The Rome Prophecy

85

The man Louisa remembers from her apartment block is standing outside her cell, holding a flaming torch between his face and hers.

Through the glare she can see that he’s no longer dressed in the mundane blue jeans, jumper and short wool coat she last saw him in.

He’s clad from head to toe in a long, heavy cloak of purple, like the off-the-shoulder himation the ancient Greeks used to wear.

Louisa hopes this is all some crazy dream, an odd brain trip that will finish any second and then she’ll wake up, shower and promise herself never to eat cheese again late at night.

The man tilts his head and studies her eyes. ‘How do you feel?’

She’s not quite sure how to answer.

Angry? Frightened? Furious?

They’re all perfectly good ways to sum up her feelings, but she guesses he’s not really concerned with her emotions. ‘Sore. My throat hurts. My head aches.’

He smiles sympathetically. ‘That’s the chloroform. The effects will pass quickly – as I’m sure you know.’ He looks over his shoulder to someone out of view. ‘Get her water and some white willow bark to take away the pain.’

Louisa hears the muffled noise of retreating footsteps. She can’t see, but it sounds like the floor is made of dirt and grit and isn’t paved in any kind of way. Her senses are returning, and beyond the smell of the torch she detects the iron tang of dampness and the chatter of other voices.

‘Why are you doing this to me?’

The man in the cloak frowns a little. ‘The patient you refer to as Anna – Anna Fratelli – we need you to secure her release from incarceration in your hospital.’

‘Anna is-’ Louisa bites her tongue. She realises there’s no advantage to telling them what has happened – on the contrary, if they know she’s dead, it will merely demonstrate her own lack of value to them and put her life in danger. ‘Anna is very sick,’ she adds. ‘She’s both physically and mentally ill. Moving her from expert medical care isn’t advisable.’

‘I didn’t ask for a diagnosis,’ says the man. ‘Her release is all we want.’

Louisa tries to establish more of a rapport with him. ‘I don’t remember seeing you at the hospital. You didn’t visit. At least not as far as I can remember. Are you a friend?’

‘I am a friend, a very close one, but visiting is not what I do.’

Louisa thinks better of asking him to explain exactly what it is that he does do.

On the wall to his left, a skeletal shadow grows long, then crawls up the ceiling of her cell as a woman appears in the flickering torchlight.

Her face has been made a ghostly white by some strange thick make-up, but Louisa still recognises her from the apartment block. Like the man she was with, she’s now dressed differently. She’s wearing a flowing green cloak that is similar to his but is split on the right side and fastened over both shoulders rather than just one.

She passes a metal goblet of water and a handful of dry, powdery tablets through the bars to Louisa. ‘Take two of the willow bark now and two a little later if your head still aches.’

Louisa has never had time for alternative medicine, but swallows the pills anyway. The fact that they’re looking after her is a good sign.

At least for now.

‘Why do you want to get Anna out of hospital? What are you going to do with her?’

‘She is a prophetess,’ says the woman. ‘One of our sisters-’

The man silences her with a look that could blister skin. He turns back to Louisa. ‘It is not your concern. Trouble yourself only with how to extricate Anna from the fortress and falsehood in which she is held.’

Louisa takes another sip of the water. ‘I need to think. You can’t simply walk into one of the world’s biggest hospitals and steal a patient.’

‘Then think. And do it quickly. Your life depends upon it.’