Pantheon (The Tamar Black Saga)

by Nicola Rhodes

  ‘Worked what out?’ said Denny, thus inadvertently answering her question.

  ‘Wait,’ she said mysteriously. ‘And while you are waiting, ponder on this. This is the age of mythology.’

  ‘I noticed that,’ he replied sourly.

  ‘Oh, and we don’t belong here,’ she added.

  ‘No kidding.’

  ‘Not in this age and not even in this world,’ she said calmly. ‘We don’t exist.’

  Denny frowned as he tried to figure out what she was getting at.

  ‘We’re still going to drown,’ he said eventually.

  ‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘But I doubt it.’

  It was at least half a heart-stopping hour, before something happened. Denny had passed from the depths of sheer panic to the shallows of relative calm and was even feeling slightly sleepy when he was brought to by the boat rocking sharply. He sat up as panic returned. ‘What’s happing now?’ he demanded.

  ‘Automatic file reset,’ she said. ‘I just had to hope …’

  ‘File reset?’ said Denny. ‘I don’t …’ He was cut off as the boat began to rise slowly up to the surface of the ocean. The water that had been gradually leaking in was now leaking back out again. It was a very weird thing to watch. ‘Time’s running backwards?’ he said in complete mystification.

  ‘Only for us,’ she said. And that’s not really…’

  ‘And you knew this would happen?’ said Denny angrily. ‘And you didn’t tell me?’

  ‘I-I wasn’t certain,’ she admitted.

  Denny forced himself to calm down as they reached the surface and the boat bobbed up like a cork in a barrel and slowly turned over in the wake of a receding wave.

  ‘What the hell was all that about?’ said Denny as the boat righted itself and the crew were manoeuvred back into position by some unseen force as the sea calmed itself and Poseidon sank harmlessly beneath the waves.

  ‘You were right,’ she said. Poseidon was after us, and that’s the only reason the boat sank – but we don’t belong here. If we weren’t here, it never would have happened at all. It wasn’t supposed to happen, it only happened because of us, so the file reset itself as if it never had happened. I called him a fool because if he had just killed us outright, without sinking the boat and killing those men before their time, that would have worked fine. But he never could resist a dramatic spectacle. Even the gods can’t fight the organising power of the mainframe,’ she said. ‘Lucky for us.’

  The rest of the voyage continued without incident.

  * * *

  They would be safe from the wrath of any more gods for the time being. For as long as they were in Italy, in fact. It would be another few hundred years before the Greek Pantheon began to get mixed up with the Roman one and the Roman gods were nothing much at the moment, according to Tamar, just small gods – local deities of tree and stream etc. Besides, Tamar and Denny were not after them. And although gods do not respect very much they do respect boundaries.

  But it did not alter the fact that they had a long journey before them. 230 miles to Rome. But at least the roads were good.

  ‘They’ll be waiting for us,’ said Denny, meaning the gods. He looked back at the sea as he spoke.

  ‘Yeah, well, we’ll be ready for them when we get back,’ said Tamar. ‘They’ll never even see us coming.’

  ‘Assuming this works,’ said Denny.

  ‘It will,’ she said confidently.

  ~ Chapter Four ~

  It was called a council of the gods, but it was more like a collective argument/birthday party/orgy all rolled into one.

  Zeus sighed despondently. They were like children, he thought. Always fighting and sulking and competing with each other when they ought to be working together. What a family!

  And then of course Poseidon had to come to him recently with another of his ridiculous conspiracy theories. Not that he was ever taken seriously. He said that he had his ear to the sea bed, and he heard things. He never specified what things exactly, just things. Of course, living at the bottom of the sea could make a person a bit strange, sometimes. Poseidon claimed to have seen visitors from another world – he even said that there were the ruins of an ancient civilisation down there. But Zeus had never fancied going down there for a look.

  This time he had claimed a couple of would be assassins were after them all, but it had turned out to be nothing more than a couple of mortals who were, as Zeus understood it, on their way out of Greece anyway. Well, they were no doubt at the bottom of the ocean now, poor things. He really would have to have a serious word with the old sea god. That sort of thing made them all look bad.

  After all, they had people for that sort of thing – priests and whatnot. And Nemesis of course for the really bad cases. Although she had been getting uppity lately – kept wanting to know what the wretched person’s crime was – as if it was any business of hers. She should do as she was told and never mind the reasons, which he was compelled to admit, if only to his own private ear, were sometimes not particularly clear.

  No, the days of personal vengeance were over, Zeus had never particularly liked mortals, and he strongly deprecated the idea of making contact with them any more than he had to (except for some of the prettier girls of course – but even that had lost its charm of late) and damn it, was he the king of the gods or was he not? If he did not like going down to the Earth then none of them should like it. But some of them still did.

  Apollo, for example, seemed set on taking over his own role as lady-killer among the immortals, even though Zeus had given him strict orders to stick to his own kind. They wanted no more mistakes like Heracles. Not that he was not proud of the boy, there he was, twinkling away in the heavens to prove it, but the trouble he had caused was nobody’s business. But there, there was no respect these days. Zeus was aware that these were the thoughts of an old man. But what was wrong with that anyway? He was an old man. Old and experienced – not like these whippersnappers of only a few hundred years who thought they knew it all. Ha!’ how would they have stood up to the Titans or the Giants or …

  A shrill voice broke across his musings. ‘Daddy! You aren’t listening to me.’

  This was true of course. And as for the “Daddy”… Zeus focussed his gaze on Aphrodite, her parentage was uncertain at best, he thought. He was not at all sure that he was her “Daddy”, as she put it.

  He allowed his gaze to sweep the halls of Olympia ignoring the importuning of his “daughter”. What a bunch of immoral, squabbling, bickering, backbiting, squawking, selfish, arrogant, blundering, megalomaniacal misfits. Perhaps their time was coming to an end. And perhaps, if it was, that was not such a bad thing.

  Of course, he did not mean that.

  * * *

  They had been forced to walk after all; the currency of Greece being useless in Italy. Since Tamar had never been out of her native land as a human being, she could hardly be blamed for not realising this, but it made Denny grumpy anyway.

  ‘What’s that smell?’ said Tamar suddenly.

  ‘Me probably,’ said Denny. ‘I haven’t had a bath for over a week.’

  Tamar thought about this and then raised her arm and gave a cautious sniff. ‘Ugh,’ she said. ‘It’s me. That’s disgusting. I smell.’

  ‘One of the joys of being mortal,’ said Denny unconcernedly.

  ‘I need to wash,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe it. Even my hair smells.’

  ‘Yeah, well …’ Denny did not have an answer to this particular dilemma. ‘Remember when you wanted to be ordinary?’ he said. ‘Be careful what you wish for.’

  ‘I used to be a Djinn,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to tell me that one. I invented that one – practically anyway.’

  They had been walking for four days and were footsore and weary to a degree that they had never thought possible. And it was around this time that Denny began to have the uncanny feeling that they were being watched. He did not mention this to Tamar, knowing full well her utter disda
in for all such chimera. But still the feeling persisted, until his attention was distracted by an even stranger phenomenon.

  ‘Tamar.’ He stopped her suddenly. ‘Your nose is bleeding.’

  Her hand flew to her face. ‘It is?’ she said. ‘What do I do?’ she added in a panic.

  ‘Here,’ he led her gently to a low wall and sat her down. ‘Just put your head back, it’ll stop in a minute.’ He gripped the bridge of her nose and tilted her head back, and then he noticed a dark bruise on her cheek. He frowned. Where the hell had that come from? And then, as she raised her hand to grip her nose herself, her sleeve fell back to reveal another large bruise on her arm.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Denny in considerable confusion. ‘You look like you’ve been beaten up.’

  ‘Well, I have,’ she said, ‘in a manner of speaking. At least, it isn’t me, it’s the other me. I did spend quite a lot of my time during this period being smacked in the face.’

  ‘What?’ Denny was horrified.

  Tamar smiled at him. ‘I don’t think you ever really appreciated just what you had rescued me from when you set me free,’ she said.

  ‘But …but … this?’ he indicated her bruised face.

  ‘It’s not exactly what you think,’ she said. ‘My master at this time had me fighting as a Gladiatrix, in his private arena. He made a fortune off me actually because I couldn’t be beaten.’

  ‘But that’s actually worse than what I thought,’ said Denny.

  ‘It’s the way a lot of slaves are treated at this time in Rome,’ she said. ‘At least I couldn’t actually be killed.’ She shrugged. ‘He used to put me up against these really massively built men, and I’d knock them down like nine pins. It was quite funny really.’ She looked, however, less than amused as she said this.

  ‘And that makes it all right, does it?’ said Denny getting worked up.

  ‘Different times,’ she said indifferently. ‘And it certainly sharpened up my fighting skills; I mean I had to make it look real at least. Hence the bruises and nosebleeds and all that. Mind you, it’s a bit inconvenient to be having them now,’ she added. ‘Bit of an unforeseen side effect of close proximity to myself. Especially as it bloody well hurts this time.’

  Denny was shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Because I knew you’d react like this,’ she told him. ‘Hey,’ she said cheerily. ‘At least we know we’re definitely going in the right direction.’ As she spoke, a split appeared in her lip causing Denny to wince.

  ‘You … you were never stabbed or anything like that were you?’ he asked as a nasty thought struck him.

  ‘Oh, no,’ she said blithely. ‘I was far too quick for that.’

  Denny breathed out. His face became serious. ‘I am never, ever going to let anyone hurt you like that again,’ he vowed.

  ‘This is really upsetting you, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I love you, of course,’ he said, as if it was a really stupid question. ‘In fact, I’m not sure that you really understand just how much I do,’ he said. ‘You seem to think that it’s your beautiful face that I love. It’s not. I mean, I’m not saying that I don’t appreciate it, or your fabulous body, because I do. You still have the power to turn me to jelly just by walking past me, or with that look that you do, and you probably always will …’

  Tamar grinned happily at this assessment of her charms.

  ‘But,’ he continued. ‘What you need to understand is that even without that, I would still love you just as much.’

  ‘Like a sister or something though,’ she took it upon herself to qualify his statement for him.

  ‘No’ he said, much more than that. You don’t care that I don’t look like … like …’ He could not think of an example. ‘But, I know that you love me anyway,’ he finished.

  ‘That’s because you are a much better person than me,’ she said.

  ‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ he said. ‘You’re accusing me of being shallow, and saying that the only reason that you aren’t as shallow as you think I am, is because I’m the better person?’

  ‘No, that’s not what I meant. I just meant there are other things about you that are worth loving. Qualities that I don’t have.’

  ‘But you do,’ he insisted. ‘I wish you could just see yourself as I see you, just for a day. Then maybe you’d understand.’

  Tamar had not got a good answer for this so she changed the subject.

  ‘Do you get the feeling that we’re being watched?’ she said.

  Denny rolled his eyes.

  ‘What?’ she said. ‘What?’

  ‘You know,’ said Denny on the sixth day, ‘we really can’t go on like this. We need food and better transport. A pair of sandals would be an improvement,’ he added exhibiting his bloodied feet for her inspection. ‘Anyway, the sooner we get to Rome, the sooner you’ll stop looking like you just went ten rounds with the Minotaur.’

  ‘Met him’ said Tamar absently. ‘He was actually a big softie. At least, he wasn’t nasty to me.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ said Denny nastily. ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘Well, I think that I’m going to … pass out,’ she said, and then suited the action to the word.

  ‘Oh Christ,’ wailed Denny bending down to pat her face. ‘If this is what living on nature’s bounty does for you, you can keep it.’*

  *[They had been living on scrumped apples mostly for the past few days, not enough to keep body and soul together really.]

  And then – a miracle. They had been walking this dusty coast road for almost a week without seeing anybody at all, but, just as they really needed it, a cart came rumbling along. Denny ran out and planted himself resolutely in front of it and began waving his arms frantically, thinking as he did so, that Tamar would have been so much better at this than him.

  However, the carter stopped – well it was either that or run right over Denny, although that had been a distinct possibility – it had happened to him before.

  Since he could not speak a word of the language, Denny had to try to make his case by signing and pointing. He took the bemused carter over to the prostrate body of Tamar and tried to indicate that they were starving and weary.

  The carter gave a brusque nod to show that he understood and picked up Tamar and carried her over to his cart. He then indicated that Denny take his place beside him and offered him some food. Then he made a gesture unmistakeable in any language. He rubbed his forefinger and thumb together, clearly he was asking if Denny had any money. Denny nodded uncertainly, and the carter laughed heartily at his little joke and slapped Denny hard on the back. Denny answered with a grin of relief.

  As they drove off Denny looked back at Tamar anxiously, and the carter grunted and retrieved a bottle of what smelled like some sort of strong liquor from within his voluminous garments. ‘Hé,’ he said gruffly pointing at the bottle and then at Tamar. Denny nodded uncertainly. Tamar drunk – now that would be a sight to see. ‘Hé,’ the man repeated insistently and Denny shrugged his shoulders, and took the bottle and climbed over the back of the cart with it to Tamar.

  Although Denny managed to force some of the vile smelling liquid between her lips she did not wake up. However, some colour came back to her cheeks, and she seemed to be breathing easier so Denny relaxed. She was probably exhausted. God knew, he was.

  The carter patted the seat beside him to indicate that Denny come and sit up front with him again. And they… talked. Well communicated after a fashion anyway. First they exchanged names by the simple expedient of pointing at themselves and repeating their own name. The carter was called Ateius. Which Denny thought sounded appropriate, but when he told Ateius his own name it caused gusts of laughter from the cheerful carter. ‘Deneee,’ he repeated gleefully, ‘ha ha ha ha!’

  They worked out, after a lot of pointing and shouting and finally drawing a crude map, that the carter was heading for Naples. Denny told him that he wanted
to get to Rome. This seemed to be understood. ‘Roma,’ the carter nodded to show he understood. ‘Roma.’ Then he pulled a sorrowful face to indicate that he could not oblige his new friend by taking him so far. ‘Pfft,’ said Denny dismissively to indicate that he did not mind. They were getting along quite well until Ateius showed his hand, as it were. The real reason he had picked Denny up on the road. It was getting dark, and Ateius pulled the cart over to the side of the track and climbed out. This was fine as it went; time to park up for the night, Denny understood.

  He climbed out after him and began to help him to collect wood for a campfire when suddenly he found himself grabbed from behind. It was not exactly an aggressive move, more like a very friendly hug. Startled Denny jumped only to find himself turned around, and now he was in what can only be described as an embrace. Ateius grinned at him showing a lot of stained teeth. Then he reached out a hand and began to stroke Denny’s hair.

  So Denny hit him on the head with a rock and stole his cart.

  It was nearing midnight when Tamar awoke to find herself bowling along on the back of an inexpertly driven cart.

  ‘What happened?’ she said when her eyes got used to the darkness, and she could just about make out the fact that the cart was being driven by Denny. ‘Where did this cart come from?’

  ‘Highway robbery,’ said Denny. ‘Mine.’

  ‘You stole it?’ Tamar did not know whether to be shocked or impressed.

  ‘There’s plenty of food,’ he said without turning his head. ‘Help yourself. Can’t stop yet, got to get away from the scene of the crime.’

  Tamar laughed for the sheer joy of relief. They had transport and food. Things were finally going their way. She did not want to know how he had done it, nor why he had suddenly decided to turn to a life of crime. She must be having an adverse effect on his morals (up until now, she had been the main instigator of their various thefts).

  Tamar took her turn at driving after she had had some food.

  ‘Cooked food!’ she had rhapsodised. ‘Meat! Oh I never thought I could be so hungry!’