The 58th Keeper

by R. G. Bullet

  Chapter 31

  Aqua Marcia

  Archy. You can remember the riddle, can’t you?” Georgia asked.

  “I don’t know. Such a stupid verse!” Archy spat. “Why don’t they just tell me where. Aaarggh!” He rubbed his hands over his face. “I’ll remember it... something about a theater and a bear.”

  Just then Tullius and Vincent returned, dragging long poles of bamboo. Tati gave a series of short, shrill whistles and Tullius stopped dead in his path, straining to listen above the rumble. “Did you hear that?” he asked.

  Everyone looked back up the hill at the line of trees above them that looked like soldiers standing at attention.

  A distant shriek rang out. It could have been a goat, yet there was something in it that made Archy shudder. The oily feeling in the pit of his stomach returned.

  Tullius, no stranger to risk, began to move rapidly. He took charge, instructing Vincent to chop the bamboo, and Georgia and Archy to hold the pieces together as he tied the knots. In no time they’d crafted four small rafts.

  Tullius threw the his raft into the rush of water and secured it to a rock. Then he lashed the other rafts together with the length of twine to form a chain.

  Tullius set Tati on the raft in front and she knelt, holding the basket of fish. Tullius helped Georgia climb onto the second raft. The water raced over the top and bubbled up between the slats, straining and creaking as she knelt. Her knuckles turned white from gripping the sides. She peeked over the steep sides to the craggy rocks below. They were seventy feet above the ground and the water ran very close to the top of the stone sides. If they were to falter in any way, they would drop to their deaths.

  “It’s safe. I make sure you are good,” Tullius told Georgia, then he motioned to Vincent to sit on the third raft and handed him a long, straight pole. “Here! We move from the sides like this.”

  Archy knelt on the last raft, waiting for the order to pull the slip knot.

  Tullius climbed onto the front raft beside Tati and steadied himself with the pole as the rafts creaked under the weight. Archy yanked the slip knot and they lurched forward into the stream of water. Tati threw her hands into the air with joy and Archy stared over the side of the great aqueduct.

  They raced along at first, and then settled into a steady speed, easily passing the horse-drawn carts on the stony roads below.

  Balancing carefully, Georgia took a photo of Vincent, and one of Tati, who kept reaching for the camera as Georgia focused the lens. She took a photo of Tullius as he stood with the pole in his hands, and another of Archy smiling, with the great arches of the aqueduct crossing the valley behind.

  They glided onward, the boys nudging the ledge to keep the rafts in the center of the flowing water. Up ahead, Archy could see a crew of five men working. Their bodies were outlined against the scarlet sunset as they repaired the top of the outside wall.

  Tullius signaled feverishly for the others to lie flat. “Down! Down!” he hissed.

  They fell onto their stomachs and the water rushed over them. Vincent and Tullius deftly centered the rafts to avoid any noise. The men’s shouts became clear as the rafts drifted nearer.

  “Are you going to the games again, Audilus?” one of them asked as the group floated by within an arm’s reach. Archy caught a glimpse of a man’s unshaven face and the muscles in his upper arm as he pushed down on a lever.

  “No, I’m tired of the Naumachia—always the same. I like the lions…”

  One of the men yelled as they passed. “YOU THERE!”

  The men spun to face them as one of the rafts hit the wall, scraping the side.

  “Seize them!” another shouted, swiping at Tati and nearly grabbing her by the hair.

  Tati let out a piercing whistle and Tullius swung his stick at the man, hitting him on the arm. Vincent kicked one of the crew hard in the shin and Georgia ducked to the right, narrowly missing a pair of rough hands. One of the workmen kept shouting, “Get them! GET THEM!”

  They were almost out of reach when a small, grizzly man leaned far in and grasped Archy’s ankle, dragging him into the water. But the man couldn’t hold on, and Archy kicked below the surface to get away. He swam underwater, nearly touching the stone floor. He surfaced farther down and began to swim as fast as he could. Tullius hopped to the end raft like he was on stepping stones and threw the twine off the back. “Take hold!” he cried out.

  Archy caught it and Tullius pulled Archy slowly back to the raft. The angry crew could do nothing but watch the group disappear toward the city.

  “That was so close! Are you all right, Archy?” Georgia asked.

  Archy coughed. “Yeah—too close.”

  As the setting sun dipped behind the hills Archy checked his watch. They had exactly forty-three hours till the exit gateway opened—wherever that may be.

  Drawing closer to the outskirts of Rome they could make out numerous small dwellings and people milling about below. The city seemed quieter than they were used to. There were no vehicles, alarms or horns, no neon lights or street lamps. Archy also noticed that the smells wafting up were of wood smoke and cooking, not the exhaust fumes of buses and cars.

  By the time they were deep into the city the sun had disappeared and they began to shiver in their damp clothes. The clattering in the streets beneath them made Archy suspect they were near the center. He could see large, well-lit homes, and could hear tinkling music. Around the big houses were hundreds of neglected little shacks crammed one next to the other.

  It was dark now and the water flow eased till they were at a crawling pace. “Here! The end is coming!” Tullius called out. They floated through a curved brick entrance, and ducked under an iron gate into an area paved with flagstone on either side. The water disappeared through a large stone mouth.

  Tati stood up, still clutching the basket in her arms. Tullius thrust the stick down hard and they ground to a halt. Georgia hopped off, and the boys dragged the rafts and the bags onto the paved floor.

  They had traveled many miles above land and their journey by Aqua Marcia, one of the largest aqueducts ever built, had come to an end. They were in the heart of ancient Rome.

  Chapter 32

  The Baths of Diocletian

  No sooner had they arrived than Vincent let out a sneeze that echoed off the walls, announcing their presence.

  “Quiet,” Tullius whispered. “If they see us here they will keep us.” He hurried to stack the rafts against a side wall, moving as quietly as possible. Then he slowly opened the only door in the area, peeked in, then pushed it shut again. “There’s something wrong. He should be here.”

  “Who?” Archy whispered.

  “The slave who helps me. I give him a good fish and when the guard goes on his patrol he lets Tati and me out. But he’s not here tonight—” he said, sounding frustrated. “So, we wait here.”

  In the dim light Archy could see the water pouring through a large concrete mouth and cascade into a well below. They were in a roofless area enclosed by a wall about Archy’s height and there was little else to see. Tati began jumping up and down to fight off the cold and Georgia pulled her close.

  “Now what, Tullius?” said Archy, his teeth chattering. He held his dripping backpack close to his chest. Tullius led them over to the door. “Is this the way?” Archy whispered.

  Tullius nodded. “We have to get down these stairs and then through to the main entrance without being noticed,” he said, looking at the others, who stood hunched over, shivering, and moving closer to each other with every second.

  “What about the rafts?” Vincent asked. “We can’t leave them here. They’ll be noticed.”

  “We have to go,” said Archy. He didn’t like the prospect of waiting. The voices he’d heard at the beginning of the aqueduct still resounded in his head and worse still, he felt exposed and vulnerable because the rug was wet.

  “We have to get going, Tullius. Let’s risk it—let’s go.”

  Tullius squeezed his ey
es shut for a second, weighing his options. “No, we must wait longer—I’m sure he’ll come.”

  “What is this place, Tullius?” said Georgia.

  Tullius nodded in the direction of the wall and Archy walked over and hoisted himself up, leaning out on his elbows.

  Below he could see a vast landscaped courtyard. Torchlit pathways snaked in between mature trees and led off to a central area that was too dark to make out fully, but he could sense that the structure was colossal. He could smell the heavy scent of flowers and hear the trickle of a fountain directly beneath him. He helped Georgia up on one side and Vincent pulled himself up on the other.

  “It looks heavenly,” said Georgia, taking in the night air.

  “The Baths of Diocletian is not for children,” said Tullius. “Let’s gather our belongings.” Judging by his tone, he had made up his mind and was now eager to leave.

  The door led to a narrow stairwell, arched so low they had to stoop all the way down. Along the way Vincent’s espadrilles squeaked loudly and Tati made it clear with a couple of abrupt hand signals that he should take them off.

  At the bottom Tullius gently pushed open a hatch, poked his head through—and froze. A number of men were rushing past and out of a side door.

  Tati sniffed the air.

  “Smoke,” Georgia whispered.

  Tullius pushed out and the rest of them followed till they all huddled near a set of large wooden doors. Thick plumes of gray smoke billowed out from the gaps at the top of the door.

  “The kitchen is on fire!” said Tullius, pushing the doors wide open.

  Four men who were gagged and bound lay on the floor, wriggling wildly. A fire raged from a pile of rags in the middle of the kitchen. The flames twisted and curled higher until they licked at the ceiling.

  Without hesitation, Archy dropped his backpack and rushed over to the men. He grabbed a knife off the table and cut into the ropes, releasing the men one by one. They jumped up and doused the flames. Within minutes the fire was controlled and smoke poured out the open windows.

  While the men were busy putting out the fire, Tullius pulled on Georgia and Tati’s sleeves and they started to back out of the room. Vincent nudged Archy and they too began to steal away.

  “STOP them! How did you get in here?” one of the men shouted.

  Three slaves circled the children and held them by the shoulders.

  “The door was wide open,” Tullius lied. We were passing by when we saw the flames and smelled the smoke.”

  The man rubbed his wrists where the ropes had bound him. He frowned, and wrinkles closed around a pair of suspicious eyes. He stared at Archy’s backpack. “I don’t believe you! What’s in these sacks? Open them!”

  The slaves ripped open Archy’s backpack and the sodden, muddy contents spilled out onto the floor. They yanked the rug and with it the well-wrapped gladius fell with a dull thud. Another slave grabbed Georgia’s backpack. Before she could stop him the slave rifled through her belongings, picking out a mirror, a hairbrush, three pairs of shoes, two chocolate bars, a diary, and then he pulled out her clothes like tissues coming out of a box.

  “Those things are mine!” Georgia yelled. “Put them back!”

  “There’s nothing from the bathhouse, Sejanus,” said the slave.

  The man named Sejanus walked over and pushed the things around with his foot. The frown on his face caused a heavy crease between his eyes.

  “Where are you going with these?” he barked.

  Tullius motioned to the fish basket behind them. “We’re going to camp out tonight—we have fish to sell. We’re to be at the market first thing tomorrow.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Sejanus snarled. “Fetch Master Anthony, and hurry,” he ordered one of the slaves.

  Minutes later, a stooped man entered the kitchen with a guard on either side. He wore a long white toga and was tying a golden, braided cord around his waist. Sejanus walked over to him and they talked briefly. The older man examined the children, his face expressionless.

  Tullius wriggled in the slave’s grip. “We were passing through and saw the smoke. We need to go,” he said.

  “No one is going this night,” said the older man. His voice was calm but authoritative and he pointed to Archy and Tullius with his thumb. “Work them at the furnaces!” And then his cold eyes settled on Georgia. “Baths,” he said. He looked down at Tati. “Put her with Ulisse.” Last he looked at Vincent. “This one knows food—kitchen. Lock them in the cellars. They start work tomorrow.”

  Archy jerked forward. “No, wait! We haven’t done anything. You don’t understand,” he pleaded, but he was cuffed abruptly by the slave. All five of them were shoved down the cellar steps and the door was bolted loudly above them.

  Chapter 33

  Catch-up

  Bundo squeezed down the limestone steps of the gateway and the thin accomplice could only follow, since getting around Bundo was a physical impossibility.

  Bundo followed the instructions, used his keys and opened the gateway. He took another step and slid into the tunnel, but the force of the water pushed him only a few feet before he got wedged against the sides. Partly out of panic and partly out of revenge for ruining his brand new silk tie, the thin accomplice took advantage of Bundo being stuck like a tank in an alley. He kicked and hammered at his back. It was the first time the thin accomplice had lost his temper. “Move, you swine. Suck in your fatness or I’ll drown—”

  The words were poetry to Bundo. He wasn’t the run-of-the-mill psychopath, and in a cramped situation such as this, with the water building pressure, most men would have wriggled frantically, or at least screamed. Bundo, though, had a rare character trait—total fearlessness. He was utterly unafraid of anything, least of all the thin accomplice.

  Bundo took a deep breath, filling himself out, refusing to budge. With the water squirting around his body he felt the thrashing weaken behind him. But the pressure grew until he, to his disappointment, was dislodged and was hurled forward.

  Crawling onto the bank of the lake, Bundo turned to see the thin accomplice’s body floating near the center. He watched him lift his head and gasp for air. He couldn’t have cared less, though, and would easily explain his death. He drowned, Master. It’s a great loss to the Kurul—and to the world of fashion. Too bad!

  With his senses aroused and a half-smile, Bundo felt a pending victory. He trotted off toward Rome. All he had to do was find the Shroud to be revered by every member of the Kurul on the planet.

  Chapter 34

  Glorious Food

  Archy led the way around the smoky cellar to a small lantern flickering in the corner. He could just make out rows of wine vats, barrels, and terracotta urns placed on a wooden framework, but found no other doorways. He did discover that the air was clearer at the back of the cellar and everyone sat on the compacted earth floor.

  “I’m so cold,” said Georgia, her voice edged with fear. “How are we going to get out, Archy?”

  Archy wasn’t sure how to answer. He only knew time was slipping away. His stomach clenched with worry.

  He dozed for an hour or so and woke to the spluttering lantern as it began to die out. The bolt on the door slid back and two men edged down the stair toward them. “Here!” one of them spat. He dropped a loaf of stale bread onto the dirt by their feet and banged down a jug of water. The other man waved a flaming torch over their heads as if to scare them, and then they left.

  Tullius scrambled to pick up the bread before the rats claimed it. He brushed off the grit, broke it, handed a piece to Tati, and offered some to Georgia.

  “I can’t eat that!” Georgia said, shaking her head in disgust.

  Tullius passed the rest to Archy and Vincent. Georgia looked on as they devoured it, but her stomach gave a long, low rumble, loud enough for them all to hear.

  “Eat—!” said Tullius, dipping the bread into water and handing her the rest of his share.

  They fell asleep again, exhauste
d, bundled together in their wet clothes.

  ***

  Just before dawn a single guard came down to the cellar and quietly took Georgia and Tati up the stairs. The boys didn’t stir from their sleep.

  The guard gripped Georgia and Tati tightly, and they watched as Sejanus moved about the kitchen.

  It was still early. The golden light beaming through doorway picked out the smoke and swirling dust. The fires were being rebuilt and fresh water was brought in. Sejanus seemed to ignore their presence, and patrolled the kitchen, ordering people here and there.

  A tough-looking woman approached Sejanus. She wore stiff white linens and her short sleeves revealed muscular arms. He looked over at Georgia and Tati and pointed to them both.

  Georgia heard him call the woman Homera and from a distance she seemed civil, listening with a smile to the instructions he issued. When they parted company she strode over to Georgia and Tati.

  “Come!” she ordered in a gruff voice.

  However polite Homera had appeared with Sejanus, her demeanor changed as soon as they were in the corridor. The other staff members stared as the two of them were jostled along at a brisk pace. Georgia tried to resist but the woman pulled her arm so hard it nearly dislocated.

  “Fffssh, girl, I’ll break you, you little wild pony.”

  Georgia had to keep her cool and look for a way out, so she kept pace with Homera. The corridor had a few doors and Georgia noticed the mosaic along the walls, depicting people hunting and banqueting. In almost every scene, Georgia noticed, the women were servants.