Last Act in Palmyra Read Online Free PDF

dearie,’ Thalia agreed with her. ‘Always best to trot along and keep an eye on them!’

ACT ONE : NABATAEA
    About a month later. The scene is set initially in Petra, a remote city in the desert. Dramatic mountains dominate on either side. Then on rapidly to Bostra.
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    SYNOPSIS: Falco, an adventurer, and Helena, a rash young woman, arrive in a strange city disguised as curious travellers. They are unaware that Anacrites, a jealous enemy, has transmitted news of their visit to the one man they need to avoid. When an unpleasant accident befalls Heliodorus, a theatrical hack, their help is enlisted by Chremes, an actor-producer, but by then everyone is looking nervously for a quick camel ride out of town.

V
    We had been following the two men all the way to the High Place. From time to time we heard their voices ringing off the rocks up ahead of us. They were talking in occasional short sentences, like acquaintances who kept the politeness going. Not lost in a deep conversation, not angry, but not strangers either. Strangers would have either walked along in silence or made more of a sustained effort.
    I did wonder if they might be priests, going up for a ritual.
    â€˜If they are, we should turn back,’ Helena suggested. The remark was her only contribution so far that morning. Her tone was cool, sensible, and subtly implying that I was a dangerous idiot for bringing us here.
    A staid response seemed called for; I put on a frivolous manner: ‘I never intrude on religion, particularly when the Lord of the Mountain might demand the ultimate sacrifice.’ We knew little of the Petrans’ religion, beyond the facts that their chief god was symbolised by blocks of rock and that this strong, mysterious deity was said to require bloodthirsty appeasement, carried out on the mountaintops he ruled. ‘My mother wouldn’t like her boy to be consecrated to Dushara.’
    Helena said nothing.
    Helena said nothing, in fact, during most of our climb. We were having a furious argument, the kind that’s intensely silent. For this reason, although we heard that the two men were toiling up ahead of us, they almost certainly failed to notice that we were following. We made no attempt to let them know. It seemed unimportant at the time.
    I decided that their intermittent voices were too casual to cause alarm. Even if they were priests they were probably going routinely to sweep away yesterday’s offerings (in whatever unlikeable form those offerings took). They might be locals making the trip for a picnic. Most likely they were fellow visitors, just panting up to the sky-high altar out of curiosity.
    So we clambered on, more concerned about the steepness of the path and our own quarrel than anybody else.
    *   *   *
    There were various ways to reach the High Place. ‘Some joker down by the temple tried to tell me this route is how they bring the virgins up for sacrifice.’
    â€˜ You’ve nothing to worry about then!’ Helena deigned to utter.
    We had taken what appeared to be a gentle flight of steps a little to the left of the theatre. It rapidly steepened, cutting up beside a narrow gorge. We had the rock face on both sides at first, quarried intriguingly and threatening to overhang our way; soon we acquired a narrow but increasingly spectacular defile to our right. Greenery clung to its sides – spear-leafed oleanders and tamarisk among the red, grey and amber striations of the rocks. These were most eye-catching on the cliff face alongside us, where the Nabataeans had carved out their passage to the mountaintop taking their normal delight in revealing the silken patterns of the sandstone.
    This was no place for hurrying. The twisting path angled through a rocky corridor and crossed the gorge, widening briefly into a more open space where I snatched my first breather, planning several more before we reached the uppermost heights. Helena paused too, pretending