Nevertheless, despite her upturn in mood, there was no denying who had the upper hand right now! They knew damn well they could pull Julia and Marcellus about like marionettes on a string and that, with a fifteen-year-old's life at stake, the pair were powerless to protest. Flavia was not the only victim here! The bastards intended that Julia and Marcellus should suffer too, until eventually they became weak and vulnerable, their spirit sucked dry by the kidnappers' vampire-like need to dominate and control.
What the gang hadn't reckoned on, however, was a third party becoming involved.
Blackmail Claudia Seferius? I don't think so.
She lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. You need to show who's in charge? Be my guest. If the need to dominate's so strong, it means Flavia's alive, otherwise you'd have nothing to bargain with.
Oh, Flavia. Where are they holding you?
Was she tied up in some dingy attic, gagged and blindfolded? Locked in a windowless shepherd's hut high in the hills? Was she too scared to cry? Or had she tried to call for help and been whipped for her pains? Was she sobbing into a dirty pillow, or convulsing with fear on a floor of tamped earth? Was she bloodied, bruised and beaten? Had the bastards raped her? She could be imprisoned in a ghetto on the Aventine, where one more scream passes without comment. Or held in a disused warehouse across the Tiber, where screams go quite unheard..
Dammit, Flavia could be anywhere!
And when you're fifteen, alone and terrified, that is no place to be.
Chapter Three
As the sun climbed slowly above the Mount of Osiris, bathing the valley in its honey rays and turning the ceremonial pool to molten silver, the girl called Donata could hardly breathe for the excitement. Everyone else would already be clustered in the temple forecourt, but since today was to be the most important day of her life, preparation was paramount and she paused to check her appearance in a disc of copper polished so finely that she could see every lash of her kohl-rimmed eyes, every carved line on her glazed blue scarab amulet. Satisfied that no pleat was ever sharper, no fingernails better hennaed, she dabbed a little musky perfume behind her earlobes. Outside, the rattle of sistrums, light and melodious, filled the still warm morning air and, as she ran across the grass towards the forecourt, she inhaled the fragrance of sweet gum burning in the brazier.
'You're late,' snarled a temple assistant, but Donata didn't hear. The sun was rising ever higher over the top of the mountain, and she closed her eyes in ecstasy. I am ready, Lord. I am ready.
Her eyes were still squeezed tight in piety when the High Priest mounted the steps, his shaven head showing clearly the strong, broad ridge of his skull which arced high above his ear down to his shaven brow.
The power of his voice reached out across the congregation. 'Hail to thee, Ra, in thy rising!'
Donata gripped her hands together and joined the chorus: 'Mine eyes adore thee.'
The High Priest spread his bare arms wide. 'Hail to thee,
Ra, who gladdens our hearts with the Boat of the Morning.'
Donata indeed felt her heart swell as she pronounced the second chorus: 'Beautiful art thou.'
'O Living Lord, rest thy rays upon the bodies of your servants!'
'Hail to thee, Ra, in thy rising.'
As the third and final chorus died away, the great gates of the temple swung open to reveal a magnificent replica of the barque in which the mighty sun god travelled across the sky by day and cruised the underworld at night. To frantic applause, the boat was wheeled into the open air by ten white-robed acolytes, five on either side, and Donata's heart skipped a beat as the light of early sunrise danced reflections off the silver and the gold, the lapis lazuli, the amethysts and the garnets. The Boat of Dawn! So lovely to behold, and soon — very soon — Donata would herself become a Bride of Ra.
'Let us give thanks,' intoned the priest, 'to the Great God, Lord of Heaven, the Giver of Life, without whom nothing can originate, that he has traversed the Realm of Night in safety and warded off the Serpent who waits in the dark lands beyond the West.'
'Thanks be to Ra.'
As the acolytes melted away, the priest moved forward to anoint the cedar wood with unguents while priestesses strewed rose petals into the boat and rattled the bells of their silver sistrums. The priest turned, reached into the soft moleskin sack which hung from his belt and threw a handful of what looked like soot into the burning brazier.
Whoosh! A soft explosion rang out, alarming the temple parakeets, and clouds of blue smoke filled the air, temporarily masking the entrance, so that for a count of, say, ten, attention was focussed on the hieroglyphs carved deep into the stone walls and on the alabaster sphinxes which stood guard. Then a handsome Negro began to beat on the shell of a giant bronze tortoise with a single fleece-covered drumstick, the resonant throb echoing round the packed enclosure.
Boommmm. Boommmm. Boommmmm…
The mist cleared, and to the tune of silver trumpets a procession of creatures half-human, half-beast glided out from the great temple of Ra. Led by Anubis, with his jackal head and wearing a golden cloak which swept the marble floor, the next in line was Osiris, a plumed crown upon his head, his blue-painted face covered to the mouth by a mask of pure gold whose cheekpads shone with the light of the sun god and whose almond-shaped eyes glittered bright with emeralds. Behind him followed other deities: Hathor, with her arching cow's horns; falcon-headed Horus; Bast the great cat goddess. With hands clenched into fists, Donata watched them form a V, with Anubis at the front, Osiris right behind him and the other gods fanning out on either side behind.
I am ready, Lord, I have prepared. Donata's heart fluttered. Could they hear her? she wondered. Did the gods recognise that she had followed her instructions to the letter? Her eyes alighted on Thoth, standing at the rear of the left-hand flank, his ibis beak pointed up towards the sky, his human hands holding out his sacred reeds and scrolls, and Donata knew instinctively that the holy scribe would know his servant had obeyed, for Thoth was God of Wisdom from whom no secrets could be hid.
Donata could hardly swallow. Suppose, she thought, suppose this time it fails.
The High Priest moved forward to Anubis and handed him a set of balances and an ostrich feather. Solemnly the jackal god accepted them and stepped to one side for the mighty Osiris to speak to his people.
'Know me,' he cried, holding high his sacred ankh, 'for I am the Lord of the Underworld and I am immortal.' A hush had settled over the congregation. 'Last night, the great Ra battled with the Serpent and passed safely through the twelve sacred gates to bring his light and warmth to my kingdom. At his hallowed touch — ' the golden mask turned full force upon the sun, dazzling the spectators — 'the mummies of the dead shook off their bandages. Those who had been lame walked straight. Those who had suffered poverty in this life were given lands to own, and Ra breathed life into barren women that they might bring forth a child.'
An excited shuffle rippled round the crowd, and only Donata, it seemed, felt a weight descend upon her stomach. Don't let it fail, she pleaded. Don't let him die.
'Heed me, for I am Osiris, son of Ra. Follow me along the path to purity and blessedness, because only through me can you, when the time comes for hearts to be weighed against the Feather of Truth, advance to the Fields of the Blessed.' He paused and spread his hands in supplication to the sun. 'Father,' he said solemnly, 'Father, I am ready.'
Softly the drumbeat began again, this time with two fleece-tipped sticks. The High Priest lifted his eyes to an archer, stationed high on the wall and asked, 'And you, my child? Are you ready?'
The archer bowed, placed one hand upon his knee and said, 'With your blessing, master, I am.'