The hairy one next to enslave the State
Shall be son, no son, of this hairy last.
He shall have hair in a generous mop.
He shall give Rome marble instead of clay
And fetter her fast with unseen chains
And shall die at the hand of his wife, no wife
To the gain of his son, no son.
14:00 25 May 2002
The Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles
Wesley paraphrased history for Angel, while Fred set about clearing a space for the portal.
"OK, when Julius Caesar dies there's a power vacuum for a while, and eventually Augustus, his adopted son, emerges as the new leader. But he's generally believed to have been controlled by his second wife, Livia, who allegedly poisoned all her husband's rivals. Apparently he was so in awe of her they never slept together."
"Wesley, stick to the point? I don't need all the details."
A loud thud came from the lobby. Angel frowned, "Fred? You OK out there?"
A muffled "Ye-es" came in reply, and Wesley shook his head at Angel. "Why is she moving the furniture anyway?"
Angel shrugged. "We'd better finish this and give her a hand."
"Yes, well, he dies while on a journey. At a place called Nola, of a stomach complaint. The history books say Livia poisoned him, so her son by her first marriage, Tiberius, could succeed." Wesley snapped the book shut. "That's it then. Either he dies from eating bad Roman food or..."
"... by becoming food for some bad Roman." Angel replied. "Check."
They joined Fred in the lobby. She came to meet them, perspiring slightly and rubbing her left knee. "It's all prepared. Boy, some of your furniture is *heavy*. Do you have the ring?"
Angel patted the right-hand pocket of his duster and nodded. He turned to Wesley and held out a hand, which Wesley ignored, throwing his arm around the vampire's shoulder instead. "Be careful."
Fred took up the book and fingered the already-tattered edges of the pages. Angel gave her a reassuring smile, and then moved into the clear space at the centre of the room. "I'm ready when you are."
She looked at the book and then at him, and then at the book again. Finally, she stepped quickly over to where he was standing and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. "Good luck."
Before he could say anything, she turned and began to read as she walked away. A creaking, whooshing sound grew in the air as she spoke, and Angel looked around the ceiling for signs that a portal was opening for him. There was nothing to be seen, but the noise continued.
Fred came to the end of her incantation, and turned to see Angel's shocked face as the portal opened directly below him and he fell into the floor.
Silence followed. Fred sat down heavily on a nearby sofa. "I did it!"
Wesley joined her and they sat together, watching the spot on the carpet where Angel had last stood. "So now, we wait. You're sure he'll come back?"
"Oh yes. He says the reversal incantation, and a portal opens back to this time. No problem. He should come back right here, where he left from." She frowned. "I think."
Wesley sighed, and looked at the carpet again. Then, getting up, he offered a hand to Fred. "Let's get some coffee."
Death of Augustus, AD 14
A Roman villa, near Nola
Something was tickling the back of his neck. Angel wriggled, and this made the tickling a hundred times worse, and also caused his muscles to protest loudly. He groped around to remove whatever it was, and he found himself clutching a handful of straw.
He was buried in a mound of hay. Its intense grassy smell reminded him of summer, and his life as a young man, early experiences with women, and the sun. Oh my god, the sun!
He opened his eyes, and saw blackness. Stretching his hand upwards, he felt no pain, and no burning, just straw and fresh air. Then something wet landed on his hand and he drew it back to his chest again.
Cautiously, he pushed downwards with his feet, and found, to his relief, solid ground below. He seemed to be crouched, so he pushed again and slowly stood. As he emerged from the straw, a bemused cow looked him in the eye. He was in a barn of some sort, and the sun was shining brightly outside.
Angel made a slow circuit of the building. It was harder than it looked. Shafts of sunlight leaked in through holes and chinks in the walls, and he had to skirt around them. Occasionally, copper-faced farmers sauntered past, but no-one entered, and eventually Angel spied an impressive stone dwelling, about two hundred and fifty yards from the barn. As the light failed, he crept out and made his way towards the building.
A paved courtyard extended all the way around it, prettily grown with vines and other plants he did not recognise. In the centre of the courtyard, stood a small tree, bearing copious quantities of small pear-like fruit. As Angel approached it, voices drifted from another part of the garden. He quickly dived behind the base of an ornamental fountain, and waited for the owners of the voices to pass.
They spoke a mixture of languages, mainly Latin, which he could understand pretty well, with sudden lapses into another tongue, possibly Greek, which meant nothing to him. He could make out three-quarters of their conversation.
The speakers were two young women. Some kind of nobility was implied by the formality of their dress, and it was clear from what they said that this was their house, and there was a invalid within.
"Quiet, my dear, we mustn't disturb our guest."
"I begin to wish he would go. There is honour in the visit, but it is unpleasant to care for even a distinguished visitor for such a long time."
"I think the Lady Livia will take care of that."
"How can you say such things! We may be overheard! Have some care..."
They talked for several minutes in Greek, and then continued.
"He never eats anything she prepares now. Have you noticed? Everything from the common table and figs he picks himself from the tree. Mother has given strict instructions that no-one else is to eat them, so there will be enough ripening for him."
The women went inside. Angel began to emerge from his hiding place, when a third woman entered the courtyard. She had a scarf thrown about her head and face, and was carrying a pot with a brush inside. She cast an eye about her, and seeing no-one, approached the tree and began to paint the fruit.