The History Keepers Circus Maximus (28 page)

Jake had to clench his fists and take deep breaths to stop himself from leaping up and shouting that of course they should try and save Lucius; that he was sure to be alive! But he knew it was no good. The damage had been done and he was to blame for everything.

Nathan continued in a businesslike way, ‘Regarding Agata Zeldt’s
end of dominions
– what we know, or seem to know, is as follows. Something is going to happen during the games at the Circus Maximus tomorrow. Though the details are sketchy, it is likely to be an assassination attempt. We believe that the target is the fake Tiberius. It is possible that rebel slaves will then be blamed for his murder. Unrest will follow, and Agata will use the confusion and bloodshed as an opportunity to take control. Her master plan, her ultimate aim – and we have no
idea how she is to accomplish it – is to assume command of the Roman army. Need I tell anyone what that could lead to?’ Nathan didn’t wait for an answer. ‘The greatest military forces the world has ever known in the hands of one of history’s most demented malefactors.’

‘And what exactly is she planning to do with the army?’ Charlie asked, uncertain of everything.

‘I don’t know.’ Nathan shrugged. ‘Re-draw the boundaries of the world in her own diabolical image? The end of dominions, remember?’

Charlie was still shaking his head. ‘It still doesn’t add up,’ he said. ‘As a plan, it’s completely flawed.’ He pushed his glasses up his nose as he started to explain. ‘The emperor is without doubt the supreme head of state – in fact, never has one man, in all history, held so much power. And, yes, his assassination, in full public view, by supposed rebel factions, would be catastrophic. But even then Agata couldn’t take command of the army without the full support of the Senate. And this is not forgetting that the
real
Tiberius will still exist.’

‘I don’t know about the real Tiberius,’ Nathan replied. ‘Maybe he’s dead already. But regarding the senate, we can only assume that she
has
their
support. Remember, she’s richer than anyone in the empire . . .’

‘Sure, and of course money talks, without a doubt, especially in this city,’ Charlie reflected, ‘but there’s six hundred of them, Nathan, and the Romans are also famous for their sense of honour.’

‘Then we must assume that somehow she has taken those facts into account as well,’ Nathan said firmly. ‘There seem be no limits to what she can do. Besides, what else do we have to go on? Our mission is clear: tomorrow morning we head for the Circus Maximus and stop this assassination from taking place.’

Although Charlie was still far from convinced, he had no option but to nod in agreement.

The mood didn’t improve much after that. Jake remained sitting on his bed. Charlie rustled up a cheese board (he was ravenous, having eaten hardly anything at Agata’s banquet), then the three of them sat around the table, examining a map of the Circus Maximus and discussing their plan of action. Jake watched them from the shadows, hearing only snippets of conversation: ‘The emperor’s enclosure is this structure here . . . The games always start
with a procession . . .’ None of them turned round or spoke to him. They didn’t even offer him anything to eat. He wondered if they would ever talk to him again.

Eventually Nathan rolled up the map. He stood up and gave Topaz a big hug and Jake heard him whisper, ‘I’m always here for you. Always.’ He turned to Charlie and gave him a warm pat on the back. ‘There is one silver lining to all this, old friend,’ he said. ‘As our cover has been blown, we’ll need to go incognito. I trust you packed your special equipment?’

‘Beards and moustaches?’ the other replied eagerly, producing a small case from his belt. ‘I never travel without them!’

Nathan headed, yawning, towards his bed. Charlie went to sit on his bunk, gave Mr Drake a goodnight peanut and a little peck on his head, then lay down.

Jake watched Topaz as she extinguished all the candles but one on the table. Finally she put the last of the food on a plate and brought it over to Jake.

‘Here,’ she said, handing it to him. There were a couple of slices of cheese and some bread and pickles.

‘Thank you,’ he said quietly, putting it down on
the bed. ‘T-Topaz,’ he stammered, ‘I don’t even know where to begin with saying sorry. And I understand I may never be forgiven . . .’ He looked up at her, blinking his big brown eyes. Her expression was cold and unsmiling, but he soldiered on. ‘But, you know, I think Lucius may have a chance. He is so brave and clever and I’m sure that—’

‘
Tu comprends comme sa vie a été dûr?
’ Topaz interrupted him, the words almost sticking in her throat. ‘Do you know how hard his life has been? Do you know what pain he has suffered?’

Jake remembered that Lucius had told him something of his life, the night they spent together on the bridge. ‘He said he hadn’t seen his parents since he was ten.’

‘And do you know why?’

Jake shook his head.

‘Because when he was ten, pirates boarded his parents’ ship and took them away. His family was not rich – his father had a small boat-repair yard – but they were happy. Lucius was loved,’ she said pointedly. ‘One day they were sailing to Dalmatia: they’d saved enough money to build a little house there, by the sea. But just three leagues away from
the coast the pirates attacked. Lucius was brave even then and put up a fight’ – a smile briefly flickered on Topaz’s face – ‘
mais c’était inutile
– it was pointless. He was a child. He was bound, chained and separated from his father, his mother and his little brother. He never heard of them again.’

‘Brother?’ Jake said softly. ‘He didn’t tell me he had a brother.’

‘They took Lucius to the nearest port and sold him in the market for two pieces of gold. He spent five years –
la reste de son enfance
– underground in a silver mine, haunted by the screams of his brother as he was carried away that day.’

Jake’s insides froze with pity. He looked at Topaz and saw that her eyes were glistening. He stood up and took her hand. She did not react, but nor did she pull it away. She carried on with her story. ‘Then, when I was imprisoned by my own mother, he helped me whenever he could, without a care for his own safety.’ Tears streamed down her face now. ‘He was a beautiful person,’ she sobbed quietly. ‘
Un gars magnifique
.’ Charlie peered over at the sorry scene, but said nothing.

Jake wanted to throw his arms around Topaz, but she quickly wiped away her tears and climbed onto
her bunk. Jake watched as she pulled up the bedclothes and, still sobbing, turned her back on him.

Helplessly, Jake stood staring at Topaz’s back. He wanted to tell her that everything would be all right; but he couldn’t. The truth was, things were far from all right. Lucius was gone. And, on top of that, Agata Zeldt, the most evil woman in history, was at large. The following day she was planning an atrocity that would herald the
end of dominions
; but none of them even understood what it was, let alone how they could stop it.

At length Jake sighed and lay down on his bed. Still fully dressed, he pulled the blanket over him and stared at the wall in shame.

18 T
HE
S
ECRET
R
OOM

‘SHE’S DEFINITELY GONE,’
said Alan, his binoculars trained on the retreating boat. It was dawn on the Mont St Michel, and he and Miriam were on the blustery battlements, suppressing early morning yawns.

They had waited two days for Oceane to leave her suite long enough for them to investigate the book with the palm tree on its cover. Oceane had announced the night before that she was planning a trip to the mainland to look at fabrics for her wedding. Alan and Miriam had got up at four and waited patiently, sharing a flask of coffee and watching the sea birds, until she and her pet lioness finally boarded the ferry boat (the History Keepers usually sent one daily to the mainland to pick up provisions) and departed.

‘Let’s go,’ Miriam announced, heading for the nearest staircase. ‘My toes are frozen solid.’

They made their way to Oceane’s luxurious suite, slipped inside and went straight over to the pink china pot on the mantelshelf, where Oceane had put the key to the secret compartment. They had wondered if she might take it with her, so it was a great relief when they heard it clinking in the bottom. They took it out and opened up the safe behind the painting. The book with the palm tree on it was there.

Miriam seized it and examined the cover, screwing up her face in bewilderment. ‘
Flora of the South China Seas, 700 to 1500
,’ she read blankly. ‘It doesn’t sound very important.’ She shrugged. ‘Unless of course you happen to live in the South China Seas in that time. And you’re in the gardening business.’

Alan took it from her, unclasped the latch and opened it. His face lit up. ‘Well, that’s a little more interesting,’ he said. Inside, cut into the pages, was a cavity with
another
key – this one much larger, and gold. He carefully took it out and examined it. There were curious interlocking symbols inscribed on the bow. ‘Looks like Chinese. Mean anything to you?’ He passed it to Miriam.

She shrugged. ‘As you know, eastern languages are not my strong suit, nor yours. Galliana would know, of course. But what on earth is the key for?’ She took the book from Alan and peered at the spine. ‘They have volumes just like this in the archives. There must be a connection – that’s where Jake saw her.’

Without further discussion they took the book and the key and made their way up stairs and down corridors, through the stateroom, then doubling back down more steps until they finally reached the intelligence section. Two decoders were already working at Meslith terminals by the light of flickering candelabras. Miriam and Alan nodded good morning and went straight into the archive room. It was still gloomy, with just a glimmer of early morning light filtering through the windows.

‘Now let’s see . . .’ said Miriam, squinting along the various section headings. ‘
Weather
,
Tides
,
Moonrises
 . . . Here we are:
Flora and Fauna
.’ She leaned down and started looking carefully at the sub-headings: ‘
Flora
 . . .
Mediterranean
,
Northern European
,
American
,
South American
,
Australasian
,
Chinese
 . . .
South China Seas
.’ She was now on her knees, examining the spine of each volume on the
bottom shelf. ‘Interesting. This is where Oceane’s book should be. You see – there’s 700
AD
, and then it goes straight to 1500
AD
.’ Excited now, she started pulling all the books off the shelf. Suddenly she stopped dead and gasped, ‘There it is – look!’

Alan gingerly got down, peered under the shelf and saw a keyhole mounted within a golden frame. ‘Shall I do the honours?’ he said, producing the key and inserting it in the lock.

‘This is thrilling, isn’t it?’ Miriam exclaimed, clutching her husband’s shoulder. ‘I love a secret keyhole!’

Alan turned the key easily. The lock clicked and a section of bookcase opened, revealing a low doorway that led down into a small dark space.

‘A secret room!’ Miriam exclaimed. ‘Even better than a secret keyhole. Light – we need light. Hold on,’ she said and, almost sliding along the parquet floor, dashed back to the communications room. She returned a moment later with a candelabra, taking care not to extinguish the candles. She held it up as they both stepped down into the chamber.

‘Good heavens, what is all this?’ Miriam gazed around in astonishment. It was a windowless cubicle, only just large enough to accommodate a
small desk, a chair and a rickety book shelf with a globe on it. On the desk lay an old Meslith machine and bundles of files stuffed with documents. The walls were covered in maps and plans. ‘That’s China . . .’ She peered at an ancient nautical chart.

‘And this is old Canton,’ said Alan, inspecting another.

‘They’re
all
Chinese . . .’ Miriam shook her head in bafflement. ‘The books too; even the globe has Chinese writing on it,’ she said. ‘Alan, what on earth does Oceane Noire have to do with the Chinese?’

‘Not just Oceane,’ he remarked, picking up one of the files from the desk. ‘That’s Jupitus’s handwriting, no question.’ He showed Miriam the front of the file. In neat curling letters it was inscribed with the words:

Correspondence

Operation Black Lotus

Top Secret

He opened it up. It was full of slips of parchment – Meslith communications, all written in a distinctive Chinese alphabet. ‘These are recent,’ he said.

‘Alan . . .’ gasped Miriam, clutching her neck. ‘The initials at the bottom . . .’ Each of the messages was signed with the letters XIX.

‘Xi Xiang?’ said Alan. ‘It can’t be!’

They both knew the name. Just as the Zeldt dynasty terrorized the
western
world, so Xi Xiang was the History Keepers’ most feared enemy in the
east
. A killer as eccentric as he was ruthless, he loved to perform, to assume disguises, sometimes dressing up as one of his slaves, sometimes wearing elaborate costumes to oversee his bloody atrocities. Of course, disguising himself was something of a joke, as Xi Xiang’s face was unmistakable – he had three eyes; the third, misshapen and lazy, hung over his right temple.

‘We’d better fetch Galliana,’ said Miriam.

The commander came down to the archive room in her dressing gown, pale with anxiety. She inspected the secret cubicle, before removing the file and sitting down at one of the library desks. She put on her glasses and, after verifying that the handwriting on the front did indeed belong to Jupitus, opened up the file. She had barely started to scan the first line of writing before the colour leached from her
face. She clasped her hands together in horror, then leafed through the pages, eyes darting backwards and forward, until finally she slammed the file shut. Her hands shook as she removed her glasses.