‘I trust you haven’t sent him an answer?’ I said carefully. I took the face she pulled as a negative. ‘Then, if you haven’t made too obvious a footprint on it, I’ll send it back with a polite query.’ I bent down to recover the message. The skin on my upper back seemed very tight. I focused on the message. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen her father’s own handwriting. Never mind the large scrawl, nor the evident and possibly not unreasonable fury – his spelling would have disgraced a tradesman.
Antonia took the message from between my forefinger and thumb. ‘Theodore had another bad dream last night,’ she said.
I looked away. ‘Theodore’s always having bad dreams,’ I said. ‘Was this one about hellfire? Or was it the one he often has, about being molested by giant bugs and then buried alive in rose petals?’
She lowered her voice. ‘It was the man with golden wings again,’ she said. She noticed that Eboric was listening and went into Greek. ‘Talking of hellfire, you do know the colour you’ve gone?’
Trying to look unconcerned, I sat back a few inches into the shade of a potted olive tree. ‘I’ve shown you the icon of Saint Michael he keeps in the chapel,’ I said firmly. ‘That has golden wings and a sword and a horrid look on its face. That’s the origin of his dreams.’
‘And a beard of many curls?’ she asked, ‘And speaking a language that sounds like Syriac, but isn’t?’
‘So he’s been dreaming about the cup,’ I allowed with a careless wave of my arm. It was bright red from the wrist upwards. ‘Perhaps I was dreaming about it last night. I’m surprised you weren’t. Thanks to that cup, we’re all stuck here like passengers on a ship. Dreams are the least of our worries.’
‘And Maximin?’ she asked impatiently. ‘He hasn’t seen the cup, but kept his nurse awake half the night, crying out from terrors he couldn’t describe.’
‘If the poor child couldn’t describe his terrors, why assume they were about my silver cup?’ I asked in my most reasonable voice. ‘You didn’t have a long career as a petitioning agent. But you can’t have forgotten that you don’t go to someone with a problem unless you also have a solution. So why not come out with it, and say what you’d have me do?’
She stuck her lower lip out. I already knew that meant trouble. ‘Theodore believes you should throw it into the sea and let Father Macarius purify every room in the palace,’ she said.
‘Then Theodore’s a fool,’ I said, now impatient, ‘and you’re a fool if you believe him. The cup stays where it is until Heraclius gets back.’
I’d been right about the trouble. ‘Theodore believes the palace is haunted by the ghost of its previous owner,’ she announced. ‘He’s often been woken at night by the echo of footsteps and heard voices in rooms that he can’t locate.’ I frowned. Theodore had got rather fast over the loss of Antony. His regard for his new ‘mother’ wasn’t wholly to my taste. But Antonia wasn’t finished. ‘I’ve heard strange footsteps,’ she said. ‘And why did Samo stop me yesterday from going along a corridor into one of the unoccupied areas? What are you hiding from me?’
I stood up. ‘Rats,’ I said quickly – ‘it’s the rats. And there’s poison all over the floors in those rooms. It wouldn’t do to go walking in them with bare feet.’ I smiled feebly. I was already trembling from a slight fever that shouted ‘sunburn!’ Perhaps I should put some clothes on.
I took Antonia’s arm and led her in the direction of the swimming pool. It would still be in shadow and I felt the need of a plunge into its icy depths. I still had time before the clerks returned. I’d ask for the sake of it but knew Antonia wouldn’t join me.
She stopped beside the entrance to the gymnasium. ‘I looked in on you this morning,’ she said in Latin. ‘Do you really need the big Slavic boy? Can’t the old man wrestle with you?’
‘I find it useful to reinforce what I’ve learned,’ I said cautiously, ‘by instructing others. Rado is a most enthusiastic student.’
She sniffed and stepped back to look at me. ‘I don’t think you’ll be rolling in sand for the next few days,’ she said, the hint of a gloat in her voice.
She looked round. ‘Come, Eboric,’ she said, all imperial of a sudden. ‘It’s time I showed you how to cut roses so they don’t wilt within a day.’ With a tiny bow to me, he padded after her, a look of happy eagerness on his face.
As hath unto us been oldenly divulged by Homer of glorious repute . . ., reason reinforced by readings of Holy Writ . . ., the charms of correct diction set fire to in the breasts of all them what was correctly inteached . . .
I let my eyes skim over the three sheets of sewn parchment contained in the scroll. Because of its bearer, there could be no doubt this time who’d been showing off to his secretaries. ‘What’s the message?’ I asked.
Leander stared down at the tiled floor. ‘My Lord Nicetas instructs me to demand safe return of his daughter, Antonia,’ he said. ‘He specifies that she is to be released at once, so that medical assistance can be procured in the event that her belly is already filled with yellow-headed trash.’ He looked up. ‘My Lord will be aware that these are not my own words,’ he said, biting his lip.
I kept my face still and forbidding. ‘Tell Nicetas,’ I replied, ‘that I don’t know what he’s talking about. Any other message?’
Leander shuffled nervously. ‘I am further instructed to say that, if you are disinclined to hand the girl over, you may keep her on condition that you send back with me an object that does not require any name or description.’
I let the scroll close on itself and leaned back in my chair. Such a pity none of this was in writing. ‘Tell Nicetas again,’ I said, ‘that I don’t know what he’s talking about.’
‘Then my final instructions,’ Leander whispered, ‘are that you should attend on My Lord Nicetas to explain yourself in person.’
I smiled coldly. ‘Can’t do that,’ I said. ‘Following two sudden deaths, I’ve been advised to put my entire household into quarantine.’ I looked over at the water clock. ‘The quarantine will start the moment you’re out in the street. If he pleases, your master can check this with the Prefect’s local deputy.’ I got up. ‘I’m sure Nicetas wouldn’t want to see me while I might be dripping contagion from every pore,’ I added helpfully. ‘He’s already a martyr to those legs of his.’ I led the way to the door of my office. I pulled it open and waved into the gloom of the corridor. ‘Now, you can’t wish to stay longer than you must in a house of sickness. Please allow my steward to lead you back to the main gate.’
Leander stopped beside the statue of Polyphemus. I thought he was about to ask about his salary. Instead: ‘Please give my regards to the Lady Antonia,’ he said with a scared look at the headless victim. ‘But tell her that the Lord Nicetas is really angry. There’s nothing I can do this time to calm him down.’
Once he was gone, Antonia came out from behind the screen. ‘I was hoping Daddy would keep up some show of decency,’ she said.
I overlooked the hurt tone in her voice. ‘And I was hoping the letter I sent yesterday would keep him quiet a few days longer,’ I said. It was only Sunday. There were days and days to go before the earliest time when Heraclius might return. We’d have to see how long I could keep the quarantine excuse going.
I opened the door and stepped out on to the balcony. Church services were over, and the Triumphal Way was crowded again. After the heat and silence of my office, it was good to stand looking into the breeze. I went closer to the stone balustrade and waited for Leander to come into sight. After wondering if I’d missed him, I saw him pass into the middle of the street and scurry across to the cover of the far colonnade. Another moment, and Simon stepped into the sunlight. He was followed by an agitated poet and some of the usual big men. Ignoring the shouts of various carrying slaves, they stood talking together in the middle of the street. Simon looked up suddenly. Our eyes met. He shaded his eyes to get a better look at me. I waited till he must be able to see me again, then smiled and gave a little bow. He co
ntinued looking at me. A man bumped into him, and was grabbed and pushed into the dust by one of the heavies. Still looking up at me, Simon didn’t seem to notice. He was still there when I decided I’d had enough.
I stepped back, wincing from the sunburn as I bumped into Antonia. ‘Best not show yourself,’ I said. ‘Everyone knows you’re in here. But we can play by the rules a little longer.’
‘What will happen next?’ she asked. I stepped back inside. I’d put on a very light silk tunic. Even in this, however, any movement was enough to remind me I had no skin on my shoulders. ‘Do you suppose he’ll lay a formal complaint with the Prefect?’
‘That would be the next step,’ I said. ‘The Prefect will then send his bailiffs over to demand your surrender. Of course, I won’t let them in. But we’ll have a counter narrative to our own to beat down when the Emperor gets back. It can be said that we’re scandalously shacked up together, and are justifying the breach of your father’s authority with a pack of lies about treason. Let’s hope Nicetas is as indecisive in this matter as in everything else. He can’t be sure how little evidence we have.’
There was a knock at the door. Theodore came in. After a loving glance at Antonia, he turned to me. ‘Samo has crushed a finger,’ he said, ‘but begs to inform you that he’s shut off the external water supply.’ He opened and closed his mouth, possibly wondering what question he could ask.
‘Give him my thanks and sympathies,’ I said. I looked at the boy. No harm in explaining things to him. ‘We are to regard ourselves, until further notice, as under siege,’ I said. ‘Our own cisterns are full enough to last a month of normal use. We don’t want to risk contamination from outside.’
He leaned against the wall. ‘You mean poison?’ he asked with a scared look at both of us.
‘Yes, poison,’ I said – ‘poison or some other pollution.’ I smiled and brightened my voice. ‘However, since we’re under siege, there will be a break from my normal duties. That means I can spend more time with you in the library on your Latin and History. We’ll start work again on Tacitus after lunch.’ A resigned look on his face, he bowed.
I thought of the nice opium ointment I’d borrowed off Priscus. Would it be too great a loss of dignity, I wondered, if I asked Antonia to apply some to my back?
Chapter 42
Thus, having, in a reign of three years, nine months, and twenty-eight days, lived as a tyrant, Caligula discovered, by sharp experience, that he was not, after all, a god.
Theodore let the aged papyrus roll close on itself. He rubbed his eyes and sat back from the hunched position in which he liked to read. ‘The sentence structure is very complex,’ he said apologetically.
I looked about the main room in the library. So many books I’d gathered about me, all looking neatly back at me from their appointed spaces in the book racks. So many dear friends. So many guides. I cleared my throat. ‘Good Latin,’ I explained once more, ‘is far more complex than good Greek. I think also it’s always been more removed from the spoken language. But if you can put Tacitus so well into Greek, I don’t think you’ll have trouble with any of the recent authors.’ I thought of the theological section in one of the smaller rooms. It was a while since I’d been required to dip into those muddy pools. Their chief problem, though, in either language was callous inhumanity or a prolix reasoning from absurd premises. The illiteracies of the Latin writers were mostly their importing of words and constructions from Greek. None of this should trouble Theodore.
I watched the boy take the scroll in both hands and wind it back to the beginning. He replaced it in the leather sleeve and took it over to the right space. I’d written a year before to the Emperor’s man in Rome, directing him to make a thorough search of the libraries that remained there. He hadn’t been able to complete my set of Tacitus. There were still five gaps in the space I’d set aside for all thirty books.
I waited for Theodore to come back to the table. I smiled. ‘Because we presently have the time,’ I said, ‘I’d like to you translate the whole of Plutarch’s Life of the Elder Pliny into Latin.’ His face dropped. ‘If possible, I’d like to see your draft before dinner tomorrow.’
He started forward at the noise by what may have been a block of paving stone crashed against the main gate. ‘Should we not go and see how big the crowd in the street has grown?’ he asked.
I shook my head. ‘I don’t propose to take notice of that until Samo comes and tells me it has filled the side streets.’ His face turning paler by the moment, Theodore bowed and went off to his writing desk in the theology room. When he was out of the room, I got up from my chair and went over to a big lectern close by the window. Books in the modern style have their uses. Portability isn’t one of them. My complete Herodotus needed two men to lift it and it could only be read while standing up. Of course, I was in no mood for Herodotus or anyone else. But I could see the shadow Theodore was casting from the other side of the open door. It wouldn’t do to be seen scoffing another opium pill so soon after the last.
Aware of the response I’d get, I pulled the blind fully up. ‘Don’t be a bastard, Alaric, Priscus whined from under his blankets. ‘You know how the daylight hurts my eyes.’
‘Then you should try getting up in the morning, like everyone else,’ I replied. He groaned loudly and the bed shook from his continual twisting. I paid no attention. If I wanted to see out of the window, I’d need to stand on something. I walked across to the nearest chair. I’d been with him when these clothes were brought in, washed and neatly pressed and folded. Instead of wearing them, he’d used them as a hiding place for uneaten food. I lifted one of the cloaks of fine wool I’d given him as a New Year present and only just avoided being splashed with the stinking slime in one of my best silver dishes. Carefully, I lifted all the clothes as a single unit. The babble of chanting and angry shouts that drifted through the window went straight out of mind.
‘Where did you get all these new silver coins?’ I asked. The sealed pouch had been slit open, and I had to bend down to retrieve the loose coins I’d disturbed.
Priscus lifted one of the blankets and looked out briefly. ‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ he said vaguely. ‘I took them from a bandit I killed and was keeping them for a rainy day.’ Another lie! There were only a few hundred of these yet in circulation. He must have been dipping into one of the sealed cash boxes stored under lock and key in the cellars. I controlled myself and finished stuffing coins through the gap in the leather. There was one missing from its compartment. I looked about but the floor was too cluttered to justify the effort of a search. A thought drifted through my head. I’d leave that for the moment, however. It required too much elaboration. I carried the now empty chair to the window. Though on the top floor, the quarters I’d given Priscus had their only window set back from the street. I had to squeeze my shoulders through and block most of the light that came in before I could see anything below.
Now out of bed, Priscus stood behind me. ‘Impressive size by the sound of it,’ he allowed, ‘but still no sign of positive direction.’ I heard him pull the stopper from another jar of my best wine. ‘We faced down a bigger mob when my grandfather had this place. Word had gone round again that he was eating human flesh. We had fifty thousand of these animals screaming their lungs out till the authorities finally decided to do their job. I don’t think we’ll have much trouble from the mob now assembled to call for your head on a spike.’ From the gulping noise that followed, he was draining half the jar in one go.
As I scrabbled forward another few inches, a loud roar went up from every direction. It went on and on, growing louder. It only died away to become a huge and grunted chorus of ‘Kill! Kill’ Kill’ Kill!’ Maybe Priscus was right about numbers. To be sure, the fall of population since the old days had diminished the size of any potential mob. But there must be thousands and thousands down there. It was a nuisance I couldn’t see them. I’d hoped I could avoid showing myself on one of the balconies. I slid back till my feet m
ade contact again with the chair.
Priscus took this as a sign of alarm. ‘I’ve told you many times, Alaric,’ he laughed, ‘this place was built with trouble in mind. Haven’t you ever noticed the curve in all the outer walls, or the handy murder holes above every gateway? I think I heard the portcullis let down before each gate. The iron trelliswork on them is four inches by four. Though you may not appreciate their military value, think of them as saving on the expense of repairs to the bronze sheeting on the gates.’ He drank again. I heard his shuffling step across the floor and the renewed squeaking of his bed. ‘The only weakness is the front balconies. Make sure the guards you put there stay sober. I did think of having them bricked up when I took over. But you do need some air in this place.’
I stood down from the chair. ‘Do you fancy coming up to the roof with me?’ I asked. Not for the first time, his prejudice against the daylight was an affectation that got on my nerves.
Under the blankets, he curled himself into a ball. ‘You are joking, my dear!’ he giggled. ‘If you want to look down from there and shit yourself with fright, don’t expect me as your witness. Now, do pull that blind down again and leave me to get some sleep.’
I leaned both elbows on the front parapet. I stood away. Walking backwards up the tiled roof, I got my body more or less horizontal. I couldn’t see the front steps or the ten feet or so beyond them. But I could see how, for a hundred yards or so both ways, the Triumphal Way was packed with the noisy, swarming bodies of the poor. I tried to settle my nerves by calculating the size of the crowd. Priscus had sneered that it might have reached ten thousand – as if that were itself just a mild expression of the people’s disapproval. It looked to me closer to fifty, or even a hundred, thousand. The rest of the City must be deserted.
The Curse of Babylon Page 30