Richard Blake - The Curse of Babylon

But let me explain. Imperial Square takes its name from the ministry buildings that surround it on three sides — either that, or from the group of statues at its western end. This is a complete set of emperors, beginning with Julius Caesar and culminating with Anastasius, whose reign, a century before, had seen the last big wave of city beautification. The statues were ordered in a tight spiral, with Anastasius at the outermost point. The series could easily have continued — Justin, Justinian, Justin, Tiberius, Maurice, Phocas — who, like the other tyrants, would simply have had an unmarked plinth — and then Heraclius. But the money or will had run out and the series stopped with Anastasius.

From the depression it had worn in the paving stones, the ritual of the aged could easily date from the time of Anastasius. The idea was to begin with Anastasius and, touching every plinth in turn, get round the outside of the spiral to Julius Caesar in the smallest number of breaths. The lap was then to be repeated on the inside on the spiral back to Anastasius. When there was no chariot racing or executions to watch, you could lay bets on who would get round the fastest. Sometimes, the square would be filled to bursting with the idlest sort of rich. Mostly, though, it was just a few dozen old men, some walking briskly, others staggering. No doubt those staggering had once been brisk and, assuming they got that far, the brisk would eventually stagger. So it had been going on since time out of mind despite the sun or rain or snow. So, if not quite to the end of time, it would continue.

And I’d brought it to a pause. Simeon took a step forward. The rest of the aged formed into a decrepit mob behind him. ‘Is it him? Is it him ?’ one of them was crying insistently. ‘Is it the one the Devil has sent to destroy us?’ I could have taken to my heels. But I’d pulled my hat off. The least I could do was be polite.

‘Gentlemen,’ I said earnestly, ‘you have been repeatedly assured that the halving of salaries and pensions will be balanced by payment in the new and purer coinage. With the late fall in prices, I really don’t believe anyone will be worse off than before.’ That wasn’t true — unless renegotiated, most rents would effectively double — and it got me a low jeer, followed by a moaning, varied chorus of disapproval that was more genteel only in its expression than the roasting I’d had from the vermin who clustered round Nicetas. From more than one mouth, I caught the word ‘barbarian.’ I pretended not to hear this and waved my hat for silence. ‘Look, my dear friends, we’re at war ,’ I went on in my reasonable tone. ‘We all have to make sacrifices.’ I caught Simeon’s eye, and put a faint edge into my voice. ‘Besides, your two sons are among the lucky third,’ I said to him directly. ‘They still have their positions.’ I smiled and waited for the threat to sink in. And it was more than a threat. Now I’d been allowed to make a proper start, even Heraclius was asking how much of the administration he’d inherited from the past was needed. I’d been looking at the Food Control Office for two years — you could double manpower in the home fleet if you shut down that gigantic waste of space.

I looked up briefly at the sun. ‘Now, gentlemen,’ I said with what I hoped was a winning smile, ‘I am on official business. I wouldn’t wish to keep you from your exercise.’

‘You won’t get away with this!’ an old man shouted after me as I set off again.

‘You try stopping me,’ I said under my breath.

‘You’re a cuckoo in the nest, Alaric,’ Simeon shouted as I hurried out of the Square. ‘I hope that assassin carves you up good and proper.’ He drew a long and wheezing breath. ‘God pays his debts without money — you mark my words.’

I pretended not to have heard.

A word of advice, Dear Reader. If you ever feel inclined to follow someone about in the full light of day, do not dress yourself all over in black. Unless you’re in a place governed by odd sartorial rules, your victim will need to be blind or drunk not to notice you. My further advice is not to flit from tree to tree, or try taking shelter behind free-standing columns and street posts somewhat narrower than you are. Even if no one beats you up for looking dodgy, you’ll be laughed at.

I’d been aware of the absurd figure behind me long before Simeon had tried to do me the goodness of a warning. He’d probably been following me down the Triumphal Way. I’d certainly heard him clattering down the steps to Imperial Square. He was now making a pitiful effort not to be seen as he tiptoed twenty yards behind me, turning to look at statues or inscriptions every time I found reasonable cause to look round. Sadly for him, we were fully into siesta time. The streets were empty of everyone but a few skiving clerks. It looked a very cheap assassination attempt. If this were another Nicetas effort, he’d exhausted his budget on silver cups and seditionaries. Or probably not: Nicetas was the sort of man who’d spend more on finding this incompetent than on getting the job done properly.

I slowed down and took off my hat again. I wanted to make sure he’d keep my hair in sight. We were entering the medical district and it wouldn’t do for him to lose me in the drug market.

Indeed not. In all the years I knew it, there was never a siesta in the drug market. It was as crowded, as I walked that day into the square containing it, as the surrounding streets were empty. And why not? Along with all the worthless mummy dust and incantatory herbs, it’s here that the only heaven we’ll ever know is bought and sold by the ounce. I looked at the happy lunchtime trade. I breathed fully out and waited for a moment, before slowly breathing back in. Yes — it was the usual smell of opium vapour and the dust or steam from every other mood-altering substance known to man. Here is the one place where you can be awake and fully clothed and truly forget the horrors of existence. Here is a place where every species of physical and moral pain can be blotted out, and where every type and gradation of pleasure can be infallibly dispensed. I’ll add that, if you can’t make your own and you know the right people, it’s a fine place for buying poison.

‘Oh, My Lord!’ someone brayed into my left ear. ‘My dearest and sweetest young Lord!’ The compounder’s voice would have said Jewish, but for the inky skin of one whose ancestors had lived so long in the African sun that the colouring had become hereditary. Most who knew him struggled to recall his name. It was best to avoid trying to pronounce it. I turned to face him, and watched him sink to his knees. ‘No one said you’d be coming here!’ he whined up at me without moving his lips. He shuffled forward a few inches, nearly crushing the hand of one of the naked beggars who’d been trying to pick a blob of cannabis wax off the ground, and kissed the hem of my outer robe. ‘I don’t want any part of what’s going on.’

I glanced about the busy immensity of workshops and sampling booths, and put my thoughts in order. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ I said softly. Two assistants came forward and helped him back to his feet. He struck up in a loud voice about a new kind of stimulant imported from a place beyond the knowledge of the geographers. As if from nowhere, another assistant stood forward with a tray of silver cups. I took one of them and twisted it between forefinger and thumb. Its contents had the sheen and solidity of quicksilver and a faint peppery smell. Though a stimulant was the last thing I needed this day, I nodded approvingly.

The compounder took the cup from me and leaned forward. ‘I thought you would know the penalties for treason,’ he said. He licked suddenly dry lips. ‘I can’t help you. No one can make me do that.’