Tiger, Tiger - Lynne Banks Reid

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way she lived and the way the common people of Rome lived, in their several social layers, right to the bottom where there were slaves and the poor. It was a very great difference, and she pondered it every time she left the palace.

      Even inside it, the palace servants, though relatively comfortable, led lives of terrifying insecurity. Once, five years ago, she had seen one of her own handmaids cruelly flogged. It had happened as a direct result of Aurelia complaining about her for some trifle. When a young child witnesses such a thing and knows herself to be the cause, she learns some lessons. The simplest would be to harden her heart. That’s what others did. But Aurelia learnt something better – to control her temper and to deal with her servants herself.

      But she had learnt something more from hearing her maid’s screams. She had found out her place in the world, that she had power, and that her father had much more – almost an infinite amount. Later she grasped something of what power means. What she didn’t yet understand was why some have it and others lie under its lash. If her tutors could have taught her that, she would have listened to them with all her attention. But when she asked them, they seemed not only unwilling, but unable to answer. Some of her questions scandalised them.

      ‘All societies have hierarchies,’ she was told. ‘All societies have higher and lower, masters and slaves.’

      ‘It must be terrible to be a slave!’

      ‘You must not entertain such thoughts. Waste no pity on slaves. They have no responsibilities, no traditions to maintain, no laws to make and keep. They have no concerns about food and shelter. They only have to do what they’re told, and live out their simple lives in peace and order.’

      ‘And the animals?’

      ‘What animals?’

      ‘For example, the animals in the arena that are set to fight the gladiators, and each other. They’re usually killed in the end, and they’ve done no wrong. Why do they have to be hurt?’

      Her teacher stared at her.

      ‘Why does any living being suffer? It is all the will of the gods. It is their design. It is blasphemy to question the order of nature. Surely you’re not questioning your father’s right to show the people signs of his power, to entertain them with circuses?’

      Aurelia was silent. But on another occasion, she asked: ‘What is Christianity? Why is it so dangerous that people are killed for it?’

      This time her tutor threw up his hands. ‘Don’t you know that Christians don’t believe in our gods – that they’ve set up a single, all-powerful god above ours? Could any heresy be worse? Come, enough of this idle tongue-wagging! You must stop asking foolish questions and get down to the study of the heavens.’ He wagged a finger at her. ‘Sometimes it is hard not to suspect you of harbouring heretical thoughts.’

      Heretical thoughts. Thoughts outside what was permitted.

      Aurelia knew she had many such thoughts and questions. With good reason this simple fact terrified her, and she tried to suppress them. Even being Caesar’s daughter would not save her from some dreadful punishment if it was believed she criticised him, even in the privacy of her heart.

      *

      Now she rose languidly and walked slowly through the heat to the fountain in the centre of the courtyard of her apartment. Its constant music and the cooler air around it always soothed her. In the pool at the fountain’s foot there were water lilies, and in their shadow exotic fish, brought from afar. She crouched beside the parapet and trailed her hot hand in the limpid water, letting the tinkle and splash of the fountain make her mind a harmless blank.

      A large orange-coloured fish came to nose her fingers inquisitively.

      She did her trick, something she’d discovered for herself. She let her fingers move gently in the water, and the fish glided in between them and held itself there with lazy motions of its tail while she very delicately stroked its slippery sides. She concentrated intently. She knew that if she moved her hand quickly enough she could stick her forefinger and thumb into the fish’s gills and, in a swift movement, lift it out of the water. She could capture it and end its life if she chose to. She knew this because she’d done it once, held a trapped fish firmly out of the water, felt it struggling in her hands, felt its struggles cease… Afterwards she’d felt sick. She’d thrown the dead thing back in the pond, where it turned on its side and floated until a servant came and cleared it away.

      Now she tickled the fish for a few minutes and then lifted her hand suddenly and watched it flash away amid the bright drops from her fingers.

      That was power. To have a life in your hand. Even a fish’s. She felt the thrill of it. But something told her it was an evil power – to kill because you could, without reason, for pleasure. She felt dimly that the true power was to withhold the death-stroke, to let the creature go when you could have killed it.

      Such deep thoughts tired her. She sighed and went back to her day bed.

      She had hardly settled on it when one of her maids came soft-footedly across the marble tiles to her side. She was breathing fast and her face was flushed.

      ‘My lady, someone is here to see you. He – he has brought a gift.’ She looked strange, as if she were torn between hysterical laughter, and fear.

      Aurelia sat up sharply.

      ‘Who is it?’

      ‘I don’t know. But he says your honourable father sent him.’

      ‘Well, send him in!’

      ‘No – no, I can’t, my lady! You must come out and see what he’s brought. He can’t bring it in here!’ She let out a high-pitched giggle of excitement.

      Aurelia pulled the girl down beside her. ‘Tell me,’ she said. ‘Tell me at once what it is.’

      ‘It’s – it’s a…’

      ‘Yes, go on! What’s the matter with you?’

      ‘It’s a tiger, my lady!’

      Aurelia was silent for a moment, puzzled.

      ‘You mean, a tiger-skin rug.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘A stuffed tiger.’

      ‘No, my lady! A real, live one! Oh, please come and see it!’

      Aurelia pushed her away, threw her long dark curling hair back over her shoulders, and stood up. Her heart was throbbing behind her ribs. A real, live tiger? But that was impossible! Of all the beasts brought from far-off countries to please the crowds with their ferocity, the tiger was one of the most formidable. Also, because it came, not from Africa, but from some far eastern land, it was the rarest, and most terrible, somehow. There could be no one bold enough to introduce one into Caesar’s palace! But the girl had said Aurelia’s father had sent it. As a gift.

      She ran swiftly across the cool floor to the double doorway and flung the doors open.

      There it was, indeed. Safely in a cage on wheels. And very young. And very, very – oh, there were no words for what it was! Beautiful, sweet, adorable. Fabulous.

      Aurelia didn’t even notice the person who had brought it. She crouched down, a safe distance from the cage, and stared into the yellow eyes of the cub.

      ‘Hello,’ she breathed.

      The cub stared back for about five seconds. Then it turned its face aside.

      One paw, seemingly too large for its body, stuck through the bars of its cage. Not the whole paw, of course – the bars were too close together. Just the tip of it. Aurelia, greatly daring, crept forward and touched the golden fur with one finger. The cub pulled the paw back and then swiped the bars of the cage. Aurelia saw its claws spread themselves and jerked her hand away.

      ‘He wants to scratch me!’

      ‘It’s his instinct, Princess.

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