Kit knew-from first-hand experience–that once you gave in and paid Dane-geld, the Dane never went away.
Well, it was a little late for that now. And she did need a lesson in coping with down-time languages and customs completely alien from her own. Of La-La Land’s major gates which fit that bill, Porta Romae was by far the safest.
Margo loose in Rome was an image of sufficient horror to sober even the most reckless of time guides. And Kit had never, in his entire professional career, been considered reckless. When, he wondered a little despairingly, does the worrying end and the enjoyment begin? Given the way his luck had been running of late, probably never.
”Must be Malcolm’s fault,” he decided. “His luck’s rubbing off.”
And that was the very best Kit could find to say about the whole mess.
* * *
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Porta Romae, the Roman Gate, opened into the storage room of a busy wine shop on the Via Appia. Ancient Rome’s “Main Street” ran from the Appian Gate to the great Circus Maximus where it turned north past the foot of monumental Palatine Hill, home of gods and emperors.
The hulking Circus rose like a battleship from the valley floor, its bulk silhouetted against a brilliant white sky. In deepest antiquity the Circus had been merely an open sweep of valley where even the Etruscans had run sacred funerary races. Over the intervening centuries the Circus, with its towering monuments and soaring wood-and-stone bleachers, had come to dominate the valley between the Palatine and Aventine Hills, one of the most sacred spots in the city of Rome.