‘I can help you escape.’
Richard’s eyes widened.
‘Escape? Escape to where? Earth, back to Earth? Is that where we’d escape to?’
Noah nodded solemnly.
‘Yes, finally, that is exactly where we would go.’
Richard’s lips shuddered as he expressed a whoosh of air.
‘You’re doing my head in Noah. How the hell are we going to escape and get back to Earth? It’s not possible. Don’t raise any impossible hopes - we should just resign ourselves to the inevitable.’
Noah shook his head.
‘No, we are not going to resign ourselves to something that is not inevitable. We will escape and, when I return tomorrow, I will have all that is necessary to get you out of here.’
Richard fell into the same hunched position, head in hands, just as Noah had seen him when he entered the cell over an hour ago.
‘Do not give up Richard,’ said Noah calmly. ‘What I want you to do is continue acting as if you are a little crazy. Persuade the guards that you are going mad and they’ll leave you alone. Humour them. Give them a few grunts when they come in with food and water just as you did earlier. By doing that they’ll be put off-guard, which is where I want them when I return tomorrow. Do you understand?’
Richard looked up, anguish, doubt clearly visible on his tormented face. Nevertheless, he nodded his head in agreement.
‘Yes, I can do that,’ he said.
Noah forced a thin smile.
‘Guard,’ he yelled over his shoulder. ‘I am finished. Now let me out before this lunatic drives me crazy as well!’
The sound of heavy boots scraping upon stone preceded the withdrawing of the oak shafts from the cell door. The door swung open noisily, metal grating upon metal.
‘Are you safe sire,’ asked the quaking guard. ‘Shall I flog him?’
Noah shook his head.
‘No, leave him be. He is out of his mind but he’s quite harmless. As you know he is to remain here until his Immaculation in three week’s time. I will be back tomorrow and try to make his next three weeks as comfortable as possible, so do not harm him in any way or you will be sorry.’
Chapter Fifteen
The interior of the cell looked even more distasteful than on previous days. Perhaps the fact that Richard had been overplaying the lunatic role had added another layer of surrealism to the drama being enacted before his jailors. Noah’s strategy, to encourage the guards to adopt a relaxed attitude towards Richard, appeared to be working. It was clearly evident when Noah arrived at the entrance to the prison located in the bowels of the Coliseum that the guards were more relaxed compared with their previous fractious demeanour. Noah was greeted with deference and there was none of the arrogant belligerence that was evident when Richard was manhandled so viciously eight days previously.
Noah, still wearing full Roman regalia, appeared strangely bloated around the waist as if he was suffering the result of several weeks of gluttony and overindulgence. Straddling one shoulder was a cloth strap from which hung a small, bulbous sack. He slowly approached Richard who was in his usual, crouched, position at the back of the cell. His brown hair was tangled, knotted and badly in need of washing as, indeed, was the rest of his body. He was a sad and sorry sight.
Perfunctory greetings over, Noah launched into the escape plan that he had spent the previous night formulating.
‘Listen carefully Richard, for this is what we are going to do...’ He stopped speaking as an unsmiling guard shuffled forward and placed a jar of rancid-looking water at Richard’s feet. A series of guttural growls from Richard caused the guard to retreat hastily backwards towards the cell door that he then left invitingly ajar.
‘If you need me sire, you need only call...’
‘Thank you,’ answered Noah cordially. ‘Now please leave us be for I must attempt to talk some sense into this maniac.’
Richard gave another thunderous growl that caused the guard to grin widely before departing. Noah silenced Richard by raising the tip of an index finger to his lips.
‘Shhhhh - that’s enough Richard,’ he hissed. ‘You’ve done a really well convincing the guards that you are mad but let’s not alarm them too much otherwise they will keep checking up on us. What we need now is an uninterrupted period when I can put my escape plan into effect!’
‘Is looking fat part of the plan?’ asked Richard, poking a finger into Noah’s midriff. ‘You look like an over-fed Buddha!’
Noah smiled.
‘Yes it is,’ he said, lifting his toga to reveal a swathe of clothing around his waist. ‘This is for your escape - all the time you look like an Earthling you don’t stand a chance of getting out of here and through the streets unnoticed. Here, take hold of this.’
Noah indicated towards the frayed end of a rough piece of dark brown cloth. As Richard tugged Noah spun around until the cloth unwound. Wrapped inside the cloth was a pair of well-worn sandals, a length of cord and an odd looking hat made of soft, sweat-blackened, leather. Richard held up the cloth and realised it was a simple toga such as those he had seen being worn by the plebeians, the common citizens of Leviticus, and not at all like the fine, silken, versions worn by Noah and his contemporaries.
Richard shook the toga vigorously until he was silenced once again by a nervous Noah whose growing anxiety was becoming more and more apparent.
‘Don’t make so much noise Richard. Take the toga over to your corner and put in on - taking your own clothes off first of course. Use the cord to tie it around your waist and then try the sandals. These are my old ones - they should fit - your feet look about the same size as mine. Go on and don’t waste any more time otherwise the guards will be back checking to see what we’re doing.’
The change in Noah was quite amazing. The person Richard had first met was so sure of himself and, at times, almost arrogantly over-confident. His self-righteous belief in the ways of Terra Nova was patently undeniable. Now, after being involved with Richard for only a few days, his beliefs appeared to be dissipating faster than a late frost on a warm spring morning. Richard was reminded of the USSR and the way in which its inhabitants were subjected to seventy years of brutal oppression and brain-washing while its privileged leaders were extolling the virtues of doctrinaire communism. How quickly the frailty of the corrupt regime was exposed when it collapsed under the weight of trying to compete with the combined economic might of the Western nations. Ironically he could foresee the same things happening on Terra Nova if Noah’s abrupt change of attitude was any indication. Also, and yet more ironic, it would be due to the intractability of an Earthling who refused to yield to the ways of a regime that was, by its very nature, omnipotent.
Richard’s quick change of apparel took place in the same pernicious, gloomy corner where he had languished so miserably for the past eight days. Everything fitted, even down to the sandals that appeared as if they were custom made. Noah grimaced at the sight of an unsightly corn on the toe adjacent to the big one on each foot, a lasting testament to Richard’s years of playing football in ill-fitting boots. The leather hat looked a trifle incongruous surmounted as it was on the top of his head and surrounded by a mass of overgrown, matted hair.
‘Perfect,’ said Noah. ‘Absolutely perfect. You could be any one of a thousand men strolling the streets of Leviticus. As long as you do not utter a word I think we can get away with the deception. Now, to the next part of the plan. Ever since you were thrown into this cell I have been closely studying the comings and goings of visitors to the prison. The cells are always full, except for immediately after the monthly Immaculation ceremony when the former occupants, sadly, no longer need them. Visitors come and go, some bringing food for their loved ones, others - like me I suppose - looking after the interests of someone for whom they have a responsibility. What we are going to do is to wait until a v
isitor, hopefully accompanied by others, leaves by the passageway immediately outside your cell. Have you noticed, by the way, how your door has been left slightly ajar?’
Noah didn’t wait for Richard’s confirmation.
‘As soon as the circumstances are right you will leave the cell and quietly integrate yourself behind a passing group and then merge as inconspicuously as possible. Make it look as if you are a part of the grieving group. Now listen carefully, you will pass the guard’s room without so much as a sideways glance, keeping your face partially covered by the hat. And remember to pull your hair down over your face! This is when your acting ability will be tested even more than the mad act you’ve been putting on.’
He stopped and looked confidently at Richard.
‘It’s going to be difficult but I know you can do it.’
Richard looked decidedly uncertain.
‘And how about you Noah, will you be following right behind me?’
Noah shook his head.
‘No, I will have things to do once you have left. I must make it appear as if you are still here. I will use your discarded clothes together with this.’
He withdrew a down-filled bolster from the bag.
‘I told the guard the bag contained fresh clothing for you. Fortunately he didn’t bother to check. I’ll put your clothes over this bolster and place it in the darkest part of the cell. If any of the guards look through the grill in the door they’ll make out a shape that resembles you and it should hold them until they bring food or water. Meanwhile I will have left in my usual way, and you and I will meet at the rear of the Forum Vespaliani. You know where that is, don’t you? Remember we passed it some days ago on our way to the Coliseum?’
‘I remember.’ answered Richard feebly. He was now dressed in the scruffy toga, scuffed sandals and was wearing the blackened leather hat. He looked like a refugee from a war-ravaged country. Nevertheless he gave the impression of being confident that Noah’s plan would work.
‘You’ve really thought this through haven’t you Noah? I’m very flattered, especially since, as a Terra Novan, you’re supposed to be devoid of emotion.’
Richard paused and laid a hand on Noah’s shoulder.
‘I’m sensing you are experiencing some feeling for the plight of another human being, an emotion we know on Earth as compassion. It makes you feel good, doesn’t it? Come on Noah, admit it - tell me it makes you feel good.’
Noah smiled, yet another sign of the emergence of a buried emotion, and patted Richard’s hand.
‘Yes, it does make me feel good, but I’ll feel even better when we get you out of here. So, prepare yourself and go and stand by the grill. When you see the opportunity, take it. And remember, don’t utter a word!’
Chapter Sixteen
It had actually been much easier than either Noah or Richard could possibly have imagined. Richard slipped, without being noticed, into the wake of seven mourning relatives and friends of one of the other unfortunates imprisoned further along the dark passageway. The sound of loud wailing preceded their arrival at the door to Richard’s cell. He had plenty of time to prepare himself before sidling out unnoticed in the wake of the wailing, lamenting, group. He, and the outfit he was wearing, merged without trace behind the shuffling throng as effortlessly as does a bulbous, black rain cloud into a gathering storm. His additional wailing also went unnoticed but he made sure not a discernable word left his quivering lips. Genuine tears ran down his face as he associated with and felt the pain and sorrow emanating from his seven grief-stricken companions. As the group passed the guard’s quarters Richard bowed his head and wiped moist tears from his face with the back of one hand. It was perfect. Not a hint of suspicion followed him as he left the main gate to the prison behind and eventually, after some seemingly endless minutes, allowed himself to drop off from the still wailing group. He rested on a block of stone by the wayside for some moments, nervously contemplating his precarious condition. Sitting in the shade of a huge, ancient olive tree, he tried his best to discard his fears and almost felt back to his old, confident self. Rested, he stood to his feet and set off, alone and unsure, hopefully for a rendezvous with Noah at the Forum Vespaliani.
***
Noah left the cell after hurriedly arranging Richard’s cast-off clothing around the down-filled bolster. He stepped back and critically reviewed his work.
It would convince me at a distance, he thought. If a trifle large when compared with Richard’s skinny frame.
He placed the dummy in the darkest corner of the cell and, upon leaving, made pretence of bidding goodbye.
‘...and behave yourself,’ he said. ‘No more craziness. These poor guards are growing tired of your antics. Now try to stay calm, get some sleep and I’ll see on the morrow.’
A sullen guard sauntered up.
‘Are you finished sire?’ he asked motioning with his head towards the cell.
‘Yes,’ Noah replied. ‘He’s much calmer now but very tired. I think he’ll sleep once I’ve gone. Do not disturb him unless it is absolutely necessary.’
‘That’s just fine with us sire. The longer he stays asleep the less trouble he gives us.’
The guard pushed the cell door shut as Noah left and then stopped to peer through the grill into the gloomy interior and began inserting the two oak beams into the door’s iron slots. He looked around and saw Noah walking slowly towards the prison’s exit where torrid, penetrating sunshine was painting the two open doors at the entrance a garish yellow. One of the two guards standing on either side of the exit glanced briefly at Noah as he passed placidly by. An aimless wave from Noah was barely acknowledged although the guard’s eyes following his passage were watchful and suspicious. A shiver of apprehension ran up Noah’s spine and terminated at the back of his neck. He resisted the temptation to hurry and instead deliberately slowed down to a languorous stroll as he made his way towards the steep, winding hill that led to the Forum Vespaliani.
***
There were hundreds of people strolling throughout the Forum. Richard thought it a rather ironic meeting place since, in ancient Rome (and verified according to the books he had studied on the subject) this was the venue where the administration of justice was seen to be done. Richard, now standing quietly under another of the ubiquitous olive trees growing throughout the area, had carefully avoided speaking or making eye contact with anyone. A potentially dangerous situation arose when two very attractive young women approached him, ostensibly seeking directions. Remembering Noah’s instructions, he pretended to be dumb by pointing with an index finger towards his mouth while making guttural grunting sounds. The girls looked shocked and slunk away into the crowd, glancing back only to reassure themselves that they were rid of someone who was apparently unable to speak but who also radiated nervousness and fear, emotions they had never before experienced in their young lives. Richard continued trying to look inconspicuous but found himself becoming more and more exposed, isolated and frightened as he considered how unbelievably inexplicable was his predicament. Here he was, alone, on an alien planet with only one friend, the unpredictable Noah, who was now presumably on his way to meet him to discuss an escape plan that would take him back to Earth. The more he thought about it the more unsure, apprehensive, scared, lonely and depressed he became. He was sure there was no way, even with Noah’s help, that he would ever find himself back on Earth in his car, the beloved Mica Blue BMW M3, resting in the lay by on the edge of Ashdown Forest. So much had happened to him in such a short space of time that he had to rub his eyes several times, and then calmly survey the incredible scene encompassing him, in order to confirm he was not acting out a scene in some hideous, terrifying nightmare. He knew, with gut-wrenching certainty, that he was embroiled in an impossible situation in which there was absolutely no doubt that it would eventually terminate in his and Noah’s death. Visibly shaking, he fe
lt as though he was on the verge of a complete breakdown when Noah appeared in the near distance looking calm and confident, as if helping a prisoner under sentence of Immaculation to escape was an everyday occurrence, to be taken in his stride.
‘Noah - at last,’ gasped Richard.’ I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.’
Some heads in the crowded concourse turned, curious at the sound of an unfamiliar accent. Noah was quick to intercede.
‘Shhh - what did I say about not talking Richard? Get a grip of yourself otherwise we will be in big trouble.’
He hustled Richard further beneath the cool, spreading branches of the olive tree and indicated with an open palm towards a large block of granite that was squatting invitingly in the cool shade.
‘Sit down Richard,’ he said flicking away a layer of brown, decaying leaves covering the top of the granite block. ‘We haven’t much time. The guards will go to feed you in about an hour’s time and we have to make sure that, before then, we are a great distance away from here. Have no doubt, there will be a massive search. No one, as far as I know, has ever escaped from that prison or from Immaculation. That Richard is the challenge we now face. The only encouragement I can offer from your point of view is that I am now in as deep as are you! So you not only have the benefit of a loyal friend but also that of a fellow fugitive...!’
Chapter Seventeen
Richard followed closely in Noah’s wake until they arrived at a nondescript house situated in Trastevere, a picturesque, run-down area located on the west bank of the river flowing through Leviticus. Trastevere comprises a wild confusion of narrow lanes where a predominantly working-class population exists in conditions that can only be described as poor, grim, untenable. Nevertheless, the hovel they eventually entered, was exactly that which was required in the dire circumstances that faced Richard and Noah - a nondescript place to hide while plans are made for the now utterly impossible escape to Earth. If nothing else Noah was thinking clearly, for he had already stocked the small kitchen with food and water and other items necessary for a prolonged stay.
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