An Argumentation of Historians

by Jodi Taylor

  In the courtyard, however, things were heating up. Thaïs had stopped talking but others had joined in. There was a vigorous debate going on. I panned from face to face. Because I was at right angles to Alexander, some had their backs to me, but I didn’t need to see their faces. Their voices were growing louder. Someone gestured expansively and most of his wine went over the woman next to him. She didn’t even squeal.

  Alexander was looking thoughtful, playing with his goblet. Suddenly, he swung his legs to the ground and sat up. As if it was some sort of signal, his companions followed suit.

  Thaïs herself stopped sprawling all over Ptolemy and crawled over to Alexander who regarded her with a half-smile. Kneeling up and supporting herself with a hand on his shoulder – a familiarity he seemed happy to allow – she whispered in his ear.

  The music stopped. Silence fell. I stopped breathing. This was it.

  The man who had been standing next to me behind the pillar eased his weight to the left. I was forced to take a step backwards and made a small sound of alarm.

  He said, ‘Sorry.’

  I said, ‘No problem.’

  And then I realised he’d spoken in English. At the same moment, I realised there was nothing under my heels. Instinctively, I grabbed for the pillar.

  He threw back his hood and I found myself looking at Clive Ronan.

  I wasted a vital second and a half just gaping at him. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Why was he here? Why wasn’t he at St Mary’s getting himself arrested by Captain Ellis and the Time Police? What had gone wrong?

  As I said, time wasted. If I’d ever had a chance – that was it. Too late, I opened my mouth to shout and he pushed me hard against a wall and shoved his hand over my mouth. Crushing me against the wall with his body, he ripped off my stole and scrabbled around in my hair until he found my ear. Rough fingers wrenched out my earpiece. I heard the crunch as he trod on it. The whole thing had taken only one second. Maybe two.

  He whirled me around so my face was pressed into the wall. I grunted as the breath was knocked from my lungs.

  He thrust his face close to mine. I felt his hot breath. ‘How stupid do you think I am?’

  Not as stupid as me, that’s for certain.

  Behind us, a great shout went up. The music started again. A jolly tune with a stamping rhythm. I could imagine a Macedonian conga line forming.

  Ronan was immensely strong. I, on the other hand, have the muscle tone of lettuce. Somewhere along the way I’d dropped my recorder and my little jug of oil must have been kicked over because I slipped in something and lost my balance.

  Someone grabbed me. Not Ronan. Someone else grabbed my legs and I was lifted up and carried away like an old bolster.

  I tried to struggle but it was no use. I tried to bite the hand over my mouth but he was pressing so tightly it hurt my teeth. I could barely breathe. I tried to twist and kick and none of that was happening either.

  I was carted around the corner back into the small garden behind the Audience Hall. Someone had watered it recently. I could smell the night flowers and wet earth. It was very dark – a tiny empty space. In all this massive palace complex, swarming with soldiers, prozzies, slaves, conquering heroes, cooks, butlers, servers, historians – millions and millions of people – this tiny courtyard was completely deserted.

  I was gasping for breath. The large, rough hand was blocking my nostrils. I couldn’t breathe properly. I couldn’t even manage to squeak for help. I redoubled my struggles.

  Many things were happening all at once.

  In the distance, I could hear men’s voices shouting and the thunder of footsteps. Someone quite close was banging a huge gong. The echoes reverberated through my chest. They were driving people from the palace. Thaïs had triumphed. Persepolis was about to burn. Was this what Ronan had planned for me? Would he leave me here, somehow immobilised as the flames crept ever closer?

  They shoved me against a wall. My face bounced off a nicely carved bull and I could taste blood. They spread my arms and legs. I tried to kick out, expecting the worst. I heard a faint electronic beeping as they scanned me. No, not scanned. They weren’t scanning me. They were neutralising my tags. So I couldn’t be tracked.

  I tried to twist my head around. To see what was happening. I could hear men talking nearby, but their voices were drowned out by what sounded like huge crowds of panic-stricken people being driven from the palaces. I could hear men shouting, women screaming and the crash of furniture being overturned. Panic and hysteria were in the air.

  Well, that was good. At least Alexander didn’t mean anyone to burn. This was a forced evacuation. I don’t know if it was my imagination but I thought I could smell smoke on the wind. Already?

  And what of Markham? He wasn’t here which meant he was dead – something I refused to believe – or injured – which was possible. I refused to allow myself to panic. He wasn’t dead. He was Markham. Somehow, he would get back to me. Somehow, he would find a way.

  I twisted my head the other way. Only a few yards away, Ronan was talking to someone I couldn’t see. As I watched, another group of people charged past, shrieking and colliding with each other in their haste to get out. He reached out and took someone’s arm and drew them aside. It was a woman. Her stole had fallen around her shoulders. I recognised that hairstyle. It was Thaïs herself. Well, wasn’t that interesting? Thaïs had whispered in Alexander’s ear – was it possible that Ronan had whispered in hers? My fears for Markham rushed back a hundredfold and I felt sick. Because, instead of Ronan falling into our trap – we’d fallen into his. I could taste the bitterness in my mouth. I could have lined St Mary’s with the Crowns of Empresses, hung Swords of Tristram from the ceiling, filled the Hall with recently discovered Botticellis, littered his path with ancient scrolls from Alexandria – presented him with the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World even, and he wouldn’t have taken a blind bit of notice. Because that wasn’t what he wanted.

  It was a harsh thing to admit to myself, but I’d really screwed this up. I’d misread Ronan and his motivation. I’d underestimated him big time. I really thought he’d go for an undefended St Mary’s and the possibility of easy pickings. And he hadn’t. Whether he’d guessed it was a trap or whether he was genuinely uninterested, I had no idea. I only knew that, once again, I was in deep shit and, this time, it was all my own fault. I’d been far too complacent and smug for my own good and now I hadn’t just endangered myself, but everyone else here. I had no idea whether it was just me he was after or everyone on this assignment as well, but my duty was clear – to put every possible obstacle in his path. I stamped down on fear – because that wouldn’t help at all. I should concentrate on what I could do, not on what could be done to me. I had no way of warning anyone but I would make things as difficult for him as I possibly could.

  Ronan and Thaïs disappeared through an archway. She would want to be getting back to Alexander.

  Now. I should act now while his attention was distracted. And I could definitely smell smoke on the wind.

  I twisted suddenly and tore one arm free. Pivoting, I fetched a shadowy figure an almighty clout around the head, and the momentum freed up my other arm. Not having a clue where to run, I ducked and headed back the way I’d come. Right back into the fire they’d started in the courtyard where the feast had been held. The couches, the hangings – everything was ablaze. The heat was enormous. Sparks flew in the wind. There was no way out here. I had no time to stop and think. No time even to look around me and get my bearings. I had to move and move fast.

  I skirted a wall, trying to get back into the Palace of Darius because from it I could access the Audience Hall, and once there I could hide in its vast emptiness of huge pillars and deep shadows.

  Alas for that plan. I got there, but the Audience Hall was burning too. They’d flung oil up and around the wooden pillars and they were all ablaze. Dry wood, covered in paint, soaked in oil and fanned by the strong wind. The flames roared. The heat sizzl
ed my eyebrows. This was not a place to be.

  I veered away, meaning to run back into the Palace of Darius. From there I’d try for an exit to the Tripylon. I had no idea what I’d do after that. Joining the hysterical crowds as they headed towards the Gate of All Nations seemed the best bet. Get lost in the crowd and re-join the rest of St Mary’s – who would know I was missing by now.

  Yes. Excellent plan, Maxwell.

  I turned and ran full tilt into Ronan.

  I saw my death in his eyes. In a flash, I knew I wasn’t getting out of this. There would be no rescue for me. But I could take him with me and call that a good day’s work.

  I launched myself at him in a fury of kicks and punches. Alley cat fighting. I scratched his face. I went for his eyes. I used my knees. I used every dirty trick I’d ever learned from Ian Guthrie. I never let up. I was a whirlwind. I saw Helen and Matthew and Leon and everyone he’d ever injured and I just flew at him. I think I even bit his ear. Something I did made him yell, anyway.

  I knew I stood no chance. He was a big and powerful man but the dynamics had changed. I had nothing left to lose. He knew I would do everything in my power to keep him here and fire is an equal-opportunity bastard. All I had to do was prevent him getting away and we would burn together. At that precise moment, I had no problem with any of that.

  His foot slipped – spilled oil again, I think, and we both crashed heavily to the floor. He was on the bottom but I banged my elbow and my arm went tingly and numb. The best I could do was to knot my fingers in his hair and bang his head against the marble. I think I was hoping to knock him unconscious before he, probably quite literally, tore me apart.

  And then someone yanked me off him. Two people actually. It took that many to hold me as I spat and twisted and kicked.

  Someone else helped him to his feet. There were other people around him but I have no memory of how many or what they looked like. My attention was all on Ronan. I never took my eyes off him. I’d done some damage there. His head was bleeding. Scratches ran down one side of his face. And I think he’d hurt his wrist when he fell. Dislocated certainly – broken possibly. He wasn’t standing straight, either. He’d encountered the Maxwell knee.

  I was struggling for breath, my chest heaving. Smoke drifted past on the wind and I could hear the flames roaring around us. A small part of my mind wondered whether he would kill me now or knock me out and leave me to burn. A larger part of my mind hoped everyone had got away. And if Markham had them out searching for me when we knew the entire complex was about to be engulfed in flames then he’d be encountering the Maxwell knee as well.

  He and Clerk would do their best but they’d never find me in time. I had no tags. They wouldn’t be able to trace me. They were loyal but they weren’t stupid. They wouldn’t like it – but they’d get everyone away and jump to safety.

  Ronan stood before me, his dark eyes glittering in the firelight.

  I said, ‘They’ll find you. You won’t get away forever. You can do what you like to me …’

  ‘I intend to.’

  And he did. I could see it in his face. I was going to die at Ronan’s hands here, now, at Persepolis.

  I took a tiny step backwards which was all my captors would allow me and a huge piece of burning timber fell from nowhere, landing between me and Ronan, hiding him in a shower of sparks, embers and smoke.

  I don’t know what happened to the men holding me. I only know that suddenly I was free. I didn’t hang around. I could hear Ronan screaming, ‘Find her. Find her.’

  He was still screaming at his people as I ran for my life. I could hear crashes all around me. I remembered the broken furniture stacked up in Audience Hall I could just imagine how that would burn. And hangings, cushions, curtains – all oil-soaked. Everything would burn.

  I needed to stay away from the buildings. I was in a kind of no man’s land between the huge outer walls and the lower inner walls on my right. If I kept the outer ones on my left then I would eventually emerge near the Gate. I could hear Ronan shouting. He’d taken a wrong turn somewhere and now he was trapped behind the inner wall. My heart leaped. There were no gates or archways in the inner wall. He couldn’t get to me. I had a chance – only slight – but I was prepared to seize it.

  Now I could hear shouting from those outside the city, too. Sparks were being borne away on the wind. Everything here was a dry as a bone. It wasn’t just the palaces that would burn tonight – the town would burn too. The glory of Persepolis was ended.

  Smoke caught at my throat and made my eyes stream as I ran along the base of the walls, desperately looking for a way out. Any way out.

  And then, faintly in the distance, I heard Clerk shouting my name. Panic seized me. He shouldn’t be here. They should all be gone by now. And Ronan couldn’t be far off. If I responded I’d be giving away my position. If I didn’t they’d keep searching for me.

  I shouted, ‘I’m all right. Get out of here.’

  ‘Where are you?’ His voice was closer.

  ‘With a group of women being escorted through the gate. We’re all fine. Go.’

  That should reassure him. Enough to get him out of here anyway.

  There was a scrabbling noise, some heavy breathing, and a pair of hands appeared at the top of the wall. Shit. The ground must be much higher on his side. Well, it would be, wouldn’t it? For defensive purposes. With the massive outer wall behind them, any attackers would be trapped in a kind of pit. As was I.

  I heard Ronan’s voice through the thick clouds of smoke billowing over the wall, quiet and deadly.

  ‘I’m coming for you, Maxwell.’

  Adrenalin was coursing through my system and I was dancing about like a madwoman, all ready to fight for my life. All ready to take him down with me.

  ‘Oh no, you’re not.’

  Someone grabbed me from behind and a strange voice said, ‘Oh yes we are.’

  Being grabbed by a stranger never brings out the best in me but on this occasion I stood quite still because – and don’t ask me why – I thought it was the Time Police. I mean, it could have been them, justifying their existence for once and helping us bring this night’s sorry shambles to a triumphant end. All right, things hadn’t gone quite to plan so far but, let’s face it, for us they rarely do.

  So, like an idiot, I stood quietly until a voice behind me shouted, ‘Got her, Mr Ronan,’ and I realised I’d got it wrong.

  I could hear Ronan’s feet scrabbling as he tried to pulled himself up the other side of the wall and then I heard a long, low rumbling sound and everything stopped. I looked wildly round. An earthquake? On top of everything else, were we having a bloody earthquake?

  The noise grew louder and then, high above us, the palace walls began to topple. Pieces of burning wood and masonry fell all around us, thudding into the ground.

  A voice, cracking with youth and panic shouted, ‘We need to get out now, Mr Ronan.’

  ‘No. Wait for me.’ As much as he ever could, he sounded desperate.

  Something big fell and a shower of sparks and burning rubble fell with it. The heat was intense.

  ‘Mr Ronan, sir, we have to go now.’

  For a second there was silence and I wondered if he was dead. Killed by his own desire for revenge and serve him right.

  No such luck. He was panting. ‘Take her somewhere and kill her. Dump her. Don’t tell me where. I don’t want to know. Don’t tell anyone where or …’

  The rest of his words were lost in the clattering of falling masonry.

  Behind me, someone said, ‘Come on,’ and I was dragged away.

  I was rather hoping that in the way of minions everywhere, they’d be so desperate to get out of here that if I put up even some small resistance, they’d abandon me to save themselves. Or possibly shoot me, of course, but in situations like this, optimism is usually key. So I struggled, determined to make life difficult for us all.

  It was worth a try but they weren’t having any of it. A very young man
thrust a blaster in my face. ‘Move or I’ll shoot you.’ His voice was wobbling nearly as much as his gun.

  I stood stock still.

  The other soldier, a much older man grabbed my arm. ‘Never mind him. Do as you’re told or I’ll shoot you.’

  Something big fell in the distance, causing the ground to shake beneath my feet. Flames danced everywhere. I did as I was told because it’s one thing to be held at gunpoint by steely-eyed professionals. They usually know what they’re doing and right up until the moment they pull the trigger, you’re comparatively safe. It’s quite another to be held at gunpoint by a terrified nineteen-year-old who, at one and the same time, is terrified of shooting his first victim but can’t wait to shoot his first victim, and is oscillating wildly between those two states.

  Ronan’s fortunes tended to fluctuate as did the quality of his associates and these two were certainly scrapings from the bottom of that barrel. The older man was experienced enough but was, I suspected, long past the age at which he should have retired. The younger one had barely left his mother. Neither of them was what you look for in a hit squad.

  The youngster flourished the blaster again. I had a feeling he got off on doing that. ‘Into the pod.’

  What pod? They had a pod? Now that was more like it.

  I think the younger one would have preferred to drag me along, kicking and screaming in the traditional manner, but I trotted along beside them quite happily because they had a pod, for crying out loud. My ticket out of here. And there it was, parked in the angle made by the outer wall and a jutting lookout tower.

  So, to sum up. Not everything was going quite according to plan, but here was a pod. All I had to do was escape the burning city, overcome my captors, steal their pod, get back to St Mary’s, and hand them over to the Time Police for interrogation. I could still be sitting down with a margarita and a full report for Dr Bairstow in no time.