Chapter Fourteen

Hail, Caesar!

(Leigh enters and unties Meg)

Leigh: JWJ really messed up that rescue mission, didn't he?

Meg: You guys sent him to rescue me?

Leigh: Yeah. We didn't even have to bribe him this time.

Meg: All he did was come in here and taunt me!

Leigh: We were wondering what was taking him so long.

Meg: Morons. Never trust that political nutjob ever again!

"Excellent work Mr. Gillespie on your first case," Inspector Gordon congratulated the Irish mouse on the capture of the kidnappers.

"But it was really Dr. Dawson," Arlen said, motioning to Dawson. "In fact, I pretty much did..." but Gordon had walked away. Arlen sighed. "Nothin'."

Dawson smiled at the young man. "You still helped us a great deal."

Arlen's eyes grew wide. "What happened to Mr. Basil and Miss Megana?"

"It's not as bad as it looks," Basil said, trying to sound reassuring.

"God, Basil!" I cried, practically going into hysterics. "He stabbed you! Basil! He stabbed you!"

"Meg, calm down!"

"No... I... you... we need Dawson." I took some comfort at this thought. "Yes, Dr. Dawson can help you! I'll get him-"

"No!" Basil cried. "No, don't leave. Stay here with me."

That comment terrified me. Was he dying? "You need help..." I said, feeling so powerless. "Is it..." I stopped.

Basil smiled weakly. "It's not deep. I don't think it hit any vital organs. I think I'll be fine. But we need to stop the blood."

Basil instructed me how to bandage the wound using handkerchiefs and his Inverness cape. It calmed me down somewhat.

Basil put pressure on the makeshift dressings to stop the bleeding. I took off my cloak and covered him with it.

Basil shook his head. "I don't need it."

"Yes you do. It's raining."

I tried to make Basil as comfortable as possible. Then I said, "I'll go get Dr. Dawson."

"No. Stay with me."

"Basil! You need help! No one knows we're here. There'll be no one coming to our aide."

He looked up at me with his jade green eyes. "Please Meg..." they seemed to say.

I lifted up the cloak and looked at the dressings. I placed my hands on top of his and pressed them.

"Your hands are so cold," Basil said quietly.

"Yours are so warm." I did not mention that it was because they were covered in fresh blood.

We sat there in silence for some time. I thought of how Basil had slipped from the bell in the bell tower yesterday morning at the Butler Manor. How much greater my fear for him was now!

I was starting to get soaked. I shivered.

"Put the cloak on," Basil urged.

"No."

"Stop being stubborn."

"You're the one being stubborn! You need help! We need to get help!"

"Put the cloak on! You'll catch a cold!"

"You'll go into shock!"

"No I won't!"

I looked at him sadly. Here he was, possibly dying, and we were arguing! What was wrong with us?

"Basil... how does it feel?"

"It's all right."

"Tell me the truth. Describe it. Just don't say it's all right, because it's obviously not!"

Basil closed his eyes. "I don't mean to pain you like this. I just don't want you to worry."

"Too late," I said, a tear falling from my eye. Luckily it was raining and his eyes were shut. "I can't help it. I can't lose you." My voice cracked.

Basil's left hand moved from under my right hand, and pressed my right hand more firmly on the dressing. I could feel some of the blood seep through. He opened his eyes and looked at me lovingly.

"How can I go? You're holding in my life's blood within me."

I let out a sob. Basil weakly squeezed my hand. I forced myself to calm down. "You shouldn't be comforting me," I said quietly. "You're the one suffering."

"Why should I suffer? You're taking care of me." He shuttered. "Don't leave me!"

I tucked the cloak more tightly around him. "I'm here! Basil, I'm here!"

He gripped my hand a little tighter. "Don't stop talking. I need to hear your voice."

I remembered how he had brought me back when I had been sick with typhoid.

"Basil, I love you with all my heart, all my soul. I can't live without you. With you I am home. I am home..." I trailed off. I am finally home.

"Meg?" he pleaded.

"I love you. You are the one who has saved me from evil, from myself and my misery and loneliness. You are my only hope..." I started to choke up.

"N'arrête pas, ma copine," Basil whispered.

"I won't stop..." I assured him, even though I did not know what to say next. What could I say?

I began to sing:

"I heard your voice, love

In my heart, love

I knew I'd find you soon

The one who saved me

From my misery

I will be yours soon

This is not the end

Soon we'll be home again

Darling, can you hear me?

Do not leave me

You will be

Safe with me and..."

I heard barking in the distance. I stopped singing and gripped Basil's hand.

Toby came into sight carrying Dawson, Arlen, and several Mouseland Yard officials.

"DAWSON! DAWSON! OVER HERE!" I jumped up and waved my bloodstained hands to get their attention.

Toby knelt down so the mice could dismount.

I bent down to Basil. "Help is here!" I whispered. "You'll be all right. Hang in there, dearest."

Dawson was the first to reach us.

"Thank goodness you two are all right!" Then he saw my blood-covered hands. "My God, what happened?"

Half an hour later Basil left for the hospital in an ambulance. I watched it leave, still not entirely relieved. They would not let me in the ambulance with him. I fidgeted, praying that he would be all right.

Dawson came up to me and put a blanket around my shoulders. "You should get these wet things off," he said sternly.

I pulled the blanket tightly around me. "I'll be all right."

"Meg..." Dawson warned.

"I know," I sighed. "Dawson, I'm afraid for him."

Dawson patted my shoulder. "He's strong. He'll pull through."

I remained staring in the direction the ambulance went. "Can we go to the hospital soon?"

"Soon," Dawson promised.

Suddenly Arlen called out, "Megana! Dr. Dawson! I want to speak with you." He stood next to the broken bust, his arms folded, his head bent.

We walked over to him. "Yes?"

Arlen nudged a large piece of ceramic with his foot, revealing a crumbled ball of paper.

I cocked my head and gave Arlen a questioning stare. He nodded at me.

I bent down and picked it up. I opened it.

It read:

"And you thought I meant that Caesar!

Only Thee, terrible but great

First emperor to unite Thy lands

Hail, first Caesar!

Beneath an emperor,

And within another of the same."

I handed the paper to Dawson. He read it, and then handed it to Arlen.

"What do you make of it?" the doctor asked.

"Is there something else we're supposed to find besides the Eye of Diom?" I asked.

"Megana, maybe, just maybe what you saw Hunter take was not in fact the Eye," Arlen suggested.

"But I saw it! It was huge!"

"We can't ignore this."

"There are those lines from the last riddle we had to solve: 'Beneath an emperor, / And within another of the same.'" Dawson said. "What does that mean?"

We all exchanged bewildered glances.

"Where's Mrs. Butler?" Arlen finally said.

We made our way back to room Number Fourteen in the Indiya Inn. This time we had no trouble getting into the room, since Arlen was a part of the Yard and the Inn was essentially a crime scene.

Mrs. Butler had insisted on taking Rose and Michael with her. She seemed afraid of leaving them alone.

The room was small. It had the dark mahogany walls and green carpeting that had been in the lobby. A queen-sized bed of mahogany, covered with a dark green quilt, lay in the middle of the room. One green easy chair was snuggled up to the fireplace. A picture of Napoleon Bonaparte hung over the mantle.

I inspected the mantle where the bust of Julius Caesar had once been. There was a ring of dust marking where it had stood.

Mrs. Butler pointed to the stone fireplace. "There are faces carved into the stone!"

We stood back and inspected the fireplace. There were panels where the faces of various famous rulers were carved on the stone.

"This has to be what your husband was talking about," Dawson said.

I peered at one stone face. KING SOLOMON was inscribed underneath it.

Dawson started to read each inscription aloud.

"KING DAVID, ALEXANDER THE GREAT, LOUIS XIV, ELIZABETH, IVAN IV, CHARLAMANGE, JAMES I, KING SOLOMON."

I frowned.

Arlen reread each inscription. "Where the hell is Caesar?"

"Mr. Gillespie! There are children around!" Mrs. Butler scolded him.

Arlen turned red. "Sorry ma'am."

"None of these were ever Caesars. How does this work?" Dawson asked himself.

I racked my brains. "David, king of Israel, Solomon, king of Israel, Alexander the Great... was he king of Persia?"

"Macedonia," Dawson said. "Then he became hegemon of Greece and king of Persia, Egypt, and parts of India."

I continued, "Louis XIV, king of France, Elizabeth, Queen of England, Ivan IV, czar of Russia, Charlemagne, emperor of... the Roman Empire, in the 800's. And James I, king of England."

Arlen tapped the section with Charlemagne's picture on it, as if it would give way. "None of these were Caesars!"

"What about the emperors?" Mrs. Butler suggested. "Charlemagne and Alexander the Great?"

Arlen tried tapping the panel with Alexander's face. Nothing happened. He tried pulling it out. "The stone's not even lose."

"Maybe the answer to the clue is somewhere else in the room," said Mrs. Butler.

Everyone split up and began to search the room for another answer.

I wandered over to a bookshelf near the fireplace and idly picked up a book, my mind on the eight faces of kings and rulers. The bust could have been easily moved, but those faces could not. There did not appear to be anything in the actual fireplace itself either.

I ran over the histories of the monarchs in my heads, remembering the lines from the poem. Alexander had united many lands, but Elizabeth had united Protestants and Catholics in England, and James I had united Scotland with England.

Then why call this ruler a Caesar? What did Caesar mean anyway?

I snapped shut the book in my hand as a random historical fact from my schoolgirl days flared up in my thoughts.

I approached the fireplace and inspected the faces again. Then I pulled a block of stone with the image of a bearded man out of its place, revealing a small cubbyhole. I reached in and pulled out a green gem the size of a freshly rolled ball of yarn.

The Eye of Diom? How was that possible?

Hunter stood at the bow of a cargo ship, watching London as he drifted further and further away from it. He patted the lump in his pocket to make sure the Eye was still there. He had not gotten a chance to look at it since he had found it. He did not even dare glance at it for fear of attracting one of the sailors. He smiled. He had killed the butler to get him off his back, finally in possession of the object of his desire for eight long years.

The sun was starting to rise. Hunter glanced around him. There was no one in sight. He plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled out the emerald. He knew it would be magnificent in the early morning light.

Hunter examined the emerald, beaming like a little kid who has just received a new toy. The grin on his face quickly vanished, however, as he brought the emerald closer to his face. Something was terribly wrong.

There appeared to be scratches on the inside of the emerald. Hunter held the gem up to the light. The scratches were actually words carved within the gem:

YOU LOSE

One sailor walking on the deck heard a horrific shriek come from the bow. He hurried toward the source of the cry.

The passenger they had taken on was having a fit.

"DAMN YOU TRUBLE! DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU! ARGH!" He smashed a large glass orb on the deck and then stomped on the pieces. They cut through his shoes.

The sailor tried to restrain him.

"Sir, stop that!"

The enraged man picked up a piece and slashed the sailor across the face. He then picked through the pieces, screaming, "WHERE IS IT? WHERE IS THE EYE?"

Other sailors ran to the first sailor's aide. It took four of them to restrain the man.

"Tie him up! That's it, tie him!"

"I'LL GET YOU FOR THIS, TRUBLE!" he screamed as they beat him down.

Meg: Anyone else confused?

Sarah: Yeah. Why did you stab Basil?

Leigh: She wondered, "How can I twist the plot a bit? Ah, I know. Let's stab Basil!"

Meg: Grrrr.

Sarah: Tell me you didn't kill him.

(Ratigan enters.)

Ratigan: (sarcastically) Oh yes, please don't kill dear Basil. No, let Basil live so you can write stories about him falling in love-

RAEB: And defeating you.

Ratigan: WHAT?

Meg: RAEB! Don't encourage him! He still wants to have me killed!

Ratigan: No. Actually, that "assassination plot" was just a farce. I wanted to scare you out of your wits and have you tortured by your old science teacher. (laughs) Wasn't it marvelous?

Meg: I can't take it anymore! AIE! (tackles Ratigan)