Gates of Rome

CHAPTER 78

AD 54, outside Rome

Rashim had mentioned that the Exodus group had travelled most of the one-hour journey on a broad brick road. Winding the memory backwards, he said that it eventually became a broad dusty track. Two lanes, busy with cart and foot traffic. The old man had said it had taken them an hour… but they had travelled quite slowly because their multi-terrain vehicles were heavily laden: people crammed in below, equipment stacked all over. Slow, then. Not much faster than a person could jog. His words. Hardly precise.

But he did mention a range of hills. Nothing too spectacular, hills that would be on their right coming out of Rome. And one hill beyond a gently rolling valley with a notably flat top.

As it approached midday, Maddy scanned the horizon. There were hills ahead of them, as he’d said. And beyond their smooth outline, on the far horizon, the more distinctly sharp-edged silhouette of a range of mountains.

‘Rashim!’ she called out.

He twitched slightly on Bob’s back.

‘Give him a prod, Sal.’

She obliged.

He lurched, opened his eyes then howled at the bright daylight. His eyes instantly clamped shut. ‘ What is this? Where am — !?’

‘It’s OK! It’s OK!’ Sal reached up to calm him. ‘We escaped, remember?’

The old man winced and covered his face with his hands at the glare of daylight, or perhaps it was some sort of agoraphobia — a mortal terror of the infinite openness all around him. Maddy wondered how much of her sanity would be left if she’d spent seventeen years cooped up inside a large packing crate.

‘Rashim, over there… those hills? Are they the right ones?’

Bob eased him down to the ground and he shaded his almost completely shut eyes against the painful brilliance of the morning sun. ‘I… think… yes. Or maybe… I’m not sure.’

‘Come on! We need to be sure.’

His face looked pained as he studied the rolling line of hills to the right of the dirt road. Then his eyes widened as he spotted the flat-topped hill. ‘That one! There! You see it! Yes!’

Maddy followed the direction of his claw-nailed finger. The hills followed each other in almost symmetrical humps, some topped with villas, spilling hair-thin threads of smoke into the morning sky. But the one with the flat top was distinctive, as if a cheese-slice had scooped its crown off.

‘You sure?’

‘Yes! Y-yes! ’ His eyes narrowed, his mouth widened with a manic grin. ‘Needed a flat place! Big… open… flat! Yes? An open place to mark out! Yes! Me and SpongeBubba!’

‘SpongeBubba?’

Rashim ignored her. ‘That’s it! That’s it! That’s the place!’ His eyes were wet with tears. ‘I never thought… I… I…’

‘And how long have we got?’

‘He said three days last night,’ said Bob. ‘Which would mean we have two days now.’

Maddy wiped sweat from her eyes and squinted through scratched glasses at the distant hill. It wasn’t that much of a hike for them. An hour at most. Then, once they were certain they had the precise location, they desperately needed to find something to drink. Even spoiled water would do. Anything. She’d worry about disease some other time — when they got back home.

‘Are you sure Caligula doesn’t know where to come?’ asked Sal.

Maddy bit her lip. ‘Does he know, Rashim? Does he know where your people arrived?’

Rashim smiled. ‘Stories… and stories. Mr Muzzy and me — ’

‘Rashim! Does he know?’

He cocked his head. ‘We… kept secrets. We told… stories… we — ’

‘I’d take that as a no,’ said Sal.

Maddy reached out and grabbed Rashim’s thin arm. ‘But he knows it’s sometime soon? Doesn’t he?’

Rashim nodded.

‘And by now he’ll know you’re missing.’ Maddy frowned. ‘He’ll be looking for you, won’t he? Does he know the Exodus people travelled in from the north-east?’

Rashim closed his eyes. ‘The day the Visitors came… in chariots of gold…’ His sing-song reverie wandered off into gibberish again.

‘There is only one main road into Rome from that direction,’ said Bob. ‘It is this one.’

‘Then let’s get off of it!’ Maddy scanned the road in both directions. It was deserted, except for a pale speck kicking up dust a mile away. A solitary cart or trader. Hopefully. Or perhaps a Praetorian scout — one of many sent in every direction, along every road out of Rome, looking for them. She didn’t want to waste another moment finding out.

‘Come on,’ she said, pointing towards the flat-topped hill. She could see there were trees around the base of it, even though it was a bald hill on top. They could hide somewhere in there for a day or two; wait it out until Rashim’s advance party were supposed to arrive.

‘Let’s go.’