Doctor Who_ Byzantium! Part 9

Indignant at his harsh treatment, Ian Chesterton's patience finally snapped. 'I am am telling the truth. I telling the truth. I keep keep telling the truth. telling the truth.

Why the h.e.l.l is it that no one will believe me? I mean, am I speaking a foreign language here or something?'

The Roman sergeant grabbed Ian by the collar of his tunic and thrust him up against the wall of the barrack dungeon, wrapping a piece of rusted chain around his prisoner's neck.

'Spy,' he spat. 'Filthy, conspiring insurgent.'

'Not so,' Ian shouted, ignoring the constriction at his throat. Ian shouted, ignoring the constriction at his throat.

'I am from Britannia. That's part of the empire, right?'

The sergeant relaxed his grip and let the chain fall away.

Then, as Ian relaxed and sank to his knees, gasping in grateful lungfuls of air, the sergeant brought the chain down, hard, across Ian's back, making the Doctor's companion cry out.

He spilled to the floor, amid the dung and straw, and for several moments found himself unable to move Finally he spun onto his back and stared up at the leering face of his torturer. He looked, Ian was forced to concede, pretty d.a.m.n hard. If you live in a vacuum, chum, you die. Don't you know that?' he asked.

'What say you?'

Oh, just something that'll be discovered in about eighteen hundred years time,' Ian said, sardonically. 'Do you mind awfully if I get up, only it pen and inks a bit down here?'

Chesterton had become the subject of much attention at the cadet guards' barracks. Through an observation hole in the roof of the dungeon, Erastus, the cadet trainer, gave the new arrival another look.

'No,' he said at last. 'I do not recognise that man. If he is a Roman solider, he must be a deserter. Or perhaps he is a slave.'

Marcus Lanilla nodded. 'Then we should put this slave to death for such infamy.'

Erastus shrugged. 'Perchance he speaks the truth,' he noted.

Marcus gave the prisoner one last, cursory look and strode away. 'You decide,' he said, abdicating all responsibility for Ian Chesterton's life.

A moment later, Erastus was in the dungeon with the sergeant towering over Ian, who was again lying on the ground, his lip bloodied by a savage punch from the soldier.

Again, and with commendable if foolhardy determination, Ian tried to stand, but was thrown back. Erastus placed his foot on Ian's hand and began to apply his full weight to crushing the bones in it to dust.

'Stop it,' shouted Ian with what seemed to be the last of his strength. 'Stop it, you big bully.'

Erastus removed the foot. He was a huge bear of a man, incredibly hairy and muscled. 'They say you are an escaped slave. Or a deserter. Or a spy' he told Ian. 'Spies are traitors.

Traitors are to be crucified unto death.'

'Then they are wrong, whoever they are.' Ian said angrily.

'I am am not a slave. I am not a deserter. I am not a spy. I am not a traitor. I am none of those things. What I not a slave. I am not a deserter. I am not a spy. I am not a traitor. I am none of those things. What I am am is a free-born man of the British Isles. Part of the Roman empire. Is this any way to treat a Roman citizen?' is a free-born man of the British Isles. Part of the Roman empire. Is this any way to treat a Roman citizen?'

This made Erastus pause. As the Roman world had expanded over the last hundred years, a new social cla.s.s had become important within the empire, consisting of prosperous landowners and business people who were called equites. equites. Citizenship for all peoples of the empire meant equal protection under Roman law. The privilege of citizenship helped to promote loyalty to the empire and gave peoples of all cla.s.ses and all nationalities a greater stake in its success. Citizenship for all peoples of the empire meant equal protection under Roman law. The privilege of citizenship helped to promote loyalty to the empire and gave peoples of all cla.s.ses and all nationalities a greater stake in its success.

'Roman law permits the torture of slaves and people considered dishonourable,' he told his prisoner. But, he had to consider the possibility that if this man was neither.

I am neither,' Ian confirmed. 'I'm a Roman citizen.'

For many years, Romans and non-Romans within the empire had been governed under different sets of laws. empire had been governed under different sets of laws.

Roman citizens lived under the ius civile, while a separate set of laws known as the ius genitum, the law of the nations, was of laws known as the ius genitum, the law of the nations, was devised for those from conquered lands. However, it was devised for those from conquered lands. However, it was now generally accepted that all citizens within the empire had now generally accepted that all citizens within the empire had equal rights under the law which was based on common-sense notions of fairness, taking into account local customs equal rights under the law which was based on common-sense notions of fairness, taking into account local customs and practices. and practices.

Erastus reached out a hand and dragged Ian roughly to his feet. As Ian stood there, flinching against the expected torrent of physical abuse, the trainer grabbed him by both forearms and looked closely at his hands.

'You have certainly never done an honest day's work in your life with these delicate palms, freeman.'

Ian didn't know whether to be relieved or offended. 'I'm a teacher,' he said, betraying a modic.u.m of outrage at the suggestion that he didn't work d.a.m.ned hard for his meagre salary. 'Science, English and, occasionally, PE., and you have absolutely no idea what I'm blathering on about, do you?'

'You say that you are a Briton?' asked Erastus.

Chesterton nodded.

'Then we shall soon know the truth, or otherwise, of your tale, freeman.'

Summoned by the potentially serious injury to one of his men, general Calaphilus arrived at the barracks soon afterwards. He strode into the dungeon along with Drusus, who had also been called to a.s.sert whether the unknown man was an escaped slave or not. Calaphilus gave the praefectus's praefectus's freedman a cursory glance as they both saw Ian for the first time. Drusus shook his head. freedman a cursory glance as they both saw Ian for the first time. Drusus shook his head.

'Not one of ours,' he said.

'He is clearly no soldier, either,' Erastus confirmed. 'He claims...' he continued but Calaphilus merely scowled, as though several minutes of his valuable time had just been wasted. He turned and was about to leave when Ian Chesterton decided that, just as when he was a wing-three quarter for Harlequins Third XV, attack was the best form of defence and shouted angrily after him.

'Are you in charge here?' he asked. 'Because if you are then you should know what a pretty shoddy operation you're running I've been in some toilets in my time, right, but this takes the biscuit.'

The general turned, wearily and ignored Ian's outburst.

'What is he blathering about?' he asked Erastus.

'He says...' began the big man.

'Why don't you try asking me, you very rude man?' Ian continued.

Calaphilus walked over, slowly, to where the sergeant was still holding Ian upright and looked him squarely in the eyes.

'And who, exactly, might you be, little man?' asked the general with a dismissive tone that made Ian both vexed and very scared at the same moment.

'Ian Chesterton. Who are you?'

'I have the dubious honour of being general Gaius Augustus Calaphilus, commander of the forces of his most divine and awesome majesty Emperor Lucius Nero. That is, if this be any of your business, slave.'

If Ian was impressed by the general's little proclamation of his power, he didn't show it. I am not a slave. I am not a deserter. I am not a spy. I am not a traitor. I am none of those things. What I am is a free-born man of the British Isles. Part of the Roman empire. Is this any way to treat a Roman citizen?' he said, repeating what he had told Erastus earlier.

Ian placed his still-chained hands on his hips and then, considering this to be a somewhat effeminate gesture, let them drop to his sides with a rusty clank. 'And I demand that justice be done, and be seen to be done!'

'You say you are from Britannia?' asked Calaphilus, the merest trace of curiosity in his voice. 'I, myself, served in fair Britannia for many years.'

Oh, well you would have, would have, wouldn't you? thought Ian miserably. wouldn't you? thought Ian miserably.

'Fine,' he said. 'Then ask me what the weather is like in Londinium. It's wet and cold, by the way, except that we normally get four or five decent days in July. A month, incidentally, named after the divine Julius. How am I doing so far?'

Calaphilus gave little away with a bland and expressionless poker-style face that stared back at Ian Chesterton. 'You allege that you are from Londinium?' he asked.

'Yes,' Ian replied quickly. 'Well, at least, I live there now. I am a teacher... A scribe, if you like. I was actually born in Reading, know it at all?'

I was with the G.o.d Claudius and Aulus Plautius when he took the wild and barren land, twenty years since. I saw the savage king Caratacus of the Catuvellauni defeated. I was but a mere legionnaire in those far off and troubled days and, as my rank progressed I saw much of that beautiful and harsh land from whence you say you come. Segedunem and the bridgehead at Pons Aelii where we could smell the breath of the Caledonian sc.u.m...'

'Well, I've never been too keen on the Scots myself,' Ian noted. 'You won't get any argument from me. You want to try building a great big wall from Carlisle to Newcastle and keep the blighters out.'

Time always looks after itself, Ian thought. That was one positive thing that the Doctor had taught him.

Maybe it was the casualness of Ian's reply that impressed Calaphilus, but Ian could certainly sense a change in the general's att.i.tude towards him. Perhaps only a fraction, but when the general began to speak again, his voice was lower and noticeably softer in tone. 'I was garrisoned at Eborac.u.m.

And then Aquae Sulis, Corinium and Camulodunon,'

continued the soldier. Ian recognised the second Latin place name as the ancient Roman designation for Bath on Avon, a place he knew little about except that it had some impressive Roman baths, and that he'd once got drunk in the rugby club there. Nice beer, he remembered.

However, the last name...

Ian shuddered. 'Colchester,' he said. 'A perfectly horrible town. I spent one of the worst weekends of my life there with a girl from Guildford. It rained, and it rained...'

'Yes,' noted Calaplailus. 'That sounds like Camulodunon all right.' Now, for the first time, there was a glint of shared experience within the soldier's eye. He had dearly loved the land of Ian's birth and if Ian was to be his only link to it then he was, seemingly, better than nothing at all. He half-turned away from Ian and indicated to the other men in the dungeon that there was at least some truth in the stranger's story.

'So, you believe me then?' asked Ian, relief etched into his voice.

But still, Calaphilus's eyes were like those of a snake as it hypnotises its prey. 'You and I shall talk further on this matter at another time, alleged alleged Briton,' he said. Briton,' he said.

Ian seized a possible opportunity. 'My companions. A woman, an old man and a young girl. They were in the square with me when all h.e.l.l broke lose. We lost each other in the panic. I have to know if they're all right.'

The general shouted to Drusus, still standing by the door.

'Find a place for this guest of Byzantium within the Villa Villa Praefectus Praefectus until we can ascertain whether his family survived the terrible ma.s.sacre.' until we can ascertain whether his family survived the terrible ma.s.sacre.'

Drusus bowed to the general's authority.

Ian, too, was impressed. 'You have my thanks, general,'

he said. Calaphilus nodded and then told Erastus, the sergeant and Drusus to leave them for a moment. When they were alone in the dungeon, the general drew Ian to one side and, in a conspiratorial whisper said, 'I would appreciate that you keep open and wide your eyes and ears within the Villa Villa Praefectus.' Praefectus.'

Ian understood. 'Politics,' he said, 'is not my area of expertise.'

In Byzantium,' the general noted, 'politics is everyone's everyone's area of expertise. Only the dead are free of it.' area of expertise. Only the dead are free of it.'

Chapter Thirteen.

The Enemy of My Enemy Is My Friend

Forbid him not: for there is no man which shall do a miracle in my name, that can lightly speak evil of me. For he that is not against us is on our part. that is not against us is on our part.

Mark 9:39-40

Sunrise over the desert. It was something of an anticlimax, Barbara was forced to admit.

This was her first proper look at the phenomenon. She couldn't sleep - there was simply no point in trying. Instead she had spent the small hours of the night pacing the guest room in Hieronymous's s.p.a.cious three-storey home. Under more normal circ.u.mstances, Barbara could have found hours of amus.e.m.e.nt and enlightenment from simply observing all of the everyday household items, the decorations, the way the house was built. Learning about the past from first-hand experience.

But these were not normal circ.u.mstances.

The Doctor and Ian and Vicki were missing. Presumed dead.

She was completely alone.

As the rather washed-out and pale-looking sun came above the distant horizon and the sky began to lighten in jagged streaks, Barbara observed it from her window.