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Chapters (52)
  1. Title
  2. Copyright
  3. About the Book
  4. About the Author
  5. Also By
  6. Contents
  7. Dedication
  8. Roll Call
  9. A Brief History of the Time Wars
  10. Jane
  11. Luke
  12. Matthew
  13. 1
  14. 2
  15. 3
  16. 4
  17. 5
  18. 6
  19. 7
  20. 8
  21. 9
  22. 10
  23. 11
  24. 12
  25. 13
  26. 14
  27. 15
  28. 16
  29. 17
  30. 18
  31. 19
  32. 20
  33. 21
  34. 22
  35. 23
  36. 24
  37. 25
  38. 26
  39. 27
  40. 28
  41. 29
  42. 30
  43. 31
  44. 32
  45. 33
  46. 34
  47. 35
  48. 36
  49. 37
  50. Epilogue
  51. Author’s Note
  52. A Note on Recruitment

‘Of course, sir,’ said Grint. ‘Let’s go and get them.’

‘And bring them back safely,’ said Ellis, not moving.

‘Of course, sir,’ said Grint, fingering his weapon. ‘And that.’

31

31

Several thousand and a bit years ago, the subjects of all this Time Police consternation were still in the street outside the Curia. The crush of people had rendered the street impassable and Luke and Jane were currently standing at the top of the temple steps, surrounded by a vast and excited throng. Caesar’s fan club appeared to consist of most of Rome.

The entrance to the Curia and the gardens beyond were almost directly opposite where they were standing. Through the pillars, Jane could catch a fleeting glimpse of tall Cyprus trees and a splashing fountain. The gardens looked green, lush and inviting. A direct contrast to this airless and dusty street in which they were being jostled by excited people with many, many personal hygiene issues.

Having adjusted his purple robes to his satisfaction, Caesar slowly mounted the steps, still at the centre of a group of white-clad men.

Jane turned to Peterson. ‘With all those people around him, how will they ever get close enough to stab him?’

‘All those people around him have a dagger concealed on their person,’ said Peterson grimly. ‘I’m probably the only one who’s going in unarmed. Max, if I’m going to try to attach myself at the back, I should go soon.’

‘Agreed,’ she said, without turning around. ‘Wait until they’re disappearing inside and then trot across the road and pretend to be a latecomer. You’ll need to keep your distance once you’re inside. Do not get caught up in what’s going on. Remember – record and document only.’

He nodded innocently. ‘Of course.’ He ignored the disbelieving snorts from his colleagues.

Half a dozen slaves were following on behind the main party, burdened with scrolls and tablets. Several more were carrying their masters’ togas, to be donned once they were inside, presumably. Jane wondered whether they’d come on foot and wanted to keep them clean until the last moment.

‘They dust them with chalk,’ she said, suddenly remembering from her school days. ‘To make them look whiter.’

‘They do indeed,’ said Van Owen. ‘Especially if they’re running for public office. They call it a Toga Candida – from which we get the word candidate. Well done.’

Caesar had paused at the top of the steps, his head bent, apparently listening intently to the man talking urgently to him and attempting to press a scroll on him. Caesar took it absently, his eyes moving ceaselessly, assessing and observing the crowd.

‘No bodyguard,’ whispered Peterson.

‘No,’ said Max. ‘He’s famously putting his trust in the Roman people.’

‘Hmm,’ said Markham. ‘I wonder how that worked out for him.’

‘He’s got legions outside the city, though, gearing up for the Parthian campaign.’