Doctor Who_ The Romans - Donald Cotton [29]
And I had no wish to incur his odium just when it seemed we were getting on so well together.
As to the wretched assassin, I am not, I hope, a vindictive man, but I confess that the thought of his probable fate did not stir me to other than a chuckle. He had been asking for something of the sort ever since I left Assissium; and, as it is well known, malefactors trifle with me at their peril!
However, one consequence of the unfortunate fiasco did disturb me, for my lyre was manifestly unfit now for further service, and my revolutionary recital, which I had been anticipating pleasurably albeit with a touch of that apprehension inseparable from public appearances – would now have to be cancelled sine die. I therefore allowed a sufficient interval for tempers to cool, and then presented myself at the state apartments to make my excuses...
Nero, I thought, received me with less enthusiasm than is customary when fellow artistes foregather; but this was explained to my satisfaction when he told me he had once more narrowly escaped death at the hands of a malcontent; and I said that there was a coincidence, and it was small wonder that young people were no longer taking up music as a serious career, considering the occupational risks involved.
Speaking of which, I very much regretted that I would be unable to give my promised concert at his banquet that evening, as my particular and apparently personal assailant had got away with the lute. (That was a pleasantry which failed to raise a smile; probably because, as I later realised on reviewing the conversation, the lute was an instrument which first appeared in Europe during the fourteenth century – and loot as a synonym for booty was hardly in general use until the Capone era. Such are the conversational hazards of time-travel!) I therefore rephrased the statement; and was more than slightly chagrined to receive no expression of sympathy or disappointment at my unfortunate dilemma, not even a consolatory ‘Tut!’
How would Yehudi Menuhin have felt, I wondered, if on telling his promoter to cancel everything because he had carelessly sat on his Stradivarius, the man had merely raised an eyebrow, and said ‘Well, well – these things happen...’ ?
No, so far as I could read the fluorescent features before me, they seemed to indicate a mild relief, if anything – a phenomenon I was at a loss to explain!
‘You mean,’ he enquired slowly, ‘that there is absolutely no danger of... I mean, that we are definitely not to have the... the pleasure of hearing you perform? Poppy will be disappointed... I expect.’
I said I was glad someone would be; because the loss of my lyre meant the tragic curtailment of what could have been a brilliant career as a virtuoso.
‘Do I understand then, that you intend never to play again? Not under any circumstances... whatever?’
‘Well, I don’t really see how I can...’ I told him; and then a really brilliant idea struck me: ‘Unless, of course, you would care to lend me your own instrument for the evening?’
He shuddered for some reason; and then replied that it was quite out of the question, since it was a creation of exquisite workmanship, believed once to have been the property of Orpheus. And on the evidence of my behaviour to date – I cannot imagine what he meant by that! – he was afraid I might drop it.
‘No,’ he continued, strumming vaguely on the gem-encrusted artefact, ‘as you say, it is indeed a sad loss to Music; but, on the other hand, of course, looking on the bright side, it does mean that I needn’t after all, have you put to... put to any inconvenience; or see you torn apart...
or torn apart by conflicting emotions, doesn’t it? So now, I take it, you’ll be returning to Corinth as soon as convenient, eh?’
I agreed that it was my intention to leave Rome, just as soon as we had completed our discussion