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CHAPTER 17: TO THE TOWER
Veronica Balwinchie was not a patient woman. She’d been waiting at the tower since sunrise and was somewhat annoyed when her supposed minions were not waiting eagerly for her, bearing the relic or begging for passage home. The seven days were not strictly up until around midday – the time she’d sent Sydney back the week before. Nevertheless, at a quarter to noon she decided that enough was enough. She ventured forth into the ancient world to take matters into her own hand. However, it was not Sydney Fox that she spied puffing up through the ornamental gardens and fountains towards her. Instead she spotted the inexorable Professor Bluthus, who she had presumed was dead after he failed to meet his last appointment with her. He was accompanied by a tall, well-dressed Roman patrician who was bearing in his hands something that looked very much like her relic. ‘Bluthus, you buffoon!’ she shrieked. ‘I thought you were…aaargh!’ Veronica reached for her magic necklace, but it was already too late to start her bewitching act. Soldiers poured out of the bushes on either side. One eagerly grabbed both her arms, while another yanked the jewel from around her neck. ‘Good work, men!’ cried Agroitus. He strode up to Veronica, with Hatshepsut’s Eye in one hand, and took the necklace in the other. He then leaned close into the seething sorceress's face and asked: 'how do they work, my beauty?’ The words were lost on Veronica, who did not speak his language. Not being a very well brought up young lady, she spat in his face. With the consul was still reeling, she took one look at Hatshepsut’s Eye, which had been partially reassembled with fish glue and screamed. ‘You think you can use that? There's a huge chunk missing! What careless fool broke it?’ Agroitus hadn’t a clue what she was screeching about, and looked to Bluthus, nonplussed. ‘It was Nigel Bailey,’ muttered Bluthus to Veronica, who sneered in disgust. ‘He, or Sydney Fox, have the missing piece.’ ‘Then you must get it off them!’ shouted Veronica. ‘And tell your nasty friends to get their hands off me or, I swear Bluthus, I’ll roast you alive!’ ‘Hmmmmm. Easier said than done, I’m afraid.’ Bluthus then addressed the increasingly impatient consul. ‘You might as well take her away, sir,’ he suggested. ‘She’s of no use until you get the shard.’ Agroitus agreed and ordered his men to drag away the raven-haired lovely, already musing about what kind of ‘fun’ he would have with her later. ‘Set up the trap for the ‘warrior princess’ men,’ he bellowed. Then he turned to Bluthus and said: ‘you know what to do?’ The academic was now quivering to the extent that he could not talk, but he nodded so adamantly his double chin wobbled. ‘Good!’ said Agroitus, and headed with his men to hide. ………………….. Derek was half way up the hill towards the fountains, when a small, apologetic voice called him from some way behind. ‘Derek…I’m sorry. But can you wait a second?’ Derek did turned and, on the sight that greeted him, hurried back down the sloping lawns. Nigel appeared to have, literally, crumpled to the ground. He was breathing hard and clutching his middle, a pained expression on his face, which had turned several shaded paler than it had been in the jail. Derek thought: ‘Christ, Nigel, this is a really bad time for a relapse!’ but he didn’t say it out loud. It was hardly his friends fault. ‘Need some help?’ Nigel nodded dejectedly. ‘God, Derek. I’m so sorry…I felt so much better today, but I guess I’ve kind of overdone it.’ Then he thought: ‘last night was pretty strenuous too!’ He kept that to himself. Nigel squinted up at the special agent, who was standing against the now blazing sun. ‘Maybe you should leave me? Go help Syd. I’ll slow you down.’ ‘Nah. Come one. I just hope you don’t need carrying…’ Derek sniggered. ‘No thank you!’ retorted Nigel, trying to sound manful but not ungrateful. ‘Just a hand, please?’ Derek helped Nigel to his feet, and supported him as best he could. Nigel hooked his arm around his companion’s shoulders. They hastened, as fast as was now possible, up the hill. ‘You know, Nigel,’ said Derek. ‘I never really thanked you for coming to rescue me.’ Nigel smile was brittle as he fought back the pain and weariness. ‘Well, at least I’ve got one less favour to pay back now.’ ‘That’s not the point, my friend. What you did was really brave.’ Realising Nigel was still struggling, Derek reluctantly slackened the pace. ‘Sorry,’ whispered Nigel. ‘No problem, buddy… I’ve got to admit, when you came through that prison door, I kind of assumed that Sydney Fox would be right behind you, high-kicking the hell out of the guards. But she wasn’t. Did she even know you were there?’ ‘No,’ panted Nigel, ‘not really.’ Derek paused, allowing Nigel to recover again, and chuckled to himself. He was beginning to see why Professor Fox liked to have this guy around, beyond translations and decorative purposes. ‘I underestimated you, Nigel,’ he conceded. ‘Now come on. We’ve got to rescue your damsel in distress!’ Nigel, still out of puff, nodded and continued his arduous journey. ……………….. Not surprisingly, Sydney reached the tower well before Derek and Nigel. Approaching from the other side of the gardens, she managed to ditch most of the tailing spectators – and the lumbering Girder – simply by running very fast and dodging through the trees and fountains. She knew that rumour was spreading like wildfire that there was action at the tower. ‘Oh well’, she thought. If the mob was on her side, it couldn’t be a bad thing. She was alone, though, when she approached the Tour Magne. Indeed, there was apparently nobody about. Every tingling sense in her body told her that something was up, and that she needn’t to take the utmost care. A familiar, rotund figure appeared in the open doorway on the first level of the tower, the floor above the shallow basement where she and Nigel had emerged last week. ‘Bluthus!’ snarled Sydney. ‘Why am I not surprised to see you, you traitorous snake? Where’s your new pal, Agroitus?’ Bluthus stared at her, both hands raised in a cautioning, and rather camp, fashion. ‘He isn’t here,’ he entreated. ‘You must be careful Professor Fox!’ Sydney surveyed for signs of an ambush or a trap. She was well aware that Agroitus and his cronies were skulking somewhere nearby. She approached the steps with caution, but could see nothing obvious. Syd climbed up to the entrance. At this point, Bluthus took a step back into the gloom inside, shaking his head tremulously and whispering: ‘Follow me, Professor Fox. Come this side. Don’t step on the other.’ Sydney glared at him contemptuously. There was just no way this guy could be trusted! She stepped cautiously through the door exactly where he said she shouldn’t. For a second, nothing happened. But, just as Sydney started to congratulate her well-honed gut, there was a loud twang. Her whole world flipped as she was swept bodily from the floor. In a millisecond, she was suspended from the ceiling in a large net, her usually well-poised legs, arms and hair tangled messily and uncomfortably together. ‘I tried to warn you, Professor,’ whined Bluthus. Sydney cursed and scrambled for the knife she had deftly concealed in her Vestal virgin robes. It was to no avail. She couldn’t reach it and, before she had time to shift, Agroitus and several of his men were through the door. ‘Damn it, Sydney,’ she thought, ‘what a time to screw up!’ Still, she greeted the new company with a gloating smile. ‘Some men will go to any lengths to catch the woman of their dreams, won’t they?’ ‘Don’t make fun, my beauty,’ leered Agroitus. ‘Or you won’t be hanging around here for long! Give me the shard.’ ‘I don’t have it, Agroitus. ‘Now why don’t you let me down before my little army arrives and the party really starts? You might find yourself hanging around – by the neck from the nearest tree!’ Agroitus ignored her threat. His only concern was his relic. ‘If you don’t have it, who does?’ He shoved his sneering face in hers, as she strained to tear the net. ‘It can’t be that grunting goon, I have him locked up…so who is it? Tell me or you die now. Then I’ll find whoever it is and they’ll die more horribly than you can even imagine!’ Sydney’s mouth was clamped tight and her expression stony, but a strange passion flashed in her eyes. ‘Ah,’ ruminated Agroitus. ‘Thoughts speak louder than words…’ He recalled such a fiery expression from the ‘warrior princesses’ on the night of the orgy and when she ‘performed’ for him. What had been mentioned that had triggered it on those occasions? Suddenly it struck him. ‘By the Gods, don’t tell me that your pathetic little husband is still alive?’ Sydney snarled, giving no definite answer. Inside, she cursed herself. How could she let her feelings for Nigel betray him? Once again, she thought: ‘what a time to screw things up!' ……………………. By the time Nigel and Derek reached the top of the gardens, a small crowd of citizens had gathered outside the tower. Agroitus’ guards were loitering about but none of Valerius’ more friendly soldiers had yet cottoned on to the change of venue. Derek sized things up while they were still a safe distance away, hiding behind some flowering rose bushes. ‘I don’t like the look of this,’ he said seriously. ‘You’d better stay here.’ Nigel, who had flopped onto the ground again, scowled. ‘I don’t appreciate being dumped in bushes every five minutes. Sydney developed this bad habit yesterday! Besides, do you have any sort of plan?’ Derek smirked humourlessly. ‘No, I don’t have a plan yet. But I know that I can help Syd and I’m not sure what you can do for her right now. More to the point, I don’t want you getting hurt again.’ Nigel opened his mouth to protest – hadn’t this guy just said he’d underestimated him? Derek raised a silencing hand: ‘Stay!’ He sneaked out from behind the bushes, ignoring Nigel as he hissed: ‘I’m not a bloody dog, you know!’ Derek was not a subtle guy. Nigel, peeping between the leaves, pushed his fingers through his hair in exasperation as his friend attempted to look nonchalant, sizing up the guards and sidling towards the tower. He might as well have been wearing a pair of 21st Century shades! Nigel wondered if Derek could ever be convincing ‘under cover.’ Nigel laboriously dragged himself to his feet, scratching himself on the thorns, and was about to start after Derek when he saw Agroitus stride out of the tower. He collapsed forward into the evil, prickly bush, safe out of sight. Derek, on the other hand, glanced around carelessly and whistled. He failed utterly to look inconspicuous. ‘The grunting goon!’ exclaimed Agroitus. ‘Seize that man!’ Eight soldiers fell upon the agent. Derek lashed out viciously, cracking more than a couple of Roman noses, but he was quickly overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. ‘Take him into the tower,’ shouted Agroitus, ‘and we’ll see what persuasion is needed to make him and the wench talk!’ ‘Damn,’ thought Nigel and, not for the first time, wondered: ‘do I have to do everything myself?’ …………….. Agroitus held the point of the sword directly at Derek’s heart, while four soldiers held the agent firmly. ‘Tell me where your husband is, or I kill the new man now!’ ‘I’m telling you honestly Agroitus, I don’t know where he is.’ Sydney, now bereft of her knife and still suspended in the net, was floundering for good ideas. She simpered, attempting seductiveness, and gestured at Derek with her head. ‘If you let him live, maybe we can come to some agreement. But if you kill him, I promise you, you’ll never find my husband and the relic will never be of any use.’ Agroitus shrugged. ‘You are in no position to threaten me, my love. This is your last chance…’ He drew back the sword, ready to thrust. ‘Tell me woman, where is your husband?’ ‘I’m here, Agroitus.’ Everyone’s eyes snapped to the doorway. ‘Nigel!’ Syd’s voice was plaintive. Even she wondered what good her assistant could do at this desperate stage. Nigel was wondering the same thing. He did have a plan, albeit a rather shaky one. It was based around the fact that the shard of relic, now hidden around the back of his belt, was pretty sharp. He’d intended to chuck it to Syd: once she had a weapon in her hand, anything was possible. Okay, so things were looking bleak now he saw she was caught in a net! But, still, she could swipe about and cut herself free… ‘Help!’ panicked Nigel, as a guard seized both of his arms and held him fast. ‘This is one very shaky plan.’ ‘Where is the shard?’ demanded Agroitus, the sword still pointed at Derek. Nigel gulped, but did his best to sound dignified. ‘If your man would be so kind as to give me my hands back, I’ll give it to you.’ Agroitus nodded and the soldier released Nigel, who glanced at Sydney. Her countenance was blazing with frustration. He gestured wildly at her with his eyes, hoping she understood he was about to try something…anything! As quick as he could, he pulled the shard from the back of his belt and started towards Sydney in the hope that a quick slash would set her free. He didn’t get very far. ‘Ow!’ Nigel’s bad foot jarred against a raised stone on the floor. As Agroitus lunged to seize the now visible piece of relic, Nigel collapsed forward on top of him, grabbing at his ankle with his free hand. They both crashed onto the stones. As Sydney looked on in horror, the guards swiftly pulled Nigel off the now prostrate Agroitus. Then everyone stopped dead. The shard of Hatshepsut’s Eye was embedded deep in Agroitus’ heart. He retched once, blood gurgling in his mouth, then let out a long final breath. The consul of Nevium was no more. ……………….. Derek instantly took advantage of the flabbergasted guards. He yanked himself free, grabbed a sword. ‘Don’t you break an ankle, Syd!’ He swiped at the cord that held the net, and she dropped to the floor. By the time she’d untangled herself, there was little fighting to do. The consul had ruled by fear and, now he was dead, the guards had no idea who to serve. What if killing these people displeased the next guy to seize power? It just wasn’t worth it. They skulked away, hoping they’d still be paid. Nigel, relinquished by the guards, staggered back against the wall. Although he edged as far from the corpse as possible, he was unable to rip his eyes from it. He couldn’t quite believe what he’d done or even recall if he’d really intended to do it. It had all happened so fast… He was so transfixed that he barely registered Sydney’s approach. ‘Nigel?’ she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘Are you okay?’ She could feel him trembling. Nigel nodded. ‘I’m fine. How about you, Syd?’ She smiled. ‘Never better, Nigel.’ Neither said anything more. The look they shared conveyed their emotions better than any much-used words. ………………. When the ‘warrior princess’ and the one they knew as ‘Maximus’ appeared in front of the tower and announced that the consul was dead, a gigantic cheer was raised to the sunlit sky. Agroitus had not been a popular leader! Nevertheless, as Sydney smiled and waved at her fans, she could sense some discontent amongst the punters. These guys had wanted a show: chiefly, to see Syd ‘kicking some consulate ass’ while dressed as a Vestal virgin. As it was, nobody seemed to know quite who, or what, had killed the consul. There was a pronounced sense of anti-climax. Valerius, who had just arrived with his men, pushed his way through the crowd and up onto the steps to congratulate Sydney. He hoped that the popular ‘warrior princess’ was going to announce him as their next leader. Syd received him warmly, but said nothing of the kind. ‘How do you do things properly, around here?’ she asked him. ‘To be honest, I don’t really like military coups. Where I come from, they mean ugly men with big guns get to boss everyone around.’ Valerius looked at her confoundedly, unsure what she was talking about. Syd continued: ‘Shouldn’t I recommend you to the senate, or something, and then you can have a citizens’ election? I think we’re about, uh, nineteen centuries too early for universal suffrage but I guess Rome wasn’t built in a day!’ Valarius, still confused, suggested she speak to the other members of the forum: the benign, and recently down-trodden, grey-haired elders whom she had seen at the altar devoted to Vesta. ‘Great!’ beamed Sydney. ‘Now haven’t you got a daughter to go find?’ The general’s broad smile matched hers. ‘You know, that is what I came here for! I’ll see you later.’ He ordered his men to help Syd in any way she needed, and then pushed his way back through the crowd, anticipating a happy reunion. Derek leaned in and whispered in Syd’s ear. ‘I think we’d better go see how Nigel is. He wasn’t feeling too good.’ Sydney shot him a worried glance. ‘Let’s do that. I still don’t know quite how he got here…did he come with you?’ ‘Well, yeah. Actually he rescued me from jail!’ ‘Well done, Nigel!’ said Syd, in amused surprise. ‘Oh, just one thing, Sydney,’ added Derek as Syd turned to head back into the tower. ‘You’re the sexiest Vestal virgin I have ever seen!’ He slapped her backside. ‘I’m going to kill you, Derek Lloyd,’ muttered Sydney through gritted teeth. ‘And its going to be more painful than anything our late friend Agroitus could ever imagine!’ …………….. Once he’d got over his initial trauma, Nigel felt a lot better than he had earlier. When Syd and Derek stepped back through the tower door, he was scrambling about in the dirt on the floor with none other than Girder. He had been intrigued to find out what it was he’d tripped over before he dealt his fatal blow. It turned out to be a loose stone slab that had been dislodged, probably by the soldiers setting up the trap. When Syd laid eyes on him, Nigel was charmingly requesting that Girder lever it up, intrigued to see what was underneath. Girder was obeying him eagerly, obviously with the hope of some reward. ‘If you would be so kind as to just lift that up, Girder, then I’m sure we’ll find time for ‘cuddles’ later…’ ‘Having fun, Nigel?’ asked Syd. Nigel, who hadn’t noticed her enter, shuffled several inches back from his new friend and quickly withdrew his hand, which had been wandering near Girder’s broad shoulders as he pondered an encouraging pat. ‘Err, yes. I mean, no…um, well, actually, we’re just carrying out a little archaeological dig.’ Nigel grimaced. It was the truth. Besides, he’d needed to think of something to do to stop Girder’s ‘cuddles’ from smothering him! All the same, Syd’s expression was piercingly dubious. ‘Tell me, Nigel. What do you expect to find?’ ‘Well, do you remember when we first got here and I recalled a Nostradamus prophecy about this tower…which, incidentally, predates the rest of the Roman wall by some two centuries.’ Nigel sounded as if he was back in the Ancient Studies office, enthusiastically explaining an interesting translation. ‘Well, I remembered what the prophecy was about!’ He grinned at Syd proudly, but Derek’s eyes glazed over. ‘Cut to the chase, Bailey.’ ‘Okay, okay. Nostradamus claimed there was a pot of gold hidden in the bottom of the tower, and that somebody would find it. Acting on his words, the citizens tore apart all that remained of the pre-Roman tower in the 17th century, but no treasure was ever found. The story fascinated me…’ ‘Yeah,’ interrupted Syd, recognising the tale. ‘It interested me too.’ She turned to Derek. ‘Nigel and I have found Nostradamus’ prophecies to be pretty accurate in the past!’ As she spoke, Girder, who had continued straining to lift the stone, gave a monumental grunt as it ripped away. Sydney crouched down, keen to see what lay beneath. Nigel reached in and pulled out a large pottery beaker, decorated with primitive geometrical designs. ‘It’s amazing,’ gasped Sydney. ‘It’s the most perfect example of an iron age pot I’ve ever seen.’ Nigel nodded, clearly thrilled. There was a large stopper in the top which he held up to her. ‘Open it, Syd.’ Overflowing with anticipation, Sydney pulled off the lid. The contents, which filled it to the brim, caught the light and glistened. They were a radiant gold. ‘You’ve found Nostradamus’ treasure, Nigel!’ Sydney was as excited as a child. Nigel nodded again, too thrilled for words. ‘Nostradamus was right after all,’ reflected Sydney. ‘When he made the prediction, you weren’t to be been born and hear the prophecy for several centuries, even though you had already found the pot! Even the greatest oracle probably couldn’t quite get his head around that one!’ ‘Neither could the citizens of 17th century Nevium!’ added Nigel. ‘And neither can I!’ interjected Derek. ‘Look, guys. I’m sure this is going to look great on Nigel’s academic record, but haven’t we got some other unfinished business to deal with like, er, going home? Where’s that bitch Veronica?’ ‘Oh, yes,’ said Nigel distractedly. He pulled Veronica’s necklace out from his belt. ‘Girder took this off the, um, body for me.’ Syd raised her eyebrows. ‘The Egyptian necklace! Agroitus must have found Veronica before us.’ She looked at her assistant, increasingly impressed. ‘How many other relics have you got hidden about your person, Nigel?’ ‘I haven’t got the Eye, if that’s what you’re talking about.’ He paused, glancing reluctantly at the consul’s body. The jagged shard was no longer embedded in his chest. The rest of the repaired relic, which had laid by its side, had also vanished. Nigel did a doubletake. ‘Where is it? It was there last time I looked…and where’s Bluthus?’ Derek frowned. ‘I didn’t see him leave.’ His eyes locked with Sydney’s and they spoke as one. ‘Unfinished business!’ ‘Let’s go get ‘em,’ said Syd. ‘But first, Nevium needs to meet its hero. Come on Nigel!’ Nigel backed away from her across the floor, hugging his pot defensively in front of him. ‘What are you talking about Syd?’ Sydney went over and hauled him up and then guided her assistant ahead of her onto the steps of the tower. Girder grunted again, this time with disappointment. ‘Friends, Roman and Countrymen!’ Sydney announced, cringing at her impetuous choice of words. She much preferred addressing a room full of students! ‘This is the man that killed the consul in a deadly, one-on-one battle. Let me introduce my husband: your warrior prince!’ Nigel peered self-consciously at the cheering crowd. As the force of their adulation hit him, he blessed them with a genuinely delighted grin and a modest little wave. ‘They’d rather I was Syd,’ he mused to himself, regarding the slightly bemused faces of his admirers. ‘But, if I must be the hero of Nevium, I guess I can live with it!’
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