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Doctor Who_ The Romans Part 3

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Urging Delos to look as inconspicuous as possible for a man some eight feet tall and broad with it, I at once began to pursue my enquiries, casually asking the pa.s.sers-by if they happened to have encountered a pleasant-looking girl with a British accent, who when last seen was wearing a sort of crimson and gold toga with matching accessories.

In spite of my companion's misgivings, I was myself quite satisfied that this course of action, pursued methodically and patiently, would eventually produce results; and indeed it did, although not the ones I had innocently antic.i.p.ated. For amongst the very first of the persons I accosted in this manner was the slave-trader, Sevcheria; who informed me that by a curious coincidence he had sold someone answering to that description for a record price only yesterday; and that she was, to the best of his knowledge, not only more or less alive and moderately well, but living in jeopardy as personal hand-maiden to the Empress Poppea.

But what, might he make so bold as to ask, was I doing, so far away from the h.e.l.lish hulk where he had confidently expected me to spend the rest of my natural, groaning under the lash, and occupied in the carrying far and near of fur and myrrh, and furthermore of apes and peac.o.c.ks, which had always seemed to him to be remarkably unmarketable, and rather surprising? Never mind, however, for the question was clearly academic - at which he laughed. Why, I wonder? - and I really needn't bother to reply at the moment, because I would presently be needing my breath for other matters of a more violent nature. He then summoned a pa.s.sing platoon of Praetorians, informed them that Delos and I were two escaped galley-slaves, and asked if they didn't think they ought to do something about it?

Early in the ensuing melee, I was perhaps fortunately knocked unconscious again. Delos, however, having apparently broken the arms, legs, and necks of several of our a.s.sailants, sustained several severe cuts and contusions; which he is now nursing whilst growling to himself and glaring at me. But I really do not see how I could have acted otherwise, and I have told him as much.

To little effect, however...



As to our forthcoming gladiatorial contest... Well, being, I confess, slightly surprised to find myself still alive, I asked the reason for this unexpected clemency of the guard who brought our breakfast. It seems that Delos has been recognised as a former athlete and very heavyweight contender (Really! And after I had made a particular point of asking him to remain incognito!); and apparently one of Nero's favourite diversions is to watch two friends beat each other to a pulp in the arena - winner to go free. I a.s.sume that this latter provision is to ensure that they both give of their best, and pull no punches!

I hastened to point out that Delos and I were no longer particularly friendly for some reason; and since this might take the gilt off the gingerbread as far as Nero was concerned, wouldn't it be better to dream up an alternative programme?

He informed me that the only one he could think of which might find favour, would involve augmenting the cast with a pack - or pride - of lions; which, if I cared to glance through the window, I would note were kept in constant readiness for such an entertainment. Perhaps I would then care to state a preference, and he would be pleased to convey my feelings in the matter to the Emperor - although, of course, he could promise nothing, it all depending on what sort of mood His Nibs was in...

I had already noted that whereas some of the lions were asleep and appeared amiable enough, there were one or two which were manifestly of a more irritable disposition, and gnawing on dry bones in angry antic.i.p.ation of feeding time. I was, therefore, about to reject this alternative, when my attention was caught by Delos doing his press-ups, and now I am not so sure!

I must obviously give the matter my earnest consideration in the few hours remaining to me; and meanwhile remain your always optimistic, but probably doomed 'Stinks Tutor'!

Ian Chesterton

DOc.u.mENT XVII.

Second Extract from the Commonplace Book of Poppea Sabina Book of Poppea Sabina An air of intrigue broods over this d.a.m.n' palace like a pall, and I find it increasingly difficult to get on with the housework. Even to bring this little note-book up to date requires more time than I can really spare from keeping my wits about me, and ensuring that I am not imposed upon or murdered in some way. But it must, of course, be done; or future generations will never know the most secret thoughts and private fears of a very young Empress, who is only trying to meet her responsibilities under increasingly difficult and vexing circ.u.mstances. Heigh-ho!

Today, for instance, I was on my way to meet just one of these responsibilities - a centurion in whom I have been taking a semi-professional interest - when I noticed that the statue of Venus in the foyer had been damaged, probably beyond repair, by the loss of both its arms! A girl with less reason to be suspicious might have attributed the damage to the carelessness of a house-maid while dusting; but the matter is not to be so simply explained. No, it has often been remarked by my admirers that the sculpture bears a striking resemblance to me; which not only accounts for its value, but makes me tremble to suspect the damage is a barely concealed threat of violence pending to my person.

I therefore reeled against the wall in an agony of apprehension, as one does at such times; and while thus engaged was horrified to feel beneath my little hands, as they fluttered about and clutched at the priceless tapestries, the well-known outline of a human form!

Dragging aside the draperies, with what intimations of mortality I leave you, gentle reader, to imagine, I discovered the bleeding body of the very centurion to whom I had promised half an hour before dinner; and surely these two closely a.s.sociated mishaps cannot be mere coincidence?

This brutal and abrupt cancellation of my a.s.signation left me, as you can imagine, not only all of a tremble but in a temper too, for I had not as yet quite finished with the wretched man; and it was therefore in a mood of some tantrum and termagence that I hurried at once to the chamber of Locusta, the palace poisoner, whose services have so often been of some a.s.sistance to me. For if, as I could only be almost certain, my husband were behind these twin outrages, then it was my intention to show him that two could play at that game, by instantly securing the destruction of Barbara, the new slave-girl he fancies he fancies and let that be a lesson to him!

Locusta was busy about her cauldron as usual; and although she received me politely enough as what else could she do, I would like to know, my being Empress and all? I thought I detected an evasive strain in her cracked and quavering tones as she told me that just now she was up to here in orders!

'Oh, and from whom?' I demanded, as imperiously as my distraite distraite condition would allow. condition would allow.

'Why, dearie,' she told me, 'from your lovely husband, of course. You know he's got this banquet on tomorrow, and he likes to be ready for anything; as is surely only natural, what with all these conspiracies we've been having lately. Can't be too careful, that's what I always say.'

I told her, somewhat stiffly, that I was not in the least interested in what she always said; and added that she would attend to my requirements at once, if she knew what was good for her!

At this she cackled in an unpleasant manner, and informed me that it was knowing what was bad for people which had made her the woman she was today.

I summoned a sickly smile from somewhere, not wis.h.i.+ng to offend the old hag unduly; whereupon she softened somewhat, and said she'd do what she could to fit me in.

'Who's the lucky victim to be, then ?' she enquired.

'Anyone you know, or is it just a game of "Swap the Goblet"

again?'

By a curious coincidence, it was at this moment that Barbara herself ran rapidly along the corridor, clanking with unsolicited gifts obviously given to her by my husband; since he presently appeared in lolloping pursuit, yet another golden bracelet clutched in his flaccid hands an item which I at once recognised as being his anniversary present to me!

Overcome with mortification, the shame of my betrayal, and a certain amount of ungovernable fury, I fear I so far forgot myself as to hiss like a snake, and to spit in the general direction of their retreating figures; and Locusta took the point at once.

'So that's the little lady, is it?' she asked, as I nodded speechlessly between expectorations.

'Well, there's nothing too nasty, in my opinion, for the sort of sly-boots who uses the well-known wiles of the seraglio to come between an Emperor and his missus.

Leave it to me, dearie. It'll be my pleasure to mix her something really special in the way of lethal overdoses...'

And she pottered off to her potion pantry.

Can I trust her? And indeed, can I trust anyone? It is sometimes difficult for a comparatively inexperienced girl to know which way to turn.

Heigh-ho, once more!

DOc.u.mENT XVIII.

A Poisoner Remembers (Extract from The Autobiography of Locusts) The Autobiography of Locusts) It was another busy day in the pharmaceutical department, and I remember reflecting that if business continued to improve at that rate, it would kill itself off before it got fairly started. And where would I be then, I asked myself, having only one pair of hands at that stage in my career, and that couple time-worn and gnarled with arthritis or some such affliction; which in the present state of medical knowledge we do not truly understand, although I work constantly at a wonder drug in my spare time, if any, keeping a sharp lookout for unwanted side-effects, because who knows when they might not come in useful?

No, what I really needed, it seemed to me, if I was to give of my worst whenever requested, was an a.s.sistant to take the weight off my crucibles now and then, so as to let me get on with a spot of high level government research into astrology like the rest of my coven, who were doing very well for themselves, thank you, with horoscopes of the famous, while I slaved away for peanuts in my rotten grotto!

No sooner had this long but half-formulated thought been caught in my attention than there came a knock on the laboratory door, causing me to drop a hot goblet on my frock and emit an eldrich scream, and there stood a pert young party who asked me if I could direct her to the Imperial Apartments as she seemed to have got lost.

'A likely tale!' I thought, and was about to invite her to a final wine-tasting, when it occurred to me that here might be just the apprentice my enterprises required, and I asked her if she had ever considered a career in toxicology, as it was a growth industry right now?

She said she'd try anything once, and introduced herself as Vicki, of no fixed address, which could be convenient, I thought, it the arrangement didn't work out. So I agreed to give her an hour or so's probationary period, during which she could make herself generally useful taking the drudgery out of my work by handling the victim-to-crypt delivery side of the business.

And since she was on her way to the throne room any old how, perhaps as a favour to the Empress she wouldn't mind taking up a couple of sparkling drinks - this one for Nero, and that one for his new lady friend who was almost certain to be with him round about now, and if not then give it to whoever was, as it seemed a pity to waste it.

I then turned my back for a moment, and was gratified to see in the mirror that she immediately switched the gla.s.ses, which I had depended upon, having misinformed her as to which was which.

So here I had a thoroughly dishonest and unscrupulous child who was almost certain to give every satisfaction and sudden death quite impartially.

It seemed I had chosen well...

DOc.u.mENT XIX.

Letter from Barbara Wright Nero, enough!

What is the use of going on like this? I atn not unaware of your interest in me, having received from your clammy hands to date more priceless jewels of the Orient than I can possibly wear without appearing to be vulgar.

And while we are on the subject, can you really believe that if I were to incorporate Cleopatra's coronet into my coiffure, such ostentation would not arouse your wife's criticism, should she notice the adornment?

I do not wish to hurt your feelings by sending back these items; but under separate cover you will find your no doubt well meant oysters, which I am returning unopened, being conscious of their reputedly aphrodisiacal properties.

I would have preferred not to have to write this somewhat cruel letter, hoping to have eliminated the necessity for it by my previous behaviour; which has included, you may recall, striking you with a metal tea-tray at our first meeting, and subsequently screaming at your pa.s.sionate approach, shuddering at your tentative touch, et cetera.

But since, apparently, you are incapable of taking a hint, there are certain things which must be said if our already unpleasant relations.h.i.+p is not to degenerate further - although to what loathsome depths it is susceptible of descending, I prefer not to think!

You should, therefore, know - in all fairness - that it is useless for you to attempt to conceal your unsavoury self beneath the simulacrum of a sugar-satyr; since, as a sometime teacher of history, I am fully cognizant of that suppurating septicaemia of the so-called soul which invests your festering facade with the dropsical dross of all possible nostrils!

Let us be honest: I do not find you in the least bit attractive.

I am sorry if this seems harsh, but I hope that you will feel able to forgive me in time, and allow me to remain your unmolested, but in other respects, obedient servant, M/S Barbara Wright

DOc.u.mENT XX.

Second Selection of Jottings from Nero's Sc.r.a.pbook She loves me! I feel almost sure she does! Why else should she have written me a letter concealing her true feelings - which must be almost uncontrollable to have driven her to adopt such a course? And, having adopted it, the poor besotted child has rendered it vain by signing herself M/S - which can, I think, only be intended as an abbreviation of Mus!

Well, my little Mouse - if that is what you wish me to call you - I shall be your great big p.u.s.s.y cat, just see if I'm not!

Further to which, as I was awaiting - why should I have to wait? It's too bad! - the arrival of the itinerant ballad-monger, Maximus Petullian, I was very naturally musing on lions and their maintenance; and the thought occurred to me that perhaps I have inadvertently been cruel - well, just a tiny bit - to use them as I do. Because all this time I have been feeding them with Christians by the arena-full, and have never once thought to ask myself if this was an adequate diet.

One imagines the King of Beasts turning to his lady, and grumbling, 'Christians again? Why can't you ever stay in and cook cook something?' something?'

And I see his point I really do! It must be dreadfully monotonous for them, and I accept the criticism. Very well then; in future they shall have roast Christian! I see an avenue of blazing human torches, down which the great cats pad, selecting the joint they prefer at will, and feeling, I am sure, the better for it. Their condition is bound to improve in no time, and they will fawn upon their benefactor in the most gratifying manner. I cannot imagine why I have never thought of this before, and I blame myself for my lack of consideration.

(Memo: Ask Max. P. if Christian.) I had reached this point in my reflections when the adorable Barbara entered the room, saw me, blanched provocatively, squeaked enticingly, and went out again.

I at once forgot all but my, by now, routine pursuit of the beautiful houri; and, s.n.a.t.c.hing up some golden gew-gaw from my wife's dressing table, I chased her lithely about the endless corridors of my palatial love-nest, along which she fled me like some shy gazelle; and I am reasonably confident that she would have allowed me to catch her on this occasion, had not my winged feet encountered a loose, leopard-skin draught-stopper, which brought my subtle courts.h.i.+p to a premature and undignified close, and left me spread-eagled on the floor of the very room from which I had started out with such high hopes!

I remarked, 'Whoops!', or some such expletive; and rose laboriously to my feet before the astonished gaze of my musical rival, Maximus Petullian, whose impending visit I fear I had quite forgotten in my excitement.

Hardly the entrance I would have chosen; nor would it have been my wish to find the soporific Poppy amongst those present! For, as I have confided in these pages previously, if a marriage is going to last, it will never be my fault. I have, in fact, already written her obituary, and cannot wait to publish. But for the moment she is still Empress, I suppose, and must be accorded as scant and grudging respect as I can contrive; at any rate, in public.

So I waved her graciously to a foot-stool, and taking my place on the malachite and carbuncle encrusted catafalque I keep for emergencies, I asked my visitor his business.

I had intended the question to be rhetorical, at most, as I had not the slightest interest in learning the answer; but to my utter annoyance, he at once produced a sheaf of closely written doc.u.ments, and informed me that he had taken the liberty of preparing an agenda for this, and possibly subsequent meetings, should we not have time to cover every point he wished to raise during the course of this one evening.

I explained, with as much self-control as I could muster on the spur of the moment, that I was a very busy Emperor at which Poppy laughed nastily and that he should consider himself d.a.m.n' lucky to have the privilege of seeing me at all, never mind any nonsense about ongoing and open-ended discussions, thank you!

In fact, the only reason he was here, as far as I was concerned, was so that he could give me a tune - preferably short - on the box, there; which would give me an opportunity of judging whether he met the high standard necessary to partic.i.p.ate in the 'Nero Caesar in Concert'

concert, billed for the banquet tomorrow.

I was pleased to see that he faltered slightly on hearing this; but rapidly, confound him, recovering his impertinent composure, he declared that there would be plenty of time for all that sort of nonsense later; but first he was anxious to hear my proposals for the relieving of traffic congestion on the Appian Way, the amelioration of slum conditions in the inner city areas, and for the gradual phasing out of slavery in favour of the principle of 'one man, one vote', so popular during the Republic! Oh yes, and one other thing: why did people keep trying to kill him?

Well, on the evidence available, I could have answered his last question then and there - a justifiable homicide it would be, if ever there was one; but being anxious to preserve the reputation for Sweet Reason which I have to insist on, I contented myself with saying that there was a lot of a.s.sa.s.sination about just now, so he mustn't think he was being discriminated against unfairly. As to the Appian Way, I had already decided to abolish pedestrians in order to facilitate free-flow; the slums were certainly a burning problem (here I smiled slightly and secretly) which was receiving my most pernicious pyromania (Here I smiled broadly and publicly, to show that I didn't mean it really); and, finally, I said that I didn't see what he had against slavery, as personally I was very fond of slaves - at which Poppy again laughed nastily - and, in any case, I couldn't do everything at once now, could I? There was my poetry to get on with for instance, not to mention my musical compositions for augmented strings - and by the way, speaking of which, what about his obliging with an arpeggio or two, as requested? (One has to be firm on these occasions, hasn't one, or people take advantage?) Not, of course, that I really wanted wanted to listen to the fellow play; but nevertheless I arranged myself amongst the cus.h.i.+ons of the catafalque in an att.i.tude of artistic receptivity; closing my eyes, as I have seen critics do when listening to my own performances. Although exactly why one is supposed to hear better with the eyes shut, I have never properly understood. to listen to the fellow play; but nevertheless I arranged myself amongst the cus.h.i.+ons of the catafalque in an att.i.tude of artistic receptivity; closing my eyes, as I have seen critics do when listening to my own performances. Although exactly why one is supposed to hear better with the eyes shut, I have never properly understood.

However, I soon opened them again, for seldom in a life devoted to aesthetics and their capture have my ears been a.s.saulted by such a frantic cacophony as presently shattered a crystal candelabrum of which I had been particularly fond.

'Pardon me, Petullian,' I said, interrupting his frenetic threnody before it cracked the plaster, 'but as a matter of courtesy, might it not have been better to have tuned tuned your malodoron, or whatever it is, before entering these premises? I have no wish to discourage a fellow pract.i.tioner, but I warn you that if you ever do anything like that again, I must seriously consider having you dropped in the Bosphorus!' your malodoron, or whatever it is, before entering these premises? I have no wish to discourage a fellow pract.i.tioner, but I warn you that if you ever do anything like that again, I must seriously consider having you dropped in the Bosphorus!'

He regarded me in a pained manner.

'You didn't like it?' he enquired; needlessly, I'd have thought. 'Well, of course, that was only the introductory exposition. I develop the main theme later...'

'Not in this palace, you don't!' I told him.

'I appreciate that to your untutored ears...'

'Leave my ears out of it!'

'All I'm trying to say is that I have developed a wholly new technique...'

'I advise you to forget it at once!'

He sighed deeply. 'You can't halt progress, you know...'

he ventured unwisely.

'Who can't?' I snarled.

'I mean, you can't uninvent something, once it's there.

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Doctor Who_ The Romans Part 3 summary

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