The History Keepers Circus Maximus (15 page)

‘Nathan – look,’ said Charlie, pointing to a towering structure – a giant domed cage, constructed from an intricate lattice of stone joists. Inside, several huge, vicious-looking birds glided around or sat on high perches. The dome itself was topped by a fearsome statue of a giant bird of prey, wings outstretched for flight. ‘Vultures,’ he said. ‘Or, if I’m not mistaken, a particular type of vulture. Interbred with
Polemaetus bellicosus
, the martial eagle – one of the deadliest birds of prey on the
planet – to make them extra bloodthirsty. Nathan and I have heard about these before, haven’t we?’

‘We certainly have.’ Nathan scowled at the vast aviary. ‘They’re Agata Zeldt’s pet of choice. The commander was right: this must be her hideaway.’

Once again, at the sound of Agata’s name –
the most evil woman in history
– Jake felt his stomach flip over. She was the sister of Xander Zeldt, the dark prince from whom he had narrowly escaped in Germany. She was also Topaz’s mother – although Topaz had disowned her entirely.

The Zeldt dynasty was the oldest enemy of the History Keepers. The mere mention of their name could terrify even the bravest agents. In the beginning, Rasmus Zeldt had been a friend and contemporary of Sejanus Poppoloe, the founder of the secret service; but he had descended into madness, disavowed the organization and pronounced himself king – not just of the world, but of time itself.

Many generations had come and gone before the monstrous King Sigvard had then appeared and declared war on all history, vowing to ruin the world and steep it in evil. He had taken a grand tour of the greatest atrocities of the past, from the Spanish
Inquisition to the witch hunts of Salem, learning his craft, before starting his own campaign of horror – attempting to destroy the past, to pick away at it and make the world unravel into a savage, ungodly place.

When he’d died unexpectedly on a campaign in ancient Mesopotamia, his children, Xander and Agata (Alric, his second son, had been missing for decades), had carried on his work with even greater zeal. For a whole generation, the History Keepers had fought them tirelessly, thwarting plot after plot. Three years ago, around the time that Jake’s brother Philip had gone missing, they had disappeared from the scene; but recently Xander had resurfaced with a nightmarish scheme to destroy the Renaissance. He’d been vanquished and left, horribly burned, on his warship, the
Lindwurm
.

But now it seemed that his sister Agata might be up to no good.

‘So, do we think that’s her personal residence?’ Nathan pointed to the white villa.

‘That’s where Topaz must be,’ said Jake, scrutinizing its colonnades. ‘What do we do next?’

‘Men approaching, twelve o’clock.’ Charlie nodded towards two attendants hurrying up the
steps in their direction.

They quickly retreated to the other side of the outbuilding. Looking through a window, they realized that it was a laundry – there were vats of washing, as well as sheets and clothes hung up to dry. The two slaves went in, took some tunics from a pile – brown ones like their own – and left.

‘Thinking what I’m thinking?’ Nathan asked, leaping up onto the window ledge. He double-checked that the room was empty, reached in, grabbed three more uniforms and jumped back down. ‘Look,’ he said, showing them the stitching on the front of each. ‘In case we needed more proof –
A
for Agata.’ The letter was inscribed over the symbol of a swooping vulture, talons extended.

The three of them swiftly removed their own light tunics and slipped on the brown uniforms.

‘The slave look isn’t my bag at all,’ Nathan complained, adjusting the cheap material to conceal his scabbard. ‘Charlie Chieverley, what on earth have you got on?’ he exclaimed. ‘I do believe you have surpassed yourself.’

He was referring to the underwear that Charlie was trying but failing to keep hidden as he dressed – half-pantaloons embroidered with Roman figures.

‘They’re educational!’ Charlie reddened as he yanked the new tunic down. ‘They’re my favourite characters from the ancient world: Aristotle, Archimedes, Cicero – to name but a few.’

He had only just sorted himself out when a stout man with a pockmarked face came round the building towards them, shouting something in Latin. At first Jake’s heart stopped, thinking they had been rumbled, but it became clear that the man’s annoyance was work-related: he wore the same brown tunic as the others, but seemed to be in charge. Charlie bowed and replied politely. Finally, the tirade over, the man strode off down the steps towards another unfortunate group of slaves.

‘We have to take those baskets down to the laboratory immediately,’ Charlie translated, once the man was out of earshot; he pointed to a stack of wicker baskets loaded with chunks of rock – the same pungent-smelling sulphur they had seen in the harbour. ‘And he also let slip that the
magistra
– that’s Agata Zeldt, I presume – is not presently in residence. That may be good or bad news. Quickly, we’d better move those rocks; we don’t want to attract attention.’

They set to immediately, grabbing two baskets
apiece. As Jake lifted his, the cloying stench caught in the back of his throat, making him gag.

‘Which do you think is the laboratory?’ Nathan asked, trying not to breathe as he scanned the various buildings.

‘There.’ Jake nodded towards a low octagonal building, to which two workers were carrying similar loads.

They headed down the path towards it, passing close to the aviary. It was feeding time, and a man was shovelling great chunks of raw meat into a shoot that dropped down into the cage. The birds, which were almost as big as humans, flew down in a frenzy, cawing and scrapping as they tore off ribbons of flesh with their razor-sharp beaks.

‘So what’s the deal with sulphur?’ Nathan asked. ‘Any ideas, Charlie?’

Charlie shrugged. ‘It could be used to make hundreds of things – medicines, pesticides, paper, vulcanizing rubber, sulphuric acid . . .’

Presently a gang of young warriors, pumped up after a bloody bout, came swaggering along the path towards them. They reminded Jake of a gang of hot-headed bullies at his school, only these were tough, muscular fighting machines. Close up, Jake could
see their uniform more clearly: each wore a pale-grey moulded leather breastplate, with feathers sprouting from the shoulders. More feathers decorated the backs of their thick gladiator’s boots. To complete the bird-of-prey theme, two of the guards were wearing glinting bronze masks with slit-like eyeholes and an armoured nose, hooked like a vulture’s; the others were carrying theirs.

The three young agents kept their heads down as they passed by, but Jake noticed that one of the guards – he had a chiselled face and a dimple in his chin – was watching them through narrowed eyes.

As they carried on down the series of steps and paths towards the hexagonal building, Jake, heart thumping, continued to scan all the female faces in the hope of glimpsing Topaz; but she was nowhere to be seen.

They went in and found themselves in a large room. It was dim and cool – and empty. The air was thick with the most dreadful odour – not just the sulphur, but something even more acrid. There were several work benches covered in gleaming bronze instruments, scales and measuring cups as well as jars of specimens, liquids and powders.

‘I assume the revolting whiff comes from those
dreadful things over there,’ said Nathan, pointing to an array of curious plants along one wall. Each bore a huge flower shaped like a colourless, giant tongue protruding from deep indigo petals.

‘
Amorphophallus titanium
.’ Charlie nodded in agreement. ‘Corpse flowers, as they are charmingly known. As well as smelling like putrefying flesh, they actually contain a stomach that can eat a small rodent. More and more, I’m endeared to our hostess.’

A man appeared through another door; he headed for a work bench and started pounding something with a pestle and mortar. He was tall and thin, with an angular face and a long plaited beard. Barely glancing at the boys, he indicated that they should deposit their baskets in the corner. They set them carefully down next to a stack of crates filled with crumbling pieces of rock. Jake caught sight of some unusual glass containers, hexagonal in shape – like the building – and filled to the brim with a blackish powder.

However, the bearded man now dismissed them with a brusque clap of his hands and they were forced to turn round and leave the building. On the other side of a stone courtyard was the main villa. A
group of uniformed slaves were filing in through a side door.

‘That’s where we’re heading next,’ said Nathan. ‘The key is to look like we know what we’re doing.’ With that, he took a deep breath and set off across the courtyard, the others following close behind. They checked that no one was watching and slipped through the side door into a dark passageway that ran the length of the house. At the other end, the slaves were just turning the corner, their feet softly echoing on the stone floor, and were soon out of sight.

The boys passed a doorway that led to a central atrium and peered in. It was as wide, high and bright as the service areas were cramped and dark, with a grand staircase and floors paved in white marble.

Nathan signalled for them to continue along the passage. ‘This way for the private suites, I would say,’ he whispered, and they headed up the staircase. As they did so, they failed to notice two heavy-set figures watching from the end of the corridor.

Coming to a door, Nathan signalled for silence and carefully unsheathed his sword. He opened it
and peered inside, then motioned for the others to follow.

They found themselves in a lady’s dressing room. Jake wondered if he might finally set eyes on Topaz, until Charlie announced, ‘Agata’s quarters – look.’ He pointed to a dressing table, its base resembling another monstrous bird of prey. The bird motif was everywhere: on the handle of a vanity mirror, in a ceiling fresco, pictured on the lids of coloured glass jars of perfumes and make-up.

A short passageway led to the bedroom. Again Nathan, weapon at the ready, gingerly advanced and, finding it empty, signalled for Jake and Charlie to follow.

The room was dominated by a throne-like bed illuminated by rays of late-afternoon sun streaming through two huge windows – glassless frames with a single horizontal bar – that looked out across the ocean. The room was empty, but there were signs of recent occupancy: the bed had been stripped, but the bedclothes still lay in a heap on the floor; a chest had been emptied and its drawers left open.

Nathan clicked his fingers at Jake. ‘Stand over there – make sure no one’s coming,’ he ordered. Jake went over to the main door. It was slightly ajar and
he had a view of the landing and the top of the staircase.

Meanwhile Nathan headed over to the window and looked down at the vertiginous drop. ‘Ouch,’ he whistled. ‘Quite a plummet.’

Charlie examined some large scrolls that had been unrolled on a desk and held down with weights. On top was an ancient map of Europe, Asia and Africa; the continents were oddly shaped but distinguishable. A great swathe, from the Atlantic, across the Mediterranean and North Africa, and all the way to the Persian Gulf, was coloured red.

‘The extent of the Roman Empire?’ Nathan asked.

‘In theory,’ sighed Charlie. ‘Though our friend Agata seems to be staking a claim.’ He referred to her symbol of a vulture emblazoned with an A that was printed on every country pictured.

From where Jake was standing, he could see only a mass of red spread across the page. As he craned his head round to get a better view, he noticed something lying on the floor – a single sheet of parchment that had got caught under his foot. He picked it up and examined it. It looked like the title page of a manuscript: there was a single heading,
scrawled in ink –
Counters
– and below this, a motif of seven golden eggs. Jake wondered if it was important.

‘Guys,’ he whispered over to the others, ‘what do you think about this?’ There was no reply. ‘Guys . . .?’ he called again.

Neither Nathan nor Charlie was listening. They had seen something shocking.

‘Is that who I think it is?’ Nathan asked. He was referring to a painting set into an alcove: it depicted a young man – arrogant, haughty, with a mane of perfectly straight blond hair.

‘The Leopard!’ Charlie gasped in astonishment.

11 E
XIT
P
ARADISE

JAKE’S BREATH STOPPED
at the sound of the name.
The Leopard
– the vile, silky-voiced spy who had intercepted them at the Stockholm opera house; the man whose accomplice Jake had woefully mistaken for Philip; the enemy agent who had made off with their entire consignment of atomium.

From the doorway, Jake turned round to look at it. Even from the other end of the room, the sneer was unmistakable.

‘No, that really is too much,’ Nathan declared as he set eyes on a companion portrait in an adjacent alcove. ‘Why is Topaz next to that idiot?’

At the sound of her name, Jake abandoned his post, unaware of the two shadows moving up the stairs towards the landing, and was drawn irresistibly to the second picture. It was unmistakably
her – the sphinx-like face, the indigo eyes, the tumbling tresses of golden hair. He could see that it had been painted recently; she still had the desperate look of a trapped animal that he had seen on the
Lindwurm
. This was bad enough, but there was an even greater shock: the two subjects were unmistakably similar. The Leopard (or rather
Leopardo
, as his name was given below the portrait) had the same mouth, the same cheekbones, the same eyes as Topaz.

Jake found himself asking a question to which he didn’t really want to know the answer: ‘Are they related, do you think?’

Charlie looked round at Nathan. ‘What do you think? Could she have a brother we didn’t know about?’

Nathan said nothing – just stared grimly at the portraits, his jaw clenched.

The discovery had set Charlie’s mind racing. ‘I hate to be the one to suggest it, but do you think she told him something about the Isaksens? Obviously she wouldn’t have known about the rendezvous in Sweden, but it’s an odd coincidence:
she
disappears and suddenly
he’s
in Sweden.’