Gladiatrix (37 page)

‘Wise' was underlined twice. ‘Tonight' was underlined so heavily the parchment had split.

So Andromache had managed to escape. Good.

But what was Valerius trying to warn me about?

The only thing I could think of was the dagger sitting in my shoulder bag. Perhaps the powerful courtier that Valerius'd mentioned had found out it had been in his possession and was now in mine?

That had to be it.

I looked up at Alex. He was standing guard at the villa window. God, I had to get him out of this mess before he ended up nailed to a cross.

Alex looked back at me. ‘What is it?'

I handed him the letter.

He cursed when he reached the end, ‘You have to leave Rome as soon as possible. Valerius Musa's obviously trying to warn you that everything's about to turn to shit.'

I started to speak. But he cut in, ‘Yes, I know you won't leave until you see Lucius. But straight after that you have to go. I'll get Victoria for you. I know this city better than you, anyway.'

His offer left me speechless for a second. I wasn't sure that I deserved such loyalty.

He raised his hand as though to stroke my cheek, but let it drop back. ‘You can trust me. I'll bring her to you.'

‘Thanks, Alex, but no. I can't depend on Lucius alone. What if the Praetorians catch him? I have to be ready for the initiation in case something goes wrong.'

Searching my face for a way to convince me, he realised, instead, that my decision was final.

I was following this ride to the end.

It was less than an hour before noon, and all my plans had fallen completely apart. Lucius was dead. And Alex and I were on the run from an enraged Praetorian Guard.

We'd gone to meet Lucius in the Mythras cave at dawn, but he was dead. His throat hinge-cut in Fabius' preferred style, sprawled across the Mythras altar carved with a man killing a bull. The Praetorians had arrived just as we found him, but strangely enough they were less concerned about Lucius than the whereabouts of the Isis dagger. Valerius had been right, someone important was interested in all this. But who and why?

Before they could take us into custody we'd fought free and run. The main problem was that they'd recognised me.

Now I only had Plan B: talk to Valerius' Egyptian translator at the inn near the Iseum and see if she could give me any help. All I needed was even the hint of another way to find Fabius. If she couldn't give me that, then I had to go through with the initiation at noon.

Like I said, it had all gone to hell.

According to the desk clerk at the New Metropolis Inn, a woman was already upstairs waiting in the room that Valerius had booked for me. A disapproving smirk crossed his puffy little face as he said it, but for whom and precisely why, I couldn't tell. Maybe he just didn't like such furtive meetings happening in the middle of the Roman equivalent of a Holiday Inn.

We climbed the stairs and, as directed, knocked on the third door on the left. It jerked open. The woman must've been waiting right behind the door to be that quick.

Not a good sign. I knew why we were in a dire rush, but why was she?

At that same moment a prosperous-looking family of five bustled down the corridor towards us. The stoutly respectable parents took one look at Alex and me, and leant down to herd their little ones safely out of our menacing range. A further glance at the woman standing in the doorway, and they fairly sprinted towards the stairs.

She was a decade past middle age, dressed in expensive but conventional Roman dress. The local clothes helped, but she was too dark, too foreign, to easily fit in. Rome is brutal and cunning, but there's a culture of openness, accessibility. Or at least the pretence of it. Her land was full of harsher contrasts. Bluer sky. Blacker Nile soil. Supporting a lush green delta of plenty. Infested with crocodiles. Surrounded by desert. Full of cobras. And lions …

No wonder the Egyptians worshipped everything with claws and fangs.

A long veil covered most of her grey-streaked black hair, and hung down to her knees. A golden Eye of Horus glinted in the folds at her neck, but it
seemed less a piece of jewellery than a kind of armour. Her eyes, black as outer space, stared into mine for a tense moment. She assessed Alex next. Then without any greeting she moved across the room to sit at the table next to the open window. I followed and sat across from her. Alex shut the door and leant against it.

She announced she was Mersekhet, and held out an impatient hand for whatever I wanted translated. I gave her the note that'd been hidden in the handle of the Isis dagger, and waited.

Mersekhet carefully unfolded the papyrus, then stiffened. She glared across at me with eyes now diamond-edged. ‘Where did you get this?' It was less a question than an accusation.

My jaw clenched in anticipation of a fight; she hadn't been pleased to be here in the first place. ‘It was hidden in the handle of a dagger. The handle was carved in the likeness of Isis.'

She stared down at the papyrus in horror, her fingers trembling.

‘What does it say?'

Mersekhet carefully placed the note face down in the middle of the table, as though to prevent the hieroglyphs from seeing her.

‘What is it!' I demanded.

‘You fool!' Sharp-toothed venom etched each word. ‘It's an ancient magic spell, far too dangerous to translate. And I refuse to have anything to do with it. Valerius Musa has no idea what he's asked me to do!' At that she rose, putting her hands flat on the table to use as leverage.

I clapped my right hand over her left one, firmly holding it to the table. I was not in the mood for a tantrum.

‘My mother was kidnapped by people trying to find the Isis dagger and this spell. They still have her.' I made it sound like the threat it was.

Mersekhet, frozen in a half crouch, looked from my hand pinning hers, to Alex leaning against the door.

He shook his head. ‘You're not leaving yet.'

She slowly sat. ‘You don't understand,' she spat out. ‘I literally. Cannot. Translate it.'

Her eyes involuntarily darted down to the papyrus note, and then back to mine. For a brief moment the arrogance dropped from Mersekhet's face. This woman was not just being uncooperative — she was genuinely afraid.

‘To say the words aloud, without protections, will call down the soul eaters.'

The soul eaters?

I didn't ask. At this point nothing scared me more than the initiation. ‘Then tell me what it does.' With each word I crushed her hand down into the table. ‘Because you're not leaving until you do.'

Her face changed, now she was afraid of me as well. ‘Let me explain,' she said. ‘You can't understand …' She searched for words. ‘There are reasons why …'

‘Why what?'

‘Why you have to burn it. Now! To even be in its presence is to risk death. Or worse!'

To me it was just a piece of paper that may, or may not, save my life. ‘Then you'd better talk fast.'

Anger seethed over her fear, reinstalling her dominant persona — arrogance. Mersekhet considered me carefully for a moment. ‘What do you know of Egyptian magic?' She spoke as an impatient teacher addressing a below-average pupil.

‘A little.' I released her hand. The Egyptian occult was fascinating, but it wasn't my university major.
I knew what everyone of my time knew, plus a little more. But that was it.

‘Well you don't know anything, or you wouldn't be here! You amateurs always cause the greatest harm!' she snapped. ‘So listen carefully to everything I say, because you have no idea what you've fallen into.'

I nodded. I didn't like being treated like a fool, but if it'd get her to the point faster, I'd wear it.

‘We're an ancient race, Egypt. Old in wisdom and culture when these Roman children were still playing in their mud huts. And our gods and goddesses are older still.'

Gesturing out the window at the city skyline, she said, ‘This empire, this web of power, that the Romans are so proud of, is but a blink in time compared to ours.'

Just what I needed with the Praetorians on my tail — a history lesson. ‘Tell me what it does! I don't have time for the long version.'

Bitter lines creased themselves into Mersekhet's face. At some time in her past she'd been treated with an unhealthy amount of respect, and the painful loss of it showed. ‘Your whole problem centres on what I'm about to tell you. So listen, or let me go.' She exploded, ‘You choose!'

‘Go on then. Tell it your way.' As rattled as I was at wasting time, antagonising her was just slowing the process.

‘It started with the wars. Human and divine. Since the beginning of time the gods and goddesses have fought amongst themselves for dominance in our land. And as the Egyptian empire spread over neighbouring territories, new foreign deities arrived to vie for power. Each increase in our borders brought in a new city with its own family of deities, temples, and religious
hierarchy. The worship of these divine families increased, or decreased, according to the political power of the cities where they were acknowledged. And in return for worship and sacrifice the gods gave their human supporters many powers.'

‘Sounds like the Romans paying tribute to Jupiter for his protection,' said Alex, his cynicism showing through.

Mersekhet was disgusted at the comparison. ‘The Roman gods are foolish children, just like their followers.' She waved her hand dismissively. ‘The Egyptian deities serve a function in the cosmos.'

‘Keep going,' I prompted. If this was going to help, it had to happen faster.

‘For a time the gods of Memphis ruled Egypt through their chosen kings. They were great and many sacrifices were made and temples built. But, after a struggle, they were defeated by the gods of Heliopolis. Ra, the sun god, and his children became the centre of Egyptian worship. In return, Ra proclaimed that his chosen Pharaoh was also his son in human form — a god — and the living link between the Egyptian deities and their people.'

‘So Pharaoh was a divine deal maker.' Well, that was one way of maintaining your power base.

Mersekhet nodded. ‘The basic nature of the universe is chaos. The deities, and at a lower level Pharaoh, use magic to preserve order and enable peace and growth.'

How convenient. ‘So the performance of these cosmic duties made the deities, and Pharaoh, worthy of worship and obedience?' Of course. The standard terms of any protection racket.

‘Yes. The gods battled to overcome the agents of chaos. Each day Ra fought his way back to the sky,
after spending the night travelling through the darkest of hells and defeating the demons who sought to capture him.'

Ugh. What a sad picture. Egypt must fear the coming of night in a way I could never understand.

‘Likewise Pharaoh used magic to maintain order and protect the Egyptian empire against its enemies,' said Mersekhet. ‘And to reinforce his power Pharaoh was surrounded by a hierarchy of priests who performed rites and magical functions. Designated temples across Egypt had magical duties to perform throughout the entire cycle of the night and day. They placated the gods, and preserved the natural and social order.'

‘So your whole society ran on magic?' Alex cut to the heart of the matter.

Mersekhet nodded emphatically. ‘Magic had to be performed to preserve and develop every aspect of human existence. Including the final journey into the afterlife. Everyday life was rich with magical occurrences, and every activity required magical intervention for success.'

‘Sounds like magic was a growth industry.' My tone was flippant.

It was difficult to respect a religion based on such a catastrophic view of the world. And a ruling hierarchy that traded on that fear.

Mersekhet attacked. ‘So you're a materialist like the Greeks? Everything is just tiny atoms, yes? Well our magic was more sophisticated than your science. For us magic was an act of creation. A ritual bringing into being. Its practice was based upon a study of the very energies, which brought everything into existence in the first moment of genesis. We understood the laws of the cosmos, and invoked them.' She sniped, ‘Isn't that just what your Greeks wanted as well?'

In answer I tapped the papyrus. ‘You say the magic was based on the creative and vital forces of genesis. Then why does even touching this fill you with such anxiety?'

The fear slid back into her eyes. ‘Because the creative forces can be encapsulated in sounds and symbols, which can be combined into words. And those words can initiate an act of destruction, as well as creation.' Mersekhet pointed at the papyrus with her index finger. ‘Words — spoken, sung, carved or written like this — are magical entities.'

‘So.' I indicated the papyrus. ‘What does the spell do?'

‘It relates back to the Pharaoh's special powers.' She paused to lick her lips, her mouth dry with anxiety. ‘The gods themselves are created beings. So they also have to obey magic — even when a mortal uses it. Pharaoh used powerful magic rituals to compel their service. And everything about Pharaoh had magical significance, including the royal name and crown. The crown itself was worshipped as a living goddess.'

I broke in. ‘Yeah, yeah.' Then pointed to the papyrus again, ‘But what is this thing? Why was it in the handle of the dagger?'

‘Pharaoh gained his unique power by taking part in rituals, which enabled him to eat the creative essence of the cosmos. And charge his being with magical energy.' She paused. ‘Part of this ceremony involved eating ritually sacrificed human flesh.'

Fuck. So that human sacrifice and the initiation could be the same thing. ‘I know the hieroglyph for Isis is on that paper. How does she fit in?' I asked.

Contempt filled Mersekhet's eyes. ‘Rome has no understanding of the destruction that they have unleashed. The gods still fight for power. Deities rise and fall, just as empires do. Most of the Egyptian gods
and their Pharaoh have fallen to Rome — but not all. The most powerful one — Isis — has risen again in the West.'

‘Are you trying to say that she's alive and living in Rome?'

She saw my disbelief. ‘You've been to the Iseum here, so you think you know her story. But you don't know anything. And they don't either! They worship Bright Isis — the loving mother. There's a Dark one too.'

I looked across at Alex, now we were finally going to find out how Isis fitted into the story.

‘Isis started off as a lesser fertility goddess in a small rural area close to the Nile. When Egyptian borders expanded to take in her temple she became a minor member of Ra's family of celestial beings. By the time Ra took power as the sun god she'd become one of the group's most powerful female deities. Ra had accepted her as his favourite granddaughter, and she had seduced and married his powerful grandson, Osiris.'

‘So she went from being a backwoods idol to a famous goddess? Even so it sounds as though she was still just a female appendage in a patriarchal religion.'

‘Not for long. Think about the popular story of Isis you must've heard at the Iseum. She isn't just an appendage in it, is she? Whatever they may have said, the story is really about Isis seizing power. She not only survives the murder of her king and husband by his rival, but against overwhelming odds defeats that same rival and becomes ruler herself.'

Hmm. It was a different spin on Ankara's story, but it didn't necessarily conflict with it. Except in explaining the true nature of the goddess, of course.