Doctor Who_ Byzantium! - Keith Topping [82]
But, at the end of the day, the Doctor had been right when he said that these were not the glorious times that they were often made out to be. For some of the population, anyway. Many features of the social organisation of both the empire in general, and Byzantium in particular, had contributed to the debasing of any existing morality. That was what Barbara had always been led to believe, and here it was before her very eyes. Slavery gave occasion to cruelty and sexual licence. The punishment of alleged criminals through torture, public humiliation and execution by crucifixion showed the casual, almost dismissive brutality of these times. Combined with gladiatorial contests of which Byzantium seemed, thankfully, for the most part free, this reflected a cruel, barbarous outlook on life. The Roman policy of bread and circuses to keep the fickle populace content had prevented any great intellectual and social advances and emphasised, instead simple sensual pleasures.
Which was all very well if you liked that sort of thing. but wasn't really Barbara's cup of tea. At least, not with any old Tomus, Dickus or Harryus.
Many subsequent Christian writers had argued that the Greco-Roman world was characterised by moral and physical corruption. Some Jewish apologists suggested that the mortality rate sprang from idolatry, but anyone with eyes in their head could see the reality of life in the Roman empire.
And then there was the place of women within the order of things. Although the picture of classical Greek women kept in seclusion and bondage all of their lives had been long since disproved, historically, the average Greek woman's sphere was still definitely within the home. The Romans, on the other hand, were happy for their women to pass from the subjection of the father to the husband. And as for the Jews, a wife might be the mistress of the home, but nowhere else.
Oh, the Byzantines had their entertainments, to be sure. If not bread and circuses, then, at least, bread and spectacles. The lack of an arena within the city was more than made up for by other pleasures, as Barbara had discovered. There were several amphitheatres built into the hillsides that surrounded the city, with richly decorated tiers of colonnaded niches filled with statuary, at which lascivious masques, dramas and tragedies were performed by talented hypokrites and amusing comedians. There were the pankration athletic contests that accompanied Greek and Roman festivals, which began with a sacrifice and a prayer and, more often than not, ended in bloodshed of a different kind. And there were gymnasia and public baths and widespread social banquets.
All of it fascinating, and yet in its own way as trivial and unin-teresting to Barbara as the football matches, Odeon cinemas and fashionable Knightsbridge dinner parties of 1960s London. Dear God, Barbara reflected. It was coming to a pretty pass when the complexities and intrigues of history (and, especially, as unique a historical time as this) didn't excite her any more. Maybe she was just getting jaded by her proximity to it all.
Loose morality, sexual perversion and an unhealthy disregard for the sanctity of human life were not (by any stretch of the imagination) attitudes only to be found here.
Barbara resolved that, whatever else happened to her, and wherever she ended up, that she would experience every moment from now on with a spring in her step.
So, with this in mind, she conquered her sudden claustrophobic terror and stepped into the market-place of Byzantium, where her friends and companions from the future had (probably) died.
And, on standing on the Zeus mosaic, a question raised a moment before was fully answered. How, she had wondered several times in the days she spent with Hieronymous, would she feel when she stood where Vicki, Ian and the Doctor had breathed their last breath?
Now, she knew,
She felt nothing. Nothing, but a vague sense of outrage that they had died here, of all places.
Byzantium. A terrible place to die.