Doctor Who_ Byzantium! Part 22

'You came alone, as I asked?' the general queried.

'No,' replied Ian, sarcastically. 'I brought the household cavalry with me.'

'Your ways and words are strange and baffling to me, Briton,'

continued the general when he was certain that they were alone. One should have thought that a soldier such as myself would prove to be a useful ally to one such as yourself? That you would do all that is within your power to cultivate such a liaison...'

'No offence,' Ian noted, 'but I still don't know if I can trust you yet,' he continued.

I see that to which you allude,' the general noted, slipping behind Ian and drawing the schoolteacher's sword from its scabbard. Calaphilus held the gladius, gladius, dramatically, across Ian's chest, inches from slitting his throat. Then, after a moment he withdrew the sword and looked at it. 'A finely forged weapon.' dramatically, across Ian's chest, inches from slitting his throat. Then, after a moment he withdrew the sword and looked at it. 'A finely forged weapon.'

a gift,' said Ian. 'From the praefectus.' praefectus.'

All of a sudden, Calaphilus didn't seem nearly so impressed. 'Get it out of my sight,' he said, handing the sword back, hilt-first, to Ian.

'You will be wondering why I was so anxious to see you, this day, Briton?'

Ian shrugged. 'Intrigue?' he asked. 'Nefarious skulduggery of some description? Isn't that what it's all about?'

'I see that you are a man who keeps his ear close to the ground,' the general noted in complete seriousness. 'This place is rife with both. But I have started a fire that will bring the whole rank and rotten corpse of Byzantium cras.h.i.+ng down around the ears of those who would pollute it with their decadent ways. Last night, I arrested Edius Flavia, a young and hot-headed tribune-elect whose libido carries more influence within him than common sense. The charges will not stand to close examination, but I now have him under guard where I can attempt to loosen his tongue. And loosen it I shall, Briton, for there are plots and schemes afoot. Tangled webs like those of a spider that must be delicately unpicked before they can be ruthlessly torn apart.'

'You like tearing things down, don't you?' Ian asked, his trust in the general rapidly draining away.

It took Gaius Calaphilus a long time to answer the question.

He seemed surprised by it. 'No,' he said finally, and honestly.

'lf truth be told, I do not. Oh, I am jubilant this day that I have uncovered the first of the conspiring insurgents who attempt to destroy all that I have worked so hard to achieve. With luck, and with your help, I may be able to expose the trail all the way to the door of the praefectus.' praefectus.'

'These are dangerous sentiments to be voicing in the open,'

Ian noted, casting an ominous glance at a group of soldiers in the middle distance. 'Perhaps we should be holding this conversation somewhere a little less exposed?' He paused, and directed the general towards a small outbuilding close to the barrack gates. They slipped in, un.o.bserved by the bored-looking guards and found themselves in the armoury.

Calaphilus took a javelin from a rack by the door and weighed the spear in his hand. 'I was once able to put out a man's eye at forty paces with one of these,' he said, as if it was a cherished memory. 'In Britannia, that was. Have you ever been to Corinium Dobunnorum?'

A memory cog rotated and clicked into gear in the back of Ian's mind. 'Cirencester?' he asked.

'Yes.'

'Sadly, I have not,' Ian replied, thankful that he had at least remembered the place's English name. 'I know where it is, though.'

'Whensoever you return to the land of your birth, Briton, do me a favour and go there. Go to the fort and the vicus vicus settlement by the river. You will find a beautiful and unspoiled piece of Heaven on Earth. I long for the simple if harsh life that I enjoyed in your land.' settlement by the river. You will find a beautiful and unspoiled piece of Heaven on Earth. I long for the simple if harsh life that I enjoyed in your land.'

'You're not the only one there, squire,' noted Ian.

'So much more preferable to the corruption and decadence of Rome and all of its civitas civitas replicas, say you not?' replicas, say you not?'

It was a rhetorical question and, when he received no reply, Calaphilus threw the spear to the ground and sat down at a rough wooden table. He was clearly upset. 'How could so much go wrong in so little time?'

'With Rome, do you mean?' asked Ian.

The general nodded. 'Yes, with Rome, and with the Romans. We have grown soft and weak and depraved. We gorge ourselves at banquets and on gladiatorial sports and grow drunk on the power of being just who we are. And all the while, the republic grows a further and more distant memory.'

'The republic? Isn't that a rather dangerous view for a general of Caesar to hold?' asked Ian curiously.

all of the best Romans have been republicans. Including at least two great great Emperors. The divine Claudius spent most of his time in Britannia lecturing the troops about how one day, the republic would return to Rome. Of course, there are reasons why it cannot happen at this precise moment...' Emperors. The divine Claudius spent most of his time in Britannia lecturing the troops about how one day, the republic would return to Rome. Of course, there are reasons why it cannot happen at this precise moment...'

'Like, losing the empire overnight?' Ian asked.

'And would that really be such a bad thing?' Calaphilus noted as he slumped in his seat.

Ian Chesterton genuinely didn't know the answer to that one.

'Listen,' he said at last. 'I know that you told me to come alone, but I didn't. I'm sorry, but I thought it was important that someone else hear all of this.'

The general raised his head and half-stood, snarling angrily at Ian as, with as little intrusion as possible, Gemellus slipped quietly from the shadows.

'You brought the advisor of the praefectus praefectus here?' here?'

Calaphilus yelled. 'Are you insane, Briton? This meeting, regardless of its contents, could in itself be regarded as treason.'

Gemellus shook his head quickly 'I know you are suspicious, Gaius Calaphilus,' he said. 'That point of view has served you well in a long, distinguished career, but it has also kept men who could have been your allies at arms length when they should have been much closer. The praefectus praefectus and you are more alike than either of you would care to admit, particularly on such subjects as I have just heard you discussing with our mutual friend.' and you are more alike than either of you would care to admit, particularly on such subjects as I have just heard you discussing with our mutual friend.'

Calaphilus began to laugh. 'Thalius Maximus is a republican, say you?' he asked, sarcastically. 'I have heard it all now.'

'Not a republican as such,' acknowledged Gemellus, 'but he is a man whose views on the monarchy closely resemble your own. I have talked with him on such matters upon many, many occasions.'

'The reason I asked Gemellus to come with me,' Ian explained, 'is because of an old proverb from my homeland that seems to be particularly applicable in Byzantium: "The enemy of my enemy is my friend".'

'The praefectus praefectus and the general are on the same side, even if they do not realise it yet,' Gemellus continued. 'The real enemies of both are within their own forces. And if something is not done about those enemies, then we all could perish under a mountain of deceit. And Byzantium shall be lost to the forces of darkness.' and the general are on the same side, even if they do not realise it yet,' Gemellus continued. 'The real enemies of both are within their own forces. And if something is not done about those enemies, then we all could perish under a mountain of deceit. And Byzantium shall be lost to the forces of darkness.'

The silence of the cave was shattered by a sudden thought that occurred to the Doctor. 'Mark's writing style is interesting, is it not?' he asked, as he wearily cast aside another parchment and yawned, stretching his tired and aching limbs.

Despite the long and tedious hours spent poring over the hundreds of pages of text, the Doctor was in no way bored with his task. On the contrary. he was fascinated.

'In which way?' asked Rayhab.

'He writes like a novelist,' noted the Doctor. 'There is a haste in the narrative. A rapid-moving flow to the words, as though the writer was describing the events from the perspective of someone within the eye of a hurricane. He uses "immediately" and "at once' an awful lot. His Christ was a man in a hurry, clearly.'

Reuben shrugged. 'Mark was there,' he noted. 'In the midst of all of the madness that surrounded the Messiah. He saw these things occur.'

I would really have enjoying meeting his his Jesus,' said the Doctor in a reflective moment. 'And Mark himself, where did you say he is now?' Jesus,' said the Doctor in a reflective moment. 'And Mark himself, where did you say he is now?'

'He was last heard of with Peter in Babylon,' said Reuben. 'Perhaps he is back in Rome, now.'

Amos stirred the fire and added, It is said that he hides from Zealot death squads who roam the empire attempting to silence him and others like him That is the fate of many of the prophets of Christ's church.'

'Zealotry is a curse,' the Doctor noted sadly. In this or any other age.'

Vicki was trying hard to fit in. Really, she was.

It was an effort at times, having to constantly bite her tongue instead of giving her opinion where it clearly wasn't wanted.

But two or three days of being seen but not heard had an impressive effect. Particularly on Evangeline, who had seemingly taken it upon herself to help Vicki understand the culture of the Greeks better than she had managed so far.

'Now add the flour,' Evangeline told Vicki as the girl continued to knead the sticky yellow dough that glued itself to her fingers.

'How long do I have to keep doing this?' Vicki asked impatiently. It feels like I'm handling brains. I'm sure I'm doing it all wrong.'

Evangeline shook her head. 'No, you are not. You live life in far too much of a hurry, little one,' she said. 'Carry on until you have pushed all of the air out of the dough. You will know when the time is right.'

Well, that explains everything, thought Vicki, but she kept her silence. 'I can't believe you get bread from this,' she said at last. For Vicki, bread was something that either came out of an oven, hot, or out of a food machine in the TARDIS corridor just outside the console room, sort of lukewarm and tasting ever so slightly of almonds. The Doctor was always telling her that he would get it fixed one day...

With difficulty, Vicki cleared thoughts of the Doctor from her mind. All in the past.

All long in the past.

Meanwhile, next door to where Vicki and Evangeline made their bread, the seemingly friendly neighbours of the Georgiadis family, Dorothea and Damien, were at that precise moment entertaining a recently arrived guest.

It had better be worth my while coming all of the way to this place, Greek,' said centurion Crispia.n.u.s Dolavia, removing the black cloak from his head and shoulders. 'I am a busy man, and my time is money.'

'Have I ever let you down before?' asked Damien quickly.

'I am the best spy you have, centurion, and you know it.'

'Keep your voice down,' Dorothea shrieked. 'Do you want the whole neighbourhood to know of these matters?'

The Roman soldier gave the couple the kind of look that he normally reserved for something that had just crawled out from under a stone. 'Can you voice your objections a little louder, woman?' he asked Dorothea. 'For it is my belief that there is a deaf man in Antioch who did not quite hear your shrillness.'

Bitterly, Dorothea turned away from the men and sloped off into a corner to brood on the insult. The centurion considered, briefly, threatening her with a savage whipping for her insolence towards him, but decided that this could prove counter-productive.

'I am still waiting, potter, to know what information you have that was so urgent it could wait no longer before I heard it?'

Damien paused. 'A payment, for the risks that I take on your behalf, is always much appreciated, centurion. For I am but a simple craftsman earning a poor living amongst the impoverished of this quarter.'

Centurion Crispia.n.u.s Dolavia sighed deeply, felt into the pocket of his tunic and removed a small bag of coins which he dropped, with a clank, onto the table. 'I am not an ungrateful man, potter. Unless, of course, my time is wasted in which case my grat.i.tude has been known to extend even unto death.

Speak and quickly, or forever hold your peace...'

So Damien spoke. 'The next house, whereupon lives Georgiadis the shopkeeper and his fat wife and their mewling brat. I have evidence that they are involved with the schemes of anti-Roman elements and insurrectionists.'

'I am listening,' said the centurion. 'Continue and present your evidence that I may make a decision upon it.'

They have a new arrival,' said Damien. 'A girl.'

a Briton,' interjected Dorothea, coming to her husband's side, her wounded feelings seemingly healed by the money on the table.

'A Briton in Byzantium is certainly strange,' noted the Roman, 'but it is hardly proof conclusive of any wrongdoing by these people. Perhaps I should ask them to their face what is their business...'

He reached out for his bag of coins but Damien's hand stopped him.

'Forgive me, centurion,' he said quickly, as Crispia.n.u.s Dolavia reached for his sword. 'But there is more. The girl asks many curious questions. She very seems interested in the activities of the Roman legions. She has been seen in the Jewish quarter.'

'She is a spy,' Dorothea announced grandly. 'Why else would a Briton be sharing a roof with a Greek family?'

Centurion Crispia.n.u.s Dolavia considered this for a moment. 'This matter would seem to require further investigation. Thank you for betraying the presence of this girl. I bid you both good night. A blessing be upon your house.'

Chapter Twenty-Three.

You're History

And he cometh to the house of the ruler of the synagogue, and seeeth the tumult, and them that wept and wailed greatly.

Mark 5:38