by Kevin Ashman
‘What?’ she gasped in astonishment, ‘How can that be? Where was her security, Where were you lot?’
‘We don’t protect extended family members unless there is a specific threat,’ he said, ‘It seems that the family had come to London on a shopping trip and that little girl, Camille, wandered off in Oxford street. That’s when she was snatched.’
‘But nothing’s been on the TV, surely it would have been all over the news?’
‘Like I said, news blackout.’
‘But why, has there been a ransom demand?’
‘No, and there won’t be one. Take a look at these two pictures.’
She examined the two passport size photographs he placed on the table.
‘It’s the same girl,’ she said.
‘That’s just it,’ he said, ‘They’re not. The one on the left is indeed Camille, the one on the right is a girl called Sharon, a young girl who lives in care close to the hotel. We think she is the one that was targeted but Camille was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Whoever they are, they’ve got the wrong girl.’
‘But why don’t the police just release a statement?’ she asked, ‘Wouldn’t the kidnappers just release her?’
‘Think about it,’ he said, ‘At the moment they think they have just got some homeless kid. As soon as they realise it is the Prime ministers niece her life could be in danger.’
‘But surely she is in danger anyway?’
‘Perhaps so, but this way we hope we have bought her some extra time.’
‘We, she asked, and who exactly are we?’
‘Everyone and his dog,’ said Brandon, ‘There are hundreds on this case but it seems she has just disappeared off the face of the Earth. None of our contacts in the underworld can shed any light. We’ve pulled in every pimp and pervert across London but no one knows anything. The only leads we have are those coins, but the fact that someone tried to kill us to stop us getting further means that we are onto something.’
‘So why are we travelling second class on a public flight?’ she asked, ‘Surely on a task this big you have all sorts of resources to call on.’
‘We do, but we want to keep a low profile. Be the ‘grey man’ as we say in the service. If we ran about commandeering all sorts of things we would attract unwanted attention. Not so much from the kidnappers but from the journalists and we can’t afford that. That’s why I whisked you away from Victoria when we found the crucified girl. The paparazzi wouldn’t have been far behind the ambulance and the same at the house. All it would take is one over zealous journalist and the kidnappers would have been tipped off, hence the blackout.’
‘What about the two dead girls, do you think they are linked to this kidnapping?’
‘Hard to say. The only link is the coin but that is what I am going to find out.’
‘Is there anything else?’ she asked.
‘Nope, that’s it,’ he said, ‘You now know as much as me.’
‘Wow,’ she said quietly, ‘This is completely and utterly mad.’
‘Right we need to get serious now India. Four people are dead that we know of, another is in a coma and a child’s life is at risk. From now on in I need your full attention and cooperation. You need to tell me anything that you may know, relevant or not. If there is any link in this direction I need your expertise to guide me.’
‘Understood,’ she said.
He looked up at the digital display.
‘An hour to go. So, now it’s your turn, I want you to go through this whole Samothrace thing. I need to know exactly what we are getting into.’
Chapter 11
Rome 64 AD
Rubria was sat at the sacred hearth when she was unexpectedly summoned to the Emperor’s palace for the last time. She went out to the courtyard where the High Priestess was waiting. Dragus and the high Priestess were talking in hushed whispers and were obviously agitated over something.
‘Holy Mother,’ she said as she approached, ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Child,’ she said, ‘Calm yourself. Nero has summoned you to his presence and Dragus worries for your person.’
‘Dragus it is nice to see you again,’ said Rubria, ‘Your posting here ended six months ago, how come we are honoured by your presence?’
‘My comrade has been dispatched on duties elsewhere this evening and Nero saw fit to send me instead,’ he explained.
‘Tell me, what news is so concerning that it warrants lowering the Holy Mother’s brow with worry?’
‘Sister Rubria,’ said Dragus, ‘The Emperor is agitated and lashes out against all around him. I only ask that perhaps you don’t attend until his mood calms.’
‘How can I deny my Emperor?’
‘You could say you were ill.’
‘Dragus,’ interrupted the High Priestess, ‘Ours is a service of truth. There are issues here that you don’t understand. Rubria represents Vesta herself and enjoys her protection. If I thought there was any risk to her safety I would not let her go and gladly suffer the consequences.’
‘Holy Mother,’ said Dragus, ‘I understand but something vexes him. There are things afoot that he keeps to himself. I think something terrible is about to happen and don’t want any of you at risk. Even the Senate fear for their safety.’
‘Dragus,’ she said gently as her hand rested gently on his arm, ‘Fret not. I enjoy the Emperor’s trust and over the past year have become his confidante. Yes, his mood swings wildly and I have seen him lash out on several occasions but never has he given me cause to worry about my safety. On the contrary, I believe my presence inspires a calming effect on his troubled mind. If my Emperor needs me then I am duty bound to comply. His majesty is second only to the Great Goddess. Give me a moment, I would cleanse myself and return shortly.’
The Centurion nodded in reluctant acceptance and watched her glide across the courtyard to disappear into the atrium.
‘I hope you know what your doing, Holy Mother,’ he said, ‘Nero’s excesses knows no limits.’
‘I have no choice, Dragus,’ said the High Priestess, ‘The very Temple is at risk. At least this way we may have some advance warning.’ She stared at him for a long while. ‘Dragus, we are honoured by your concern but when you gaze upon Sister Rubria I see a look in your eyes that extends beyond the love of the Goddess.’
Dragus looked down in shame.
‘You are truly wise, Mother,’ he said, ‘It is true that I am entranced by Rubria’s beauty and elegance, but I assure you I respect the Goddess and all who serve her. My intentions are honourable and I seek only to ensure her safety.’
‘I know,’ said the high Priestess kindly ‘And your patronage is greatly welcomed, but beware the tendrils of lust, Dragus. This is an affection that can never be returned.’
‘I am aware of this Holy Mother,’ he said, ‘And accept that this is a lifetime’s burden that I have to bear.’
‘The Goddess will support you, Dragus,’ she said, ‘Will you join with me in a glass of warm wine while we wait?’
Forty five minutes later, Rubria’s litter once again rested inside the outer courtyard of the Emperor’s palace. She stood for a moment straightening out her attire before walking towards the doors. Dragus caught up with her and walked at her side.
‘If you feel threatened at any time, Rubria, you must leave immediately. Do not hesitate or take any chances. I will be waiting outside these doors for you.’
‘I don’t know how long I will be.’
‘It matters not. I will be here.’
She stopped and took his hand in hers, setting his pulse racing as she pierced his soul with her gaze.
‘I am touched, Dragus,’ she said, ‘But worry not for my safety, the Goddess is with me.’
‘I hope you are right, Rubria,’ he said and watched her disappear for the second time that night.
Rubria knew at once something was wrong. The whole atmosphere of the palace was different and as she walked through its marble halls, the lack of
servants was disturbing. She made her way through the audience chamber and into the corridor that led to the Emperor’s private quarters. Eventually she stood before the double doors flanked by two Praetorian Guards.
‘I am Rubria of the Temple of Vesta,’ she said.
‘You are expected,’ responded one of the guards and opened the door. She walked into Nero’s reception area and waited for the doors to close behind her. As soon as they slammed shut she made her way nervously towards his quarters. Suddenly a female slave burst out through a door and ran past her sobbing as she went. Her clothes were torn and her face bloody.
‘Wait!’ shouted Rubria, suddenly self conscious that she had raised her voice to someone less fortunate than herself.
The girl collapsed to the floor and waited for the admonition that would surely follow. Rubria approached and squatted next to her, gently brushing the girl’s hair back revealing her bruised face. ‘Please,’ she added quietly, ‘You seem to be hurt, let me help you.’
The girl looked up nervously, surprised yet dubious at the sound of a kind voice in a world of harshness.
‘Are you a Goddess,’ she murmured staring into Rubria’s beautiful face.
‘No,’ smiled Rubria, ‘Though I do indeed serve one. I too am a servant, though the Mistress I serve is Vesta.’
‘You are a Holy Virgin?’ gasped the girl in astonishment
‘I am!’ confirmed Rubria, ‘And I need to bathe your injuries.’
The girl threw her arms around the priestess.
‘Mistress, Holy Virgin of the great Goddess,’ she pleaded, ‘Please honour me with your blessing.’
Rubria glanced around. She knew that the blessing of slaves was frowned upon in the higher levels of Roman society.
‘What is your name, child?’ she asked.
‘I am known as Rose, Mistress,’ she said and altered her position to kneel in front of the Priestess, clasping her hands together in the universal gesture of prayer.
Rubria made the dedication to Vesta and marked the sign of the Goddess on the slave’s forehead. Suddenly a voice echoed across the chamber causing Rubria to jump back in fright.
‘Priestess!’ roared Nero from a balcony, ‘What insult is this? You dishonour me in my own household.’
The slave scrambled to her feet and ran from the chamber in terror while Rubria gathered her wits and prostrated herself before the Emperor.
‘Imperial Majesty,’ she intoned, ‘Forgive me my impudence, I seek only to spread peace and harmony throughout your household.’
‘I decide when there will be peace and harmony,’ he raged, ‘And today is not such a day.
Rubria stood and looked up at her Emperor. He was draped in his Imperial purple robes and wore a golden laurel wreath on his head, albeit tilted to one side. In one hand he clutched an amphora of wine and in the other, he brandished a cane.
‘Guard,’ he shouted, ‘Bring that slave to my quarters.’ He slammed the cane down onto the marble balustrade with a force that made Rubria flinch, ‘She will learn that no-one denies the whim of the Emperor.’
‘If I can be so bold, Your Majesty, it would seem you are a little vexed today,’ ventured Rubria.
‘Hold your council, Priestess,’ he shouted, ‘I am in no mood for your oiled tongue. You will meet me in my chambers immediately and bring a fresh Amphora with you.’ He disappeared out of sight and Rubria made her way to the door that led to his private quarters.
A few minutes she stood before the drapes to his bed chamber, alongside a pair of slaves.
‘Enter!’ roared a voice and one slave pulled back a curtain while the other handed her the obligatory container of wine.
She walked into the inner chamber and stared at the dishevelled figure of the Emperor sat on his couch, staring at the floor.
‘You are late,’ he snarled.
‘I came as soon as I could, Sire,’ she said.
‘Not soon enough!’ he snapped, ‘Am I not your Emperor? All tasks should be cast aside to meet my demands.’
‘My apologies Sire,’ she said and approached the couch, stopping to collect a stool on the way. She placed herself before him, waiting for him to look up. Eventually he met her gaze.
‘Your eyes pierce me like an assassin’s blade Priestess,’ he said.
‘You have said as much on many occasions, Sire,’ she said.
‘Yet still I catch my breath every time you attend.’
‘If my appearance offends then I can only apologise.’
‘Cut the false modesty, Priestess,’ he snapped, ‘You know your gaze is like a drug to me.’ He stood up and walked slowly around the room, expanding on his comparison, ‘Intoxicating to partake,’ he said as he passed besides her, ‘Poisonous in its effect,’ he continued from somewhere behind.
She tensed at the silence that followed before jumping suddenly as his head suddenly appeared on her shoulder.
‘Yet addictive in the memory.’ He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, absorbing her intoxicating scent.
Rubria stood up nervously and took a few paces away from him.
‘Priestess,’ he said, throwing his arms wide, ‘It is I, your glorious Emperor. Surely you do not fear me?’
‘I only worry for you Sire,’ she said nervously, ‘I have not seen you like this before.’
‘Like what Priestess?’ he asked, ‘Intoxicated?’ Lyrical?’ he paused and leaned forward as he sneered, ‘Scary?’
‘All three, Sire,’ she said.
He stared at her again before seeming to come back to his senses.
‘Fear not, Priestess,’ he sighed, ‘My reasons for summoning you here are entirely honourable.’
‘I did not fear otherwise,’ Sire.
‘Good, so I guess you want to know why you are here?’
‘I’m sure you will tell me in your own time, Sire.’
‘You’re right, I will, but suffice to say tonight you will witness history being made. An event of such devastation, it will elevate me to the ranks of Romulus himself, paving my way to the gates of the Pantheon.’
‘You intrigue me, Sire,’ she said, ‘What act can have such consequences?’
‘All in good time, Priestess,’ he smiled, ‘First of all,’ he walked to a cabinet and retrieved something before spinning around with a flourish, ‘I will entertain you!’
She stared at the Lyre in his hand. The tales of Nero frequenting the taverns of Rome dressed in plain clothing, regaling the masses with song and verse were manifold, but living the life she did meant she was sheltered from such things. He hesitated, scrutinising her reaction.
‘This concerns you?’ he queried.
Her face broke into a beautiful smile.
‘On the contrary, Sire,’ she said, ‘I think it is a delightful idea.’
‘Good,’ he said, his smile matching hers, ‘In that case, you may sit on my couch and relax for you are in the presence of a genius.’
Deep in the poorest part of the city a group of figures stood silently in the gloom of a side alley, waiting for instruction. Each was dressed in the manner of a servant and an iron cooking pot lay at their feet. Eventually a seventh figure entered the alleyway and addressed the group.
‘The wind has risen,’ he said, ‘’And blows in the right direction.’
‘At last,’ said one, ‘Three nights I have stayed from the whorehouse. The girls must think I am dead.’ A ripple of laughter was silenced by the leader.
‘Enough,' said the leader, ‘This is serious business. There are piles of rubbish everywhere, make these your targets. The vigils are under instruction to delay their response. Ensure your identity is not revealed and if someone does see through your disguise,’ He pulled his cape to one side revealing his Gladius, ‘Ensure it is the last thing they see!’
A murmur of mirth again rippled around the group.
‘Okay,’ said the disguised officer, ‘Let’s get it done and I will see you back in the barracks before dawn.’
The
y each picked up an unlit torch from the floor and in turn, placed its oil soaked head into the fire pot. Within a few minutes, seven Praetorian Guard were running through the maze of streets, setting light to anything that would burn. Fanned by the warm night breeze, the flames quickly took hold and soon the fires reached the point of no return. Rome was ablaze.
Rubria clapped her hands in delight, an enchanted grin on her face. The Emperor had just finished another song, this one witty and extolling the virtues of his horse.
‘Wonderful Sire,’ she laughed, ‘Though I’m not sure the Senate would appreciate the implied similarities.’
‘I’m glad you like it,’ said Nero, ‘There are those who would doubt my unarguable talent.’
‘Then they have not experienced it, Sire,’ she said, ‘You are truly gifted.’
Though Nero was indeed skilled, Rubria was worried about his descent into drunkenness and played to his vanity in an effort to better his mood. He had been singing and reciting for over two hours, breaking only to eat and attend to his toilet. Rubria had picked on some fruit and sipped on watered wine, more to appease the Emperor rather than any need but she was getting tired and longed to be gone. She was wondering how to broach the subject of her leaving when the situation took a fateful turn. Outside in the distance someone screamed.
‘Ah, I believe the time is approaching,’ said Nero, ‘Come with me.’ He led Rubria from the room and made his way through the corridors of the palace and up several stairwells. Eventually they reached a round room at the top of a tower. Nero stopped before a pair of drapes and turned to face Rubria.
‘Oh, Priestess,’ he said, ‘How privileged are you to witness what now unfolds.’
Rubria waited patiently until he finally called her forward. She shuddered involuntarily as he placed his arm around her shoulder and led her out to the balcony. What she saw took her breath away. The city sprawled out before her like an embroidered blanket but though she had seen the vista before, this time it was different. The darkness was illuminated by scores of fires across the suburbs, each seemingly competing for size as the breeze fed their hunger. Even as she watched, she could see more and more fires starting and as they did, the screams of those affected became audible.
