The History Keepers Circus Maximus (19 page)

‘Unfortunate business yesterday?’ Jake asked. ‘What was that?’

‘I don’t know exactly,’ said Charlie, before adding pointedly, ‘But it seems he left with a red-headed woman.’ All four of them shared a look. ‘Let’s go backstage and make further enquiries.’

As the argument onstage continued, Jake and the others crept through one of the doors at the back. They found themselves in a dark passage, full of pieces of scenery, but they could still hear the mutters of the actor. They followed his voice until they reached a dressing room. The man was changing out of his costume, scowling at his reflection in the metal mirror.

Charlie took a deep breath and approached him cautiously, asking in Latin if he might have a word. At first he too received a torrent of abuse, but when he revealed that he and his friends had been watching the dress rehearsal and
totally
sympathized with
the actor’s plight, his tone softened. He inclined his head condescendingly and introduced himself as Fico Mirabilis – Fico the Fantastic. There followed another rant – Charlie translated bit by bit, mostly for Jake’s benefit – about how impossible it was in this day and age to put on drama of quality in the
Greek
tradition (Fico’s eyes moistened at this point); how the spoken word was dead; how the gladiators and the vulgar games in Rome had ruined everything; how it was all about cheap thrills and bums on seats.

Charlie nodded in sympathy (in truth, he was probably the better actor of the two) and waited until Fico had run out of steam, then enquired about the events of the day before. This produced a strange medley of reactions: first anger, then resentment, then deep concern. Jake noticed that, at least twice, he contemptuously spat out the name Agata.

Charlie thanked him, said his goodbyes and turned to the others, smiling. ‘I’ve found out everything we need to know.’

As the four of them headed out onto the street and started making their way back towards the
Conqueror
, Charlie gave a full account. ‘Well,’ he announced with relish, ‘the package that Agata
Zeldt was picking up was not a
thing
– it was a person.’

Jake immediately put two and two together. ‘It was the missing actor.’

‘Affirmative,’ Charlie replied. ‘According to Fico, the whole nightmare started months ago when a haughty red-head called Agata Zeldt first swanned into town. She watched a performance and then came backstage afterwards and offered Austerio, who should have been playing the husband, a sum of money to do some
private work
for her. If he agreed, she promised to take him to Rome and make him a star. Neither then nor since has Austerio told his old rival what this secret job was to be.

‘Anyway, Agata went off and Fico thought that nothing would come of it. But then, yesterday, she suddenly returned to collect him. Fico was furious, jealous; he thought Austerio was the most dreadful ham and totally undeserving of stardom. However, as they set off, Fico – who is Austerio’s oldest friend as well as his most deadly rival – had a dreadful premonition about the whole thing, and is now very worried about him.’

‘Well, that’s certainly as clear as mud,’ Nathan commented. ‘Maybe I’m missing something, but
mentoring second-rate actors is not usually the route to world domination.’

‘What about Topaz?’ Jake asked Charlie. ‘Did Fico say she was here as well?’

Charlie stopped and pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘Apparently Agata was accompanied only by a fair-haired boy.’

Jake felt another flutter of fear – as did Lucius, who was trailing behind.

‘Well, we’d better get on our way,’ Jake said. ‘We’ve less than twenty-four hours until we’re supposed to meet her.’

The boys hurried back to the
Conqueror
and set sail again, steaming northwards past Misenum and its vast fleet of hulking warships. (Jake counted at least twenty-five docked there, each with a distinctive curling prow, wide striped sails and three rows of oars punctuating their mountainous hulls.) The sun travelled across the sky as they pushed on up the coast, arriving at Ostia late in the afternoon.

‘This is as close as we’ll get to Rome by ship. It’s a further twenty miles across land – which is quite an epic journey in this day and age. I suggest we head for the local forum and seek out transportation there.’

Nathan disembarked. ‘Perhaps we could treat
ourselves to a little snack first,’ he said, eyeing up a foodstall on the other side of the quay. ‘Is that ice cream? Has it been invented yet? We are on the Italian Riviera, after all.’

‘Afraid not,’ Charlie sighed, jumping ashore along with the others. ‘Unless you’re an emperor with an army of skivvies to send to the Apennines to collect snow. That I believe is
Pepones et melones
– cold stewed melon with cornstarch. It’s perfectly adequate in a pudding emergency’ – he shrugged – ‘which I actually agree this is.’

Just as they were crossing over to the stall, a horse-drawn cart, laden with all sorts of amphorae, zigzagged out of control along the quayside, nearly running them over before crashing into a low wall. Lucius started berating the ancient driver in no uncertain terms, and a heated discussion ensued; the man’s dog joined in, barking and growling in defence of his master. Jake couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the old man: he was so small and frail, and evidently much loved by his more sprightly canine companion.

‘Good gracious, is he blind?’ Charlie cried suddenly.

Jake looked more closely and realized that he was
right: the man was addressing Lucius as if he were standing somewhere else entirely.

‘Now I’ve seen it all,’ Nathan commented. ‘Blind cart drivers. The world has gone mad.’

Eventually the cart clattered off into the town and the boys went to buy their melon and cornstarch snack. As Jake ate his (actually, it was more refreshing than it sounded), he eyed up a pair of warships, much like the ones in Misenum, setting sail further up the harbour, their three strict lines of oars beating in unison. Close up, he could see their decks teaming with soldiers and wondered on what mission, to what part of the huge Roman Empire, they were departing.

‘Being so close to Rome,’ Charlie explained, ‘there’s a strong military presence here too.’ He thought about it. ‘In fact, let’s face it, there’s a military presence everywhere.’

Suddenly Mr Drake started shaking in panic.

‘What’s up?’ Charlie asked.

‘I can see what’s up,’ Jake gasped, his eyes fixed on a group of figures coming along the harbour towards them, clad in grey leather breastplates with feathered shoulders and beaked bronze masks.

‘Hydra!’ exclaimed Nathan. ‘They must have
followed us here. How did we not see them?’

Just then there was a sharp
thwack!
and a metal dart struck Nathan’s
Pepones et melones
, sending it splattering all over him. ‘Now that is just rude,’ he snapped, then grimaced as he saw four more guards approaching from the other direction. ‘Heads!’ he shouted as another volley of arrows flew through the air. Some locals ran for cover, while Mr Drake, now in a complete flutter, ducked under Charlie’s toga.

‘Up here!’ Charlie commanded, leading them away from the port, for there was no way to reach their ship without meeting the enemy. As they hurried on, the whole retinue of guards were soon in pursuit.

‘Over there! Quickly!’ Nathan yelled, rushing towards a large porticoed building on one side of the street. They flew across the marble atrium and through a set of double doors. Nathan caught his leather jerkin on the handle, lost his balance and careered spectacularly across the wet marble floor.

‘Damn this thing!’ he cursed as he finally straightened up – to see forty pairs of disapproving eyes trained on him. There were men everywhere, mostly old, either swimming or lounging by the giant pool that dominated the room, most of them
stark naked. ‘Ah, the public baths,’ Nathan mumbled with an apologetic bow. ‘I’d forgotten how they like to put it all on show.’ Quickly and carefully, his eyes trained on the floor, he followed the others out of the chamber.

Behind them, the doors flew open again, and six soldiers rushed in, drawing their swords. The bathers gasped and backed away or sank into the pool as the guards advanced on the History Keepers.

‘Swords?’ Nathan grinned. ‘That’s a little more sportsmanlike.’ He drew his own, and Charlie and Jake quickly followed suit.

Lucius was shaking his head. ‘You not fight close: they have poison on the arm – it puts you to sleep.’

Nathan and Jake didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, but Charlie saw that each guard had a silver device strapped to his forearm. ‘I think he’s saying that those bracelets contain some sort of tranquillizer.’

‘How perfectly charming,’ Nathan drawled. ‘They weren’t wearing them before?’

‘Not at camp,’ Lucius explained, ‘but always outside.’

‘It’s a shame you didn’t have time to pick up
yours.’ Nathan nodded at Lucius’s bare wrist.

They turned and ran through an archway and down a passage. The soldiers dashed after them, pushing a group of cowering bathers into the pool.

Jake, Lucius, Nathan and Charlie flew into the
palaestra
– the gymnasium – where athletes were training with weights and stretching equipment. ‘Excuse us,’ said Jake, politely taking a small lead dumb-bell from a man with pumped-up muscles and an attitude to match, and pitching it towards the doorway. The others followed his example, grabbing whatever missiles they could find – leather balls stuffed with sand, iron discuses; even the stone busts from a series of alcoves – and hurling them across the room. Some hit their targets before crashing to the ground, but mostly the barrage of projectiles bounced harmlessly off the marble floor.

Negotiating the maze of corridors, they finally saw another set of doors ahead of them. As they ran towards them, a matronly woman in a white veil tried to stop them. ‘
Vires interdicti sunt!
’ she cried as they swept past her.

‘What’s she saying?’ Jake asked.

‘Men forbidden,’ replied Charlie with a shrug.

They opened the doors and went in, immediately
aware of streams of incense wafting up from two golden braziers. A young girl strummed a lyre as five women of various ages lay on wooden tables to receive a massage. They turned in alarm as the intruders shattered the peace.

‘Ladies – or should I say
goddesses
?’ Nathan said roguishly, catching the eye of a pretty masseuse.

Charlie rolled his eyes at Jake as Nathan took the jar from her and sniffed its contents. ‘Lavender and neroli – there’s nothing better for balanced skin and a radiant glow,’ he commented before flinging the oil across the shiny floor in front of the doorway.

It was a masterstroke: as the soldiers burst in, they lost their footing, skidding in all directions. Nathan completed the move by upturning one of the incense braziers and igniting the oil, which set fire to the feathered boots of three of the guards.

‘Thank you.’ Nathan winked at his goddess, who seemed terrified and intrigued in equal measure. ‘I’ve been suffering from a crisis of confidence – but I can see from your face that I still have what it takes.’

‘Where does he get these awful lines?’ Charlie asked the others. No one replied as they hurried along more white marble passages until they reached a wide atrium.

‘Up there!’ shouted Charlie. He was pointing to a large open window, at head height, overlooking the garden. Lucius clasped his hands together and gave him a leg up. Nathan did the same for Jake. Charlie jumped down the other side, but Jake waited as Lucius offered to help Nathan.

‘After you,’ the latter replied smugly. Lucius, in another of his gravity-defying leaps, was up and over the wall in a flash. Nathan tried to improve on it, but his hand – still drenched in lavender oil – slipped, and he fell back down, hitting his head on the ledge and twisting his ankle as he landed on the floor. Jake could see that the two remaining guards were coming up the corridor, preceded by their long shadows.

‘Here!’ shouted Jake, leaning down, his hand held out. But Nathan was still dazed from his fall, and looked up blearily at Jake, only half recognizing him. ‘Nathan!’ Jake shouted again.

The American turned to look around the room, an expression of wonder on his face. ‘Have I got a massage booked? Aromatherapy?’

There was nothing for it: ‘Wait for us!’ Jake shouted at the others as he jumped down and grabbed his friend. ‘Nathan!’ he shouted again, this
time slapping his face. It had the desired effect: Nathan’s eyes came back into focus – as did his instinct for survival. There was no time to reach the window, so Jake pulled him down one of the four passageways that led out of the atrium. The two soldiers followed, now hard on their heels.

Ahead of them was a single door; wisps of hot steam escaped from all around it. Jake pulled it open and they found themselves in a large, vaulted chamber that was thick with vapour.

The heat was tremendous and Jake could feel his lungs contract. As they edged forward into the steam, they could see the shapes of bathers.

The door creaked open behind them to let in a wedge of light and two brutish figures; then the light was gone again. Two shadows advanced, swords held out before them.

‘Any ideas?’ Nathan whispered to Jake as they retreated to the back wall.

Jake looked around. He could just make out three vents in the floor, with hot air billowing out of them. He recalled how once, during the school holidays, he had helped his dad fit a steam room in the house of a film director (Alan had boasted that this was the start of the big time, but of course it
had all ended in humiliating disaster and threats of a lawsuit). But Jake remembered how dangerous steam could be if pressurized.

‘Move that onto the last vent,’ he instructed Nathan, indicating a trough of water. Nathan did as he was told, while Jake did the same with the first vent. ‘Now give me your jacket.’

‘What?’ Nathan replied. ‘My gladiator’s jerkin?’

‘Just give it to me – you hate it anyway.’

Nathan reluctantly took it off and handed it over. Jake placed it on top of the central vent. Now, with all three openings sealed, the chamber started to empty of steam surprisingly quickly, and the two guards were suddenly visible.