Doctor Who: The Romans (6 page)

Fifth Extract from the Doctor’s Diary
A curious incident!

On presenting ourselves at Nero’s palace, Vicki and I were not at first able to attract any attention; but after some time spent in examining the plunder of Gloria Mundi, with which the entrance hall was crammed to such an extent as to make movement difficult, I inadvertently knocked over a status of Venus, thereby severing both its arms; and I was then at once approached by a court official who looked at me enquiringly.

I introduced myself as Maximus Petullian, and stated my business – not an easy matter under the circumstances.

But my speech had been well rehearsed in anticipation of the occasion; and after some five minutes I fancied I had covered most of the relevant facts material to my purpose, namely an interview with the Emperor, who, I had reason to believe, was expecting me.

The official no longer looked enquiring, but merely blank; and having done so, pointed in turn to his ears and his mouth. I looked at them closely, but found nothing at all remarkable to justify the gesture; until Vicki suggested that the man might be deaf and dumb. This ridiculous theory proved to be correct, and meant that I had wasted a good deal of valuable time; but fortunately I am well acquainted with the rudiments of sign language, and so was able to repeat my introductory remarks in mime.

At this he nodded with complete understanding, and indicated that we should take our seats on a singularly uncomfortable marble bench, fashioned in the shape of two obese babies - Romulus and Remus, presumably - being suckled by an irritable looking she-wolf, while he went to inform his master of our presence.

It was while we were thus engaged that we were approached by the very centurion who only that morning had bilked me of the price of bed and board; and I was rebuking the fellow roundly, when he laughed in an unpleasant manner, grabbed me by the lapels of my toga, and hauled me to my feet, breathing garlic in my face, and making no offer of restitution.

Now, as is well known, I am not to be trifled with in such a way, and I instantly gave him a push of such force as to precipitate him backwards on to the seat I had just vacated.

And now occurred the curious incident of which I wrote at the beginning of this entry: I was rolling up my sleeves in case of further fisticuffs when, through the tapestry behind the bench there emerged an arm holding a dagger, which it buried to the hilt between the centurion’s shoulder-blades, or scapuli!

As usual, Vicki screamed - and I do wish she wouldn’t, as it tends to attract unwelcome attention. However, as the man fell forwards onto his unpleasantly contorted face, I at once drew aside the curtain; and to my astonishment revealed the bestial form of the assassin Ascaris - he who had so ineffectively assaulted me in my bedroom the previous evening!

For a moment he stood there, looking at the fallen form of his officer with what I can only describe as horror and dawning remorse; and then with a loud cry of ‘Oh, my cripes! That’s torn it, that has!’ he left the premises by the main entrance at a stumbling run, and disappeared into the gathering darkness.

I felt it prudent not to follow, having already had occasion to observe of what villainy he tries so hard to be capable; and was in the process of concealing the body, when a firm hand descended on my shoulder - but rather to my surprise in a congratulatory rather than an accusative manner - and a hoarse voice whispered ‘Well done, Max!’

I turned to encounter the unsavoury gaze of the toad, Tavius, who had last been observed purchasing the slave-girl who resembled Barbara, some hours previously. He wasted no further time in civilities, but helped me, winking and chuckling horribly the while, to rearrange the arras over the bleeding remains; and this having been completed to his satisfaction, he informed me sepulchrally that the Emperor would see me now.

Regretfully I decided that Vicki should not accompany me to the presence, at least on this occasion, as she was still sobbing and shuddering convulsively in a way which might well have created a bad impression at a first meeting.

So, instructing her to avail herself of this unrivalled opportunity to explore a palace not normally open to the public, and to meet me by the corpse in an hour’s time, I followed my strangely repulsive partner in crime to the Imperial quarters for my first momentous interview - more of which anon.

For the moment I will only add that I begin to suspect I may have become unwittingly involved in some kind of conspiracy - and the thought is not an easy one to live with. It is my most firmly held contention - which I am constantly repeating to Vicki and the others - that we must under no circumstances ever allow ourselves to be placed in such a situation that we inadvertently alter the course of History! No, our visit to Rome must be purely an educational vacation.

Well, we shall have to see what further transpires, and modify our behaviour accordingly...

Fifth Extract from the Journal of Ian
Chesterton

I fear I may have annoyed my enormous companion, Delos, but really there is little I can do to appease the man at the moment. But appease him somehow I must, since he is shortly to be my opponent in a gladiatorial contest; and even were he to enter the arena in a good-humoured and sporting spirit, he would still make a formidable adversary

- witness the snapping of chains, and the wrenching of benches - and I do not care to think of what he might be capable were he to be in a really bad temper!

For the last twenty-four hours, however, he has refused to respond to my friendly overtures, and merely sits in a corner of the dungeon where we are detained, muttering and glowering.

Am I going too fast for you, Headmaster? Then perhaps I should explain the concatination of unforseen circumstances which have brought us to this pretty pass; and you will then understand, I hope, why my normally high spirits are in abeyance at the moment.

You will remember that after my rescue from shipwreck, I overbore the, what seemed to me, rather craven arguments by which Delos urged me to accompany him in a northerly direction, there to go into hiding until our death by drowning should be assumed by the authorities? But not for me the life of the fugitive! And I insisted,
perhaps
unwisely as it now appears, that instead we should head directly for Rome, where I intended to strain every sinew not already ruptured by my recent experiences, in a search for my unfortunate colleague, Barbara Wright.

And in spite of the outcome, I
still
maintain that under the then circumstances this was the correct and honourable course of action, and that morally speaking I could have adopted no other, as I’m sure you will agree.

However, on arriving at the gates of the Eternal City - or is that Jerusalem, I can never remember - the ill-fortune which, since my first meeting with the Doctor, has followed at my heels like an unwanted timber-wolf, once more took over the control of my affairs, and quickly slipped me the staccato tomato - if you will forgive the somewhat mixed metaphor.

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 passers-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 anticipated. 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 hellish 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 peacocks, 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 passing 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 mêlée, I was perhaps fortunately knocked unconscious again. Delos, however, having apparently broken the arms, legs, and necks of several of our assailants, 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 assume 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 anticipation 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

Second Extract from the Commonplace
Book of Poppea Sabina

An air of intrigue broods over this damn’ 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 circumstances. 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 associated mishaps cannot be mere coincidence?

This brutal and abrupt cancellation of my assignation 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 assistance 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
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.’