The History Keepers Circus Maximus (20 page)

‘Here!’ Jake called over to them, holding up his sword. The soldiers muttered something to each other and came in for the kill. ‘When I give the word,’ Jake whispered to Nathan, ‘pull the jacket out of the way.’ He waited, his sword clutched firmly in his hand. The men approached, the sharp edges of their swords glinting in the half-light.

‘Now!’ he shouted. Nathan quickly drew the jacket aside and a jet of boiling steam surged up into the soldiers’ faces, burning and blinding them.

As Jake and Nathan made a dash for the door,
one of the guards fumbled for Jake’s arm, but he pulled away, kicking his assailant on the knee and sending him sprawling. However, as he collapsed, the guard managed to twist open the capsule on his silver bracelet. A tiny cloud of noxious vapour was released. It had the stench of putrefying flesh – just like the corpse flowers in the laboratory in Vulcano. It made Jake gag immediately; his nose burned and his throat seized up. Then his vision blurred and darkened; it was as if his brain was shutting down. He felt his strength draining away and fell, before Nathan caught him and dragged him out of the room.

The next few minutes were like a bad dream. Jake was half aware of stumbling along more passageways and finally out into the sunlight again. There was running and shouting. Charlie and Lucius came briefly into focus, along with Mr Drake, and Jake was bundled onto the back of a cart. He was moving – then he heard more shouting; finally the confusion of faces and noises dissolved and he blacked out completely.

13 T
O THE
E
TERNAL
C
ITY

JAKE AWOKE TO
some exquisite aromas. Although his head throbbed and he could still taste the Hydra’s poison (much like the after-effects of being drugged in London when he had first met Jupitus Cole), a fragrance like rose petals revived his spirits immediately.

He opened his bleary eyes to find himself in the back of a cart, rattling across the countryside of Latium as the sun was starting to set. Lucius was snoozing by his side and Nathan was staring at the road ahead. They were surrounded by terracotta jars that looked somehow familiar – and were the source of the delicious scent.

‘Feeling all right?’ Nathan asked, on seeing him stir.

Jake nodded, though in truth he still felt nauseous and groggy.

‘That’s quite some soporific they let off,’ Nathan commented, passing Jake a beaker of water. ‘I almost blacked out too. The guards must be resistant to it.’

Jake took a long cool sip. He was about to ask where they were and how they had got onto the cart when a dog leaped down from the driver’s seat and started licking his face. Jake recognized it immediately: it was the faithful hound of the old blind man who had nearly run them over in Ostia. Jake put two and two together. He turned round to find that very same man sitting at the front of the cart, chatting and laughing, Charlie at his side with the reins in his hand. Pulling them along was a sturdy horse who looked every bit as friendly as the dog. Mr Drake sat contentedly on his master’s shoulder, inspecting the darkening countryside.

‘Charlie did a deal,’ Nathan explained. ‘
We
get a lift to Rome; old Gaius there gets to be driven without crashing into everything coming the other way.’ Jake looked over at the man’s kind face, crinkled brown by decades in the Italian sun. ‘He has a story that even I found quite moving,’ Nathan continued, putting his hand to his heart (though, as usual, it was the wrong side). ‘He comes from a small town
on the coast south of Ostia, and used to be a carpenter – built boats, houses, everything. Then he suffered a string of disasters: first his wife became ill – she’s still stuck in bed – and then he went blind. How’s that for luck? He couldn’t work any more, because he couldn’t see, but he could smell. So he took to making perfumes, distilling them from the wild flowers of the region. The idea was to sell them to the baths there in Ostia, but the snooty manager tried to fleece him – which makes me feel less guilty about the state we left it in – so he decided to head for the markets of the Eternal City.’ He shook his mane of hair and smiled winningly. ‘That’s Rome, by the way.’

‘What happened to the
Conqueror
?’ Jake asked.

‘We weren’t able to get back to check on it,’ Nathan replied. ‘It had been commandeered by our pursuers – we seem to have eluded them by the way, but keep an eye out just in case. We’ll have to keep our fingers crossed that the ancient Rome bureau is still in one piece and there’s a Meslith machine there – otherwise we’re completely in the dark. Anyway, make yourself comfortable: we’ll be travelling through the night.’

Jake looked at Gaius’s dog, who was now lying
with his head on Lucius’s chest, blinking happily. He realized how much he missed Felson, even though they had only known each other for a matter of weeks.

Jake’s thoughts turned to his parents and he wondered how they were getting on with the unfathomable Oceane Noire.

Finally he wondered about Topaz; he prayed that they would find her. Would she make the appointment on the Pons Fabricius; and if so, what state would she be in . . .? A host of dark thoughts began to gather in his mind. He decided to stop thinking until they reached Rome.

‘Rome . . .’ he murmured. ‘I’m going to ancient Rome.’ Now tantalizingly close, the immensity of the idea dawned on him. To visit the city; to see its great buildings intact; to walk amongst its people; to visit the most famous civilization of all time . . . it was a thing of true wonder.

The cart rattled its way up a slope and down into an immense valley, stretching out for miles and miles ahead of them. The road cut a perfectly straight line across it.

They travelled into the night, Charlie, Nathan and Jake taking it in turns at the reins. The song of
a million cicadas, hidden amongst the wild flowers of the roadside, floated on the warm air, and a bright three-quarter moon rose in the sky. At the halfway point they stopped for water and refreshments. They changed horses (Charlie negotiated a deal with a yawning innkeeper: Gaius would pick up his own nag – to which he was much attached – on his return), filled the lanterns with oil and set off again. There was still some distance to go and they couldn’t risk missing their rendezvous with Topaz.

Occasionally they met another vehicle travelling in the other direction. The twinkling lights seemed to take an eternity to reach them, but finally the oncoming cart would rattle past. As Jake was dozing off, one of these caught his attention. He heard a distinctive clink well before it drew level with them. The driver was dressed in Moorish clothes, and when Jake gave him a tentative smile, he stared back with dark eyes from under his hood – before saluting him with a warm nod; just a stranger from another time, saying hello. His load consisted of stacks of silver, copper and pewter – plates, cups and trinkets – that glinted in the moonlight. The sight of this ancient treasure trove disappearing off into the night added to the sheer magic of the evening.

* * *

‘I bought shellfish!’ Rose announced, shutting the door with her sandaled foot and heading into the garden. ‘Oh! Good gracious . . .’ She did a double-take when she saw the constellation of pretty lights – hundreds of candles and lamps – illuminating the terraces.

She called out, ‘I didn’t intend to buy crab – not live crab, in any case’ – she looked uncertainly down at something twitching in her basket – ‘but I’m afraid my Latin is on the rusty side. Jupitus, are you there?’

He identified himself by languorously raising an arm in the twinkling gloom. ‘Lovely lights,’ Rose cooed, bustling over to his seat overlooking the bay. ‘Are we celebrating something?’

‘Not at all,’ Jupitus replied acidly. ‘I just need to see where I’m going. Unless you would like me to break my other leg?’

‘And demand twice the amount of sympathy?’ Rose giggled. ‘I don’t think I have it in me. Now,’ she said, cautiously reaching into her basket, ‘as you know, I’m not frightened of many things, but I find live crustaceans a challenge at the best of times— Ow!’ She yanked her arm back as a giant
crab shot out and landed on Jupitus’s chest.

‘Off, off!’ he yelled in fury as it fell onto his lap. He swiped it aside with the back of his hand. It quickly righted itself and went scurrying away across the terrace.

‘No, no!’ Rose went chasing after it as it zigzagged this way and that.

Jupitus watched, at first with deep irritation, then with growing amusement as Rose kept closing in on it, then shrieking as it defended itself with its pincers and took off once more. By the time it had taken refuge in a pool of water below a fountain, Jupitus was laughing so hard that his stomach hurt.

‘Let the poor thing be,’ he called out to Rose. ‘I think it’s earned its freedom – if only for cheering me up.’

‘Jupitus Cole, you really are infuriating sometimes!’ Rose retorted, storming back towards him. ‘You’re a miserable, mean-spirited piece of work. Look!’ She held up her hands, which were covered in cuts. ‘Anyway, it serves you right – they’ll be no dinner now.’

‘No dinner?’ said Jupitus in distress.

‘No. And no bedtime story either!’

‘Well, just as well there’s a plan B,’ Jupitus replied
in his most velvety tones, and pointed towards a table (Rose had not noticed it tucked underneath the vast bougainvillea) that was laid out with the most magnificent banquet: grilled fish, fresh salads and platters of cold meats. Not only did the food look delicious, but the presentation, gleaming cutlery, and flowers and candles, was stunning.

Rose’s anger melted away. ‘How on earth did you manage to do all that?’

‘Not bad for a miserable mean-spirited piece of work?’ he said with a twinkle in his eye.

At that moment the Meslith machine, which was sitting on a side table, started to come alive, its crystalline rod fizzing with electricity. The smile left Jupitus’s face immediately. ‘Not again,’ he sighed to himself.

‘Who is it?’ Rose asked.

‘My darling fiancée, no doubt,’ he replied through gritted teeth.

‘Well, it must be important,’ said Rose, advancing to look.

‘Leave it!’ Jupitus snapped, then softened. ‘Please.’ He took the blanket from under his leg and chucked it over the machine. Then he turned to
Rose and, smiling again, motioned for her to sit. ‘Let’s enjoy our dinner . . .’

In another corner of Europe, a thousand miles and many more years away from Messina, Alan was standing guard at the entrance to Oceane Noire’s suite. He had one eye on the candlelit corridor and staircase and the other on Miriam, who was snooping around inside with a lamp. ‘Can you find anything at all?’ he called in a loud whisper.

‘Nothing yet . . .’ Miriam called back. ‘Just lots of rather dramatic paintings of her majesty.’ She gave a giggle.

They were following their son’s advice and searching Oceane’s quarters for any sign of treachery – in particular, a book with a picture of a palm tree; the one she was carrying the night Jake discovered her in the archives.

Miriam gazed around at the large and opulent space, fitted out in the style of Versailles before the French Revolution. There were plush chaise longues, elegant screens and gilt-edged tables. Adorning the silk-lined walls were portraits of Oceane in different ‘romantic’ costumes: as a Grecian deity, an Egyptian queen, a Turkish flower
seller, and so on. Miriam struggled to focus on the job in hand.

One painting, however, she simply could not pass by without greater scrutiny. ‘Oceane Noire, you are ridiculous,’ she snorted to herself as she held her lamp up to it. Here, Oceane was depicted as a mysterious eastern princess surrounded by palms and palaces, lording it over a handsome gardener – who was clearly a less pale, more virile version of Jupitus Cole.

‘Someone’s coming!’ Alan suddenly called from the doorway.

Miriam swung round and, in her panic, knocked the painting sideways. As she was about to straighten it, she noticed something hidden behind. She carefully slid the picture further to one side, revealing a small door. There was a lock with a little key in it. Miriam turned it, opened the door and saw a tiny secret compartment lined with purple velvet. It was completely empty. She hurriedly shut the door and covered her tracks.

‘Too late! She’s here!’ Alan whimpered in desperation. From the doorway he could see Oceane’s shadow quickly ascending the staircase. ‘You’ll have to hide,’ he called over, before retreating
quickly down the passageway in the opposite direction. He had just managed to slip into the shadows when Oceane appeared at the top of the stairs, pulling Josephine along behind her. Her skirts flared out on either side as she strode into her suite and slammed the door shut behind her. She was too wrapped up in herself to notice Miriam disappear behind one of the folding screens.

Miriam watched as Oceane went over to the portrait and opened the secret compartment. From a pocket in her dress she produced a book – on which Miriam identified a palm tree – placed it inside, closed the door, locked it and threw the key into a pink china pot (also decorated with her likeness) on the mantelshelf. Finally she carefully repositioned the painting.

Meanwhile Miriam watched, aghast, as Josephine padded straight towards the screen.

There was a soft knock on the door. ‘Mademoiselle Noire, might I have a quick word?’ It was Alan’s voice.

‘
Qu’est-ce que vous voulez?
’ she spat when she found him outside, a rigid smile on his face.

‘There seems to be water leaking downstairs,’ he said sheepishly. ‘Might I check your bathroom?’

Oceane grimaced in irritation. ‘I have the worst headache known to mankind.
Depêchez-vous!
’

‘If you could just show me where it is,’ Alan replied loudly, for Miriam’s benefit.

Oceane grunted and led him across the room. Now Miriam made a dash for the door, only to hear a full-throated roar behind her. ‘Just shut up, you imbecile lion,’ Oceane cursed, silencing her pet immediately. As she disappeared into the next room, Miriam finally managed to slip out and close the door behind her.