Flavia started to protest but he held up his hand and smiled.
‘If it were just a family gathering, I would let you recline. But it’s not. Furthermore, you told me our next door neighbours are foreigners. From Judaea, was it?’
Flavia nodded.
‘Well, they might not feel comfortable reclining. Better to sit, don’t you think, my little owl?’ He ruffled her hair affectionately.
‘Yes, pater,’ she sighed.
‘Also,’ said Captain Geminus, ‘did you know that when a mistress invites her slave to recline, it means she is granting that slave her freedom?’
Flavia shook her head.
‘At least wait until Nubia has learned enough Latin to find her way around Ostia before you set her free,’ he said with a smile.
So Flavia modified her plan and her seating arrangement.
The six of them sat around a large oval table which Caudex and her father had carried in from the atrium. Flavia seated Nubia next to Miriam, and was glad to see Jonathan’s sister give the African girl a warm smile.
When her guests were seated, Flavia handed out garlands of ivy and violets which she had made herself. Mordecai balanced his garland on top of his white turban and didn’t seem to mind when Jonathan and Flavia giggled at him.
Captain Geminus poured the wine, well-watered for the children, and they all toasted Flavia’s health. Nubia wrinkled her pretty nose when she first tasted the wine, but soon took another sip.
After the toast there was an awkward silence. The doctor sat stiffly in a green silk kaftan while her father fiddled with the folds of his toga. Flavia glanced anxiously towards the kitchen, wondering what was keeping Alma. Jonathan whistled a little tune under his breath and then winked at Flavia.
Finally, Alma proudly carried in the first course and set it on the table: sea snails fried in olive oil, garlic and pepper. The snails had been placed back in their shells and Alma handed each diner a special spoon with a small hook at one end to extract the snail.
‘Are we permitted to eat these, father?’ whispered Jonathan, gazing in dismay at the creatures.
‘God has made all things clean,’ his father murmured, and politely took a snail.
Flavia showed Jonathan how to extract a snail and then watched as he gingerly picked up one of the shells between finger and thumb and hooked out its contents. He paused to examine it: the snail was small and twisted and rubbery and brown. Jonathan closed his eyes, took a deep breath and put it in his mouth.
He chewed.
He opened his eyes.
He smiled.
‘Mmmm!’ he beamed, and eagerly finished off the rest. Under the stern gaze of her father, Miriam also made a brave attempt. Nubia, imitating Flavia to see how it was done, ate up every snail on her plate.
Jonathan wiped his hands on his tunic, which already had a dribble of garlic oil down the front. Then he drained his wine cup with a smack of his lips. Nubia, watching him carefully, also wiped her hands on her tunic and smacked as she drained her wine cup.
Flavia smiled.
‘For our next course we’re having dormice stuffed with chopped sows’ udders,’ she announced brightly.
Mordecai and his children froze in horror.
Nubia looked blank.
‘Flavia . . .’ said her father with a warning look.
‘Just joking,’ giggled Flavia. ‘My favourite food is really roast chicken. You do like roast chicken, don’t you?’
After that the party perked up nicely. Everyone relaxed and laughed and ate up their roast chicken and told stories about the most revolting food they had ever been offered.
Mordecai had once found a sheep’s eyeball in his stew while dining with a camel trader in Judaea. Flavia’s father had devoured a delicious fish soup in the port of Massilia and discovered a rotten fish head at the bottom of his bowl. Just last week, Miriam had deeply offended her host by refusing to eat three roast quail whose tiny charred heads dangled woefully. And Flavia swore she knew a baker who added chalk and sand to his flour, in order to cut costs.
But Jonathan’s experience beat them all. Once, when chewing a mouthful of meat pie bought from a street vendor in Rome, his tongue had encountered something tough and gristly. Pulling it out of his mouth to inspect it, he had discovered, to his horror, that it was the tip of someone’s finger.
Everyone groaned and pushed their plates away. Luckily they had finished the main course. Captain Geminus refilled empty wine cups and presently Alma came in with the dessert course: dates and slices of sugary pink watermelon.
Jonathan, who was becoming slightly tipsy, pretended that two dates were his eyes and a slice of watermelon his grinning mouth. Flavia giggled and Nubia smiled for the first time.
Encouraged by the success of this antic, Jonathan stuck a leftover snail up each nostril. Flavia snorted with laughter, Nubia giggled and Miriam rolled her eyes. Mordecai cleared his throat.
‘With your permission, I think it’s time for us to take our leave,’ he said, with a significant glance at his son.
‘But first, happy birthday, Flavia. This is from us all.’ He reached under his chair and brought out a fat leather cylinder tied with a scarlet ribbon.
Flavia knew immediately that it was a scroll case. With excited fingers she opened the leather top and pulled out one of the scrolls inside.
‘It’s not new, I’m afraid,’ said Mordecai in his accented voice. ‘To tell the truth I have two sets, so I thought I could spare this one.’
Flavia’s eyes opened wide with delight as she unrolled the papyrus. ‘It’s the Aeneid. It’s the very thing I wanted. And look at the beautiful illustrations!’
Everyone pushed back their chairs and crowded around to look at the scroll and admire the pictures.
‘Flavia?’ prompted her father. ‘What do you say?’
‘Oh! Thank you Doctor Mordecai, Jonathan, Miriam. It’s such a generous gift. Thank you!’ And then: ‘Look, Nubia! I can help you learn Latin by reading this story to you.’
But Nubia was not in her chair. She had vanished.
‘Oh no, I knew it would all be too much for her!’ cried Flavia. ‘She only came off the slave ship this morning!’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Mordecai. ‘Perhaps the food was too rich for her. She may be in the latrine.’
But when Flavia reported that Nubia wasn’t there, they all began to worry and decided to search the house.
Still wearing their party garlands, Mordecai and Flavia’s father looked downstairs, while Jonathan, Miriam and Flavia searched the upstairs bedrooms. The doorkeeper Caudex, dozing in the atrium, swore that no one had gone out. Alma, scrubbing plates in the kitchen, had the back door constantly in her line of sight. She was sure Nubia had not gone near it.
When they had searched the whole house they met in the atrium by the household shrine.
‘Before we begin the search outside,’ said Flavia’s father, gravely removing his garland, ‘have we checked every room?’
‘Yes,’ said the children.
‘Yes,’ nodded Mordecai.
‘No,’ said Caudex slowly, scratching his armpit.
They all gazed at the big slave.
‘Scuto is still shut up in the storeroom,’ he mumbled. ‘He was whining and scratching to be let out but –’
‘Yes?’ they cried.
‘Then he went very quiet.’
They all hurried to the storeroom and cautiously Captain Geminus opened the door. By now it was dusk and the storeroom, which had no windows, was dim and shadowy. They could just make out the shapes of dozens of storage jars full of wine and grain, half-buried in the sandy earth to keep them from toppling over.
‘I think I see him,’ said Flavia’s father. ‘Bring a lamp.’
Alma rushed to hand him a clay oil-lamp and the captain stepped into the storeroom.
‘Great Neptune’s beard!’ he exclaimed softly.
In the golden lamplight they saw Nubia and Scuto curled up asleep on
the sandy floor. The girl’s dark head rested on the dog’s broad, woolly back. She had placed her flowered garland on his head. As they all crowded into the doorway, Scuto raised his big head, with the garland slightly askew. He looked at them drowsily, sighed deeply and went back to sleep.
One bright afternoon, a few days later, Flavia’s new friends accompanied her to the river harbour to see her father off on a voyage.
Doctor Mordecai and Captain Geminus led the way.
They looked an unlikely pair, Flavia thought, as she watched them walking and talking together: her fair-haired Roman father in his tunic and blue cloak, the doctor with his exotic turban, robe and beard. But they had a common passion: travel. Mordecai had lived in Babylon and Jerusalem, two cities her father had never visited, and Captain Geminus had seen many countries which Mordecai had only read about.
Flavia was glad they liked each other because in only a few days she and Jonathan had also become firm friends.
Jonathan had been coming to her house every morning to help teach Nubia Latin. He and Flavia had been reading the Aeneid to her, often stopping to explain or act out words. Jonathan was very funny and made them both laugh. Flavia thought it was good for Nubia to laugh.
Now, as they made their way towards the River Tiber, Nubia was walking between Flavia and Jonathan, holding Scuto’s lead. Since the night of the dinner party, the slave-girl and the dog had been inseparable. She even refused to sleep in the new bed they had brought up to Flavia’s room. Instead, Nubia curled up every night in the garden with Scuto, and slept under the stars.
Also walking with them to the docks was her father’s partner, Titus Cordius Atticus, who had chartered her father’s ship for a two-week voyage to Greece. He intended to visit the town of Corinth to buy pottery, perfume and bronzes.
Cordius was a very wealthy merchant who lived opposite them, in one of the largest and most beautiful houses in Ostia. He also had a town house in Rome and an estate in Sicily. But despite his wealth he always seemed very sad.
Flavia’s father had once told her the reason: while Cordius had been serving as a officer in Germania, his whole family had been slaughtered by barbarians. A lovely wife, three fine young sons and a baby girl, now all gone to the underworld, and no one to leave his great riches to.
‘Cordius doesn’t need to work as a merchant,’ her father had said, ‘but since he lost his family there is a deep restlessness in him. I think he travels to get away from his empty houses. All the wealth in the world is no good if you don’t have a family.’ Her father had hugged her tightly.
Recently, however, Cordius had seemed more cheerful. Sometimes his stern face even relaxed into a smile. Flavia knew why, but she had been sworn to secrecy: Cordius was considering adopting his young freedman Libertus. She had over-heard the rich merchant discussing it with her father.
‘You mustn’t tell a soul,’ Flavia’s father had warned her. ‘He is still thinking about it and no one knows, not even Libertus.’
Previously a slave in Cordius’s household, Libertus had shown such skill and promise that he had been set free. Now a freedman, he still lived and worked in his patron’s house, but was paid for it.
Flavia considered that Libertus would make some girl a fine husband. He had straight black hair, clear skin and dark blue eyes. He was young, intelligent and charming. Furthermore, if Cordius adopted Libertus, one day he would be incredibly wealthy.
And so Flavia was delighted to see Libertus walking beside Jonathan’s sister Miriam. She thought they made a dazzling couple and wondered if the young freedman was telling Miriam that her eyes were like amethysts and her skin like alabaster. Then she heard him say something about ‘slavery in Judaea’, and sighed. Libertus was definitely not wooing Miriam.
As they emerged from between two warehouses and stepped onto the quayside, Flavia took a deep breath of the salty air. Seagulls and swifts soared and swooped above the river. Sailors and dockers rolled barrels and wine jars, slaves loaded crates on carts, and soldiers marched past. And this was the quietest time of day.
The harbour always made Flavia feel both excited and sad. Excited because every ship promised a new adventure, sad because her father so often went away.
The sight of her father’s small ship, the Myrtilla, also made Flavia sad. Myrtilla had been the name of her mother, who had died in childbirth when Flavia was only three years old. The twin baby boys had died, too. Flavia had been left alone with only her father and nurse Alma.
As they approached the Myrtilla’s berth, three burly Phoenician brothers shouted their greetings from various parts of the ship. They were called Quartus, Quintus and Sextus. The fourth crew member was an Ethiopian named Ebenus. His oiled, cheerful face rose up from the hold when he heard the others.
Her father and the merchant Cordius had already stowed their belongings on board the ship. They had visited the temple of Castor and Pollux, to make sacrifice for a good and profitable journey. Now, the wind was favourable and it was time for them to depart.
Captain Geminus bounded up the boarding plank to make some last-minute checks aboard the ship, while Cordius gave Libertus some final instructions. Flavia was disappointed to see the handsome freed-man hurry home shortly afterwards. She noticed Miriam watching Libertus until he was out of sight.
Suddenly, Flavia noticed that Nubia had begun to tremble uncontrollably. The docks obviously upset her. The slave-girl hugged Scuto for reassurance and his wet kisses seemed to calm her.
A few moments later, Captain Geminus came down the boarding plank and put one arm around Flavia’s shoulder.
‘Time for me to go,’ he said with a smile, and then added gravely, ‘you know, I’m a little worried about your safety since that incident with the dogs. Your tutor isn’t here to look out for you this month, Caudex can be terribly slow and I don’t know what Alma would do to protect you against a pack of wild dogs, or even kidnappers . . .’
‘Don’t worry, pater. I’m not alone. Doctor Mordecai lives next door and I have Jonathan and Nubia to keep me company now. And there’s Scuto.’
‘Ah yes. The fierce watchdog.’
They looked down at Scuto, who was lathering Nubia’s face with his wet tongue. Smiling, Captain Geminus shook his head.
‘Well, if I hear you’ve been in the least danger, I’m packing you off to my brother’s the next time I go on a voyage!’
‘Don’t worry, pater. Jonathan and I will sit quietly in the garden all day and take turns reading the Aeneid to Nubia. We’re teaching her Latin.’ She pulled Nubia close and put a protective arm around her.
‘Good, good . . .’ Flavia’s father quickly kissed her on the top of her head, said goodbye to the rest of them and then he and Cordius boarded the ship.
Using oars, the crew soon manoeuvred the small ship out of her berth and into the river channel. As the swift current carried the Myrtilla down towards the river mouth, Flavia’s father stood at the helm, holding the steering paddle.
Although Flavia usually stayed to watch until the Myrtilla passed right out of sight, Nubia was trembling again, so Flavia decided to take her home quickly. Her father was busy at the helm, but just before they started back Flavia saw him turn and wave one last time.
It was still early afternoon when they returned to Green Fountain Street. Theirs was one of the few quiet residential streets in the bustling town, and now, at the hottest time of the day, it was almost deserted: only Libertus stood at the communal fountain in the middle of the crossroads. They waved as they walked past, and Flavia noticed Miriam give him a shy smile.
As soon as they had left the docks, Nubia had stopped trembling. Now, Jonathan was walking beside her and teaching her words in Latin by pointing at objects and saying their names.
‘Door,’ he said.
‘Door,’ she repeated.
‘Lion.’ He indicated a bronze door-knocker.
‘Lion.’
‘Kerb.’
‘Kerb.’
‘Fountain
.’
‘Fountain. Water?’
‘Yes! Water! Good!’ encouraged Jonathan. ‘Street.’
‘Street.’
‘Don’t step in that!’
‘Don’t step . . .?’
‘Well, that looks like horse dung, but people empty their chamber pots here and it’s pretty wet so I think we’d better go back on the pavement.’
Nubia looked at him solemnly.
‘Pavement,’ said Jonathan
‘Pavement,’ repeated Nubia.
‘And what’s this? Blood?’
‘Blood,’ said Nubia, and pointed at the trail of drops that led to Jonathan’s front door.
The spots of blood, each about the size of a small coin, were a startling and vivid red. Flavia stooped to touch one, but Jonathan ran ahead, following the drops to his front door.
‘Father, the door’s open!’ he called over his shoulder.
‘Don’t go in,’ shouted Mordecai, ‘there may be robbers still in the house!’
But he was too late. Jonathan had disappeared inside. Mordecai and Miriam hurried forward.
As they reached the door, Jonathan stepped back out, his face drained of all colour. He looked at them silently for a moment and then bent over and was sick in the road.
‘Stay back, everyone,’ began Mordecai in alarm, but Miriam had already pushed past him. Her scream broke the stillness of the afternoon.
‘He’s dead,’ they heard her sob.
Mordecai rushed after her into the house. Flavia, Nubia and Scuto all moved forward to follow him, but Jonathan’s arm – surprisingly strong – blocked their way.
‘It’s our watchdog Bobas,’ he said quietly. ‘You don’t want to look. Someone has cut off his head and taken it away.’
‘Who else was in your house?’ asked Flavia an hour later.
She and Nubia were sitting with Jonathan in her garden, trying to comfort him. Miriam had been so upset by the bloodstain on the floor that Mordecai had taken her across town to stay with relatives for a few days.
Nubia had one arm around Scuto’s neck. They had managed to make her understand what had happened to Bobas and she seemed determined to protect Scuto from a similar fate.
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 4