Authors: Donald Cotton

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Doctor Who: The Romans (10 page)

BOOK: Doctor Who: The Romans

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There could, incredibly, be no mistake!

It was the popular history mistress of Coal Hill Comprehensive, whom I had left safe in Assissium only two days ago!

DOCUMENT XXVII

Sixth Letter from Legionary (Second
Class) Ascaris

Locusta,

You can hardly be surprised, I should think, that on this occasion I offer no terms of endearment or assurances of filial affection, as, where you are concerned, I find I am fresh out of same, owing to not hearing from you of late amongst other things, when, if ever, I have so sorely needed a mother’s guiding fist in my predicaments.

For my part, I have never hesitated to send you such news of my doings as I hoped would have been of some interest, even to a seamier citizen than you (if ever there was one, but obviously there isn’t).

So, all right then, if that is your attitude it will be the last of them I promise you, as I have now done with being dutiful, and in any case am leaving Rome on account of lions, with which circumstance I will not detain you owing to obvious lack of parental concern for such matters; and anyway, I have my hands full enough of the beasts for the moment, thank you – or will have if they can work out how to get down a manhole. Oh, how they do so snarl and salivate down my grating!

But enough of that for now, as I would not wish to bore you further with my humdrum life-style, and if spared shall be gone by dusk to begin a new one in some corner of a foreign field if I can find it, and be myself again, which is,

Ascaris.

DOCUMENT XXVIII

Third Selection of Jottings from Nero’s
Scrapbook

I do not think it could ever be said of me that I am an emperor to harbour a grudge, but I am beginning to dislike Maximus Petullian very much indeed.

I believe I have already made it clear in the privacy of these pages that my feelings towards Barbara are such as to set my soul soaring to Parnassus where it writes a good deal on the subject; and I am not, therefore, apt to be pipped at the post by some rube of a troubador, however retired he may claim to be, especially when he is three times my age, twice as mad, and half as talented! It’s just not on!

So you can imagine my feelings when - deep in a succinct summary of my slum clearance project for Greater Rome - I realised I had lost his attention, and he was roguishly ogling my fair betrayer from every possible angle!

Furthermore, it was at once clear that she returned his interest, the baggage; for, with a loud cry, she dropped Poppy’s shopping, and flopped sobbing at the fellow’s feet, whence she addressed him as ‘Doctor’ - obviously a barbarian term of endearment – causing him to splutter:

‘Shush!’

It was clear to me, therefore, that they had met before, and moreover on terms of some intimacy; and I was about to demand an explanation with menaces, when a smell of burning distracted me from my catechism; and I discovered to my horror that my architectural extravagance, the working drawings on the basis of which the new Neropolis was to be constructed, were now slowly smouldering!

The reason for this was not at once apparent, and I was at a loss to account for the phenomenon; until Petullian interrupted my cries of ungovernable fury with an utterly inadequate ‘Dear me!’, detached himself from Barbara’s embraces, approached the conflagration, and extracted therefrom the charred remains of an apparatus which it has been his occasional habit to balance on his nose! I had never stooped to enquire the cause of this one additional eccentricity amongst so many; but he now explained that it was an optical device intended to assist the eyesight, but he greatly feared it had now so concentrated the rays of the sun onto the parchment as to.. well, he was sorry, but I could see what had happened, couldn’t I? Just one of those unfortunate things!

I was in the process of taking the in-breath necessary for a prolonged tirade, when two lions entered the room, nodded casually, and curled up on the carpet. Whereupon Petullian, rather in the manner of a prisoner in the dock asking for sixteen other offences to be taken into consideration, said that he would like to apologise for having let them out!

And after that events became somewhat confused, and conversation inarticulate, as we all made our own arrangements for the immediate future...

DOCUMENT XXIX

Eighth Extract from the Doctor’s Diary
It is perhaps fortunate that the lions made their entrance when they did, for in another moment it is possible that Nero might have been inspired by the fortuitous inferno to initiate the burning of the city itself; a tragedy, had it really occurred, for which I would have had no wish to be held responsible, however indirectly.

Moreover, they created a useful diversion which enabled Barbara and me to leave the now chaotic throne-room, where the royal couple were clinging sloth-like to the chandeliers, and screaming for assistance.

I felt it best to take with us both the scorched plans and the imperial lyre, so that the obvious myth of Nero having

‘fiddled’ during the fictitious fire should have no possible foundation in fact.

As we were traversing the entrance hall with these trophies, whom should we encounter but Ian Chesterton on his way in, absurdly dressed as a gladiator! I rebuked both the latter and Barbara for having disobeyed my instructions and gone gallivanting on their own, for they might well have encountered serious trouble without the benefit of my experience and supervision.

At this, they seemed amused for some reason; and I decided that, in the face of this dawning irresponsibility, my best plan would be to curtail my holiday, collect Vicki from our hotel, and return to Assissium, before something serious occurred to any of my protegées.

Before doing so, however, it occurred to me that it might well benefit posterity if I were to complete the destruction of Nero’s grey and grandiose scheme for the featureless construction of Rome, and perhaps therefore contribute, however slightly, to the sum of human happiness.

I therefore ignited once more the remains of the parchment and disposed of them down a sewer grating outside the Temple of Minerva.

At once there was a muffled explosion - presumably a pocket of methane gas had proved combustible - and out of a manhole cover down the street emerged the familiar squat form of my regular assailant, attempting to beat out the flames on his tunic, as he fled once more into the gathering dusk. Well, let
that
be a lesson to him not to attack inoffensive tourists!

As we left the city I looked back and drew the attention of my three companions to a really splendid sunset. So bright were the colours that it almost looked as if the entire town were ablaze; and so magnificent was the spectacle that I could not forbear to salute the apparent conflagration with a farewell performance of
Thermodynamic Functions
on Nero’s lyre...

They looked at me strangely, with expressions that in the flickering red light seemed oddly horrified...

Well, it has been a pleasantly relaxing and instructive visit.

Ave atque vale!

EPILOGUE

A Second Epistle to The Keeper of the
Imperial Archives, Rome

Oh, my dear Sir!

Can it be – may I ask – that you at last bask in the light of my remarks, and are warmed by the dawning of comprehension, however minimal?

The letter with which you have the amazing grace to cover the return of the documents in what we may call, for convenience, the ‘Quo Vadis, TARDIS?’ affair (yes, we may), encourages me to suppose so; and I therefore take a certain amount of grudging pleasure in honouring you with a few fruits of my own later speculations upon them.

Now, first of all, it would seem that Nero was eminently sensible – no matter what his motives may have been to secure the assassination of the real Maximus Petullian; for, as my recent researches have confirmed, he was not only a singer of subversive social-protest material, but a radical agitator whose sole purpose in visiting Italy was to secure the reestablishment of the Republic.

Moreover, the loathsome Tavius, who fortunately makes only a brief appearance in this chronicle, was just such another revolutionary, whose only motivation - beneath the ‘cover’ of honest slave gatherer! - was to open the floodgates of chaos to Democracy and Christianity, with all their attendant dissensions: and hence his jubilation at the death of the anonymous centurion, who, it seems, was head of Counter Intelligence.

The mysterious Doctor was, therefore, entirely correct to have no truck with the traitorous fellow, and his instincts were of the soundest when he expressed his determination not to become involved in any form of conspiracy which might conceivably lead to the Overthrow of Empire and the Downfall of Civilisation. In fact, his non-interventionist attitude, as revealed in the diary (which he later left, presumably inadvertently, on the kitchen table in Assissium, together with Chesterton’s Journal, which he had apparently confiscated for its hyper-critical content) deserves nothing but praise.

We have to set against this, however, the fact that he first of all introduced the concept of atonal composition to Roman music; then released several lions into the streets of Rome; and, finally, accidentally set fire to that city; and these matters can hardly be overlooked - especially since Nero was subsequently blamed for all of them, proclaimed a public enemy by the Senate, and driven to his death; which, in retrospect, can only seem a very unfortunate misunderstanding!

Now, since this misunderstanding is the primary basis for the claims to the Imperial Purple of Emperors Galba, Otho, Vespasian, Trajan (the well-known columnist), and our current genial incumbent, Hadrian (whom Jupiter preserve), you will perhaps understand why I have been hesitant to bring the somewhat embarrassing circumstances of his legally unsound position before the Emperor.

He is not a man prone to brook criticism lightly; and, in any case, it is a bit late now for anyone to do anything at all about it, so it is my considered inclination to let the matter drop.

I would, in fact, suggest that all the relevant papers be covered by the Official Secrets Act; and not released, if at all, until, let us say, the year 1987...

However, should your bureaucratic bigotry lead you not to share my reticence, then I have one suggestion to make which might be of some assistance.

I hear from my father-in-law, General Agricola, that the building of Hadrian’s projected wall is being hampered by the presence in the construction team of Legionary (now Fourth Class) Ascaris!

Supposing, therefore, that he were to he recalled to Rome to face various charges arising from his indiscreet correspondence, so sensibly handed to me by his mother, Locusta, in return for instant cash... Then he could well be made to seem responsible for the whole ghastly fiasco, our problem would be neatly resolved, and I could remain, for the foreseeable future,

Your relieved historian,

Tacitus.

Post Scriptum
: In view of all the circumstances, may I now look forward with confidence to receiving your cheque by return of post?

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