The History Keepers Circus Maximus (33 page)

‘Can you hear it?’ Nathan asked, uncharacteristically spooked. He was referring to the unearthly roar that came from within the walls – like the sound of a great wave, crashing over and over.

‘That’ll be a hundred and fifty thousand people taking their seats,’ Charlie explained with a twinkle in his eye.

It had taken them nearly an hour to get here from the Roman bureau and their clothes were now almost dry (it was barely nine in the morning but stifling already). They had waded through the tunnel before arriving, as Charlie had predicted, at the baths of Agrippa. Then, after being forced to swim underwater, they were deposited in a fountain
at the end of the
frigidarium
– the large outdoor pool. Three young ladies walking on the grass nearby had nearly fainted at the sight of the youngsters arising from amongst the marble sea nymphs, shaking the water off and strolling towards the exit; but they were revived by one of Nathan’s trademark winks.

From the baths, they had made their way watchfully down narrow streets towards the Tiber. They had paused briefly in a quiet cul-de-sac to get their breath back. Here Topaz told them about Jake’s note and they had discussed what he might have meant by
I’ve gone to sort it out
. They had come to the painful conclusion that he had set off to Agata’s villa to save Lucius. They had all felt a twinge of apprehension. Topaz, in particular, had felt sick with remorse; she wished she had not scolded him so sternly the night before. After all, it was clear that, while Jake sometimes didn’t do the
right
thing, he always did the
brave
thing.

To lighten the mood and keep everyone focused, Charlie had produced his bag of tricks and, after a debate as to who would look better in a black beard (Topaz reluctantly had to concede that it suited her brother better), they prepared to set off again.

‘I think Mr Drake may have to stay here . . .’ Topaz had pointed out delicately. ‘I mean, if we’re to keep as low a profile as possible.’

Charlie had not been happy, but of course he saw the logic. He set him carefully on a branch of a nearby pine tree with a handful of peanuts – along with whispered promises to be back soon, which he dearly hoped to keep.

From here they had doubled back along the river, past the temple of Hercules, across the Forum Boarium to the Circus itself.

‘Shall we . . .?’ said Nathan, cautiously stepping out of the portico and around the perimeter of the square. The others followed, looking around, double checking that no one was following. Once again they joined the stream of people hurrying towards the side entrances.

‘The first thing you need to know about the Circus Maximus,’ Charlie explained in a low voice, ‘is that it is, without question, the prime destination of the Roman world. All roads lead here. From the storm-tossed shores of Hispania in the west to the deserts of Assyria in the east, its fame is unparalleled. It’s epic, heroic,
gargantuan
,’ he added, emphasizing each word with a shake of his clenched
fist. ‘It is a dream factory. The quintessence of the empire.’

Nathan and Topaz exchanged a knowing glance, enjoying their friend’s enthusiasm despite their predicament. Indeed, Charlie was so excited about his visit to the stadium that, for a moment, he forgot about their dire situation: completely in the dark, aware that a catastrophe that could
end dominions
was about to unfold, but knowing nothing of what it might be or when it would take place.

‘And the reason it’s the prime destination of the Roman world? Well, obviously there’s the building itself,’ he continued. ‘The largest stadium the planet has ever seen, or indeed
will
ever see. Capacity – a hundred and fifty thousand; construction – two hundred thousand tonnes of marble; timber from half a million trees.’ The building loomed closer. ‘And that’s just the current version; in its four-hundred-year history it has already – rather carelessly – been burned down three times. That’s why Augustus built this version in marble.’ Charlie shook his head. ‘So the place itself is a big enough lure, but it’s what goes on here that really pulls the crowds.’

‘The chariot racing?’ Topaz offered.

‘That’s right. The Romans are fanatically, ridiculously obsessed with it. Obviously loads of other stuff happens here: wild-beast hunts, gladiatorial combat – you know, of course, that the Colosseum won’t be built until the end of the century – athletic competitions, even theatrical events and musical recitals. But those are just distractions. The main event, the really big draw, is the chariot racing.’

The hullaballoo coming from the stadium increased, and by the time they had reached the southeastern corner, the roar was deafening – exhilarating and unsettling in equal measure.

They could now see along the side of the building: a vast precipice of arches upon arches upon arches disappearing far into the hazy distance of the city. The people were flocking from all directions, pouring out of every street and passageway; white togas and brown tunics surged into the honeycomb of entrances, chattering excitedly. Some were chanting and singing; others swigging from clay bottles, all cheered on by locals watching from their windows. To add to the cacophony, hundreds of street vendors plied their trade: flower-merchants, incense-sellers, jugglers, fire-eaters, fortune tellers and astrologers.

‘It’s free, you see, and everyone is invited,’ Charlie explained, raising his voice above the clamour. ‘And there are games on at least a hundred days of the year. It must be a logistical nightmare!’

Briefly Topaz was separated from the others and had to push her way forward again. Charlie was right: it seemed as if all of Rome was there – men, women, young, old, rich and poor. Throngs of children darted through the crowds, while the old made their way more sedately.

At length the three agents were swept along through an arched entrance and bumped, shoved and elbowed up a winding stone staircase. In the chaos, Topaz couldn’t stop thinking about Jake. She was tormented by visions of what Agata, the she-devil, her so-called mother, might do to him.

At the top of the stairs they were jostled forward, and finally squeezed out into the arena. As a wave of cheers echoed around them, Nathan’s heart soared and he had to remind himself that the applause wasn’t actually for him. He gazed from one end of the Circus to the other, a faint, incredulous smile on his face. Topaz blinked in disbelief, while Charlie stared in awe. In the course of their work for the History Keepers’ Secret Service they had seen
countless wonders, but this was perhaps the most astonishing of all.

The arena was almost half a mile long from end to end. A vast man-made basin stretched between the Palatine and the Aventine, whose slopes were also teeming with spectators. There were six levels of seating. The bottom tier, edged by a balustrade and separated from the track by a deep drainage gulley, was the widest and contained the largest quantity of white – the colour worn by the richest citizens. From here the levels rose up, the rake gentle at first, but steepening dramatically towards the top. The higher you went, the noisier and more tightly packed the tiers. Charlie calculated that the top one alone, which looked miles away, must have held more than fifty thousand people. Its colonnade, punctuated by column after column, would have been an incredible structure in its own right, let alone as a crowning afterthought to the rest.

Running down the centre of the arena was the
spina
, the stone island that divided the track in two. ‘Grisly fact . . .’ Charlie announced. ‘According to legend, it was originally made of the crushed bones of Rome’s enemies.’

The whole island was teeming with men in
white, purple-edged togas; more were climbing up onto it.

‘The senators, I take it?’ asked Nathan.

Charlie nodded. ‘Whether they like it or not, they’re expected to attend. It’s considered bad form not to be seen supporting the games.’

‘And a no-show would be kind of obvious,’ Nathan commented. ‘They are rather the centre of attention.’ He was right: all eyes were on them, a distinct, bright band of white and purple rising out of the sand. Some of the senators waved at the crowd; others chatted in groups as slaves offered them drinks from silver jugs.

Amongst the throng of senators, the
spina
also sported a number of intriguing monuments: at each end stood clusters of golden spiked cones, three times the size of a human, and, in the centre, a giant Egyptian obelisk. ‘Looted from the court of Rameses the Second and now considered one of the wonders of Rome,’ Topaz informed the others.

‘And the emperor sits there, I take it?’ Nathan pointed to the terrace in front of the
pulvinar
, the distinctive temple that jutted out halfway along the track. An empty throne – an enormous seat of white alabaster – was set beneath a bright red
awning. Golden statues of eagles guarded each corner of the terrace, and flames flickered from a host of bronze torches.

‘That’s right,’ Charlie agreed. ‘The royal terrace is accessed by its own special passageway, which leads directly from the villas on the Palatine.’

‘So they don’t have to mix with the riff-raff, I suppose,’ Nathan said.

‘Let’s go then,’ suggested Topaz. ‘I take it our emperor will be arriving at any minute, so we should approach – with caution of course.’ She set off in the direction of the
pulvinar
. Apart from anything else, she needed to get thoughts of Jake out of her head. She kept thinking about Alan and Miriam and how she was going to explain his disappearance. The other two followed, threading their way through the crowd.

Suddenly the three of them were cloaked in shadow; it crept along the tiers of seating, darkening a great swathe of the arena. They looked up to see a roof canopy – a series of long white sails – being drawn across the top of the stadium by a network of ropes. Charlie shook his head and muttered something about the ‘stunning technical pizzazz’ as the senators in the centre were enveloped in welcome shade.

At the same moment Topaz froze. ‘Hydra!’ she hissed, and swung the others round just as four soldiers in grey breastplates and bronze masks muscled their way through the crowd, knocking people flying. They marched past and took up positions – a brooding, eagle-eyed group – close to the edge of the emperor’s terrace.

‘They’re everywhere . . .’ Nathan nodded towards other soldiers filing towards the
pulvinar
. ‘Let’s just wait here for the time being,’ he murmured, his jaw clenched with frustration.

Lucius’s ankle cracked as he landed and he cried out in agony, stumbling down the remainder of the slope. He and Jake had crept across the roofs of Agata’s villa, searching for a safe way down. They had chosen a windowless corner next to a cluster of tall pines. Jake had successfully leaped across onto a tree and lowered himself down. Lucius, who could only see out of one eye, and not well from that, had misjudged the jump and tumbled through the branches.

‘Yake, I think it is broken,’ he said, wincing as he clutched his ankle. They were both in a bad state, scratched and bruised, but Lucius was worse:
not only half blind but cut to ribbons all over.

Jake knelt down and carefully examined Lucius’s foot. ‘It’s badly sprained, but I don’t think it’s broken,’ he said.

‘Just leave me – best to leave me, Yake,’ Lucius groaned.

‘
Ssh
.’ Jake put his finger to his lips, aware that they were still in enemy territory. ‘You’re not getting away from me that easily,’ he whispered, smiling. ‘I’ll help you up. Let’s go.’ He put his arm round Lucius and slowly hauled him to his feet. ‘You see the road there, winding down the hill? We just need to follow it. It’ll take us straight there. You don’t want to miss the fun, do you?’ he joked.

Jake hid his panic well. He knew it was vital to reach the Circus Maximus as soon as possible, but he was simply not prepared to abandon his friend. He had saved Lucius and was determined not to leave him where he might be recaptured. Constantly on the alert for signs of pursuit, Jake helped his companion down the slope towards the Circus.

‘There she is,’ hissed Nathan, spotting the distinctive figure of Agata Zeldt emerge onto the terrace of the
pulvinar
. Dressed in a plain white
dress, she deliberately hung back in the shadows, watching the crowd through narrowed eyes. Topaz, invisible in the crowd, stared back, and saw a chubby boy with flowers in his fair hair appear behind her.

Nathan did a double-take when he saw him. ‘Charlie, am I going insane’ – he nudged his friend – ‘or does that boy look exactly like that oaf Caspar Isaksen?’

Charlie followed his gaze. ‘From Sweden? Don’t be ridiculous.’ For a moment a group of guards blocked his view. When they moved out of the way, he caught sight of a youth stuffing a cake into his mouth.

‘Hell’s bells and Bathsheba!’ Charlie gasped, barely able to believe his eyes. ‘What on earth . . .?’ Caspar giggled as Agata whispered something in his ear. ‘What
is
he doing here? And with her?’

‘It would certainly explain our little mishap in Stockholm,’ Nathan commented drily.

‘But he’s an Isaksen!’ Charlie insisted. ‘One of the oldest, most revered families of the History Keepers’ Secret Service! They go back eight generations.’

‘And I’m a Zeldt, theoretically,’ Topaz reminded them. ‘Loyalty is strange animal.’

On the track, ten men in golden tunics filed out and lined up, their backs to the royal box. As the audience realized that something was about to happen, a great cheer swelled around the stadium. Each man carried a trumpet – a horn curved in the shape of a six. As one, they lifted the mouthpieces to their lips and blew. The blare of sound cut across the clamour.

Nathan and Charlie looked around as the roars of the crowd seemed to suddenly double in volume. A hundred and fifty thousand people had got to their feet and a blizzard of white rained down – pale flowers cast from every corner of the stadium. At first Nathan and Charlie wondered at this, but Topaz nudged them and nodded towards the
pulvinar
. It was no longer empty. The distinctive figure of Tiberius had appeared.