Placidia reappeared on the screen to conclude her remarks. ‘There are lots more similarities between the end of Rome and the forthcoming end of the United States. You’ll find out the biggest one in just a few days. My point is,’ said Placidia, her tone making clear she was about to conclude, ‘it’s not inevitable. You can change it. Tell your Senators to reach out to people like us. Please, help us survive. Because, if you do not, then your country will die next.’
Placidia’s haunting image slowly disappeared from view as the picture faded away.
Myles silently watched the video close, stunned by what he had seen.
Eventually he turned to Placidia. ‘So that’s why you think the Roman Empire collapsed? The people just became too cruel and selfish?’
Placidia tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. She was pondering. ‘It’s a big reason,’ she accepted. ‘Look at adverts on American TV today — and in Europe, too. Most of them ridicule someone and say ‘buy this product to feel superior’. No advertiser could sell something because it was good for civilisation. Even patriotism has gone out of fashion. And when they sell something that’s good for charity or the environment, they just offer to make people feel smug. “Ask what you can do for your country” became “ask what your country can do for you”,’ quoted Placidia, well aware she was reversing one of President Kennedy’s most famous phrases.
‘And it was like that in ancient Rome?’ asked Myles.
‘Yes. In the early days, people were proud to fight for Rome. People made sacrifices for their civilisation. By the end they were cutting off their thumbs to avoid the draft. Everybody felt they deserved wealth and security, but no one would work for it.’
Myles was still sceptical. There was something she wasn’t saying. ‘So you think that by doing all this — sending a car-bomb to Wall Street, poisoning people, digging up the plague — you can make Americans come together again?’
‘It wasn’t the plague,’ interrupted Placidia. ‘I made sure those men dug up something else — an illness they had been vaccinated against. And it was a disease which wouldn’t have survived underground anyway.’
‘It was deliberate?’ queried Myles, confused.
Placidia nodded as she confronted him. ‘You still don’t get it, do you?’ Her eyes were wide, like a teenager desperately trying to be believed. ‘Look, America is in serious danger. Really, it is. Believe me, I can’t tell you exactly why, but if you don’t help me…’ She leant forwards, about to make a gesture to Myles. She put her hand on his cheek. Myles wondered whether she was about to kiss him.
Then they were disturbed…
Fifty-Two
Myles and Placidia turned to see Juma swagger in with a grin on his face and an AK-47 in his hands. Juma made a point of leaving armed guards at the door, which he closed behind him. ‘Hello, ladies,’ he mocked.
Both Myles and Placidia nodded respectfully, acknowledging his presence.
He turned to his wife, looking cocky. ‘So, has your history-professor man agreed?’
Placidia’s eyes turned down as she shook her head. ‘I’ve not asked him yet,’ she said.
Myles checked both of their faces. ‘Asked me what?’
Placidia paused before she explained herself. ‘Myles, you know that Rome was besieged before it was first ransacked in 410. The Goths who stormed the city that year just wanted a homeland, like us. They surrounded Rome for almost two years, stopping food going in and people going out. As the city began to starve, the Senate of Rome agreed to pay off the Goths in return for them lifting the siege. But the Senate couldn’t raise the funds because the rich people in the city just hid their gold and silver, so there was no wealth to collect. Most of them buried it.’
Myles found himself nodding. ‘That’s why archaeologists still find treasure buried in central Rome.’ He saw Placidia nodding, and began to imagine what she had in mind. ‘But Placidia, people have paper money now, and stocks and shares. You can’t bury that in the ground.’
Placidia was about to reply when Juma interrupted her. ‘It’s like this,’ he declared. ‘I’ve got hundreds of people who need to be paid off. This private security company, for a start.’
‘Your mercenaries, you mean?’ asked Myles.
Juma smiled and started speaking more slowly. ‘Placidia’s already given me my own personal history lesson. She told me that the great Roman military which won an empire was gradually replaced by mercenaries, but they eventually lost it.’
‘Paying for mercenaries pretty much bankrupted ancient Rome,’ confirmed Placidia, underwriting Juma’s words and nodding as she spoke.
Juma began to grin. ‘See — it was private security companies like mine which came to rule the Roman Empire.’ He poked a finger towards Myles’ face, then slowly dragged it across his chin. Myles’ chin was covered in hair and stubble. He hadn’t shaved for several days. ‘So Myles, I need you to become our fundraiser.’
Myles didn’t answer with words, although his body language was responding with a very clear ‘no’.
Juma turned to Placidia, mocking surprise. ‘The professor doesn’t like the idea?’ he said. Then he caressed Myles’ jaw again, slowly rolling his fingers around Myles’ face. Suddenly, he grabbed it firmly, and thrust his face towards Myles. ‘Would you prefer a bullet in that beautiful head of yours?’
Myles took Juma’s hand away, then tried to defuse the situation with his humour. ‘I’d be a hopeless fundraiser — I can’t even get myself a pay rise.’
Juma grinned, exposing his rotten teeth.
Placidia stepped in, more serious than ever. ‘Myles, the stakes are high here.’
Myles remembered what she had just told him: Juma wants you dead. The stakes were very high.
Juma started lecturing him. ‘Myles, as the Roman Empire weakened, the imperial mint started putting less and less gold in their “gold” coins. A few emperors tried to stop it, like bringing in fixed prices for basic foodstuffs or decreeing how much gold there had to be in the coins. But it didn’t work. The Romans had to establish what’s called a “fiat” currency — a currency which only had value because the government said it did…’
Myles could tell Juma was just reciting what Placidia had taught him, but he didn’t want to interrupt.
‘Well, America is like that now,’ said Juma. ‘Forty years ago the dollar stopped being exchangeable for gold. Now they just keep printing dollar bills. Congress can’t raise taxes, and they can’t afford to spend less on the military or other federal programmes, so the deficit just keeps growing.’
Placidia was nodding along. ‘It’s even worse than in ancient Rome,’ she explained. ‘In Rome, only the Emperor could mint coins. But in modern America, the banks create money and they’ve bought off the government. The system’s already out of control.’
Juma grinned again. ‘And we just need them to print a little more for us. Easy.’
Myles shrugged in resignation. ‘You know, ever since the Boston tea party, the Americans have taken badly to Englishmen asking them for money.’ He squared up to Juma. ‘I can’t do it,’ he said.
Placidia interrupted before Juma could answer. ‘Myles, you don’t have to do much. There’s the big currency conference coming up. You just need to explain the history of Rome. Tell the rich bankers and the governments to offer up some cash. Make them do what the Roman Senate and the Emperor failed to do and put the future of civilisation before themselves. Please, Myles.’