The Curse of Babylon

by Richard Blake

  For the moment at least, Nicetas had forgotten about me. I could have grovelled at the man’s feet till he got sick of us all. I could then have crept off with Antonia back to my palace to wait on events. But the idea I’d been turning over was now complete. I finished washing my hands and stood up. I pulled at the main tie of my robe and let it fall to the ground. ‘Since you’ve asked for a miracle,’ I said, stepping free of the grubby cloth, ‘how about this one?’ I bowed to Nicetas. I bowed to Timothy. I bent down and fished for the Emperor’s letter. I picked it up and glanced at the childish hand. Nicetas had got this one right. A few words, followed by the impression of a signet ring on beeswax, had made me, until His Holiness could make it across the straits, supreme ruler of the Roman Universe.

  More silence. Then, with a squeal of fright, Eunapius was on his feet and making for the door. Antonia got there first. He dodged the punch she threw at him. He wasn’t so lucky when she got out a lead cosh. She landed a blow to the side of his head and stood back to watch him thresh about. ‘Hello, Daddy!’ she said, pulling her hood down. ‘We’ve come to ask for your blessing.’ She came over and took my hand in hers. ‘Poor Mummy would have envied me rotten, I’m sure you’ll agree.’

  Never vocal at the best of times, Nicetas had the look on his face of a man who’s just taken an arrow in the chest and isn’t sure yet if it merely hurts or will finish him off. It was Timothy who broke the silence. He snapped his fingers at Leander. ‘I want two chairs over here,’ he said. He looked at Antonia. ‘Make it three. And put another against that door.’ As he sat down carefully, the music started again. Slow and undulating, the girls formed a new line with their dildoes. Together, we made the four points of an irregular rectangle. Leander stood behind Nicetas with bowed head. Eunapius had crawled away from the door. A miserable and unmoving heap, he was in sight and in convenient distance for killing.

  ‘What’s in that letter?’ Timothy asked. I unfolded it and held it up to read. He sniffed. ‘I haven’t seen what you sent the booby. But, since you haven’t tried arresting me, dear boy, I might as well ask what deal you have in mind. At this stage in proceedings, you’ll find me refreshingly open to a deal.’

  I smiled coldly. He’d learned much from Priscus, even down to the intonations of his voice. I’d always known he was a snake posing as a buffoon. Time to see if he was clever enough to recognise his own true interest. ‘At dawn,’ I said, ‘you clear the street outside my palace. I accept your claim that you were ordered not to intervene. I believe Nicetas when he says he was held prisoner in his own palace and orders were issued in his name. Such other dirt as I may have on you and your friends will disappear.’ I looked at Eunapius. The logic was inescapable. When something goes wrong, someone must be blamed. When the right people can’t be blamed, someone else must be. But Eunapius couldn’t be allowed to stand trial – not before Heraclius, not in public. All I had to do was kill a man in cold blood and I could have my heart’s desire. I passed over the detail. ‘Nicetas will, of course, accept me as his son-in-law and use every possible endeavour to persuade the Emperor not to withhold his own consent.’

  ‘Strikes me as a very fair deal,’ said Timothy with a smack of his lips. ‘Everyone wins.’ He looked at Nicetas, who still hadn’t moved. ‘Shall we take that as a “yes”? Or would you prefer to die in the fighting to liberate this palace?’

  As one, we all looked at Nicetas. His expression still hadn’t changed. Just when I was beginning to think he’d had a seizure, he leaned back in his chair. ‘What would you do if you were me?’ he whispered to Leander.

  ‘If I were you, My Lord,’ came the instant reply, ‘I’d get off my lazy, fat arse and kiss my son-in-law.’

  We turned to watch the complex and unending gyrations of the dildo dance. All, that is, except poor Eunapius.

  Chapter 48

  I looked up at the sky again. At last, dark blue had turned to light and was now turning a chilly grey. For some while we’d been able to hear the crowd that was reassembling far below and to see the rush lights a few of its more thoughtful members had brought along. Looking down, I could see the dim shapes scurrying about in the Triumphal Way. Some of them were in clusters and were carrying what I could only guess were the dead in their winding sheets. There weren’t enough for another rendition of ‘Kill! Kill!’ But the monks were already in place and I could hear them praying for the dead in their ferocious nasal whines.

  ‘Do you think you can trust him?’ Antonia asked.

  I smiled to myself. ‘If I trusted him,’ I said, ‘I’d be down there beside him.’ Making sure not to lean on the undamaged stretch of the parapet where we were all gathered, I stood on tiptoe on my chair and bent forward. In the improved light, I could see more of the catapult. Someone was sitting on it beside the torsion springs and seemed to be reading from a scroll to someone else, who was hurrying about with what may have been small projectiles. Not the best sign of good faith, I told myself. But, we’d see who got killed if anyone tried to fire the thing.

  The light was improving moment by moment. Standing just outside the colonnade, there was Timothy’s unmistakeable bulk and possibly Leander beside him. I stretched as far forward as I could without putting any weight on the stuccoed brick. The compact and still masses of what could only be the city guard were reassuring. They blocked movement each way along the Triumphal Way. We’d agreed that the mob would be allowed to gather within limits. Anyone else would be turned back. Once the signal was given, both wings of the guard would press forward and let people out a few at a time. Doing this, they’d nab everyone they could identify from the list Eunapius had finally supplied.

  A big hand took hold of my belt and pulled me back a few inches. ‘Can’t have you falling over,’ Samo said in Latin. Antonia laughed nervously. Best not to argue. I turned back to looking at what was happening below. In their usual place, the ladders were being set up. I couldn’t see the seditionaries. But Alexius was somewhere close by, getting his mask right with a recitation of one of the prayers for Easter.

  With a final look at the sky, I jumped down from the chair and smiled at the senior men of the household. ‘Gentlemen,’ I said, also in Latin, ‘let me go through the arrangements one more time.’ A boy, who seemed to have turned decidedly pretty since my last sight of him, poked a wine cup at me. I gave him a very warm smile and sipped at the contents. As I’d ordered, it was laced with what I hoped was a strong stimulant. Priscus hadn’t been in his quarters when I got back, so I’d sniffed at each small bottle in his collection till I found something that smelled just right. I hoped it was. After a sleepless night, I wanted to keep awake – not have to keep telling myself that the troll and witches and dead relatives dancing about me weren’t actually there. I sipped again and felt my nose begin to itch. A couple of the bigger slaves were taller than me. I got back on the chair, and looked at the small and silent crowd. I looked harder in the fading gloom. I frowned. ‘Where is Theodore?’ I asked.

  ‘He was praying in the chapel,’ a boy called out from the back of the crowd. I frowned again. I’d seen candles burning away in the chapel before we took our hit from the catapult. Could the fathead have been in there all night? It wouldn’t be the first time in the past week. I sighed. Why couldn’t he pray in the daylight like everyone else? Wasn’t that supposed to be God’s first gift to the world? It was certainly free – unlike wax candles. But I composed myself. So long as Timothy continued to see his own best interest and was able to re-impose order on the streets, this was all set up to be a glorious day. I looked at Antonia. She set off another of those warm feelings inside me. Or perhaps it was the stimulant. I could feel I’d picked right among those unmarked bottles.

  I cleared my throat and looked in the direction of the boy who’d spoken. ‘Go and tell Theodore that I want him up here at once,’ I said. ‘Tell him it’s an order.’ While the boy took a short cut across the roof tiles, I cleared my throat again and began with the main business. ‘In a few moments, Sa
mo will go down to the room above the main gate. There, he will await the shouted signal from young Eboric.’ I glowered at the little blond stunner. ‘Eboric will watch for the agreed signal outside. At its first appearance, he must run from my office, downstairs to the entrance hall. Samo will then pull the lever that raises the portcullis.’ I put on a look of grim mastery. ‘Do you both understand?’ Samo sniffed nonchalantly. Eboric smiled sweetly. I focused on Samo. Though barely able to get up to the roof without a wheezing attack, he had great static strength. Apart from me, he was the only man in the building able to set in movement the geared monster that would pull up a ton and a half of iron as if it were another gross of candles for Theodore. He looked almost sober. I’d have to trust him. I nodded to him and he began slouching off towards the exit from the roof. He stopped short of the open hatch to hear out the rest of what I had to say.

  ‘Once the portcullis is up,’ I went on, ‘we’ll hear the first reading of my proclamation. Among much else, this will order the crowd to disperse. After that, and while much of the crowd is still present, the City Prefect will walk alone to the foot of the steps and wait for the gate to swing open.’ I paused to settle a nervous tremor I could feel making its way into my voice. ‘The gate is already secured by a single bolt. I will open it myself and walk out alone to embrace the Prefect. It will be all the evidence the assembled witnesses need to show the restoration of concord among the higher classes of the City.’ I paused again. I looked at faces that had turned surly. I waited for someone to finish interpreting my words for those slaves whose working language wasn’t Latin. ‘Some risk is unavoidable,’ I said firmly. ‘Of course, you will remain in arms behind the gate, ready to give such help as may be required. And I will remind you that, until further notice, the public areas of the palace will be closed to everyone you don’t know by name or face.’

  Panting slightly, the boy messenger was back. ‘Begging pardon, My Lord,’ he trilled, ‘but Master Theodore won’t leave the chapel. He says the Devil is abroad in the palace, and that he must finish praying for all our souls.’

  Bloody idiot! I thought. But I had only myself to blame. I should never have indulged his taste for theology. Those ghastly books had turned his mind. ‘Then let him stay with his icons,’ I said heavily. ‘He has neither civil nor military function in this morning’s proceedings.’ Yes, let him stay down there babbling to his ever-more disordered imagination. His sour face would only damp our own spirits.

  ‘I’ll go and get him,’ Antonia broke in. ‘I’ll tell him it’s his duty to behold the triumph of good over evil. That should bring him up here.’ I nodded, hoping she wouldn’t be too long. This was, after all, as much her triumph as mine. I stood down from the chair and watched her pass through the little crowd. No one could have called Antonia sweet by nature. Neither was she stupid. She’d seen her father’s household management and she’d seen mine. I knew the slaves had all been wondering what sort of wife I’d finally bring home. Now, as she went out of sight, every face turned back in my direction showed something between liking and adoration.

  And now the sun was up. Spreading jagged shadows over the roof tiles, it heralded the beginning of our triumph. It was Monday again – another petitioning day. Today’s petitioners, plus those stood over from the previous week, would make a backlog to add to all the others. Before making my way back from Nicetas to the Great Sewer, I’d pulled one of my chief clerks out of bed. Sooner or later this day, my people would turn up with a wagonload of official business. Dealing with all my routine work and going through everything Nicetas had allowed to pile up – and sorting out and covering up matters as agreed with Timothy – would need more than a few drops of stimulant.

  But we’d won. I stared right at the tall victory column. There were no archers positioned on its viewing platform. Perhaps I should have been less cautious and put myself and the rest of the audience on one of the balconies. I watched and waited. Moment by moment rising higher, the sun broke suddenly into the Triumphal Way. Its first shaft of light struck the gilded pinnacle of the monument. It was the agreed signal to start proceedings. Timothy bounced lightly over to the catapult and raised his arms for attention. Everyone round him looked across the road to my main gate.

  The gilded pinnacle was gleaming like a beacon. Still waiting, I willed the sound of our own response. It came just as I was thinking to hurry downstairs to see what was causing the delay. With a dull roar and much clanking of gears and iron, the portcullis went up. Timothy gave his orders. Men raced off in both directions and disappeared under cover of the colonnade. The seditionaries in their masks came from somewhere that had been out of my sight and climbed slowly up their ladders.

  ‘My dearest friend, Alexius,’ Constans opened with much buzzing, following by a complete loss of sound. He reached up with his free hand and nudged his mask into place. ‘O Alexius, such news have I been given to relay to the brave and formidable Roman People who are gathered here about us.’ Carefully balancing himself, he reached down to his belt and produced a standard sheet of papyrus. He turned his head to stare at the front wall of my palace – I supposed the recess of its gateway and the bronze gate were to act as an additional reflector – and raised his voice.

  ‘In the name of Heraclius, Caesar, Augustus, Faithful in Christ, to the Senate and People of Rome,’ he boomed. ‘Let all who are present hear and obey the wishes of the Ruler of the Universe, ordained by God.’ So, to increasingly depressed incredulity, he read out my instructions to the City. It was a long text, bulked out with formulaic utterances designed more to impress than enlighten, and with repetitions of the main points that you must have in anything intended for reading out to the common people. The sun was already on the marble of the victory column when Constans finished. He’d been heard in silence. The silence continued after he’d finished.

  It was broken by Alexius: ‘I think, dearest Constans, that we speak as one when I say that we have never wished anything for His Magnificence the Lord Senator Alaric but the greatest and most unending continuation of good fortune. Moreover, the Lord Nicetas is himself blessed when he blesses . . .’

  Alexius had been waving his arms about to show how he was warming to his theme. A sudden scraping sound from far beneath where I stood had him clutching the top of his ladder. Ignoring the remains of my sunburn, and the possibility of another break in the wall, I leaned forward as far as I could. I managed to catch sight of Timothy’s sideways scuttle.

  Rado saved me the trouble of speaking. ‘Someone’s opened the main gate, Master,’ he cried.

  With the reading of the proclamation, the crowd had parted like the Red Sea, leaving a wide space between the front steps of my palace and the colonnade on the other side of the Triumphal Way. Both wings of the crowd now edged further back and I saw some of the men in better clothing turn and push their way out of it.

  Oh, fuck me – it was Theodore! ‘Behold the Horn of Babylon!’ he called out in his highest and most demented voice. ‘Behold and fear the earthly symbol of all satanic power!’ Before I could draw back and dash for the stairs, he came in sight. Dressed in a white gown too long for him, a withered olive wreath on his head, he stumbled forward, holding up the box, within which the silver cup glittered in the reflected light of the sun.

  ‘Go from this place, my people, lest you too be accursed – lest your souls too be lost to the powers of darkness.’

  Still unseen, Antonia’s voice rang out: ‘Come back, you bloody fool. Can’t you see, you’re spoiling everything?’ She rushed forward into sight. She stepped on to the long trail of Theodore’s robe and put her arms about him. They went down together.

  With a long roar of terror and rage, both sides of the crowd streamed forward. They came together again, and Antonia and Theodore were lost within its joining.

  Chapter 49

  Sitting here in Canterbury, I can tell you the route I must have taken. I’d have hurried along the central well of the roof to the doorway and the stairs dow
n. These led to an unlit corridor lined with closed doors, each of which gave access to its own labyrinth of attic rooms. From here, it was more stairs – not the grand staircases, with side ramps for carrying chairs, for the use of persons of quality, but dozens of narrow flights, designed to get slaves up and down with the least delay. From the bottom of the flight painted red, it was another long corridor, past the domestic administration of the palace, to a heavy door, wooden on my side, sheathed with bronze on the side of the entrance hall.

  I can describe the likely journey from the roof. But I can’t remember taking it. The first I do recall is hacking the raised arm off one of the intruders who’d seen his chance of loot once through the wide open main gate. His screams added to the general pandemonium of noise and fighting all about me. It looked – and smelled – as if a whole army of the rotting, reanimated dead had streamed in through the gate. And more were trying to get in. The gate was blocked by them. Though pushed from behind, those in front were held back for the moment by Samo. Just inside the gate, he was bawling war songs and laying madly about with his broadsword. There were already bodies and body parts piling up at his feet.

  Eyes blazing, bloody sword in hand, Rado crashed into me. ‘We can’t get to her, Master,’ he shouted. He pointed at the blocked gate, then turned to slash at someone who was trying to pull the gilt scroll from one of the statues. I tried to shake some sense into my drugged mind. How had Rado and everyone else got down here so fast? I was sure I’d left him behind on the roof. I gripped hard on my sword and prepared to charge at the gate and cut my way through.

  From behind me, there was a sudden scream of many voices. I turned to see the kitchen women and maidservants stream into the hall. All of them armed, all of them probably thinking of their dead menfolk from when they were taken as slaves, they hurled themselves into battle with the Greek intruders. It was less a battle than a slaughter. With them advancing down the hall like a phalanx of harpies, there was no chance the palace would be taken by storm.