The Boudicca Parchments (26 page)

They continued for several hours, to their collective amazement, translating an account that described Boudicca’s final battle and defeat. It turned out that the scale of the battle was much smaller than Tacitus and Cassius Dio had implied. And the text made clear that many of the Iceni and other tribes had returned to their lands before that, driven by hunger and a shortage of food. It also made clear that there were many surviving family members who fled the scene and were
not
pursued by the Romans.

At one point Ted commented that Tacitus’s
first
account in the Agricola might have been the more factually accurate and his later writings in the Annals an embellishment. But then the translation took a strange turn. Daniel translated a pair of sentence, and noted – without Ted’s help – that it contained the name Israel. The three of them exchanged mutual glances as they sensed that something big was coming. Ted translated with enthusiasm.

“After our defeat Simon and Aristobulos… something… my mother…”

“Killed?” asked Daniel.

“No it can’t be. Because it goes on: Aristobulos and Simon
something
her that Andraste was a false God and that if she worshipped only the true God of… Israel…”

There was a break in his voice and he couldn’t continue.

“How does it go on?” asked Daniel.

Dubois leaned back and shook his head at Daniel, warning him to hold back and not to pressure Ted. It was obvious that this was an emotional moment for the Cambridge professor. This was an amazing document for him, He had devoted a huge chunk of his life to finding the site of Boudicca’s final battle and now not only was it clear that he had found it at Arbury Banks, but there was another document here in Rome, apparently written by Boudicca’s daughter and referring to Simon and Aristobulos – the groom and witness respectively from the marriage
ketuba
that had been found at Arbury Banks by Martin Costa.

Ted forced himself to continue.

“…and that if she worshipped the true God of Israel, he would be her rock of refuge.”

“She converted to Judaism?” asked Daniel.

“It doesn’t say that,” Dubois stepped in. “In those days the God of Israel – from a pagan frame of reference – would have been the Christian God too.”

“Also, we haven’t yet got to her reply Daniel. Can you transliterate the next bit for me.”

Daniel transliterated and Ted transcribed. But as he looked at the text, a sense of awe and amazement broke out over his face. He looked at Daniel and Dubois in silence, as if unable to trust his voice.

“What is it? asked Daniel.

Ted started to speak, coughed to clear his throat and then spoke… even more slowly and deliberately than his usual cautious academic style.

“And so we… received… their God. And Simon… thought or decided or resolved… to fight the Romans in their house.”

Daniel looked at Dubois, then at Ted, then at Dubois again.

“To fight the Romans in their house?”

The Catholic scholar explained.

“Taking the fight to the enemy. Not an unusual tactic in modern warfare. But almost unprecedented in those days.”

Ted stirred uneasily at this.

“Actually, as a tactic in war, it’s not
quite
as modern most people think. It may not go back to the first century, but in the American revolutionary war – over two hundred years ago – John Paul Jones attacked the port of Whitehaven.”

“It was a bit of a damp squib, if I remember rightly.”

“Technically yes. He had a problem with a mutinous – or at least avaricious crew. But it
did
undermine British morale.”

“Does the manuscript give any indication of what they did specifically?” asked Dubois, his tone mildly impatient.

“Let’s see,” said Daniel.

Ted nodded and muttered a pale “Okay.”

Daniel transliterated another sentence or two, Ted struggling to keep up with his phonetic rendition and to distinguish between continuations and alternative pronunciations. After about half a minute, the Cambridge professor had another go at translation.

“And I was given to Simon in marriage and then we hid from the Romans. And after a time we went by the way of the sea to the heart of the enemy to cause pain in her. But Aristobulos said we must fight not with swords but with… the Holy Spirit.”

Again, Ted had to pause.

“ ‘So he went instead to Mona to tell the dru the word of one God so that they might be healed and made strong.”

“The dru?” echoed Dubois. It was for Ted to explain.

“I think that must be the druids.”

Again the three faces met.

“Preaching the Gospels!” said Dubois, excitedly.

“So what does this mean?” asked Daniel. “Putting it all together. Aristobulos, and possibly Simon also, convinced Boudicca and her daughter – or daughters – that the pagan religion of the druids had failed them.”

“The druids were a very powerful force in Romano-Britain until then,” said Ted. “But Boudicca’s defeat and the massacre of the druids at Mona may have led to a desperate reappraisal. And if some one came along offering a plausible alternative, that explained the defeats and setbacks, without giving too much credit to the victors, then the time and conditions were ripe for a religious conversion.”

Daniel had a question.

“This sentence about Aristobulos going to Mona…”

Ted let Daniel’s unfinished question hang in the air for a while before answering.

“There are several traditions associated with Aristobulos of Britannia. That he went somewhere in Wales is one of them.”

Daniel was cogitating.

“Okay, and that line ‘we resolved to fight the Romans in their house,’ I’m wondering who is ‘we’? Is it just Boudicca, her daughter and Simon or could be some small faction of survivors?”

“It probably refers to a small band of followers. It’s unlikely that the three of them alone decided to take on the might of Rome – even in the form of guerrilla warfare.”

“Let’s try the next bit,” Daniel suggested. Again he transliterated. Ted transcribed the words. But there was a change in his mood as Daniel transliterated. At first Ted’s pace was almost leisurely. But at a certain point it turned frantic.

“What is it?” asked Daniel, sensing Ted’s contagious excitement.

“What you just said… what it means.”

“What
does
it mean?”

“It means… ‘And we hid in the hills outside the city… and in the houses of those… who hated the emperor. And we hurt the Romans in many ways… but we did not fight them in the daylight.’”

“That’s it?”

“No Daniel, that’s
not
it. That’s the first sentence. But the next sentence reads: ‘And then… we made a great fire… in their city.”

Daniel’s jaw dropped. He turned to Dubois.

“The Great Fire of Rome?”

Chapter 59

“Let us go!” shrieked May as the was dragged along down the corridor by one of the men.

“My daddy will kill you!” Shir threatened the man who was dragging her. He was about to hit her when the third ma who had just closed the door behind them, shook his head. He seemed to be the leader and the girls realized that he was the one they had to watch and be careful of.

They were taken to a room at the end of the corridor. At first it looked to them as if the room had no windows, but then they looked up and saw that very close to the ceiling there was a wooden board nailed to the wall, and they both realized in that instant that there was a window behind it, but a small window and one that would be very hard to reach, even if it were not covered. The fact that there was a board over it, meant that if they shouted for help it would be hard for anyone too hear them.

The one strange thing about the room that they also noticed was that it had two small beds and a lot of toys, almost as if it had been a children’s room. They wondered where were the children who used it. Had they grown up? Run away? Maybe they had died and these people had kidnapped them to replace them.

The two men let go of the girls, but stood close to them in case they tried to run away. The third man stood in front of them, looking down at them.

“Okay first of all I want to tell you that we won’t hurt you if you don’t try to escape. We’ve brought you here because we want to get some one to talk to us.”

“Who?” asked May.

“Your uncle,” said the man who had been holding Shir.

The man who was the boss looked at the other man angrily. The twins noted this and realized that the man who had spoken wasn’t supposed to tell them.

“But why?” asked Shir. “I mean why didn’t you just call him on the telephone.”

“Or send him an eMail?” added May.

“He always answers his eMail,” said Shir.

“Or you could call him on Skype,” May suggested.

“Or you can send him a text,” Shir explained.

“Enough!” the man shouted. The huddled together frightened, both wanting to cry, but neither wanting to give in to tears before the other did first. “As soon as we are able to speak to your uncle, we will let you go.”

“Promise?” asked May.

The man hesitated.

“I will promise to let you go, if you promise not to try to escape…”

The girls looked at each other. Then one of them put her hands behind her back, remembering something that they had learned in America from other children they met in Disneyland.

“I promise,” she said.

The other did likewise, also putting her hands behind her back, unseen by the kidnappers. In England, crossing ones fingers meant that one was hoping for something to happen. But in America, if you made a promise with your fingers crossed, it meant that you didn’t have to keep the promise.

“Promise,” she said when finally managed the tricky operation of crossing her fingers.

“Okay,” said the man. “And I promise too.”

They smiled.

“Will you give us food if we get hungry?”

“Yes of course we’ll give you food. We won’t
all
be here all the time. But there’ll always be one of us here if you need anything. In the meantime, there are lots of things to do here. Look…” He pointed. “Lots of toys. You can play with them.”

They looked around and saw some dolls, and some lego – which didn’t really interest them. But the one thing that caught there eye was a skateboard. The only trouble was, they didn’t have space in the small room to use it.

“Okay I’ll leave you alone now.”

The three men left the room and the girls heard the sound of the door being locked. When they realized they were alone, the girls started to cry and hug each other. But only for a minute. Then one of them said: “I don’t believe that man.”

“But he promised,” said the other. “And he’s orthodox. It’s a sin to lie.”

“Yes but it’s also a sin to kidnap people,” said the other. “And if he did one sin then he might do another.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“We need to escape.”

“But how?”

“There’s a window up there. That’s why they put that board there.”

The other one peered up to it, squinting to see it.

“But it’s got nails or screws or something. Otherwise it would fall.”

“Okay, we’ll have to find some way of tricking them… listen.”

“What?”

“They’re going.”

“But he said there’s always be one of them staying.”

“I know, but listen… to of them are leaving. That means there’s only one. That means it will be easier to escape.”

“But how are we going to escape?”

“I’ve got an idea. I’ll whisper it in your ear.”

Ten minutes later they were calling out to the one who stayed. When he opened the door, they saw that it was one of the nasty ones. But that didn’t matter. In fact, in some ways that made it better.

“We’re hungry!”

“Yes, you said you’d give us food!”

He looked embarrassed and confused, like he didn’t think it would actually happen,

“What… what would you like?”

“Chips!” said one.

“With tomato ketchup!” said the other.

He smiled with relief.

“Well I think I can manage that. We’re got oven chips. Would you like some mini schnitzels with that? I can heat them in the microwave.”

They looked at each other and smiled.

“Okay,” they said.

He didn’t know why they were smiling so much as he left and locked the door behind him. It was only food after all. But the happier they were, the less troublesome they would be. One less problem to worry about.

Chapter 60

Dubois shifted uncomfortably as both Daniel stared at him, waiting for his answer to Daniel’s last question.

“There were always rumours circulating at the time. Don’t forget, this was the time of Nero, one of ancient Rome’s most paranoid of rulers.”

Daniel smiled at this.

“I thought they were
all
paranoid.”

“Actually no. Caligula and Nero were. Later, Domition was. But not all of them. They had probably had cause to be. If anything, some of them were too trusting… like Claudius.”

“But who started the fire?”

Dubois gave this some thought before taking up Daniel’s challenge.

“According to Tacitus, some of the locals blamed Nero himself for the Great Fire of Rome in 64 AD. However, Tacitus himself claimed that Nero was in Antium at the time of the fire. Suetonius and Cassius Dio blamed Nero. But their accounts were written later and were clearly second hand. There were probably contemporaneous accounts by other historians, but none have survived, except a vague passing reference by Pliny the Elder to trees being burnt.”

“So all this took about him burning the city to get inspiration for a poem or song was just a rumour that spread among the hoi polloi.”

“One of several actually Daniel. The only thing we
can
say is that he took advantage of the fact that the area had been cleared of buildings to build the Domus Aurea, his huge prestige project.”

“It sounds like an early conspiracy theory,” said Daniel.

“In many ways that’s exactly what it was. We still don’t
know
what the cause of the fire was. It may have been arson or it may have been purely natural causes. In fact, fires were not that uncommon in Rome. There were several more after that. It’s just that there were rumours at the time. It’s become part of folklore that Nero started it to inspire himself for a great musical or poetic composition. But even that theory is matched by a counter-theory to the effect that his poetic effort was an exhortation to those who were fighting the fire to succeed in their endeavours.”