History Keepers: Circus Maximus

by Dibben, Damian

  ‘Not good at anything else?’ she interrupted. ‘What about science and art and basketball? And your geography thesis was the best in the class.’

  ‘And even you couldn’t read it, it was so boring. Mum, working for the History Keepers, being part of this amazing organization – it’s something I think I can do . . . I want to do it . . .’ He made his voice deeper and squared his shoulders. ‘I will do it, one way or another.’

  There was silence, then Miriam heaved a deep sigh. ‘I’m just your mother – what do I matter?’

  Jake knew this was the closest he was going to get to her consent. He kissed her on the cheek and turned hopefully to Galliana.

  She scrutinized him, then nodded. ‘No promises. We’ll test you, that is all. Dr Chatterju, one last measure, please.’

  ‘Thank you, Commander, thank you!’ Jake exclaimed excitedly, stepping forward to take his dose.

  As Chatterju passed him the small vial of steaming purple liquid, he whispered roguishly in Jake’s ear, ‘Actually I had a dose standing by – just in case.’

  Jake smiled conspiratorially and drank it down quickly. He had braced himself, assuming that it would taste as repulsive as genuine atomium, but actually it had a sweet citrus flavour.

  Without waiting for assistance from Amrit, he leaped up into the cushioned seat. His legs and arms were duly fastened and the glasses positioned in front of his eyes. These were mirrored on the inside, and Jake could dimly make out his own honey-brown pupils staring back at him. Then he heard the soft whirr of the three spinning rings as they began to accelerate. Suddenly he felt a cool breeze in his face. He was overcome with a drowsy numbness and his eyes grew heavier and heavier. Just as it seemed as if he would fall into a deep sleep, brightness suddenly filled his vision and he jolted upright. He found himself in an extraordinary place . . .

  7 A NEW BEGINNING

  HE WAS MOVING under a canopy of palm trees towards brilliant sunlight. Soft sand muffled his footsteps. The air was no longer cool but scorchingly hot – or certainly it felt hot; Jake wasn’t sure if it was just an illusion. He came to the edge of the palms, stopped and surveyed the scene.

  Ahead of him lay a palace compound – a low, sprawling group of buildings connected by shady colonnades. It was surrounded by clusters of tall palm trees, and its vibrant red walls stood out against the intense turquoise sky. Beyond it and on either side there was desert – an endless succession of softly undulating dunes shimmering far into the distance.

  Suddenly there was a squawking sound that made Jake start. A bird took off from the palms behind him and soared over his head and out over the desert. It was a beautiful creature, glistening like a jewel in the sunlight, wings of emerald green stretched wide. As it glided into the distance, Jake saw a series of shapes on the horizon. They were hard to distinguish at first, as the air danced in the heat; but as he looked closer he made out three triangles, similarly proportioned, one smaller than the other two.

  ‘The pyramids . . .?’ Jake murmured in wonder. ‘The pyramids of Egypt . . .’ As he gazed at the ancient structures, serene and alone in the vast landscape, utterly untouched by the modern world, he felt a sudden surge of emotion. His heart swelled and a tear came to his eye. ‘History is amazing . . .’ he whispered solemnly. ‘Just amazing!’

  The sun was burning into him like a blowtorch. His throat was parched and he needed water, so he started to make his way across the sand towards the palace – a fourteen-year-old boy in his school uniform, with just his shadow for company in this vast landscape.

  He approached the striking entrance – triple-height wooden doors riveted with silver straps. These were flanked on either side by a towering statue: two giant golden figures with human bodies and animal heads. Each held its forearm imperiously across its chest, clutching a sceptre in its hand. Jake squinted up at their heads, with their long snouts and pointed ears; he was completely dwarfed by them – his head only came up to their knees.

  He pushed open the doors, stepped into the echoey coolness of the interior and followed a wide marble passageway into a large atrium. He had visited ancient buildings before (just last year, on a dismally wet Tuesday, his class had gone to look at some dusty Roman mosaics), but he always found it hard to imagine what they would have actually looked like when they were first built: ruins, by definition, are worn and drab. The first thing that Jake noticed here was that it was full of colour.

  On all sides were rows of stone columns, painted every colour of the rainbow: carmine, indigo, cerulean blue, dark lavender, lapis green and cadmium red. Beyond the columns, the walls were covered in intricate hieroglyphics, a million vivid symbols: birds, beetles, moons and countless other images. Cats dozed in the shadows. One got up, arched its back, stretched its legs, then curled up to sleep some more.

  In the centre of the room, open to the sky, there was a square pond, around which incense burners gave off a scent of jasmine. Jake went to examine it, kneeling down and sinking his hands into the water. His throat was now as dry as paper and he wanted to scoop some up to drink; but the water, like everything else, was just a vivid illusion.

  The only piece of furniture was a spindly-legged table bearing a number of parchment scrolls. Jake went over to examine one that had been unfurled and weighed down at the corners with stones. It was a map – certainly the oldest he had ever seen – showing the twisting Nile and the little towns that lay along it. He was just bending down to study it more closely when he heard the sound of quick footsteps coming along one of the passageways.

  Jake turned round as a number of guards filed into the chamber. They were dark-skinned, lithe and strong, and carried swords with distinctive curved blades; they wore leather breastplates, thick sandals and bronze helmets. Jake edged back behind a pillar as they started to check around, but it seemed that he was invisible to them. In fact, one walked straight through him. Their search complete, the guards stood to attention as soft pattering footsteps approached: five young ladies appeared, in pleated white dresses, with belts and neckpieces as colourful and elaborate as the painted columns.

  The last figure to enter clearly commanded respect – everyone bowed as she came in. She was shorter and slighter than the rest, but she seemed to fill the space with an aura of power. In her bare feet she stepped over to the table and looked at the map, then, without turning round, addressed her retinue. To Jake’s ears her voice sounded as foreign and musical as birdsong.

  He stepped forward to examine her more closely. He knew he was invisible – he knew he was actually sitting inside a piece of apparatus in a room in Normandy – but he was frightened of this tiny woman who radiated such authority. She wore a headdress fashioned in the shape of a bird, just like the emerald-winged one he had seen before entering the palace. Her skin was as pale as marble, her lips as red as strawberries, her eyes as dark and dazzling as jet.

  As Jake gazed into them, he felt a cool rush of air. All at once he was aware of golden rings rotating around him, and the woman’s eyes started to fade – until all that remained were two shining black pupils; then, with a pop, those also disappeared.

  Jake found himself once more in the testing room, with his parents and all the other agents peering at him.

  ‘All right, darling?’ Miriam asked hesitantly. ‘You were certainly shaking around a lot.’

  Jake nodded blearily, stunned by the sudden transition from a bright palace in Egypt to this dimly lit chamber with its dark tapestries. Amrit untied the straps and helped Jake down. Then Dr Chatterju stepped forward with his notepad, smiling warmly. He looked down through his round spectacles and started asking all sorts of questions about the journey Jake had just taken.

  Jake needed no coaxing; he described everything in detail, from the palm trees to the palace, the bird, the pyramids (‘You actually saw them?’ Alan exclaimed out loud. ‘No one ever sees them!’), the courtyard, the pond, the map and the women. With each additional piece of information, the group around him grew more and m
ore astonished, some shaking their heads in disbelief.

  ‘C’est impossible!’ Oceane snorted when Jake gave the exact colour and form of the imperious lady’s headdress.

  After a while Chatterju, who had been scribbling furiously, trying to keep up with Jake, shook his head and put down his notepad. When the boy finished, the other agents were all looking at him in amazement.

  ‘So?’ he asked them. ‘Did I pass?’

  Galliana took a deep breath and looked at Miriam with a questioning eye. It was Alan, however, who spoke first. ‘Did you pass?!’ He stepped forward and threw an arm round his son. ‘Did you ever! I’ve never heard the like! Not even Nathan Wylder can see so much detail in a test that far back.’

  Jake rewarded himself with the glimmer of a smile as his dad pinched his cheek proudly. ‘He’s an adventurer, Miriam,’ he said with a tear in his eye. ‘Our boy’s an adventurer – nothing we can do about it!’

  Miriam just stared back at him, stony-faced.

  Galliana nodded at Jake. ‘Congratulations. You just travelled to 1350 BC. The test proves that you could travel there in real time – although, of course, the actual journey would not be so pleasant. You have an uncommon talent, Jake.’

  At this point Oceane Noire had heard enough. ‘I must go and feed Josephine, she’ll be starving,’ she announced, and flounced out of the room, bumping into Jake with her panniers again. No one paid her any attention.

  ‘1350 BC?’ Jake murmured. ‘That’s . . . over two thousand years ago.’

  ‘Three thousand, one hundred and seventy to be precise. Apart from Rose, all anyone else could make out was vague shapes.’

  ‘And who was the lady at the end?’ Jake asked. ‘Was she real?’

  ‘She was real once. I had the dubious pleasure of meeting her. She was charming, but as dangerous as a pit of vipers.’

  ‘Cleopatra?’ Jake asked excitedly. In truth she was the only famous Egyptian he knew.

  ‘Dear me, no, not that troublemaker.’ Galliana shook her head. ‘And way before her time. It was Nefertiti.’

  Jake took a deep breath. He drew himself up as tall as possible and affected his deepest, most grownup voice. ‘So does this mean I can go on the assignment with Rose?’

  Galliana looked round at Miriam. For a moment there was silence, then Jake’s mum shrugged and resigned herself to fate. She knew that, try as she might, she could not prevent her son becoming a History Keeper. ‘It was the same with Philip,’ she said quietly. ‘The power was simply too strong.’

  In less than an hour Jake and Rose were being fitted for their Roman outfits in the costumiery – Jake by Signor Gondolfino himself. He’d already been given a white tunic and sandals similar to the ones Charlie had worn, and now the tailor was carefully adjusting his brilliant-white toga.

  Gondolfino was chatting to him: ‘I’m dressing you as a young nobleman, the handsome son of a senator or some such. I’ve said it before, I will say it again’ – his old eyes twinkled – ‘bel viso, such a face for history.’ He fastened the toga in place with a gold pin and smoothed it down. ‘Now, you’ll need a sword of some description.’ He was about to step over to a table where an assortment of Roman arms were laid out when Jake stopped him.

  ‘Can I wear this one?’ he asked hopefully, holding up the weapon Nathan had given him.

  Gondolfino adjusted his eyeglass and examined the silver hilt in the shape of a dragon. ‘Well, it’s not strictly speaking the right period’ – he shook his head – ‘but it has some of the characteristics of the gladius hispanus . . . perhaps we could just about get away with it.’

  Jake excitedly fixed it to his belt.

  ‘Molto galante – very gallant!’ Gondolfino nodded, motioning for Jake to admire himself in the mirror. He looked at his reflection: a proud young Roman stood staring back at him.

  On the next level up, Rose was being fitted with a dress, a Roman stola, by one of the other costumiers – a tall, haughty man in a checked jacket and breeches. Her hair had already been piled high up onto her head and studded with jewels. Once the costumier had secured a band around her waist he stood back to admire his creation. The dress made the most of Rose’s curvaceous figure.

  ‘Somewhat on the voluptuous side, wouldn’t you say?’ she chuckled as she mischievously slipped a leg through the split at the front of the dress and adopted an alluring pose.

  ‘I think it’s pleated perfection,’ the costumier swooned, clasping his neck dramatically.

  When they were finished, Jake and Rose quickly went down to the armoury. Dr Chatterju had asked them to pass by on their way to the harbour; he and Amrit were waiting next to the shooting gallery.

  The doctor called them over to look at something in his hand. ‘I have this for you to take to Sicily. It’s the prototype hoisting device designed by Agent Nathan Wylder. He’s been nagging me about it for months, so I dare say you had better give it to him now that it is finally operational.’

  ‘Hoisting device?’ Jake asked. He was perplexed: the object looked like a belt. It had a large golden buckle, fashioned in the shape of a lion’s head, its eyes marked with jewels, one green and one blue and each minutely engraved with the History Keepers’ logo of planets around an hourglass.

  Chatterju demonstrated how it worked. He moved Jake to one side, aimed the buckle – like a gun – towards a wooden beam in the ceiling and pressed the blue eye. There was a sudden whistling sound as a small dart flew out of the mouth of the golden lion, trailing a thin wire. The dart struck the beam.

  ‘Amrit, if you would be so kind . . .?’ The boy stepped forward and Chatterju tied the belt around his waist and fastened it tight. He then pressed the green eye. To Jake and Rose’s amazement, Amrit – grin still firmly in place – started to ascend towards the beam, ratcheted up by the ingenious device until his head bumped into the ceiling. Even then, he carried on smiling.

  ‘It’s a feat of deceptively simple engineering.’ Chatterju chuckled proudly. ‘It could take the weight of Henry the Eighth – even in his heavy period.’

  Amrit was lowered down and the wire wound back. Then the device was reset and handed to Rose.

  On their way out of the armoury, Jake spotted something out of the corner of his eye. He looked straight ahead, pretending he hadn’t seen it; but, hidden in the shadows behind a rack of weapons, a figure was watching them. The silhouette, with its huge panniers, was unmistakable: Oceane Noire.

  ‘As soon as you arrive, you’ll let us know, won’t you?’ Miriam asked Jake the moment he appeared on the quay. It was a sunny afternoon and a handful of well-wishers had gathered, including Dora the elephant and Felson, his ears pinned back anxiously at Jake’s leaving.

  ‘Yes, Mum.’

  ‘And when you reach the horizon point, hold onto Rose tightly – do you understand? It’s one thing going back millennia in the testing chamber; the reality is a lot more terrifying. The first time I travelled that distance, I practically went into a coma.’

  ‘She’s right.’ Alan nodded. ‘Had to give her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.’ He patted his wife on the back. ‘There are some benefits to the job.’

  ‘I got it,’ said Jake, tossing his bag onto the deck of the small ship that was waiting for them. He read her name – the Conqueror – written in faded gold letters. He remembered that Topaz had pointed her out to him when he first arrived on the mount, describing her as a Byzantine dhow. She was similar in shape to the Hippocampus, but much smaller, the size of a large fishing boat. Her square brown mainsail was decorated – also in faded gold – with the motif of a trident.

  ‘I made you both some food for the journey,’ Miriam continued brightly, handing her son a holdall containing various covered dishes. ‘They just need heating up. I think I may have surpassed myself,’ she added with a proud twinkle, before a tear came to her eye. ‘You look ever so handsome, darling. Doesn’t he, Alan?’

  Alan gave his son a hug. ‘We’re proud of you,’ he whispered in his ear.


  ‘Mum, Dad, before I go, I need to tell you something.’ Jake was suddenly very serious; he looked from one to the other, then lowered his voice. ‘Will you keep an eye on Oceane Noire? I don’t trust her. Someone passed on information about the Stockholm mission. Maybe she’s the double agent?’

  At this moment he and his parents spied her on the battlements above them. They watched as she leaned over the parapet, her back to them, and flicked open her fan.

  ‘A double agent?’ Miriam chuckled. ‘That would actually mean doing some work.’

  Jake leaned in closer. ‘A couple of nights ago,’ he whispered, ‘I found her going into the archives in the middle of the night.’

  ‘The archives?’ Miriam frowned. ‘What were you doing there in the middle of the night?’

  Jake shrugged. ‘It’s a long story. We should talk about it another time. But Oceane was behaving really oddly. She was holding a book with a picture of a palm tree on it.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s a crime to carry a book with a picture of a palm tree on it,’ Miriam pointed out.

  ‘She got into a terrible panic when I picked it up,’ Jake persisted. ‘As if she was hiding something. And just now, in the armoury, she was watching us.’ He put his hand on his mother’s shoulder. ‘Please, will you promise me – just look into it?’

  ‘Of course we will, darling’ – Miriam smiled – ‘if you think it’s important.’

  Galliana gave a little speech, at the end of which she handed Rose the atomium for their journey. ‘Guard it with your life,’ she whispered to her old friend. ‘Our situation is perilous.’

  She watched as Rose carefully placed the consignment in her bulging carpetbag. Galliana knew that the luggage was completely wrong for ancient Rome, but said nothing, knowing that – like a talisman – Rose’s carpetbag went everywhere with her, even to AD 27.