Richard Blake - The Curse of Babylon

Nicetas suddenly drew his legs back. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked me. In answer, I held up one of the maggots I’d been picking off his raw, ulcerated flesh. ‘You must never do that!’ he cried in horror. ‘Let them feast on what God has given them.’ There was no answer to that. I stared silently down at the heap of squashed bodies. Nicetas dragged his legs further under the chair. He poked me sharply in the chest. ‘Who are you?’ he asked angrily. ‘I don’t remember seeing you before.’ In Latin, he let out a brief apology to God. He looked at me again. He raised his stick as if to hit me across my face. He checked himself, but opened his mouth and drew a long and ragged breath. I hadn’t seen any guards on my way in. But who could say how many there were outside the main door to the room? Timothy was here. He’d surely have come with a file of prefecture guards to keep him safe.

But it was Leander to the rescue. ‘I can feel the Muse about to come upon me!’ he cried in what was supposed to be a thrilling descent. He clapped his hands together. The soft and wailing music that had never so far let up came to an abrupt end. I heard the rustle of clothing and the soft patter of his feet as he wheeled about in his poetic manner. Then:

O golden youth, this day

By seven and thirty summers blessed,

That only joyful thoughts we pray

Shall animate thy breast.

Who cares for Alexander?

Pelopidas who knows?

Than thee a manlier commander

Who shall dare propose?

This day, O splendid, golden youth,

By seven and thirty summers blessed,

Those who love thee know in truth

Of all days is the happiest.

Leander fell silent in a completely silent room. I watched Antonia’s shoulders tremble in one of her quiet laughing fits. Unfair, I thought — this had been one of his better productions. No one else moved. Nicetas was first to speak. ‘Bravo, my Poet!’ he cried. ‘Though my birthday is still four months away, was ever such a gift made by a poet to his patron?’ Timothy cleared his throat. But Nicetas wasn’t finished. ‘Leander, I say as a man famed for both learning and taste, that no poet, ancient or modern, has approached you in genius of inspiration or elegance of style.’ He reached once more for his stick, but this time missed it. With a sigh, he waited for it to stop its loud rolling across the floor. With another sigh, he pulled his left leg forward, then his right. ‘If only, my dearest friend, you would work miracles other than with words. Our heads sit so weakly on our shoulders.’

For the moment at least, Nicetas had forgotten about me. I could have grovelled at the man’s feet till he got sick of us all. I could then have crept off with Antonia back to my palace to wait on events. But the idea I’d been turning over was now complete. I finished washing my hands and stood up. I pulled at the main tie of my robe and let it fall to the ground. ‘Since you’ve asked for a miracle,’ I said, stepping free of the grubby cloth, ‘how about this one?’ I bowed to Nicetas. I bowed to Timothy. I bent down and fished for the Emperor’s letter. I picked it up and glanced at the childish hand. Nicetas had got this one right. A few words, followed by the impression of a signet ring on beeswax, had made me, until His Holiness could make it across the straits, supreme ruler of the Roman Universe.

More silence. Then, with a squeal of fright, Eunapius was on his feet and making for the door. Antonia got there first. He dodged the punch she threw at him. He wasn’t so lucky when she got out a lead cosh. She landed a blow to the side of his head and stood back to watch him thresh about. ‘Hello, Daddy!’ she said, pulling her hood down. ‘We’ve come to ask for your blessing.’ She came over and took my hand in hers. ‘Poor Mummy would have envied me rotten, I’m sure you’ll agree.’

Never vocal at the best of times, Nicetas had the look on his face of a man who’s just taken an arrow in the chest and isn’t sure yet if it merely hurts or will finish him off. It was Timothy who broke the silence. He snapped his fingers at Leander. ‘I want two chairs over here,’ he said. He looked at Antonia. ‘Make it three. And put another against that door.’ As he sat down carefully, the music started again. Slow and undulating, the girls formed a new line with their dildoes. Together, we made the four points of an irregular rectangle. Leander stood behind Nicetas with bowed head. Eunapius had crawled away from the door. A miserable and unmoving heap, he was in sight and in convenient distance for killing.

‘What’s in that letter?’ Timothy asked. I unfolded it and held it up to read. He sniffed. ‘I haven’t seen what you sent the booby. But, since you haven’t tried arresting me, dear boy, I might as well ask what deal you have in mind. At this stage in proceedings, you’ll find me refreshingly open to a deal.’

I smiled coldly. He’d learned much from Priscus, even down to the intonations of his voice. I’d always known he was a snake posing as a buffoon. Time to see if he was clever enough to recognise his own true interest. ‘At dawn,’ I said, ‘you clear the street outside my palace. I accept your claim that you were ordered not to intervene. I believe Nicetas when he says he was held prisoner in his own palace and orders were issued in his name. Such other dirt as I may have on you and your friends will disappear.’ I looked at Eunapius. The logic was inescapable. When something goes wrong, someone must be blamed. When the right people can’t be blamed, someone else must be. But Eunapius couldn’t be allowed to stand trial — not before Heraclius, not in public. All I had to do was kill a man in cold blood and I could have my heart’s desire. I passed over the detail. ‘Nicetas will, of course, accept me as his son-in-law and use every possible endeavour to persuade the Emperor not to withhold his own consent.’

‘Strikes me as a very fair deal,’ said Timothy with a smack of his lips. ‘Everyone wins.’ He looked at Nicetas, who still hadn’t moved. ‘Shall we take that as a “yes”? Or would you prefer to die in the fighting to liberate this palace?’

As one, we all looked at Nicetas. His expression still hadn’t changed. Just when I was beginning to think he’d had a seizure, he leaned back in his chair. ‘What would you do if you were me?’ he whispered to Leander.

‘If I were you, My Lord,’ came the instant reply, ‘I’d get off my lazy, fat arse and kiss my son-in-law.’

We turned to watch the complex and unending gyrations of the dildo dance. All, that is, except poor Eunapius.

I looked up at the sky again. At last, dark blue had turned to light and was now turning a chilly grey. For some while we’d been able to hear the crowd that was reassembling far below and to see the rush lights a few of its more thoughtful members had brought along. Looking down, I could see the dim shapes scurrying about in the Triumphal Way. Some of them were in clusters and were carrying what I could only guess were the dead in their winding sheets. There weren’t enough for another rendition of ‘Kill! Kill!’ But the monks were already in place and I could hear them praying for the dead in their ferocious nasal whines.

‘Do you think you can trust him?’ Antonia asked.

I smiled to myself. ‘If I trusted him,’ I said, ‘I’d be down there beside him.’ Making sure not to lean on the undamaged stretch of the parapet where we were all gathered, I stood on tiptoe on my chair and bent forward. In the improved light, I could see more of the catapult. Someone was sitting on it beside the torsion springs and seemed to be reading from a scroll to someone else, who was hurrying about with what may have been small projectiles. Not the best sign of good faith, I told myself. But, we’d see who got killed if anyone tried to fire the thing.