deeper into the carnage, seeking death in every doorway.
Wood smoke blocked out the setting sun as she approached a mixed group of looters. The stench of death carried on a fetid wind. Large areas of the city burned and the ordinary men, women and children of Rome had gone into hiding. The gladiatrix was once again the victim of her own desire for destruction. She was too exhausted to rout the gang and was eventually cornered by some of the men beneath a broken statue of Apollo. Brutally raped and stabbed several times, she was left for dead.
*
Sir Clive's House in the Countryside - 2000
The phone rang.
“Sir Clive?”
“Giles my dear old chap! I didn't expect to hear from you so soon!”
“Are you okay to talk?”
“Yes yes, go ahead old chap.”
“Well, the goods you asked me about, you know what I mean? The Bangkok Chappie says that they're actually in stock right now, in his warehouse in London, so to speak.”
“Wonderful.” Sir Clive rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
“Yes. He says you can pick them up tonight if you wish.”
“Yes, yes indeed! I certainly will. Where from?”
“At the Excelsior. ‘Usual terms’ he said.”
“Yes yes yes very good. What time?”
“He suggested 11:00.”
“Excellent! Thank you very much old chap, I'll look after you for this, don't you worry!”
“Thank you, but there is one more thing Sir Clive, apparently they hardly speak any English. Is that going to pose a problem?”
“Oh no, no problem at all, perfect in fact! I won’t be requiring them to use their mouths, well not for talking anyway! Ha!”
*
Richard, near Shillingham - 2000
Richard and Tsuba set off into the woods in the early morning sunlight, Richard was instantly amazed at how quietly Tsuba moved through the quite dense forest. They had with them a map and compass, a bottle of water, binoculars and Tsuba's great Tanto knife on a sling inside his jacket. The plan was to survey the house and the surrounding area and maybe get an idea of who was in the house at the moment, Richard had a pencil and paper inside his jacket pocket for making notes and diagrams. He felt slightly ridiculous creeping through the trees and once again asked himself why he hadn't gone to the police. He answered himself when images of Susan and Philip came into his mind, he quickly switched off, not wanting to imagine what might have happened and continued walking mechanically.
“You are very quiet my friend.” Tsuba murmured softly, only a fraction louder than the rustle of the leaves, Richard still heard him quite clearly.
“I'm trying not to think.” By comparison Richard's voice sounded loud and harsh, he softened it and turned to Tsuba, asking,
“Tell me again what you know about Eve, can she really be that old? Do you really think it’s possible?” Tsuba's answer both confounded and greatly irritated Richard.
“But from Ebese create he can
Forms more real than living man,
Nurselings of Immortality.” Richard glared at him, retorting in a harsh whisper,
“Just stuff it, okay? Stuff it sideways!...” He jabbed a finger towards Tsuba, “... If you're going to quote effing Shakespeare every time I ask you a straight question then I'd rather we didn't talk at all!”
Tsuba glanced at Richard with amusement glinting in his eyes,
“Shakespeare?...” He laughed gently, “…I think not my friend...” He laughed a little further and stepped away before uttering,
'Dress'd in a little brief authority
Most ignorant of what he's most assur’d'. That, my friend, was Shakespeare.”
They didn't talk again for some time.
*
Walther's boat - 2000
“So tell me some more about your inheritance.” Susan asked Walther. They had moored for a while, Walther had pinpointed their position as,
“Somewhere between Chertsey and Staines.” and they were having a light lunch.
He finished his sandwich and, while still chewing, began rummaging inside a drawer,
“Here it is.” He produced a map of Hungary, unfolding it carefully he laid it on the table in front of Susan, he sat across from her and looked at it upside down.
“See here.” He pointed to the city of Pecs in the south-west of the country.
“My home is a few kilometres to the south-east of the city, roughly half-way between Pecs and the Danube. It is a beautiful land that yields excellent grapes, our wines are very good.” She could tell that he was proud of his homeland, looking into his face she could see a trace of wistfulness, as if he was a little homesick. It was another conversation that rapidly dried up.
After a little while Susan cleared up the lunch things saying,
“I think we'd better get moving again, don't you?” Walther agreed and got the engine going.
*
Sir Clive's House in the Countryside - 2000
Eve thought about Cairo. About Cairo's father. And wept. No sound, not even a shudder as they spilled down her face, the tears of regret.
She thought of the time she had spent
with Tsuba, how the years had slipped by, how she had become a little tired of his simple honesty when she met Erik. The wiry blond archaeologist with a fondness for drink and sex. The two men could not have been more opposite. She loved them both, and enjoyed herself. But it could not last, and the ultimatums were made. She would not choose between them and so chose neither, running away in the night. Pregnant.
It was Erik who found her, months later in the city of Cairo.
“It's yours.” She had said, indicating her bump. He stayed close to her from then, babbling about the future. And when the baby was born thrilling at his little girl's black hair and how much she looked like her mother. As ever, love was blind.
*
Richard stopped at Tsuba’s urgent whisper,
“We are almost there.” Tsuba had stopped walking, and turning his head from right to left and back again, he studied the forest. Richard wanted to ask him “How do you know that?” but he thought better of it, instead he also stared at the forest in the hope of getting some idea of what Tsuba was doing, he saw nothing.
“We should circle around that way.” Tsuba pointed towards higher ground barely visible through the gaps between the trees and away to their left.
“And now my friend...” He stopped Richard with a palm on his chest, “...we need to be very quiet and remain unseen! Yes?” Richard understood, he was being gently chastised, he realised that it was no time to be petty or churlish.
“Yes...” He replied simply, “…I’ll do my best… lead on MacDuff!” Tsuba smiled at Richard's reply, he was relieved,
“Good! Then let us enter the fray!” He turned and vanished into the thicker undergrowth.
“Don't wait for me…” Richard whispered as he dived in behind him, “…I’ll keep up.”
A short while later they got their first glimpse of the house, in the distance half-way down the gently sloping fields dropping down to the river in the distance.
“That must be the Thames.” Richard mused, Tsuba nodded, he was busily scanning in all different directions, looking for a better spot to view the house and a safe way to approach it, after a few minutes careful scrutiny he pointed out a direction,
“Follow me, and stay very low.” They moved downwards from the higher ground taking care to always have trees and bushes between themselves and the house, at last Tsuba held up his hand again and they stopped,
“I think that this is about the best we will get.” He said, handing the binoculars over to Richard. He immediately put them up and was surprised by the excellent view they had of the house. He was looking at the front and one side of it, the sun was behind them lighting up the house in excellent relief. They surveyed the house, drawing sketches, until late afternoon, seeing no one, but hearing the sounds of shotgun fire and dogs barking.
On the way back to camp Richard was edgy,
“Correct me if I'm wrong, and no doubt you will, but wasn't that a complete waste of time?” Tsuba stopped and looked at Richard, he was clearly exasperated, he replied in a crisp sharp manner,
“Quite the contrary, we have learned a great deal.”
“Huh? Like what for instance!?” Richard was incredulous while Tsuba related in infuriated tones,
“The house has few occupants and even fewer daily visitors. There are dogs; I counted two, did you? They have a shotgun and very likely other weapons besides. We know where to approach the house without being seen, and we know approximately how many rooms are on each floor. In my opinion we should watch for one more day and then plan our attack for the following dawn…” Tsuba released a sigh and regained his normal placid veneer, “…can I take it that you agree?”
Richard felt stupid and useless, angry with himself he wanted to say something sarcastic, he desperately tried to think of some clever riposte,
“Yeah sure.” He managed to say.
Later that evening after their evening meal, the odd threesome sat around the camp fire, conversation was limited.
“So how come you know so much about Shakespeare and stuff if you grew up in the Cambodian war, I thought Pol Pot was against that sort of thing?” Tsuba had been whittling with his knife, he stopped for a moment and thought, then began again before answering Richard,
“I was born in Japan. As I told you before...” He turned his face to the sky, “...and I was, erm , dissatisfied with the comfortable life I had. I...” He laughed, “...ran away to sea. Spent a couple of years drifting until I ended up in Cambodia...” His face darkened, “...So much happened there. And I have travelled far since then...” He made a visible effort to lighten the mood, “...But to answer your question...” He waved towards the miserable old woman, “...Francesca here…” she was oblivious, “...used to be a trouper, she has performed much of his work, the plays are on the bus. They make good reading.” Richard was a little interested,
“So she's a failed actress.” He pointed out unkindly.
“That depends on your definition of failure. In Francesca's case she had throat cancer, she was lucky they said, they managed to save her life, unfortunately they couldn't save her voice. I'm sure even you understand that a Shakespearean actress needs a powerful voice.” Tsuba fell quiet and continued his whittling.
The old woman spat on the ground and staggered over to the bus. Richard felt very small in a very big world, he rose,
“I'll go and see if I can find enough wood to last through the night.” Tsuba simply nodded in reply, his eyes fixed on the small dancing flames, his mind half a world away as he remembered the time Eve had saved his life. The oath that he'd made to protect her, and the way she had left him. And the years he had spent at first trying to forget her, and then trying to find her, “And now I have a man in my camp who wants to kill you. That will not happen, I will help him to find you, yes, but I will not let harm come to you...” Tsuba pondered the impossible situation he found himself in and as usual found a little Shakespeare to help him, “...Our wills and fates do so contrary run.”
*
“Bright! Bright! Bring the Rolls round to the front of the house...” Sir Clive bellowed out his orders, “... you're driving me to the City.”
“What? Right now?” Kelvin Bright was obviously put-out by the sudden order.
“Yes now damn it! And mind your damned impudence! Or you won't be driving for me much longer!”
“Yes Sir!” Bright sparked up. Muttering “Fat old bastard.” under his breath as he went.
“Anjelica! Confound it woman where are you?” Anjelica appeared, red faced and leaning against the doorframe,
“Did you call me sir?” She barely managed to utter.
“Good heavens woman! Are you drunk?”
“Oh good lord no sir! Just a little woozy, that's all, been working hard all morning.” she hiccupped.
“I want one of the spare rooms ready for when I get back, make it the double one next to mine, I’ll have a couple of young ladies to entertain. Are you listening to me woman!?”
The car pulled up outside, Kelvin impertinently sounding the horn.
“We'll be back in the early hours, do not disappoint me Anjelica!” He warned her.
“No Sir! I won't Sir! You can always rely on me sir!” The thought of him entertaining two young ladies sent her fleeing to the bathroom to vomit.
*
Walther studied the Ordnance Survey Map with a microscope; he had moored the boat to a muddy bank a few minutes earlier and darkness had begun to fall. Susan had gone on deck for a look around and was surprised when he immediately called her back in.
“Why?” She had asked.
“I'm not sure yet.” He peered through binoculars out through the cabin window at a house half way up the gently sloping valley.
“I think that’s it.” He said.
“What? The house? Do you mean we've found it already?” Susan was incredulous.
“Yes, it was easier than I'd thought, there it is.” They both fell silent for a moment, Susan bit her lip as she used to when she
was nervous. Walther resumed his study of the map,
“Now we must carefully consider our next move.”
*
Eve, On the Prowl, High Wycombe - 2000
Eve had found him drinking in a bar in High Wycombe. She chatted to him, established that he was staying alone in his 'second home',
“I'm in the jewellery business...” It sounded like a boast, “...diamonds and such...” It was, “...are a girls best friend the saying goes.” She smiled at his lack of charm and let him continue,
“The wife n kids are at home in leafy Leamington Spa, much easier to commute into town from here though, Monday to Thursday you'll always find me in my little pad...” He sniggered, “...if you ever want to drop by-” She interrupted him,
“Why not now?...” She made the suggestion very suggestive, “...I'd love to see your little pad.” They finished their drinks and walked the short distance to his flat, an uninspiring first floor conversion, he continued to do most of the talking,
“Doesn't look much on the outside, I'll grant you...” He put the key in the door, “...but wait till you see what I've done with the place.” He showed her in, took her jacket, hung it in the hallway next to his own and led her into the living room. She was, slightly impressed, and said so,
“I like what you've done.” He had recreated the likeness of a 'gentleman's study', with comfortable leather chairs, bookcases, a drinks cabinet and the long wall covered with pictures.
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