He led them through the gates and along a series of streets until they came at last to a large open square bordered by striking buildings. ‘The Roman Forum,’ Charlie announced. ‘The epicentre of the Empire. This is the seat of law and government.’
Jake and Lucius looked around. Some of the buildings were low and sprawling, others stood high over the square; but all were built from the same everlasting white marble that was Rome’s trademark. They saw many finely dressed people: nearly everyone wore togas as white and pristine as the buildings around them.
‘That’s the Palatine hill,’ said Charlie, pointing to a steep slope at one end; tier after tier of grand villas rose up its flanks. ‘That’s where Agata Zeldt lives. Fascinating fact: the word palace actually comes from Palatine,’ he added. ‘At the other end is the Senate House – the Curia Julia, built by Julius Caesar in 44 BC, when he was at the height of his powers. All the senators meet there to pass their acts and laws. Quite incredible to think that it’s the model of all parliaments to come.’
Jake looked up, surprised to see that the building was one of the plainest – just a simple box-like structure with a series of high windows. A meeting had just finished, and a mass of white-robed senators poured out through the doors, chatting as they filed down the steps.
Beside the Senate House stood a long, two-storey structure of distinctive red stone, fronted by a succession of tabernae – small shops mostly dealing in silver, gold and tin. ‘This is the Basilica Aemilia,’ Charlie informed them as he led them through a narrow doorway. Jake noticed a man with a hunched back and pinched face weighing small chunks of gold on a set of scales.
Inside, it was as cool and spacious as a cathedral. ‘It’s like a miniature forum . . .’ Charlie gestured at the people dotted around the central nave. ‘All sorts come here,’ he said, indicating each group in turn. ‘Moneylenders, lawyers, bankers, estate agents, politicians – all plying their trade. It’s a madhouse. In fact that’s precisely why the bureau is located here.’
He led Jake and Lucius over to a dark recess between two pillars. He checked that no one was watching; then, with his foot, delicately depressed a brick in the base of one of the columns. Jake squinted down at the stone and could just make out a faint symbol that he recognized immediately: an hourglass with three atoms whizzing around it – the History Keepers’ symbol. A second later, there was a click and a section of the wall opened. Charlie waved the others on into the dark chamber beyond, took one last look and followed, shutting the opening behind him. No one in the Basilica Aemilia was any the wiser.
Jake looked around. This entrance reminded him of his very first foray into the extraordinary world of the History Keepers – via a secret staircase below the Monument in the city of London. These stairs also spiralled down into the earth and were decorated with a series of murals depicting emperors, armies and processions (though rendered in mosaics rather than paint) that made Jake’s spine tingle in anticipation.
‘You said the bureau had not been in use for a while?’ he asked Charlie, out of earshot of Lucius. ‘No one works here?’
‘You’ll find that the further you go back in time,’ Charlie whispered, ‘the fewer local agents there are – these places are more safe houses than bureaux per se. It’s to do with the limited number of people being able to travel to deep history.’
At the foot of the staircase there was another door concealed in the wall. Charlie knocked on it, using a special code.
‘Charlie?’ a voice asked from the other side.
‘It is I.’
A key was turned in the lock and the door opened. ‘Did you find her? Did she come?’ Nathan asked immediately, seeing Jake and Lucius. He was wearing an apron and brandishing a feather duster.
‘She’s alive and well,’ Charlie answered. ‘We have an appointment tonight.’
‘Good work, boys – brilliant work,’ Nathan replied.
Jake stepped into a spacious vaulted chamber. It seemed welcoming and familiar, its dark wood panelling, and tables covered in maps, charts and globes completely at odds with the austere marble of the city above them. The room was lined with shelves full of books from all ages, and there were two sets of bunk beds.
Nathan listened with keen interest as Jake repeated the story of his encounter with Topaz, asking questions and looking carefully at the maps she had given him.
When Jake was finished, Charlie pointed him towards the bunk in the far corner of the room. ‘You can take that one there, next to that statue of Oceanus taming the waters.’
Jake happily obliged, slinging his bag down. He examined Oceanus, a hulking bearded figure carved in brilliant alabaster – as beautiful a piece of sculpture as Jake had ever seen, set casually in a corner of a History Keepers’ bureau.
On the floor, sticking out below the bunk, was a large metal grille with a padlock. Beneath this, Jake could hear the rush of flowing water. ‘Where does this lead to?’ he asked, tapping the grille with his foot.
‘It’s an underground branch of the Aqua Virgo,’ Charlie explained. ‘One of the aqueducts supplying Rome with fresh water. It was built by Agrippa in AD 19, and comes eight miles from near Collartina, east of the city, mostly underground, ending up at the baths of Agrippa half a mile down the road. Of course, we use it for our personal water supply.’ He indicated a bucket on a chain next to the opening. ‘Saves us having to go all the way upstairs when we fancy a drink.’
Jake peered down into the cavity and could just make out a wide, echoey tunnel.
Lucius was also inspecting the room apprehensively. There were many objects with which he was completely unfamiliar. ‘What is this?’ he asked, pointing to a globe that came from a more modern era.
‘That is the world, but not as you know it,’ said Charlie dismissively. It was best not to open the can of worms that was time travel, so he led Lucius over to a table of freshly prepared food. ‘There’s home-made muesli and a breakfast soufflé – prepared in an oven older than the ark – which has even me reaching for superlatives.’
After breakfast, as Lucius had a snooze, Charlie, Nathan and Jake sat down, first studying Topaz’s map in greater detail, then poring over volumes of leather-bound annals that described all the key events of the previous decade. Amongst many things, they learned in detail about the Emperor Tiberius and his eccentricities.
In his twenties he had shown himself to be a brave general, conquering swathes of land in Germania, as well as Dalmatia and Pannonia in south-eastern Europe. But he never enjoyed his position of supreme commander or grew accustomed to life in the largest city in the world. Soon he was regularly disappearing off to the island of Rhodes – much to the frustration of his senators. As he grew older, his paranoia had worsened, and a year ago he had left Rome for good in order to rule via Sejanus, his prefect, from a secret hideaway on the isle of Capri.
‘What worries me,’ Charlie murmured, ‘is that, at the moment, Sejanus is not in the city either. He’s on a state visit to the eastern frontier and is not due back for weeks. Certainly there are six hundred senators – but Rome is essentially leaderless. Which is interesting timing . . .’
In the afternoon, with their plans made, Nathan asked if anyone would mind if he went on a small shopping expedition. ‘I feel the need to get under the skin of early Imperial fashion,’ he announced. ‘It’s always been such a grey area.’
No one had any objections, so Nathan sloped off.
An hour later, he bustled in with armfuls of bulging linen sacks, his eyes shining with excitement. ‘Revelatory!’ he gasped. ‘May I just say: hemp – it’s just wrong, and usually I wouldn’t touch it with a barge pole; but who knew how versatile it could be in the right hands?’ He pulled out a couple of items from his bag to demonstrate. ‘It’s shabby, but sooo chic. At the other end of the scale’ – he produced a silk tunic from another bag – ‘if it’s sheer gold you’re after, may I introduce you to sea silk? It’s startling. A revelation . . .’ he added, a tear coming to
his eye. ‘Actually woven from the filaments of the Pinna nobilis, the rarest seashell in the Mediterranean.’
Nathan allowed Jake and Charlie to feel the fabric, then showed off some snakeskin boots and an assortment of chains and bangles that he described as ‘very manly jewellery’.
Later, Charlie and Jake also popped out to visit a little shop that sold masks and other party paraphernalia. (Jake had noticed it down a narrow side street on their way from the Pons Fabricius that morning.) They came back with a whole collection, all similar in style to the ones worn by the actors in Herculaneum, with big cut-out mouths in either happy or sad mode. Needless to say, Nathan and Lucius both wanted the same one – which looked like a ferocious warrior; but just as a heated row was about to erupt, Charlie pointed out that the colour didn’t go with Nathan’s skin tone and he dropped it like a hot potato.
They got changed into their smartest-looking outfits – togas with capes, as worn by the young noblemen of the city – and armed themselves with swords and daggers, concealed under their togas. Nathan and Jake each volunteered to carry a length of rope, which they hid by winding them around their waists. They all took a hateful swig of vinegar, Charlie left Mr Drake with a handful of nuts, and they lit torches and set off, ascending the spiral staircase. At the top, Nathan checked through a spy-hole that the coast was clear, then pulled a catch to open the door and they filed through. Charlie closed the wall behind them.
The basilica was now half empty. A few clusters of people lingered in the fading afternoon sun. At one end, a handful listened uncertainly to a red-faced man on a podium speaking in rousing tones. He had obviously had too much to drink, for he suddenly staggered and fell down amongst his audience.
Nathan led the others out into the Roman Forum. Dusk was descending and a warm pink light picked out the villas of the Palatine. It was towards these grand and ancient buildings that the intrepid young agents set off, each clutching his mask and silently pondering what lay in store for them that evening.
15 DIABOLICAL DINNER
THE VILLA THAT Agata Zeldt called home clung to the southwestern side of the Palatine, overlooking the Circus Maximus on one side and the great field of Mars on the other. Jake and his companions approached it, first up a steep slope from the southern end of the Forum, then along a wide, tranquil boulevard that snaked between the grand residences of this most ancient and revered district. The air was much fresher up here, and sweetened by the fragrance of the pines. It was quieter too, away from the bustle of the city below; they heard only the sounds of running water mixed with the muffled conversations of well-to-do people behind the walls of their luxury compounds.
Occasionally, the tranquillity was broken by a carriage rolling up the hill or by the grunts of slaves bearing litters – all evidently transporting illustrious guests to Agata’s party – before disappearing down a driveway near the crest.
As they approached the gated entrance, which was lit by a succession of tapers and guarded by all sorts of soldiers and attendants, Nathan stopped in the shadows behind a tree.
‘We should go in two groups,’ he whispered. ‘Draw less attention to ourselves. Lucius and I will enter first. You two follow in fifteen minutes. Good luck.’
Nathan took a deep breath, put on his mask, puffed up his chest, clicked the bones in his hands and set off. Lucius went through the same routine, in a more exaggerated fashion, then followed. Jake and Charlie watched them stride up the narrow drive, give their fake names to an attendant and disappear through the gates.
To kill some time, Jake and Charlie wandered up to the summit and looked down at the Circus Maximus. The sight of it filled Jake with wonder. From above, it looked even more sensational than it had appeared on their way into the city the day before. Illuminated by torches set around its track of white sand, it had an otherworldly quality, as if it were the stadium of the gods themselves.
Some kind of training exercise was taking place there: a couple of chariots, each harnessed to a team of galloping horses, were flying around the track as a coach shouted instructions from the side-lines.
‘There’s a big race tomorrow,’ Charlie explained. ‘One of the biggest of the year. By tomorrow morning, the whole of Rome will be here.’
Jake could also hear distant shrieks and roars of animals. He couldn’t tell where they were coming from.
‘Wild beasts,’ said Charlie. He pointed to the great stone island in the centre of the arena that divided the track in two. ‘They’re caged under the spina there. They’ll be bears, tigers, perhaps even a rhinoceros – animals from every corner of the world.’ He screwed up his face with distaste. ‘They parade them before the chariot races or use them for their gory entertainments.’
As Jake looked more carefully, he noticed workmen erecting a wooden balustrade around the edge of the island. ‘Do people stand up there too?’ he asked.
‘Oh yes, the crème de la crème watch from the spina. Rome’s six hundred-odd senators. It’s symbolic, you see: standing on top of the beasts. To show the people that they are kings – not just of the world – but of all nature. Although actually it’s a new tradition; they used to sit beside the pulvinar over there.’ Charlie pointed towards a stone structure opposite – a temple with columns fronted by a wide terrace. ‘That’s the imperial box, where the emperor sits.’
Again they heard distant roars from the spina, carried up on the warm night air. Charlie’s eyes lingered for a moment. ‘Anyway, we should go now,’ he said at last.
They slipped on their masks – Jake’s had a cheerful smile, while Charlie’s looked a little confused – and headed up the drive. A doorman stepped forward to take their names. Jake gave his in a steady voice that belied his terror. A thick-set guard opened the gates and they were both ushered inside.
A line of slaves, each standing rigidly to attention, heads bowed, marked the way through a series of wide corridors towards the sounds of the party. At last they emerged into the open air.
They were greeted with such a spine-chilling sight that Jake faltered. A hundred frozen masks turned in unison to scrutinize the new arrivals. Jake felt beads of sweat running down his forehead under his own mask.
‘All right?’ Charlie whispered, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Jake nodded and took a deep breath. Gradually the masked faces turned back to their own groups and the chatter resumed.
It was an extraordinary space, long and colonnaded, echoing the form of the Circus Maximus below, but in miniature. It was open to the stars and adorned with eye-catching statues. Dinner tables were set up along the sides, with elegant, silk-covered couches. (Jake had learned that Romans – the rich ones at any rate – did not use dining chairs but ate lying down!) In the centre, steps led down to an arena, elliptical in shape, bordered by a low wall and illuminated by lanterns. Here, no doubt, Jake realized with a shiver, Agata’s ludi sanguinei, or blood games, would later take place.
At the very edges, half in the shadows of the stone columns, musicians played lutes, flutes and lyres, and a small army of slaves waited discreetly to attend to the whims of the guests.
‘Monster she may be, but it’s undeniable that Agata Zeldt has taste!’ a voice said from behind a mask. It was Nathan, excited to find himself at such a lavish event. Behind him, Lucius’s hulking frame looked ill at ease. ‘She has a sense of theatre, of grand guignol, which is quite refreshing after her brother’s gloomy Gothicism.’ Nathan held up his silver goblet. ‘May I recommend the honey and watermelon cocktails? They’re chilled perfection, as you might say, Charlie. No doubt as icy as our hostess.’
‘And where is our hostess?’ Charlie asked anxiously. ‘Any sign?’
‘Not to mention Topaz,’ Jake added. He had already scanned all the females in the garden.
‘Well, there is the statue of Saturn.’ Charlie nodded towards a sculpture under the colonnade: a chunky, bearded deity holding a torch in his hand. ‘There’s a door next to it.’
Just then they heard a l
oud roll of drums followed by a fanfare of horns, and three figures appeared through the grand archway at the far end of the arena; there were gasps of wonder from the guests, followed by a spontaneous ripple of applause.
Leading the group was their hostess herself, dressed in a fantastically devilish costume inspired by dark birds of paradise. A bodice of feathers clung to her lithe frame and a bustle sprouted magnificently from her behind. A collar of long peacock quills encased her head and set off her flame-coloured hair. She wore a half-mask – in deep ultramarine – exposing her cruel, bloodless lips.
‘Well, of course she’s playing fast and loose with every fashion under the sun,’ whispered Nathan in awe, ‘but what a sensational result!’
‘Wake-up call!’ said Charlie, clicking his fingers in front of Nathan to get his attention. ‘She murders for pleasure and she’s about to destroy the world as we know it!’
Jake was not looking at Agata; he was staring at the two figures behind her. His lip curled in disgust at the sight of the blond youth on Agata’s left, whom he recognized immediately – even behind his spotted mask – as the arrogant Leopardo. But his heart went out to the chained and manacled figure the boy was pulling along as if she were a circus animal: Topaz.
Lucius started snorting and flexing his muscles, and Nathan had to hold him back. ‘Remember what you and Jake were told? We don’t know her.’
Once again, Jake couldn’t help thinking how different she looked from the bright, vivacious Topaz he had first met in London. Earlier that morning she had been steelier; now she was almost pathetic.
Agata held up her hands majestically and said a few words in Latin, her voice soft and deadly as poison. ‘Welcome, all. So happy you could join us in our humble home,’ Charlie translated with a roll of the eyes. Then she clapped her hands together and instructed everyone to recline and enjoy the feast.
‘That’s our cue,’ Nathan said, nodding at the others.
History Keepers: Circus Maximus Page 18
