1x09 The Embers of Alexandria (7.1/7)
Title: The Embers of Alexandria (7.1/7)
Author: principia_coh
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Rose/Ten II
Summary: Waylaid en route to a holiday, the Doctor and Rose encounter unexpected wonders... and new dangers.
Author’s notes: Thanks to ginamak and leighleighla for their excellent and patient beta work!
Episode 9 of a virtual series at the_altverse, following The Wretched Hive last week.
Virtual Series Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6.1 | Part 6.2
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Rose was lingering in the dining room, picking listlessly at the remnants of the food Dorsuo had set out for the family this morning. If she was going to keep going without sleep, she needed to eat.
She knew in her head that she really ought to have had at least a few hours’ proper kip, like Metella had nearly begged her to, but Rose had found she couldn’t, too tired and aching and uneasy to sit still for very long, much less snooze.
Rose could feel the need to act prickling under her skin, but the only hopes she had for rescuing the Doctor right now rested with other people. Rose knew their one best shot at getting to the Doctor lay with playing the system against itself. That’s why Quintus was off rounding up his most trusted friends among his fellow soldiers, and why Rose needed to wait.
Metella had hired passage on the swiftest merchant vessel currently in the harbour, under the guise of visiting a friend in Rome who had written with some extremely private matter of concern and needed Metella by her side immediately. A Roman woman of Metella’s status would never be expected to travel alone, and so she would be bringing a small coterie of her servants and friends with her, and a sizeable trousseau-hence the large, carefully-wrapped cabinet which would need to accompany her and her entourage, which was going to take its own carriage to transport.
Lobus, on the other hand, was keeping to business as usual, or as usual as it could be given last night’s events. When someone had just played Towering Inferno with one of the city’s biggest projects, there were a lot of emergency meetings with officials and worried staff to be dealt with. He’d looked crushed this morning when he’d said goodbye to Rose, distraught that he couldn’t be of any further help, but there was no excuse for him to leave Alexandria or even put off his appointments that wouldn’t look incredibly suspicious given the circumstances.
At any rate, the essence of the plan was simple enough. Plan A was to turn up at the jail, engage in a bit of Roman bureaucratic flim-flam to get the Doctor turned over to some of Quintus’ group; plan B was to have the other half bring her in as a new arrest to provide a distraction and give them direct access to the cells. Either way, fetch the Doctor, smuggle him out to the docks, and hide him in the TARDIS until the coast was literally clear-or they were clear of the coast. Fusus and Tuditanus had spent the rest of last night knocking together a right-sized wooden insert for the TARDIS, to be put just inside the door and packed with a load of Metella’s things in the event they were challenged to open it for inspection.
Rose tugged at her latest Roman disguise, which didn’t quite fit. Licina’s robes were far too long for Rose, so she’d had to borrow some of Sura’s. Today Rose was no longer a proper lady or a woman of ill repute, but simply someone’s attendant, for the sake of blending into the crowds on the streets.
The grinding effects of day after day with little rest and a lot of worry were creeping up on her; she’d almost cracked a joke to Sura and Licina about having more costume changes than the blokes from Dead Ringers. The girls had been shocked by her getup last night, but this morning’s switch had left them quietly dejected. For her, this was just a disguise to be shed at will, but for them, it was their lives.
Rose sighed. No matter how well-treated these girls were, they were still slaves. But if Rose had had any lessons drummed into her while ricocheting between universes like a pinball, it was that there were some sad facts in other people’s lives that simply couldn’t be changed, or that had to take a backseat to immediate needs.
She still felt like a cold bitch every time.
Rose saw Dorsuo’s head poking through the doorway.
“Ma’am, if you’re finished?”
Rose shoved a couple of olives into her mouth and stood up, chewing. They should all be heading out any minute now (with her being dropped off by Metella and Licina on their way to the docks), but not before Maro brought back word from Quintus that his group were in place and ready to proceed. She followed Dorsuo into the atrium.
Metella and most of the household staff were gathered there; she was giving those staying behind final instructions about what should be done in her absence.
“...and I’ll be sure to give Evelina everyone’s regards. Ah, Rose, are you ready to go? The carriages are packed. We may leave as soon as Maro’s returned.”
“Yes, I’m good. Thank you, everyone.”
The folks who weren’t coming along slowly filtered out of the room, a few giving surreptitious waves or nods to Rose as they left.
Oh good, more waiting.
Rose and the others loitered in awkward silence for a few minutes. Finally, the expected knock at the door came. Dorsuo swiftly answered it.
Maro was back at last-and he had company, a young soldier.
One of Quintus’ crew? Neither of them looked especially thrilled to be here, and as far as Rose knew, only one of them was supposed to be here at all.
Metella stepped forward to greet the young man. “Libo-”
So this was Quintus’ best mate.
“-it’s not that we aren’t pleased to see you, but why have you come? Shouldn’t you be with the others?”
Libo scanned the room quickly, and his eyes locked on Rose’s.
Plan B it is, then.
“I’m sorry, Rose, Mrs Caecilius, but we cannot go through with our plan.”
A collective gasp went up from the group assembled around her.
Rose needed to keep a clear head, had to think of how she’d handle this if it were anyone else, stay calm and focused.
“What? Why not?” Rose asked Libo, working to keep her composure.
“Because the Doctor isn’t in the city jail now. He’s been transferred to the direct control of the Prefect.”
“The Governor of Alexandria,” Maro mumbled for Rose’s benefit.
Rose nodded thanks to Maro, then turned her attention back to Libo. “Where does that put him, exactly?”
“He’s been imprisoned within the Prefect’s compound, awaiting trial. The only place with tighter security is the Imperial granaries. There’s no bluffing our way in there.”
“What are they going to do to him?”
“The guards won’t treat him too harshly, ma’am. If the Doctor came to permanent harm under their watch, it would mean their lives and those of the commanding officers too.”
Okay, not ideal news, but knowing the Doctor was at least somewhat safe gave her something to work with. Obviously, a frontal assault on the place was out of the question, and she’d have absolutely no reason to be there. They were back to square one, but that was nothing that couldn’t be remedied. This trial sounded like another opportunity to spring him-maybe while he was in transit?
Libo looked like he was choosing his next words carefully. “That will be true until the trial’s done. If the Doctor’s not found guilty, he’ll go free. If he is, then the likeliest punishment is death, and how that happens might not matter much. I’m sorry, ma’am.”
You mean they’d just, they’d... Rose tried to tamp down the swell of panic she could feel rising in her chest. It wouldn’t do the Doctor any good for her to lose it now.
Focus. “Where’s Quintus?”
“Quintus has been sequestered within the compound-”
The colour drained from Metella’s face.
“No, it’s alright, Mrs Caecilius, he’s not in trouble,” Libo clarified, “He’s being rewarded. He’s going to be the Doctor’s caretaker.”
“But if he’s sequestered, he’s not taking care of the Doctor now. You said there’s going to be a trial-is Quintus going to be the one escorting him to and from court?” Rose countered.
That could be perfect.
“In a manner of speaking, I suppose,” Libo offered, confusion in his voice.
“How else would Quintus be the Doctor’s caretaker if he’s not one of his guards?” Metella inquired.
Libo frowned. “Oh. Oh. Mrs Caecilius, the Doctor is not being tried in Alexandria. With the crimes he’s been accused of, he’s to be tried in Rome. Quintus has been assigned to see to the Doctor’s well-being during the voyage there.”
Rome.
Licina flinched, and Sura’s hands flew to her mouth.
Metella shot the girls a warning glance, but her own hand was on her chest.
“I wish I could be there too, but most of the men on the ship will be marines; the rest of the guards assigned to the ship will be from a more senior cohort than ours.”
Rose could feel her threadbare breakfast holding a revolt in her stomach.
Stop it. He needs you now.
“Is there any chance we could get to him when they’re going from the compound to the docks?” Rose asked, all business.
“No, ma’am, he’ll be heavily escorted, probably with the Prefect’s personal guard. If there’s any attempt made to free the Doctor, the troops might decide not to bother with a trial, just make an example of him on the spot.”
Rose turned to Metella. “Then we really do need that ship.”
“Ma’am? You have a ship hired already?”
From the crease in Libo’s brow, it seemed Quintus understood the principle of need-to-know.
“Yes, yes we do,” Metella confirmed, “She only awaits our arrival before she departs. There are no other passengers or cargo, I’ve paid to see to that.”
Libo looked stunned, then smiled in happy disbelief. “The Imperial vessel is still being stocked and manned, it’ll be hours before they can depart.”
“You mean we can beat that ship to Rome?” Rose queried.
“They’re taking one of the biggest vessels of the line, the kind they’d usually save for grain escorts; there’s got to be someone in Rome they want to send a message to.”
“Are you positive? I won’t leave my husband here for even a moment if you have any doubt.”
“As heavy as that ship is, even if you wanted to wait until they were leaving, that would be enough you give you the advantage.”
That was what she needed to know. She turned to Metella, her eyes bright.
One look from Metella, and Dorsuo was bolting to the door, with Maro, Licina and Sura quick on his heels.
“But who will help you in Rome, ma’am?”
“You may be assured I will take care of that, Libo,” Metella answered firmly.
“As you say. If there’s any news in the meantime, I’ll find you at the docks.”
“Thank you, Libo,” Rose said gratefully.
He bowed to her and Metella, then headed swiftly out the door.
It would be too easy to get sucked under by the possibilities racing through her head. Rose knew she needed to move now, or she’d never dare leave.
“Let’s get a move on, then. We’ve got a boat to catch!”
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In the end, Rose had insisted they wait as long as they could without raising a lot of questions among the Nereis’ crew. It’d been a fine line to tread between appearing suspiciously desperate to get out of town and being far too casual for someone who hired them on the pretence of being in a great rush, but in the end Metella had put on a great show of being fussy about this and that and every little thing, and they’d been able to wait for news from Libo.
She’d tried not to show her disappointment when Libo had given them a bundle from Quintus to take to his sister, but poor Libo had looked terribly guilty as he’d handed it to Metella. Rose had known better than to hope for some sudden reprieve or miraculous escape, but it would have put her mind at ease if she’d been able to hear something, anything directly about the Doctor’s condition. Libo had reported that the Doctor had been transferred safely onto the boat, and Quintus had been looking after him. That was all she could ask for right now.
Rose now stood near the stern of the ship, watching as the sight of the ship carrying the Doctor faded in the distance. Libo hadn’t been exaggerating the difference in speed between this ship and the juggernaut behind them. Rose was banking on their lead giving them enough time to put a plan in place before the Jupiter arrived; Metella did seem to have a specific notion in mind, but she hadn’t shared it out yet. Rose supposed that Metella didn’t want to give her false hope.
She let the warm winds of the Mediterranean wash over her, inhaling deeply. Rose could almost feel the Doctor ambling up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist as he murmured into her ear about the Great Lighthouse, or the structure and crew makeup of the ships in the distance, or exactly what he looked forward to on this long, slow sea voyage with almost nothing to do.
Instead he was locked in the hold of that relic from a B-movie because she hadn’t been fast enough or clever enough to find her way past the TARDIS’ lockouts. Or even imagined that still, after all this bloody time and everything they’d been through and meant to each other, he’d treat her like some fragile objet that had to be kept locked behind glass for its own safety.
Rose’s stomach growled, and she thought about heading into the TARDIS to fix Metella and the others a meal; she didn’t want to be rude to the ship’s crew, but she didn’t know if she could take another meal heavy on the fish sauce right now. At least she knew they weren’t going to get scurvy; the TARDIS kitchen had enough stock to keep them all in fruit squash for a month.
She smiled wanly at the crew members that passed by her now, and decided it was past time to head back. She padded past the soft cooing of the ship’s messenger pigeons, down towards Metella’s quarters, where company and consolation awaited.
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At least he wasn’t going to get scurvy. Even if his metabolism had gone completely human, it took months for a Vitamin C deficiency to result in serious symptoms. Journey to Rome in a boat like this oughtn’t be more than three weeks, give or take, so that left him about another fortnight in these luxury accommodations.
Over the past several days, the air in here had gone absolutely stifling, the smell from the sea and the soldiers and the paint and the lead lining of the hull making his head spin. Actually, it hadn’t, not really, but the sheer weight of this much solitary confinement with almost no interruptions was driving him completely hatstand. Not so much as a hole for the rain to get in and stop my mind from wandering.
The nightmare he’d awoken from on his way to the city jail had been repeating itself in various creative guises every time he managed to nod off, and as the days had worn on those visions had started to play themselves back on a loop in his head whenever he wasn’t actively concentrating on other trains of thought.
Rose staring at him, staring through him, staring at nothing at all...
If he didn’t stop it, he really was going to make himself ill.
He had to keep telling himself that if anything had happened to Rose, anything more consequential than a broken nail, the Quintus who’d managed to get the suit and trainers into his personal custody would surely have figured out a way to tell him by now. The lad’s continued taciturnity was only because they were under constant observation.
When Quintus had first appeared at his cell in the Prefect’s compound, he’d entertained the notion-if only for a moment-that it was a jailbreak. Instead, Quintus had efficiently collected his suit and trainers, brusquely ordering him to change. Quintus didn’t do brusque especially well; it wasn’t in his nature. The Doctor had taken one look at him and known they were being watched-and more critically, that they were in no position to chance revealing they knew one another.
This Rome might be different from the one back in N-Space, but not so different. He knew what the penalties would be for Quintus, his cohort, commanders, and likely even his family if he were found responsible for the escape of such a high-profile prisoner, much less if they decided he was a co-conspirator.
The Doctor shifted and squirmed, reaching up carefully to scratch at his growing beard. He really shouldn’t have this much trouble making himself reasonably comfortable. These irons weren’t too heavy, the tunic and sandals not too scratchy or tight. He’d had a lot better time of it with his brief stay in a bog-standard Roman prison than most, and his cells both in the Prefect’s compound and here were luxurious by comparison.
He had to hand it to Malleolus, the Centurion in charge of Quintus’ cohort-he’d been a reasonably fair warden overall, for the practises of the time. The Doctor had emerged from his initial interrogations with only a few fractured ribs to complement the near-obligatory cuts and bruises; they’d seemed almost considerate of the minor burns and scrapes he’d got escaping from the Library. It certainly spoke well of the restraint of the man and the troops under his command.
Once he got to Rome, though, that would be another story. He didn’t anticipate the sessions there would go nearly as smoothly, or that they’d tolerate his near-silence with such relative equanimity. He’d mulled over going into a healing trance long enough to set his ribs, give himself a fresh start when he got turned over to the tender mercies of a senior questionarius. Given the Prefect’s belief that there was Senatorial involvement in the Library’s destruction, he might even face the Emperor’s own specialist. This lot knew the extent of his injuries, though, and if they arrived in Rome with him freshly healed, they’d likely think him a witch. And wouldn’t that be fun?
His best chance, for now, lay in his continued silence. So long as the military believed he was in a position to incriminate one or more of the Emperor’s foes in the Senate, it was in their best interest to keep him alive so he could testify publicly. If they knew the truth (or as much of it as any of them would be likely to understand), he’d be completely worthless to them.
He had to be careful though; he couldn’t risk anyone in the Roman government taking the blame for his actions. Worst of all, if they decided he was a foreign agent, it would surely trigger a war, or bring the vengeance of the Emperor down on the heads of one of the Empire’s occupied territories. Maybe even ancient Britain itself.
He had to hold out long enough to take advantage of the earliest opportunity to get away without anyone innocent being implicated either in the destruction of the Library or his escape.
Speaking of innocent, Malleolus’ interrogator had asked him who would’ve ordered that his fellow incendiarists be killed rather than taken into custody. The complexity of the real intrigues in Rome’s history put the costume dramas to shame, so it could well be that some officer aligned with the Senate had thought he was protecting a co-conspirator.
But if the Kutoka’nje had infiltrated the Empire itself, the deaths of Mið and Lén’s colleagues, what he was putting Rose through, could all be for naught.
No, that couldn’t be true. He’d have sensed the timelines continuing to fray, or warping anew.
Wouldn’t he?
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Rose leaned back against the captain’s chair, considering the spanner in her hand as she tried to shake off the fatigue clouding her mind. She’d been butting her head against this particular Doctor-shaped wall for days on end; every time she thought she’d made a bit of progress in persuading the TARDIS to do what she wanted, another obstacle would put itself in her way. It was like those sadistically difficult ninja videogames Mickey used to spend so much time playing.
No, that wasn’t fair, that implied malice on the TARDIS’ part. Maybe more like the kthetra vines she and the Doctor had run into that one time on Enfiladissa. They’d blocked every path back to the TARDIS and had kept her and the Doctor living rough in the great outdoors for a solid week. They were just acting on instinct, doing what their maker had told them. The TARDIS was no more at fault than they were.
Rose had spent the first part of this two-week-plus sea cruise trying to be sociable; none of these people would be here if it weren’t to help her and the Doctor, so it was the least she could do. After a few days of talking politics and gossip for which she had no context, and staring at nothing but the same boat and the same water, she’d chucked it all and dove headfirst back into working on the TARDIS.
She’d been spending progressively more and more time inside, trying to coax the ship into giving her some sure way of getting herself and the Doctor out of here when the time was right. Her occasional appearance above decks now was more to keep the crew from thinking she’d gone overboard in the night than anything else.
The only reason Rose wasn’t going completely mental was because she’d finally been able to eke what she thought was a reading of the Doctor’s life signs out of the TARDIS. Not all of it was in English (yet), and that wasn’t to say she’d have been able to make sense of all of the data even if it were, but there was enough to tell her he wasn’t in an emergent condition. It was a comfort to know he really was being properly looked after by Quintus. Rose had been afraid Libo’s thrift with the details was out of a desire to protect her from some ugly truth, that maybe the authorities somehow knew all about Quintus’ acquaintance with the Doctor and were just waiting until he was away from his influential family to imprison him too.
She heard Metella’s delicate knock at the TARDIS door. Speaking of family...
“Come on in.”
Metella entered, making her way up the ramp. Her visits to check on Rose had become a regular occurrence, and it seemed like she was finally just about getting used to being in here. Or at least she appeared only mildly uncomfortable, instead of looking like the screaming abdabs were going to send her running out of the place.
“I’ve just sent word to Evelina that we’re arriving soon. The ship’s master was kind enough to let me use their pigeons.”
Rose set the spanner down, and made her way around to the ramp. “Really? That’s good of them.”
“They were already sending word ahead to their brokers in Ostia, and arranging passage for us into the city. Besides, being related to someone that influential goes a long way in persuading people to be more helpful than they might otherwise be.”
Rose smiled slyly. “You don’t say.”
Metella looked mortified. “Oh, my dear, surely you mustn’t think-”
“No, Metella, it’s okay. Let’s just say that back home the Doctor’s not the only prominent figure I’m associated with.”
“Ah, I see. Well, then, I don’t suppose I could persuade you to join us for a while out on deck, get some sun on your face?”
Sun? Was it daytime? She really did need to get out of here for a while, clear out the cobwebs.
“The captain says we should be landing in Ostia in a few mornings’ time. Once we’re there, it should only take a short time to disembark and then Rome herself is less than half a day’s ride away,” Metella continued.
Three or four days. Rose needed to get her head out of the what-ifs and maybes and deal with the reality of the situation at hand. She knew Metella had at least a few notions of what they might be able to do for the Doctor once they got to Rome, but she’d been so focused on getting the TARDIS up and running that she’d been giving Metella and the others short shrift.
No more. Rose had to concentrate on working with the resources she could count on-and that started right now.
Once the Nereis landed, that left maybe a week in which to finalise and implement any plans to free the Doctor, in a time and place where there were no modern means of communication and most people still walked everywhere.
Rose had to believe it would be time enough.
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Evelina’s carriage made its way quickly through the streets of Rome, the traffic parting in deference to her uniquely-marked conveyance. She sat back in her seat, considering her mother’s carefully-worded missive once again.
She had known for three days that her mother was coming to Rome on a matter of the utmost importance concerning a few dear friends, but evidently neither Father nor Quintus would be with her. The message also said that she hoped to be able to spend some time alone with Evelina, by which Evelina assumed she meant the family needed help of some kind from her and it was something Mother didn’t feel comfortable discussing where others might read it.
One of the family’s servants-Maro-had appeared a short while ago at the College this morning to let her know that Mother was in Rome and would be awaiting her at the family’s old home. Evelina herself now owned it, and had kept it for the occasional visit from family or friends (and in the expectation that her parents or brother might move back someday). Maro had been amenable enough, and paid her the customary courtesies, but it hadn’t been difficult for Evelina to sense the urgency in his demeanor. Whatever it was that had brought Mother here must be a genuine emergency.
She hoped Quintus wasn’t in some sort of trouble again. She knew from Mother (and by Quintus’ own admission) that he and Father had fought regularly over his lack of direction or ambition, and that he’d been in and out of various scrapes since not long after she’d joined the priesthood. The last Mother had told her, though, Quintus had found his own way to serve Rome by joining the Legion and was making steady progress through the cohorts, and he and Father were finally getting on. She hoped nothing dire had happened to reverse that course.
The carriage soon arrived at her family’s home. She remembered how immense this villa had seemed when she was a little girl, but the House of the Vestals dwarfed it by comparison. It looked downright cosy now.
Asiello helped her down from the carriage and escorted her to the front door. Whatever her mother had to tell her should likely be kept between the members of the family and the household staff; one of the College’s coachmen certainly wasn’t either of those.
“Thank you, Asellio. I expect I may be here for several hours; it has been quite some time since I’ve had a visit from my family.”
“Shall I return for you at sundown, your grace?”
“That should be sufficient, Asellio. If I have need of you in the meantime I will send one of my mother’s servants to summon you.”
Asellio bowed and climbed back aboard, then directed the carriage back towards the College.
Evelina watched the carriage go, then knocked at the door. This might technically be her house, but she still thought of it as her parents’ home.
The door flew open, and Maro greeted her warmly. “Your mother awaits you, your grace.”
Maro preceded her into the atrium and announced her with a flourish. “Announcing Evelina Caecilius Iucundus Metellus, priestess of the Vestal College.”
Mother smiled proudly and rose to greet her. “Oh, darling, it is good to see you.”
Evelina couldn’t help blushing at being announced to a room full of people who knew her perfectly well-save perhaps her mother’s guest.
Mother hugged her tightly, then began rattling off greetings from all of the servants who’d known her from when she was little, and acquainted her with the one or two here whom she didn’t know. Evelina tried her best to pay them all full heed, while keeping an eye on the tired, sombre young gentlewoman who stood quietly in the corner worrying the hem of her matron’s cloak (so naught to do with Quintus then), waiting patiently to be introduced. Behind her was a large, cloth-covered object of some sort, definitely new to the house.
“Mother, if I may, I would love to meet your dear friend.”
Evelina caught her Mother’s eye. Mother nodded; the message had been received. Mother smiled indulgently at the golden-haired stranger, and beckoned her over. The woman approached them hesitantly.
“Evelina, this is Rose Tiler Spartacus. Rose, this is my daughter, Evelina.”
Mrs Spartacus bowed. “Your grace.”
“We are among my family here, Mrs Spartacus. I think no-one will mind if you call me Evelina.”
“Thanks. And Rose will do just fine.”
Rose broke out into a relieved smile, but her pallor and dark circles under her eyes betrayed her state.
Everyone was staring at Evelina a little too expectantly now, except for Rose. She looked only a bit older than Evelina, but carried herself with the mien of someone far more worldly and experienced beyond her years.
Naturally, Mother broke the awkward silence. “Shall we make ourselves comfortable here? Or are you hungry, my love?”
“I think we all could do with a bit of refreshment? Rose?”
Rose looked like the last task she wanted to undertake was eating, but preparing a meal would keep her mother’s limited retinue busy for some time-maybe even long enough to get to the bottom of what had brought her mother to Rome.
“Yes, please,” Rose answered cordially.
Maro and the others erupted into action, heading for the kitchens and to whatever other tasks remained in getting the house fully up and running.
Evelina noticed her mother had put a small grouping of seats together near the cloaked item. Evelina adjusted her robes as she took her seat, where she could most easily observe the large object. Rose promptly sat nearest to it, as though it were a source of comfort to her. Mother looked quite happy to be sat between the two of them, patting both her and Rose’s hands comfortingly.
“So, now that we’re alone,” Evelina began in a conspiratorial tone, “perhaps you can tell me exactly what it is that brings you all to Rome.”
Rose looked befuddled, and turned to Mother.
“I thought it best to be as circumspect as possible in my correspondence,” Mother explained.
Rose smiled ruefully, then shook her head. “Probably for the best. I don’t know why I’d have thought otherwise. Where should I start?”
“Forgive me for being so forward, but I see that you’re married and yet are here without your husband. Mother mentioned friends, in the plural. Is he in some sort of trouble?”
Mother looked sympathetically to Rose, while Evelina considered the room-dominating tower behind her.
“He isn’t... he isn’t in there, is he? Has he met with some accident?”
Rose’s eyes grew wide with astonishment.
“No,” she answered forthrightly, “he’s not. He’s been accused of a crime and is being brought here from Alexandria for his trial.”
All that distance just for a single crime? What had he done?
Evelina had heard whispers today of some sort of calamity occurring in Alexandria, the facts of which were only just starting to trickle into Rome.
“The College was asked just this morning to lead extra rites of protection for Rome, something to do with Alexandria, but none of us were told what has happened, not even the high priestess.”
“The Doctor Spartacus has been arrested on allegations that he burnt down the Royal Library,” Mother explained, as if it were the simplest fact in the world.
Evelina could scarcely think of what to say.
“Mrs Spartacus, Rose, did he?”
“We were trying to stop them-”
So it had been a deliberate act by someone.
“-keep the Library intact, but... given the situation, I can’t say that he didn’t. I wasn’t there when the fire started.”
“The Library? Why would anyone want to eradicate all that knowledge, knowledge that Rome keeps in trust for the entire world? What good could possibly come from that sort of wanton destruction?”
Now it was Rose who was speechless. She looked utterly devastated, ashamed, and fully comprehending of the scale of the disaster that had been laid out so plainly.
“Was anyone killed?” Evelina asked, gentler this time.
Rose looked her straight in the eye and answered forthrightly. “No-one by the Doctor’s hand. Nor mine. The army did kill several people, but they weren’t bystanders.”
Evelina drew back, and rose to take her leave. “I will need to think hard on this before I come to a decision.”
“Before you judge the Doctor, there is more you should know,” Mother said. She stood, and walked to the rear of the object behind Rose.
Mother pulled stubbornly at the cloth draped over the large object, and a corner of it fell away, revealing a piece of a large blue... something.
“Metella, don’t...” Rose began, and moved to stop her from finishing the unveiling.
Mother found a strategically placed rope and tugged at it hard. It fell away and the remainder of the cloth soon followed, pooling at the base of a large, blue, precisely sculpted box.
Evelina had never seen such an object, not in all of Rome. She couldn’t say why, but she approached it with no small sense of awe.
“May I?” she asked Rose, as she reached out to touch the sides.
“Of course,” Rose answered.
Evelina caressed the surface lightly. It was neither warm nor cold, and seemed for all the world like painted wood. Wood that hummed. Or was it singing?
“What is this?”
“It’s our-”
“It’s their temple-”
“Mother, stop. Rose, what is this marvellous creation?”
“It’s not a temple, it’s our home.”
“Your home? How could you possibly live-”
Mother huffed and swept past her and Rose, back towards the front hall.
Rose rubbed her eyes, and started fumbling around under her tunic. “Might as well let you have a look, everyone else has had the tour.”
She drew out an angular key, and inserted it into the small lock on the door.
Evelina placed her hand gently over Rose’s. “No, it’s alright. You don’t have to on my account.”
Evelina would never dare intrude on the spaces sacred to another, not without a sincere invitation.
Rose’s annoyance disappeared, and it seemed as though all her remaining reserves drained right out of her. Her eyes welled up.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Evelina said earnestly, then turned to see where her mother had gone. “Mother, what are you doing now?” she called.
Her mother marched up to her, a large sack in her arms. Evelina would imagine it was someone’s washing if she hadn’t been told otherwise.
“Quintus gave this to me for you.”
“Is this the occasion for me to be opening presents, Mother?”
“I think that under the circumstances, you should open this, find out what he’s sent along for you.”
Evelina looked to Rose comfortingly, and Rose smiled knowingly, despite herself. Everyone had to be someone’s daughter, Evelina supposed.
Evelina took the gift, and sat again, this time in the middle. Rose strode away to the side of the center pool, facing away as she wiped her eyes. Evelina thought it best to let Rose recompose herself before continuing their discussion.
Mother, on the other hand, hovered.
“Mother, sit, please. If I didn’t know better, I would think you already know what is in here.”
Mother looked positively scandalised, but complied.
Evelina opened the odd-smelling bundle, and removed the first item, a scroll of some kind. A letter from Quintus? Now? He always did have a funny sense of timing.
She set the scroll on the seat next to her, then reached into the sack for the next item. It seemed to be some sort of single-piece, cloth formal boot with an unusual sole. It wasn’t leather, that was for certain. The cloth was black, with a white circular leather panel sewn into the side, and decorated with a blue, five-pointed star and faded words along the edges. She pulled out the other boot, and frowned. These were far too large for her. Or Quintus, or probably even Father. Who were these for?
Evelina handed the pair to her mother, who looked equally mystified, and slightly put off. She set them on the ground, then looked bemusedly back towards the bag.
Evelina touched the next item within, and from the feel she knew what must be producing that strange burnt odour. She reached in with both hands and pulled out what appeared to be some sort of tunic, very short and split at the front... and charred nearly beyond the point of recognizing that it was made of cloth.
“Rose!”
Rose spun at the sound of her name and stared directly at the garment in her hands, then looked to the boots on the ground, then back to the tunic, her eyes widening in horrified recognition. She stepped forward slowly, one foot in front of the other, until she was standing right in front of Evelina. Rose reached out tentatively for the tunic, her fingers skimming the air just above it. Tears bloomed in full in her eyes this time, and ran down her face as she examined the tunic.
By the grace of Vesta, were these her husband’s clothes? Why would Quintus have them, much less have sent them to his sister? Evelina needed to know. She handed the bag to her mother while Rose ran her hands along the interior of the tunic, seemingly looking for something specific. Evelina retrieved the scroll from the other seat and opened it.
Quintus had drawn an outline of a hand in the lower right corner of the scroll, and in the centre, he’d written but one word: Touch.
Evelina pressed her palm to the sketch-and the writing moved and changed, becoming something else entirely, in another’s writing altogether. She yelped, and nearly flung the scroll to the ground. But to treat such a relic with disrespect would be out of the question. She stroked the face of the scroll, and the word and images changed again. Another touch, and another change, this time bringing a small sketch to the middle of the scroll and greatly increasing its size.
Mother caught the movements on the scroll out of the corner of her eye and her head pivoted to look at the things now flying across the scroll at a breakneck speed.
“See, Evelina, do you understand now? Such wondrous things must surely be the work of the gods.”
The scroll finally rested on a page busy with words. Some were beyond Evelina’s comprehending, but the others spoke of a catastrophe looming ever closer and closer... was this a prophecy?
Evelina looked up from the scroll and watched Rose as she knelt and picked up her husband’s boots from the floor. She murmured a quiet request to Mother, who absent-mindedly nodded her assent as she continued reading the scroll. Rose took the parcel from Mother’s lap, and began extracting the remaining contents of the sack.
Rose looked more and more forlorn as she recovered each piece of clothing, in various states of damage, not all of it from fire. Finally, she pulled out what looked like... a pair of socks, and dissolved into peals of laughter edged with hysteria.
What sort of god would have need of socks?
Rose’s laughter faded, and she hugged the Doctor’s clothes tightly to her chest.
“He’s not a god,” she averred, her voice thick with tears. “He’s a man. A wonderful, singular, astonishing man. On a good day he can work miracles, but that didn’t happen this time, and now he’s trapped and I don’t know how to save him. Or if I can save him.”
Mother looked up at Rose, heartbroken, then looked back to Evelina imploringly.
“I’m sorry. I know we failed,” Rose said quietly, “but the Doctor shouldn’t have to pay for it with his life. Please, can you help us?”
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Part 7.2
Author: principia_coh
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Rose/Ten II
Summary: Waylaid en route to a holiday, the Doctor and Rose encounter unexpected wonders... and new dangers.
Author’s notes: Thanks to ginamak and leighleighla for their excellent and patient beta work!
Episode 9 of a virtual series at the_altverse, following The Wretched Hive last week.
Virtual Series Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6.1 | Part 6.2
------------------------------------------------------------------
Rose was lingering in the dining room, picking listlessly at the remnants of the food Dorsuo had set out for the family this morning. If she was going to keep going without sleep, she needed to eat.
She knew in her head that she really ought to have had at least a few hours’ proper kip, like Metella had nearly begged her to, but Rose had found she couldn’t, too tired and aching and uneasy to sit still for very long, much less snooze.
Rose could feel the need to act prickling under her skin, but the only hopes she had for rescuing the Doctor right now rested with other people. Rose knew their one best shot at getting to the Doctor lay with playing the system against itself. That’s why Quintus was off rounding up his most trusted friends among his fellow soldiers, and why Rose needed to wait.
Metella had hired passage on the swiftest merchant vessel currently in the harbour, under the guise of visiting a friend in Rome who had written with some extremely private matter of concern and needed Metella by her side immediately. A Roman woman of Metella’s status would never be expected to travel alone, and so she would be bringing a small coterie of her servants and friends with her, and a sizeable trousseau-hence the large, carefully-wrapped cabinet which would need to accompany her and her entourage, which was going to take its own carriage to transport.
Lobus, on the other hand, was keeping to business as usual, or as usual as it could be given last night’s events. When someone had just played Towering Inferno with one of the city’s biggest projects, there were a lot of emergency meetings with officials and worried staff to be dealt with. He’d looked crushed this morning when he’d said goodbye to Rose, distraught that he couldn’t be of any further help, but there was no excuse for him to leave Alexandria or even put off his appointments that wouldn’t look incredibly suspicious given the circumstances.
At any rate, the essence of the plan was simple enough. Plan A was to turn up at the jail, engage in a bit of Roman bureaucratic flim-flam to get the Doctor turned over to some of Quintus’ group; plan B was to have the other half bring her in as a new arrest to provide a distraction and give them direct access to the cells. Either way, fetch the Doctor, smuggle him out to the docks, and hide him in the TARDIS until the coast was literally clear-or they were clear of the coast. Fusus and Tuditanus had spent the rest of last night knocking together a right-sized wooden insert for the TARDIS, to be put just inside the door and packed with a load of Metella’s things in the event they were challenged to open it for inspection.
Rose tugged at her latest Roman disguise, which didn’t quite fit. Licina’s robes were far too long for Rose, so she’d had to borrow some of Sura’s. Today Rose was no longer a proper lady or a woman of ill repute, but simply someone’s attendant, for the sake of blending into the crowds on the streets.
The grinding effects of day after day with little rest and a lot of worry were creeping up on her; she’d almost cracked a joke to Sura and Licina about having more costume changes than the blokes from Dead Ringers. The girls had been shocked by her getup last night, but this morning’s switch had left them quietly dejected. For her, this was just a disguise to be shed at will, but for them, it was their lives.
Rose sighed. No matter how well-treated these girls were, they were still slaves. But if Rose had had any lessons drummed into her while ricocheting between universes like a pinball, it was that there were some sad facts in other people’s lives that simply couldn’t be changed, or that had to take a backseat to immediate needs.
She still felt like a cold bitch every time.
Rose saw Dorsuo’s head poking through the doorway.
“Ma’am, if you’re finished?”
Rose shoved a couple of olives into her mouth and stood up, chewing. They should all be heading out any minute now (with her being dropped off by Metella and Licina on their way to the docks), but not before Maro brought back word from Quintus that his group were in place and ready to proceed. She followed Dorsuo into the atrium.
Metella and most of the household staff were gathered there; she was giving those staying behind final instructions about what should be done in her absence.
“...and I’ll be sure to give Evelina everyone’s regards. Ah, Rose, are you ready to go? The carriages are packed. We may leave as soon as Maro’s returned.”
“Yes, I’m good. Thank you, everyone.”
The folks who weren’t coming along slowly filtered out of the room, a few giving surreptitious waves or nods to Rose as they left.
Oh good, more waiting.
Rose and the others loitered in awkward silence for a few minutes. Finally, the expected knock at the door came. Dorsuo swiftly answered it.
Maro was back at last-and he had company, a young soldier.
One of Quintus’ crew? Neither of them looked especially thrilled to be here, and as far as Rose knew, only one of them was supposed to be here at all.
Metella stepped forward to greet the young man. “Libo-”
So this was Quintus’ best mate.
“-it’s not that we aren’t pleased to see you, but why have you come? Shouldn’t you be with the others?”
Libo scanned the room quickly, and his eyes locked on Rose’s.
Plan B it is, then.
“I’m sorry, Rose, Mrs Caecilius, but we cannot go through with our plan.”
A collective gasp went up from the group assembled around her.
Rose needed to keep a clear head, had to think of how she’d handle this if it were anyone else, stay calm and focused.
“What? Why not?” Rose asked Libo, working to keep her composure.
“Because the Doctor isn’t in the city jail now. He’s been transferred to the direct control of the Prefect.”
“The Governor of Alexandria,” Maro mumbled for Rose’s benefit.
Rose nodded thanks to Maro, then turned her attention back to Libo. “Where does that put him, exactly?”
“He’s been imprisoned within the Prefect’s compound, awaiting trial. The only place with tighter security is the Imperial granaries. There’s no bluffing our way in there.”
“What are they going to do to him?”
“The guards won’t treat him too harshly, ma’am. If the Doctor came to permanent harm under their watch, it would mean their lives and those of the commanding officers too.”
Okay, not ideal news, but knowing the Doctor was at least somewhat safe gave her something to work with. Obviously, a frontal assault on the place was out of the question, and she’d have absolutely no reason to be there. They were back to square one, but that was nothing that couldn’t be remedied. This trial sounded like another opportunity to spring him-maybe while he was in transit?
Libo looked like he was choosing his next words carefully. “That will be true until the trial’s done. If the Doctor’s not found guilty, he’ll go free. If he is, then the likeliest punishment is death, and how that happens might not matter much. I’m sorry, ma’am.”
You mean they’d just, they’d... Rose tried to tamp down the swell of panic she could feel rising in her chest. It wouldn’t do the Doctor any good for her to lose it now.
Focus. “Where’s Quintus?”
“Quintus has been sequestered within the compound-”
The colour drained from Metella’s face.
“No, it’s alright, Mrs Caecilius, he’s not in trouble,” Libo clarified, “He’s being rewarded. He’s going to be the Doctor’s caretaker.”
“But if he’s sequestered, he’s not taking care of the Doctor now. You said there’s going to be a trial-is Quintus going to be the one escorting him to and from court?” Rose countered.
That could be perfect.
“In a manner of speaking, I suppose,” Libo offered, confusion in his voice.
“How else would Quintus be the Doctor’s caretaker if he’s not one of his guards?” Metella inquired.
Libo frowned. “Oh. Oh. Mrs Caecilius, the Doctor is not being tried in Alexandria. With the crimes he’s been accused of, he’s to be tried in Rome. Quintus has been assigned to see to the Doctor’s well-being during the voyage there.”
Rome.
Licina flinched, and Sura’s hands flew to her mouth.
Metella shot the girls a warning glance, but her own hand was on her chest.
“I wish I could be there too, but most of the men on the ship will be marines; the rest of the guards assigned to the ship will be from a more senior cohort than ours.”
Rose could feel her threadbare breakfast holding a revolt in her stomach.
Stop it. He needs you now.
“Is there any chance we could get to him when they’re going from the compound to the docks?” Rose asked, all business.
“No, ma’am, he’ll be heavily escorted, probably with the Prefect’s personal guard. If there’s any attempt made to free the Doctor, the troops might decide not to bother with a trial, just make an example of him on the spot.”
Rose turned to Metella. “Then we really do need that ship.”
“Ma’am? You have a ship hired already?”
From the crease in Libo’s brow, it seemed Quintus understood the principle of need-to-know.
“Yes, yes we do,” Metella confirmed, “She only awaits our arrival before she departs. There are no other passengers or cargo, I’ve paid to see to that.”
Libo looked stunned, then smiled in happy disbelief. “The Imperial vessel is still being stocked and manned, it’ll be hours before they can depart.”
“You mean we can beat that ship to Rome?” Rose queried.
“They’re taking one of the biggest vessels of the line, the kind they’d usually save for grain escorts; there’s got to be someone in Rome they want to send a message to.”
“Are you positive? I won’t leave my husband here for even a moment if you have any doubt.”
“As heavy as that ship is, even if you wanted to wait until they were leaving, that would be enough you give you the advantage.”
That was what she needed to know. She turned to Metella, her eyes bright.
One look from Metella, and Dorsuo was bolting to the door, with Maro, Licina and Sura quick on his heels.
“But who will help you in Rome, ma’am?”
“You may be assured I will take care of that, Libo,” Metella answered firmly.
“As you say. If there’s any news in the meantime, I’ll find you at the docks.”
“Thank you, Libo,” Rose said gratefully.
He bowed to her and Metella, then headed swiftly out the door.
It would be too easy to get sucked under by the possibilities racing through her head. Rose knew she needed to move now, or she’d never dare leave.
“Let’s get a move on, then. We’ve got a boat to catch!”
********************************************************************
In the end, Rose had insisted they wait as long as they could without raising a lot of questions among the Nereis’ crew. It’d been a fine line to tread between appearing suspiciously desperate to get out of town and being far too casual for someone who hired them on the pretence of being in a great rush, but in the end Metella had put on a great show of being fussy about this and that and every little thing, and they’d been able to wait for news from Libo.
She’d tried not to show her disappointment when Libo had given them a bundle from Quintus to take to his sister, but poor Libo had looked terribly guilty as he’d handed it to Metella. Rose had known better than to hope for some sudden reprieve or miraculous escape, but it would have put her mind at ease if she’d been able to hear something, anything directly about the Doctor’s condition. Libo had reported that the Doctor had been transferred safely onto the boat, and Quintus had been looking after him. That was all she could ask for right now.
Rose now stood near the stern of the ship, watching as the sight of the ship carrying the Doctor faded in the distance. Libo hadn’t been exaggerating the difference in speed between this ship and the juggernaut behind them. Rose was banking on their lead giving them enough time to put a plan in place before the Jupiter arrived; Metella did seem to have a specific notion in mind, but she hadn’t shared it out yet. Rose supposed that Metella didn’t want to give her false hope.
She let the warm winds of the Mediterranean wash over her, inhaling deeply. Rose could almost feel the Doctor ambling up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist as he murmured into her ear about the Great Lighthouse, or the structure and crew makeup of the ships in the distance, or exactly what he looked forward to on this long, slow sea voyage with almost nothing to do.
Instead he was locked in the hold of that relic from a B-movie because she hadn’t been fast enough or clever enough to find her way past the TARDIS’ lockouts. Or even imagined that still, after all this bloody time and everything they’d been through and meant to each other, he’d treat her like some fragile objet that had to be kept locked behind glass for its own safety.
Rose’s stomach growled, and she thought about heading into the TARDIS to fix Metella and the others a meal; she didn’t want to be rude to the ship’s crew, but she didn’t know if she could take another meal heavy on the fish sauce right now. At least she knew they weren’t going to get scurvy; the TARDIS kitchen had enough stock to keep them all in fruit squash for a month.
She smiled wanly at the crew members that passed by her now, and decided it was past time to head back. She padded past the soft cooing of the ship’s messenger pigeons, down towards Metella’s quarters, where company and consolation awaited.
********************************************************************
At least he wasn’t going to get scurvy. Even if his metabolism had gone completely human, it took months for a Vitamin C deficiency to result in serious symptoms. Journey to Rome in a boat like this oughtn’t be more than three weeks, give or take, so that left him about another fortnight in these luxury accommodations.
Over the past several days, the air in here had gone absolutely stifling, the smell from the sea and the soldiers and the paint and the lead lining of the hull making his head spin. Actually, it hadn’t, not really, but the sheer weight of this much solitary confinement with almost no interruptions was driving him completely hatstand. Not so much as a hole for the rain to get in and stop my mind from wandering.
The nightmare he’d awoken from on his way to the city jail had been repeating itself in various creative guises every time he managed to nod off, and as the days had worn on those visions had started to play themselves back on a loop in his head whenever he wasn’t actively concentrating on other trains of thought.
Rose staring at him, staring through him, staring at nothing at all...
If he didn’t stop it, he really was going to make himself ill.
He had to keep telling himself that if anything had happened to Rose, anything more consequential than a broken nail, the Quintus who’d managed to get the suit and trainers into his personal custody would surely have figured out a way to tell him by now. The lad’s continued taciturnity was only because they were under constant observation.
When Quintus had first appeared at his cell in the Prefect’s compound, he’d entertained the notion-if only for a moment-that it was a jailbreak. Instead, Quintus had efficiently collected his suit and trainers, brusquely ordering him to change. Quintus didn’t do brusque especially well; it wasn’t in his nature. The Doctor had taken one look at him and known they were being watched-and more critically, that they were in no position to chance revealing they knew one another.
This Rome might be different from the one back in N-Space, but not so different. He knew what the penalties would be for Quintus, his cohort, commanders, and likely even his family if he were found responsible for the escape of such a high-profile prisoner, much less if they decided he was a co-conspirator.
The Doctor shifted and squirmed, reaching up carefully to scratch at his growing beard. He really shouldn’t have this much trouble making himself reasonably comfortable. These irons weren’t too heavy, the tunic and sandals not too scratchy or tight. He’d had a lot better time of it with his brief stay in a bog-standard Roman prison than most, and his cells both in the Prefect’s compound and here were luxurious by comparison.
He had to hand it to Malleolus, the Centurion in charge of Quintus’ cohort-he’d been a reasonably fair warden overall, for the practises of the time. The Doctor had emerged from his initial interrogations with only a few fractured ribs to complement the near-obligatory cuts and bruises; they’d seemed almost considerate of the minor burns and scrapes he’d got escaping from the Library. It certainly spoke well of the restraint of the man and the troops under his command.
Once he got to Rome, though, that would be another story. He didn’t anticipate the sessions there would go nearly as smoothly, or that they’d tolerate his near-silence with such relative equanimity. He’d mulled over going into a healing trance long enough to set his ribs, give himself a fresh start when he got turned over to the tender mercies of a senior questionarius. Given the Prefect’s belief that there was Senatorial involvement in the Library’s destruction, he might even face the Emperor’s own specialist. This lot knew the extent of his injuries, though, and if they arrived in Rome with him freshly healed, they’d likely think him a witch. And wouldn’t that be fun?
His best chance, for now, lay in his continued silence. So long as the military believed he was in a position to incriminate one or more of the Emperor’s foes in the Senate, it was in their best interest to keep him alive so he could testify publicly. If they knew the truth (or as much of it as any of them would be likely to understand), he’d be completely worthless to them.
He had to be careful though; he couldn’t risk anyone in the Roman government taking the blame for his actions. Worst of all, if they decided he was a foreign agent, it would surely trigger a war, or bring the vengeance of the Emperor down on the heads of one of the Empire’s occupied territories. Maybe even ancient Britain itself.
He had to hold out long enough to take advantage of the earliest opportunity to get away without anyone innocent being implicated either in the destruction of the Library or his escape.
Speaking of innocent, Malleolus’ interrogator had asked him who would’ve ordered that his fellow incendiarists be killed rather than taken into custody. The complexity of the real intrigues in Rome’s history put the costume dramas to shame, so it could well be that some officer aligned with the Senate had thought he was protecting a co-conspirator.
But if the Kutoka’nje had infiltrated the Empire itself, the deaths of Mið and Lén’s colleagues, what he was putting Rose through, could all be for naught.
No, that couldn’t be true. He’d have sensed the timelines continuing to fray, or warping anew.
Wouldn’t he?
********************************************************************
Rose leaned back against the captain’s chair, considering the spanner in her hand as she tried to shake off the fatigue clouding her mind. She’d been butting her head against this particular Doctor-shaped wall for days on end; every time she thought she’d made a bit of progress in persuading the TARDIS to do what she wanted, another obstacle would put itself in her way. It was like those sadistically difficult ninja videogames Mickey used to spend so much time playing.
No, that wasn’t fair, that implied malice on the TARDIS’ part. Maybe more like the kthetra vines she and the Doctor had run into that one time on Enfiladissa. They’d blocked every path back to the TARDIS and had kept her and the Doctor living rough in the great outdoors for a solid week. They were just acting on instinct, doing what their maker had told them. The TARDIS was no more at fault than they were.
Rose had spent the first part of this two-week-plus sea cruise trying to be sociable; none of these people would be here if it weren’t to help her and the Doctor, so it was the least she could do. After a few days of talking politics and gossip for which she had no context, and staring at nothing but the same boat and the same water, she’d chucked it all and dove headfirst back into working on the TARDIS.
She’d been spending progressively more and more time inside, trying to coax the ship into giving her some sure way of getting herself and the Doctor out of here when the time was right. Her occasional appearance above decks now was more to keep the crew from thinking she’d gone overboard in the night than anything else.
The only reason Rose wasn’t going completely mental was because she’d finally been able to eke what she thought was a reading of the Doctor’s life signs out of the TARDIS. Not all of it was in English (yet), and that wasn’t to say she’d have been able to make sense of all of the data even if it were, but there was enough to tell her he wasn’t in an emergent condition. It was a comfort to know he really was being properly looked after by Quintus. Rose had been afraid Libo’s thrift with the details was out of a desire to protect her from some ugly truth, that maybe the authorities somehow knew all about Quintus’ acquaintance with the Doctor and were just waiting until he was away from his influential family to imprison him too.
She heard Metella’s delicate knock at the TARDIS door. Speaking of family...
“Come on in.”
Metella entered, making her way up the ramp. Her visits to check on Rose had become a regular occurrence, and it seemed like she was finally just about getting used to being in here. Or at least she appeared only mildly uncomfortable, instead of looking like the screaming abdabs were going to send her running out of the place.
“I’ve just sent word to Evelina that we’re arriving soon. The ship’s master was kind enough to let me use their pigeons.”
Rose set the spanner down, and made her way around to the ramp. “Really? That’s good of them.”
“They were already sending word ahead to their brokers in Ostia, and arranging passage for us into the city. Besides, being related to someone that influential goes a long way in persuading people to be more helpful than they might otherwise be.”
Rose smiled slyly. “You don’t say.”
Metella looked mortified. “Oh, my dear, surely you mustn’t think-”
“No, Metella, it’s okay. Let’s just say that back home the Doctor’s not the only prominent figure I’m associated with.”
“Ah, I see. Well, then, I don’t suppose I could persuade you to join us for a while out on deck, get some sun on your face?”
Sun? Was it daytime? She really did need to get out of here for a while, clear out the cobwebs.
“The captain says we should be landing in Ostia in a few mornings’ time. Once we’re there, it should only take a short time to disembark and then Rome herself is less than half a day’s ride away,” Metella continued.
Three or four days. Rose needed to get her head out of the what-ifs and maybes and deal with the reality of the situation at hand. She knew Metella had at least a few notions of what they might be able to do for the Doctor once they got to Rome, but she’d been so focused on getting the TARDIS up and running that she’d been giving Metella and the others short shrift.
No more. Rose had to concentrate on working with the resources she could count on-and that started right now.
Once the Nereis landed, that left maybe a week in which to finalise and implement any plans to free the Doctor, in a time and place where there were no modern means of communication and most people still walked everywhere.
Rose had to believe it would be time enough.
********************************************************************
Evelina’s carriage made its way quickly through the streets of Rome, the traffic parting in deference to her uniquely-marked conveyance. She sat back in her seat, considering her mother’s carefully-worded missive once again.
She had known for three days that her mother was coming to Rome on a matter of the utmost importance concerning a few dear friends, but evidently neither Father nor Quintus would be with her. The message also said that she hoped to be able to spend some time alone with Evelina, by which Evelina assumed she meant the family needed help of some kind from her and it was something Mother didn’t feel comfortable discussing where others might read it.
One of the family’s servants-Maro-had appeared a short while ago at the College this morning to let her know that Mother was in Rome and would be awaiting her at the family’s old home. Evelina herself now owned it, and had kept it for the occasional visit from family or friends (and in the expectation that her parents or brother might move back someday). Maro had been amenable enough, and paid her the customary courtesies, but it hadn’t been difficult for Evelina to sense the urgency in his demeanor. Whatever it was that had brought Mother here must be a genuine emergency.
She hoped Quintus wasn’t in some sort of trouble again. She knew from Mother (and by Quintus’ own admission) that he and Father had fought regularly over his lack of direction or ambition, and that he’d been in and out of various scrapes since not long after she’d joined the priesthood. The last Mother had told her, though, Quintus had found his own way to serve Rome by joining the Legion and was making steady progress through the cohorts, and he and Father were finally getting on. She hoped nothing dire had happened to reverse that course.
The carriage soon arrived at her family’s home. She remembered how immense this villa had seemed when she was a little girl, but the House of the Vestals dwarfed it by comparison. It looked downright cosy now.
Asiello helped her down from the carriage and escorted her to the front door. Whatever her mother had to tell her should likely be kept between the members of the family and the household staff; one of the College’s coachmen certainly wasn’t either of those.
“Thank you, Asellio. I expect I may be here for several hours; it has been quite some time since I’ve had a visit from my family.”
“Shall I return for you at sundown, your grace?”
“That should be sufficient, Asellio. If I have need of you in the meantime I will send one of my mother’s servants to summon you.”
Asellio bowed and climbed back aboard, then directed the carriage back towards the College.
Evelina watched the carriage go, then knocked at the door. This might technically be her house, but she still thought of it as her parents’ home.
The door flew open, and Maro greeted her warmly. “Your mother awaits you, your grace.”
Maro preceded her into the atrium and announced her with a flourish. “Announcing Evelina Caecilius Iucundus Metellus, priestess of the Vestal College.”
Mother smiled proudly and rose to greet her. “Oh, darling, it is good to see you.”
Evelina couldn’t help blushing at being announced to a room full of people who knew her perfectly well-save perhaps her mother’s guest.
Mother hugged her tightly, then began rattling off greetings from all of the servants who’d known her from when she was little, and acquainted her with the one or two here whom she didn’t know. Evelina tried her best to pay them all full heed, while keeping an eye on the tired, sombre young gentlewoman who stood quietly in the corner worrying the hem of her matron’s cloak (so naught to do with Quintus then), waiting patiently to be introduced. Behind her was a large, cloth-covered object of some sort, definitely new to the house.
“Mother, if I may, I would love to meet your dear friend.”
Evelina caught her Mother’s eye. Mother nodded; the message had been received. Mother smiled indulgently at the golden-haired stranger, and beckoned her over. The woman approached them hesitantly.
“Evelina, this is Rose Tiler Spartacus. Rose, this is my daughter, Evelina.”
Mrs Spartacus bowed. “Your grace.”
“We are among my family here, Mrs Spartacus. I think no-one will mind if you call me Evelina.”
“Thanks. And Rose will do just fine.”
Rose broke out into a relieved smile, but her pallor and dark circles under her eyes betrayed her state.
Everyone was staring at Evelina a little too expectantly now, except for Rose. She looked only a bit older than Evelina, but carried herself with the mien of someone far more worldly and experienced beyond her years.
Naturally, Mother broke the awkward silence. “Shall we make ourselves comfortable here? Or are you hungry, my love?”
“I think we all could do with a bit of refreshment? Rose?”
Rose looked like the last task she wanted to undertake was eating, but preparing a meal would keep her mother’s limited retinue busy for some time-maybe even long enough to get to the bottom of what had brought her mother to Rome.
“Yes, please,” Rose answered cordially.
Maro and the others erupted into action, heading for the kitchens and to whatever other tasks remained in getting the house fully up and running.
Evelina noticed her mother had put a small grouping of seats together near the cloaked item. Evelina adjusted her robes as she took her seat, where she could most easily observe the large object. Rose promptly sat nearest to it, as though it were a source of comfort to her. Mother looked quite happy to be sat between the two of them, patting both her and Rose’s hands comfortingly.
“So, now that we’re alone,” Evelina began in a conspiratorial tone, “perhaps you can tell me exactly what it is that brings you all to Rome.”
Rose looked befuddled, and turned to Mother.
“I thought it best to be as circumspect as possible in my correspondence,” Mother explained.
Rose smiled ruefully, then shook her head. “Probably for the best. I don’t know why I’d have thought otherwise. Where should I start?”
“Forgive me for being so forward, but I see that you’re married and yet are here without your husband. Mother mentioned friends, in the plural. Is he in some sort of trouble?”
Mother looked sympathetically to Rose, while Evelina considered the room-dominating tower behind her.
“He isn’t... he isn’t in there, is he? Has he met with some accident?”
Rose’s eyes grew wide with astonishment.
“No,” she answered forthrightly, “he’s not. He’s been accused of a crime and is being brought here from Alexandria for his trial.”
All that distance just for a single crime? What had he done?
Evelina had heard whispers today of some sort of calamity occurring in Alexandria, the facts of which were only just starting to trickle into Rome.
“The College was asked just this morning to lead extra rites of protection for Rome, something to do with Alexandria, but none of us were told what has happened, not even the high priestess.”
“The Doctor Spartacus has been arrested on allegations that he burnt down the Royal Library,” Mother explained, as if it were the simplest fact in the world.
Evelina could scarcely think of what to say.
“Mrs Spartacus, Rose, did he?”
“We were trying to stop them-”
So it had been a deliberate act by someone.
“-keep the Library intact, but... given the situation, I can’t say that he didn’t. I wasn’t there when the fire started.”
“The Library? Why would anyone want to eradicate all that knowledge, knowledge that Rome keeps in trust for the entire world? What good could possibly come from that sort of wanton destruction?”
Now it was Rose who was speechless. She looked utterly devastated, ashamed, and fully comprehending of the scale of the disaster that had been laid out so plainly.
“Was anyone killed?” Evelina asked, gentler this time.
Rose looked her straight in the eye and answered forthrightly. “No-one by the Doctor’s hand. Nor mine. The army did kill several people, but they weren’t bystanders.”
Evelina drew back, and rose to take her leave. “I will need to think hard on this before I come to a decision.”
“Before you judge the Doctor, there is more you should know,” Mother said. She stood, and walked to the rear of the object behind Rose.
Mother pulled stubbornly at the cloth draped over the large object, and a corner of it fell away, revealing a piece of a large blue... something.
“Metella, don’t...” Rose began, and moved to stop her from finishing the unveiling.
Mother found a strategically placed rope and tugged at it hard. It fell away and the remainder of the cloth soon followed, pooling at the base of a large, blue, precisely sculpted box.
Evelina had never seen such an object, not in all of Rome. She couldn’t say why, but she approached it with no small sense of awe.
“May I?” she asked Rose, as she reached out to touch the sides.
“Of course,” Rose answered.
Evelina caressed the surface lightly. It was neither warm nor cold, and seemed for all the world like painted wood. Wood that hummed. Or was it singing?
“What is this?”
“It’s our-”
“It’s their temple-”
“Mother, stop. Rose, what is this marvellous creation?”
“It’s not a temple, it’s our home.”
“Your home? How could you possibly live-”
Mother huffed and swept past her and Rose, back towards the front hall.
Rose rubbed her eyes, and started fumbling around under her tunic. “Might as well let you have a look, everyone else has had the tour.”
She drew out an angular key, and inserted it into the small lock on the door.
Evelina placed her hand gently over Rose’s. “No, it’s alright. You don’t have to on my account.”
Evelina would never dare intrude on the spaces sacred to another, not without a sincere invitation.
Rose’s annoyance disappeared, and it seemed as though all her remaining reserves drained right out of her. Her eyes welled up.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Evelina said earnestly, then turned to see where her mother had gone. “Mother, what are you doing now?” she called.
Her mother marched up to her, a large sack in her arms. Evelina would imagine it was someone’s washing if she hadn’t been told otherwise.
“Quintus gave this to me for you.”
“Is this the occasion for me to be opening presents, Mother?”
“I think that under the circumstances, you should open this, find out what he’s sent along for you.”
Evelina looked to Rose comfortingly, and Rose smiled knowingly, despite herself. Everyone had to be someone’s daughter, Evelina supposed.
Evelina took the gift, and sat again, this time in the middle. Rose strode away to the side of the center pool, facing away as she wiped her eyes. Evelina thought it best to let Rose recompose herself before continuing their discussion.
Mother, on the other hand, hovered.
“Mother, sit, please. If I didn’t know better, I would think you already know what is in here.”
Mother looked positively scandalised, but complied.
Evelina opened the odd-smelling bundle, and removed the first item, a scroll of some kind. A letter from Quintus? Now? He always did have a funny sense of timing.
She set the scroll on the seat next to her, then reached into the sack for the next item. It seemed to be some sort of single-piece, cloth formal boot with an unusual sole. It wasn’t leather, that was for certain. The cloth was black, with a white circular leather panel sewn into the side, and decorated with a blue, five-pointed star and faded words along the edges. She pulled out the other boot, and frowned. These were far too large for her. Or Quintus, or probably even Father. Who were these for?
Evelina handed the pair to her mother, who looked equally mystified, and slightly put off. She set them on the ground, then looked bemusedly back towards the bag.
Evelina touched the next item within, and from the feel she knew what must be producing that strange burnt odour. She reached in with both hands and pulled out what appeared to be some sort of tunic, very short and split at the front... and charred nearly beyond the point of recognizing that it was made of cloth.
“Rose!”
Rose spun at the sound of her name and stared directly at the garment in her hands, then looked to the boots on the ground, then back to the tunic, her eyes widening in horrified recognition. She stepped forward slowly, one foot in front of the other, until she was standing right in front of Evelina. Rose reached out tentatively for the tunic, her fingers skimming the air just above it. Tears bloomed in full in her eyes this time, and ran down her face as she examined the tunic.
By the grace of Vesta, were these her husband’s clothes? Why would Quintus have them, much less have sent them to his sister? Evelina needed to know. She handed the bag to her mother while Rose ran her hands along the interior of the tunic, seemingly looking for something specific. Evelina retrieved the scroll from the other seat and opened it.
Quintus had drawn an outline of a hand in the lower right corner of the scroll, and in the centre, he’d written but one word: Touch.
Evelina pressed her palm to the sketch-and the writing moved and changed, becoming something else entirely, in another’s writing altogether. She yelped, and nearly flung the scroll to the ground. But to treat such a relic with disrespect would be out of the question. She stroked the face of the scroll, and the word and images changed again. Another touch, and another change, this time bringing a small sketch to the middle of the scroll and greatly increasing its size.
Mother caught the movements on the scroll out of the corner of her eye and her head pivoted to look at the things now flying across the scroll at a breakneck speed.
“See, Evelina, do you understand now? Such wondrous things must surely be the work of the gods.”
The scroll finally rested on a page busy with words. Some were beyond Evelina’s comprehending, but the others spoke of a catastrophe looming ever closer and closer... was this a prophecy?
Evelina looked up from the scroll and watched Rose as she knelt and picked up her husband’s boots from the floor. She murmured a quiet request to Mother, who absent-mindedly nodded her assent as she continued reading the scroll. Rose took the parcel from Mother’s lap, and began extracting the remaining contents of the sack.
Rose looked more and more forlorn as she recovered each piece of clothing, in various states of damage, not all of it from fire. Finally, she pulled out what looked like... a pair of socks, and dissolved into peals of laughter edged with hysteria.
What sort of god would have need of socks?
Rose’s laughter faded, and she hugged the Doctor’s clothes tightly to her chest.
“He’s not a god,” she averred, her voice thick with tears. “He’s a man. A wonderful, singular, astonishing man. On a good day he can work miracles, but that didn’t happen this time, and now he’s trapped and I don’t know how to save him. Or if I can save him.”
Mother looked up at Rose, heartbroken, then looked back to Evelina imploringly.
“I’m sorry. I know we failed,” Rose said quietly, “but the Doctor shouldn’t have to pay for it with his life. Please, can you help us?”
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Part 7.2