Doctor Who_ Byzantium! Part 24

Finally Barbara plucked up the courage to take another step into the market-place. And then another. And then another...

Before she knew it she was in the heart of the crowd.

Walking steadily and without fear in the very place where Vicki, Ian and the Doctor had last been seen.

Now, what to do?

Suddenly, the reality of the situation struck her. What had she been thinking?

She couldn't simply start asking people if they'd seen a young girl, a handsome man and an old man wandering about the city, could she? Those descriptions alone would make up half of the population of Byzantium.

Just face it, she told herself, they're dead. Let them rest in peace.

At the heart of any Roman city lay the forum, a large open s.p.a.ce surrounded by markets, government buildings, baths, s.p.a.ce surrounded by markets, government buildings, baths, arenas and temples. Rich and poor of all of the nationalities arenas and temples. Rich and poor of all of the nationalities of t he R oman em pire m ingled i n the bustling f orum w ithout of t he R oman em pire m ingled i n the bustling f orum w ithout barriers or distinctions between the various social cla.s.ses. Even barriers or distinctions between the various social cla.s.ses. Even slaves were free within the forum. slaves were free within the forum.

That was something Barbara Wright, of Form 2A at Cricklewood Grammar School, aged twelve, had written in an exam almost twenty years ago. The teacher, Mr Dolphin, was an otherwise good-natured and likeable man, who had only used the cane on anyone once (that was when Robert Smedley sang While shepherds washed their socks by night, all While shepherds washed their socks by night, all seated on the ground, seated on the ground, during a Christmas a.s.sembly). But he had not been at all impressed with Barbara's efforts. 'Simplistic and ba.n.a.l,' he had said, dismissively, in front of the whole cla.s.s. 'You are capable of much better work than during a Christmas a.s.sembly). But he had not been at all impressed with Barbara's efforts. 'Simplistic and ba.n.a.l,' he had said, dismissively, in front of the whole cla.s.s. 'You are capable of much better work than this this buffoonery, Miss Wright,' he added. buffoonery, Miss Wright,' he added.

Well, that's one in the eye for you, Mr Dolphin, thought Barbara.

Wherever you are.

History, for many like Dolphin, and other dry and stuffy men that she had met throughout her academic life, was not something to be touched and tasted, but rather a series of empty and vacuous facts; a kind of checklist for the mind. Barbara wanted to bring history alive in the hearts of those she taught, as it had been for her when, aged ten, she read a Ladybird book on Captain Cook while confined to bed with whooping cough. She wanted to replace dry and stale accounts of Runnymede and Tilbury docks with real pages from history, torn with the ink still wet from the fabric of time; from Wat Tyler's revolting peasants at Blackheath; Lilburne's Levelers army; the soldiers in their squares at Waterloo with French horses inches from their faces; the sailors clinging to the heaving decks of the Victory at Trafalgar as cannonb.a.l.l.s exploded around them.

History that made people want to go out and create history of their own.

That thought cheered Barbara as much as her love of irking the purists always did.

Barbara turned, and started to make her way through the crowd full of a bewildering variety of races, with half a tear struggling for release. She fought to keep it inside herself and seemed to be winning the fight when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

She spun around quickly and found herself facing a Jewish couple, both of whom she was absolutely certain that she had never met before.

'h.e.l.lo,' she said, trying to smile in a please don't kill me a please don't kill me way. 'I'm sorry, do we know each other?' way. 'I'm sorry, do we know each other?'

The couple looked at one other for a moment and then returned the smile to Barbara. 'We have not been introduced, but we were within the temple when rabbi Hieronymous saved you from our madness during Taanith,' Taanith,' said the man in a friendly and cordial manner. 'We simply wished to apologise to you for this occurrence.' said the man in a friendly and cordial manner. 'We simply wished to apologise to you for this occurrence.'

'Oh,' said Barbara with a mixture of relief and surprise. 'That's all right, I imagine most people were very scared at that time, what with the terrible events in this square and everything.'

The man nodded. 'My mother named me Elisha, so that all the world would know it. And this is my wife, Rebecca.'

I'm Barbara,' said Barbara, before she remembered that she had introduced herself to Hieronymous at the temple.

'Yes, said Rebecca. 'Your fame has gone before thee.'

'Really?' Barbara replied, cautiously I wasn't aware of that.'

Elisha laughed, rea.s.suringly. 'Every Jewish man, woman and child in Byzantium knows of you. Hieronymous has blessed thee with his protection, Barbara Wright. You are in an enviable position.'

Barbara wasn't certain whether her position was really that enviable but at least this indicated to her that Hieronymous's influence was continuing to act in her favour. She thanked the couple with a simple blessing from the Torah and hurried away from their slightly unnerving, simultaneous smiles.

'I have heard it said of me that I am one who takes the responsibility of torturing a man under my command, even unto death, either lightly or casually.'

General Gaius Calaphilus picked up a lethal-looking flagellum, flagellum, a wooden-handled whip with several thongs of leather, each weighted with metal b.a.l.l.s to make the scourging of prisoners more painful and effective. Gaius swished the instrument through the air where it gave a satisfying rush of noise. 'Requirements and circ.u.mstances make such an abhorrence to me a necessity,' the general told Edius Flavia. 'But I want you to know, before I flay you to a bloodied pulp, that this need not be. Not so as to a.s.suage my own conscience, you must understand, for I have none where you are concerned, tribune. But, rather, to save you from your own blind stupidity.' a wooden-handled whip with several thongs of leather, each weighted with metal b.a.l.l.s to make the scourging of prisoners more painful and effective. Gaius swished the instrument through the air where it gave a satisfying rush of noise. 'Requirements and circ.u.mstances make such an abhorrence to me a necessity,' the general told Edius Flavia. 'But I want you to know, before I flay you to a bloodied pulp, that this need not be. Not so as to a.s.suage my own conscience, you must understand, for I have none where you are concerned, tribune. But, rather, to save you from your own blind stupidity.'

Despite a reputation that sometimes suggested otherwise, Gaius Calaphilus was neither a cruel nor an unnecessarily violent man It was true that, under him, the lower ranks were regularly beaten, but no more so than under any other Roman general, and considerably less than many. Executions among Calaphilus's legions, too, were far less common than in those of his numerous contemporaries. Gaius Calaphilus only used force against Roman soldiers when he considered that there was no alternative. He flogged the odd man, here and there, and even the odd legion, as an example to others to do what they were told and do it quickly and well. But he always felt badly about it afterwards.

Which mightn't have meant much to his men, but it allowed Gaius Calaphilus to sleep soundly in his bed at night.

Torture of a Roman citizen was, technically, illegal under the Porcian and Semp.r.o.nian laws. However it was a permitted way of extracting confessions or of 'examining' the testimony of those suspected of crimes of treason against the state and the empire. For that reason, and that reason alone, Edius Flavia now found himself stripped to his waist and tied with tightly bound leather thongs to the cruciamentuin stauros, cruciamentuin stauros, a thick and gnarled wooden stake in the centre of the largest dungeon in the barracks. a thick and gnarled wooden stake in the centre of the largest dungeon in the barracks.

The one that the soldiers avoided looking at as they pa.s.sed.

The one from which the screams the screams came. came.

It is a very simple principle, Flavia,' Gaius told his tribune.

either you inform me of the details of those plots and insur-gencies that you have been party to and the names of those that you conspired with or, if you remain silent on these matters, you shall suffer cruciamenturn.' cruciamenturn.'

With the tribune's back turned to Calaphilus, the general could see Edius Flavia's shoulder twitch at the prospect of a severe and possibly deadly scourging.

Calaphilus had often thought that, when put to the ultimate test, most of the young tribunes who served under him were cowardly and insolent curs who could not stand up to the rigours of physical pain. Now was his chance to find out if he was mistaken in his beliefs. He handed the flagellum flagellum to the heavily muscled sergeant standing beside him 'Give him a goodly taste of to the heavily muscled sergeant standing beside him 'Give him a goodly taste of this,' this,' he said. 'But mark you to listen well to whatsoever words he speaks whilst this occurs. And if he reveals his treasons, stop instantly.' he said. 'But mark you to listen well to whatsoever words he speaks whilst this occurs. And if he reveals his treasons, stop instantly.'

The sergeant indicated that he understood his instructions and took up his position behind Edius Flavia.

'Hold,' continued the general as he walked around the stauros stauros and faced Flavia. 'Your choice, tribune,' he continued. and faced Flavia. 'Your choice, tribune,' he continued.

'An ign.o.ble and harsh torment until you talk, which you will.

And then the ultimate indignity of public execution. Or, simply name the names.'

Edius Flavia gritted his teeth and said nothing. 'Proceed,' said Calaphilus.

The first stroke cut deep into the flesh of the tribune and Gaius heard the terrible gasp of pain from him as the scourge was withdrawn and the metal b.a.l.l.s were sucked from the skin into which they had fixed themselves.

'Speak,' commanded Calaphilus. But there was no reply.

On the fifth blow, Edius's knees sagged and he cried out for mercy and for his mother.

On the eleventh, he called on Jupiter to spare him from the p.r.i.c.ks of torment.

By eighteen, Flavia was screaming out the intricate details of the plot against Calaphilus. But still, he would not name the names I tire so of these games, tribune,' Gaius told Flavia after twenty-five blows, with the tribune half-slumped against the stauros, stauros, his back-flesh caked with smears of blood. his back-flesh caked with smears of blood.

'Stubbornness is not a sign of strength, it is a display of weakness.'

The general turned to the sergeant. 'Salt the wounds and return him to this place tomorrow for a second dose.'

Calaphilus stored the sneaking admiration that he had suddenly acquired for Fiavia somewhere dark and hidden. Tomorrow, tongues would be loosened, and the world would seem a much less troublesome place.

Until then, the general would sleep fitfully, if at all, tonight.

Chapter Twenty-Five.

Give 'Em Enough Rope

And when he had looked round about on them with anger, being grieved for the hardness of their hearts Mark 3:5

Are you able to translate this pa.s.sage, Doctor? I, myself, am having abominable difficulties with the inflections and the tense.'

Rayhab handed the Doctor a fragment of frayed and torn papyrus written in a scratchy and indistinct hand that the Doctor recognised instantly as that of the prophet Mark himself.

It seems to be something about sending a message to someone,' added Amos, helpfully. 'It's probably part of one of the letters from Paul to the churches of the nations.'

The Doctor ran his finger along the first ink-line of the words, as though the grooves left in the papyrus by the pen of the prophet had stored something solid and tangible within them. Like a vinyl record, or a photograph.

He began to read the words aloud, haltingly at first, but with increased confidence as he, understood the context and form of the language. As he did so, Reuben dipped his stylus nib into the thick black ink and wrote in a beautiful copperplate script the translated words into a bound codex that he had reserved for definitive versions of the text.

It's not Aramaic. Or Hebrew,' the Doctor noted. 'I think it is a form of early Greek. How very very unusual. It says... "APXH TOY unusual. It says... "APXH TOY EYAEAIOY IHOY XPITOY [YIO E0Y.] KA EPATAI EN T HAIA TPOHTH, IOY AOTEAA TON AEAON MPN O KATAOKEY AEI THN OON O",' he continued.

'"This being the good word and sacred of the sun prophet, sending out a preference message to his face for them all"?' asked Rayhab, scratching his beard.

'No, no, no. "This is the beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of G.o.d. As it is written in the prophets, behold, I send forth my messenger before thy face, who shall prepare the way for thee"; the Doctor replied, without looking up from the text.

For a moment there was silence within the cave. And then Reuben began to laugh hysterically. 'My G.o.d,' he said.

In praise, as opposed to blasphemy. 'It is the missing piece.

The opening verses. This is what we have been searching for.'

'And now you've found it,' asked the Doctor, still with little apparent interest in his momentous discovery, 'what, exactly, are you going to do with it, hmm?'

In the Spartan surroundings of general Gaius Calaphilus's quarters, a meeting took place that mere hours earlier would have been unthinkable.

The summit reminded Ian of Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin sitting side by side at Yalta, smiling falsely for the official photographs before getting out the maps to part.i.tion up Europe.

Ian rose to his feet as Gemellus entered with Thalius Maximus behind him, casting furtive glances all around, still wary of plots and treachery.

It was noticeable that Calaphilus did not stand in the presence of his praefectus, praefectus, but rather remained seated, fanning himself against the dry and oppressive heat of midday. but rather remained seated, fanning himself against the dry and oppressive heat of midday.

'Praefectus,' he said in a flat monotone. 'Welcome to my humble abode. May the G.o.ds look kindly upon those who enter this house with liberty in their hearts.' he said in a flat monotone. 'Welcome to my humble abode. May the G.o.ds look kindly upon those who enter this house with liberty in their hearts.'

Oh, for G.o.d's sake, knock it off you two,' Ian said, which cut through the rhetoric. 'You both know full well why Gemellus and I have arranged this meeting. It's in both of your interests that you find some common ground, so get on with it and stop procrastinating or I'll give the pair of you a ruddy good biff on the conk.'

Neither man looked entirely sure of the exact nature of Ian's threats, but the outburst itself was seemingly enough for them both to sit opposite each other at a table in the centre of the room. Ian and Gemellus joined then, Ian beside the general, Gemellus at the elbow of the praefectus. praefectus.

Gaius and Thalius eyed each other suspiciously, neither wishing to be the man who spoke first. So Ian did it for them.

'You know,' he began, 'where I come from, men of honour, of real integrity, are astonishingly rare. Oh, you meet the odd one every now and then, but you remember such occasions because they don't happen very often. Counting Gemellus, I'm sitting in a room with three of them. That should be the kind of memory I carry to my grave. But, you see, the thing is, if you two don't realise that you're on the same side then it's likely that my grave is a d.a.m.n-sight closer to me than I, nor either of you two, I suspect, would like.'

Still neither the general nor the politician spoke. 'Our young Briton's sentiments are words of wisdom that belie his tender years,' continued Gemellus. 'But words of wisdom can also be lies. His words are the truth. You owe it to him to make his vision occur.'

Thalius Maximus began to say something. Stopped.

Started again, then ground to a halt for a second time, shaking his head. 'Wise counsel is always appreciated,' he finally noted. 'Gemellus gives it to me until I am ready to drown in it.

But...' He paused and looked directly at Ian. 'By what right do you presume to tell the general and I how to conduct the emperor's business?'

'Good question,' chorused Calaphilus.

Ian threw up his hands in exasperation. 'Stop talking like men divorced from reality,' he demanded. 'You are not ostriches, either of you, but unless you get your head out of the sand, you're going to die, and Byzantium will belong to those who would see it drown in an ocean of blood. Is that what you want? Because that's what will happen.'

'Do you take me for a squint-eyed dunderhead? For that would be folly in the extreme, young Briton, and our friendship would be at an end,' said Calaphilus, harshly.

'You are n.o.body's fool, Gains,' Ian a.s.sured him 'And this is the only way, believe me.'

An uneasy silence settled over the group.

'Come on,' Ian bellowed, breaking the hush. 'Talk to each other before we all croak.'

'We could, I suppose, discuss areas of mutual interest,'