She felt a tug on her tunic and turned, irritated. It was Lupus. He was making bug-eyes at her, as he did whenever he wanted to communicate something important. He tipped his head towards the door.
Jonathan and Nubia were staring at her, too.
‘Um, Uncle Gaius,’ said Flavia. ‘We’ll go and find Doctor Mordecai.’
‘Good idea,’ said her uncle with a smile, and turned back to his patron.
‘What is it?’ hissed Flavia when they were outside again. They moved along the portico, beyond earshot of the Emperor’s guards.
Lupus took out the wax tablet he carried everywhere and opened it with a flick of his wrist.
His notes from the previous days were still etched into the yellow wax on the left-hand leaf.
Flavia took it and frowned as she read it out loud.
GIRL MISSING. MELISSA. “FELIX JUST GOT LUCKIER”.
‘You told us this yesterday. That’s what the fishermen said.’
Lupus nodded urgently.
Jonathan cleared his throat. ‘I think what Lupus is trying to tell us is that a man named Felix might be involved in the kidnappings.’ Lupus nodded.
‘And?’
‘Didn’t you hear your uncle?’ said Jonathan. ‘His patron’s name is Felix.’
‘Great Neptune’s . . .’ gasped Flavia. ‘And felix means lucky or . . . fortunate!’
‘The innkeeper!’ shouted Jonathan, and then clapped his hand over his mouth. Lupus was nodding vigorously.
Jonathan continued in a whisper: ‘You told me the innkeeper said “most of the crime in the area can be linked back to a very fortunate man”!’
‘Wait!’ said Flavia, holding up her hands. ‘Wait, wait, wait. Before we get too excited . . . Felix is quite a common name, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose so . . .’ said Jonathan.
‘Felix slave name,’ offered Nubia.
‘She’s right,’ said Flavia. ‘Lots of slaves are called Felix.’
‘But that man is no slave,’ said Jonathan. ‘He has three names. And I don’t think he can be a freedman. Did you notice the gold ring on his finger?’
‘No. But he must be rich if he can afford to buy lots of my uncle’s wine.’
‘And he’s a close friend of the Emperor,’ said Jonathan. ‘You can’t get much more powerful than that. ‘Do you think he’s the man they call the Patron?’
Flavia nodded slowly. ‘I’ll bet he is. The innkeeper said the “fortunate” man had power “almost as great as the Emperor’s”! And he is my uncle’s patron.’
The four of them looked at each other.
‘I have a plan,’ said Flavia. ‘It probably won’t work, but if it does it will be very dangerous. Are you willing to try it?’
Without hesitation, the other three nodded.
‘Good. But first, we have to be sure that man is the one the innkeeper thinks is behind the kidnappings. Wait here and make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back!’
Flavia ran as fast as she could across the ashy beach, dodging children, skirting tents, leaping over smouldering campfires.
The Inn of Pegasus was closed, because it was only mid-morning, but the door was not locked. A serving-girl directed Flavia to a cool, musty storeroom built into the cliff itself. The innkeeper was decanting wine from a large amphora into smaller jugs.
It was dim in the storeroom, but light enough for Flavia to see the innkeeper’s expression when she told him breathlessly that the Emperor was in the camp.
Petrus looked surprised and pleased.
‘And he’s here with my uncle’s patron, a man called Felix,’ she added.
‘Publius Pollius Felix?’ said Petrus.
Flavia nodded.
The look on his face told her all she needed to know.
Publius Pollius Felix was still in the solarium with her uncle Gaius, watching as Titus made his circuit of the sick and injured. The Emperor had just found a veteran soldier who had served with him in Judaea and the two of them were deep in conversation.
Aristo and Miriam were changing the bandage on a burns victim in a far corner of the room.
And Mordecai was nowhere to be seen.
‘He’s not back yet?’ said Flavia breathlessly to her uncle. ‘We couldn’t find him anywhere. He must have gone to someone’s tent.’
‘That’s a pity,’ said Felix, ‘because the Emperor has to leave soon. I’m accompanying him to Stabia where a warship is ready to take him back to Rome.’ He turned to Gaius. ‘I’ll return this afternoon to help distribute the blankets and food. It would be useful if you could tell me which of the refugees are in greatest need.’
‘Of course,’ said Gaius, ‘I’ll make up a list. Jonathan, are you all right?’
Jonathan had put his hand to his forehead and was staggering a little.
‘Yes,’ he said weakly, ‘just hard to breathe . . .’
Suddenly he fell back, unconscious.
Flavia and Nubia were standing right behind him. They caught him neatly and lowered him to the floor.
‘Is he ill?’ said Felix, taking a step forward and looking down at Jonathan with concern.
‘He’s very asthmatic and the ash in the air is bad for him,’ said Flavia. ‘He almost died of it. He only came out of his coma yesterday.’
Felix looked sympathetic.
Flavia coughed. ‘It’s hard for Lupus, too,’ she said, ‘because when he was younger someone cut out his tongue and all the ash gets down his throat. And Nubia’s throat is still sore from the iron collar she had to wear when she was enslaved.’ Flavia coughed again and glanced pointedly at Lupus and Nubia, who coughed, too.
‘By Jupiter!’ exclaimed Felix. ‘You children have had a bad time of it.’
Jonathan stirred and groaned. His eyelids fluttered convincingly.
‘I told Jonathan he should go where the air is fresher,’ said Flavia solemnly, ‘but he said he didn’t want to take his father away from the important work he is doing here.’
‘This boy is the doctor’s son?’ said Felix.
Flavia looked up at him and nodded. She tried to make her eyes look big and innocent. For a long moment Felix’s dark eyes held her gaze and she wondered if he had seen through their ruse.
Then Felix turned to Gaius.
‘Flavius Geminus, old friend,’ he said. ‘Why didn’t you say something sooner? I have a huge villa in Surrentum with plenty of spare rooms. Send your niece and her friends to stay with me for a few days while we sort out the refugees.’
‘Well,’ stammered Gaius. ‘It never even occurred to me. Wouldn’t it be a terrible imposition? Four children? Not to mention their dogs . . .’
‘Not at all,’ said Felix with a faint smile. ‘I have three daughters, the eldest about the same age as your niece . . . I insist that they come to stay with me at the Villa Limona.’
‘I’ll have to ask Jonathan’s father,’ said Gaius, ‘but I’m sure he’d be delighted. Thank you, Pollius Felix, thank you very much. I don’t know how I shall ever repay you.’
‘Don’t think of it.’ Felix placed his aristocratic hand on Gaius’s shoulder. ‘That’s what patrons are for. Perhaps some day I will call upon you to do me a small service in return.’
Before the Emperor departed, he climbed up onto his imperial carriage and gave a short speech to all those in the camp. He had been an army commander and Jonathan could hear every word perfectly.
Nearly two thousand refugees listened in silence as the Emperor promised to compensate those who had lost property or possessions, to find and return lost children and runaway slaves, to help them rebuild their lives.
‘Many of you will be worried about friends and relatives buried in the ash or trapped in buildings which have collapsed,’ said the Emperor. ‘It may ease your minds to know that even as we speak, an entire legion is combing the affected area, searching for survivors.’
There was a huge cheer, but as it died down Jonathan overheard a man tell his wife that so
far they’d found no one alive.
The Emperor continued: ‘Those of you who have documents to prove you own property buried by the eruption – be it land, slaves or animals – should present them to the official scribes from tomorrow. If you do not have documentation, two or three witnesses will do. I promise that I will do everything in my power to compensate you. Even if I have to reach into my own purse to do it!’
This statement received the biggest cheer of all. There were shouts of ‘Hail Caesar!’ and ‘May the gods reward you!’ Many of the refugees were in tears, but Jonathan noticed a few exchanging sceptical glances.
‘My agent for this area,’ the Emperor continued, ‘is Pollius Felix.’ He gestured towards the grey-haired man, who stood nearby. ‘He lives a few miles south of here and has assured me that he will visit the camp regularly. If you have any special problems or disputes, take them to Pollius Felix.’
Shortly afterwards, the imperial carriage drove north up the coastal road. The Praetorian Guard followed on horseback.
The plume of grey ash had barely settled when Mordecai appeared at Miriam’s side.
‘Father!’ cried Jonathan. ‘Where have you been? They’ve been looking everywhere for you! The Emperor was here. He wanted to thank you.’
‘God forgive me, I could not face the man,’ said Mordecai. ‘I cannot forget what he did.’
‘But Doctor Mordecai,’ protested Flavia. ‘He promised to help everyone who’s been hurt by the volcano.’
‘He brought many food and blankets,’ said Nubia.
‘And he told us,’ added Jonathan, ‘that you had done the empire a great service. He wants to reward you.’
Mordecai looked at his son from his heavy-lidded eyes. ‘That man has the blood of ten thousand Jews on his hands,’ he said, ‘including that of your mother.’
‘How?’ said Jonathan. ‘How is the Emperor connected with mother’s death?’ It was noon, and for the first time since the eruption the sun had broken through the ashy cloud cover. They had moved to stand in the thin shade of the colonnade.
‘Nine years ago,’ said Mordecai heavily, ‘he was the commander of the legions which destroyed Jerusalem. It was Titus who gave the command to burn the Temple. Thousands of our people died in the siege of Jerusalem. Among them your mother.’
They all looked at each other in dismay.
‘There are even those,’ continued Mordecai, ‘who say that he is the reason Vesuvius erupted. The rabbis always said God’s curse would come upon this land if ever Titus rose to power.’
‘And I kissed his hand,’ whispered Flavia with a shudder.
‘No,’ said Mordecai, patting Flavia’s shoulder. ‘I’m not asking you to hate him. I’m just telling you why I could not face him. I must forgive him.’
‘You shouldn’t forgive him after what he did!’ said Jonathan angrily and Lupus nodded his agreement.
‘But I must forgive him.’
‘Why?’
‘Because we are told to love our enemies. Besides, until I forgive him,’ said Mordecai, tapping his black-robed stomach, ‘I carry him here, within me. And that is a terrible thing.’
Flavia and Nubia wasted their last afternoon in the camp looking for the comic actors Actius and Sorex. Curiously, although many had either seen the play or heard about it, and some had tossed coins to the actors, not one person knew who they were or where they were from.
Jonathan waited until the tent was empty and then went quickly to his father’s spare capsa, the cylindrical leather container for medicines and surgical instruments. Quickly he searched through various twists of papyrus, briefly sniffing each one.
Finally he found the one he wanted, untwisted the papyrus and examined the dark brown powder. Yes. He was almost certain this was the one.
Around his neck Jonathan wore a small pouch full of herbs. He opened this pouch and slipped the papyrus twist inside. Then he closed his father’s capsa and put it back exactly as he had found it.
‘Don’t roll your eyes at me like that,’ he muttered to Ferox. ‘We’re going to an unknown place with a possible criminal mastermind. You never know when you’ll need a good sleeping powder!’
Flavia saw Pollius Felix return to the camp in the mid-afternoon. He drove a white carruca with gold trim and two white horses, and was followed by a convoy of five carriages, each one loaded with blankets, fig cakes, flour, olive oil and wine. Each carriage also carried two soldiers who would ensure nothing went missing, two slaves to help with the physical labour of the distribution, and an imperial scribe to record which provisions went to whom.
Within an hour the soldiers had erected a large tent near the eastern side of the baths, ready to distribute aid.
‘It’s too late to start today,’ said Felix, turning to Gaius. ‘Will you begin overseeing the operation, Geminus?’
‘Of course,’ replied Flavia’s uncle. ‘I’ll be glad of the chance to keep myself occupied while my ribs are healing. It won’t be strenuous work.’
‘Excellent,’ said Felix. ‘I’ll return tomorrow or the next day to see how you’re doing and hear any disputes. But now I must return to Surrentum. I believe I am taking your four charges with me.’ He turned to Flavia. ‘Are you ready to depart?’
Flavia and her friends nodded. They were clean from an afternoon at the baths. Even the three dogs had been washed and brushed.
‘Let’s go then.’ Felix smiled and led the way to his elegant carruca.
They had said their goodbyes earlier, and as the carriage drove away from the camp they turned and looked back at Gaius, Miriam, Mordecai and Aristo. The four figures stood in the road waving, becoming smaller and smaller until the road curved round and they disappeared from sight.
Flavia glanced at her three friends and swallowed. She sensed they were all thinking the same thing.
If Felix was the spider, they were headed straight for his web.
Flavia was surprised to see Felix at the reins. He had two slaves with him, dark young men no more than twenty years old. But he drove the carruca himself.
And he drove fast.
As soon as it left the camp, the road began to climb the mountainside, twisting and turning. Sometimes they were only a few feet from stomach-churning drops onto the rocks and sea far below.
Flavia sensed it was some kind of test, for every now and then Felix glanced back at them. Each time she returned his smile brightly, though her knuckles hurt from gripping the wooden seat.
Lupus was genuinely enjoying every moment. His eyes blazed with delight at the speed of the carruca. Jonathan, on the other hand, looked rather green. He was trying not to look down on the sea as it foamed against jagged rocks below them.
The dogs lolled on the floor and gave Flavia reproachful looks.
Nubia was not even looking at the sheer drop to their right. She was staring intently at an aqueduct running along the grey mountainside on their left. Flavia followed her gaze. Just before the road curved and the honey-coloured cliff blocked her view, she thought she saw three men standing on the top of the aqueduct.
And she was sure one of them had been dark-skinned, like Nubia.
They stopped once, after half an hour, so that one of Felix’s slaves could relieve himself.
‘Stretch your legs,’ suggested Felix. Handing the reins to the second slave, he jumped down and helped Flavia and the others out of the carruca. Jonathan and the dogs followed the slave behind some oleanders on the other side of the road. Flavia, Nubia and Lupus walked towards the cliff edge.
Before them, across the bay, smouldered the remains of Vesuvius. Directly below was a dizzying drop to small coves and the shimmering sea.
Flavia suddenly realised her legs were trembling. She tried to stop them by stiffening her knees and clenching her fists. She wasn’t going to let Felix see she was afraid.
Suddenly he was standing right next to her. His presence was so intense that for a moment everything else seemed unreal. He smiled down at her and took her
right hand.
Flavia stared up at him.
‘Hold your hand palm down,’ he said. ‘That’s it. If you curve your forefinger over a little, you have the Bay of Neapolis. See?’
Flavia nodded. His hair smelled faintly of some kind of citron oil.
‘The knuckle where your forefinger meets your hand is Vesuvius, or rather what’s left of it . . . No, no. Relax your hand, so the thumb points to your heart. We’re here.’ He touched the web of skin between Flavia’s thumb and forefinger. ‘And we are going to drive along here . . .’ Felix moved his well-manicured finger slowly along the inside of Flavia’s thumb ‘. . . to here, where the pad of your thumb sticks out the most.’
He tapped it. ‘That is the Cape of Surrentum, which some people call the Cape of Hercules. My villa is there.’
Felix dropped Flavia’s hand and looked with amusement at Lupus, who was hanging his toes over the cliff edge.
‘Lupus,’ he said, ‘would you like to take the reins for a while?’
Lupus turned and stared at him in disbelief. Then, eyes shining, he nodded vigorously.
‘Let’s go then,’ said Pollius Felix.
Lupus drove the carriage the rest of the way to Surrentum. At one point the carruca veered so close to the cliff edge that Flavia screamed and Jonathan began laughing hysterically.
‘There’s only one thing to do on a road like this,’ Felix called back to them. ‘To release the tension you must either sing or shout.’ He opened his mouth and began to sing a popular song that began Volare: ‘to fly’.
‘Volare!’ sang Felix, as the carriage wheel sent a shower of pebbles skittering into the void, and they all sang with him at the top of their voices.
‘Volare: to fly! Cantare: To sing! To fly in the painted blue sky, to fly so happy and high . . .’
Even Lupus opened his tongueless mouth and yelled out the notes of the song.
After a while they stopped singing, their cheeks wet with tears of laughter.
The song had brought Flavia a strange release. Suddenly she didn’t care if they went hurtling over the edge. She felt immortal, as if she would never die. For the first time since the volcano had erupted she felt totally alive.
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 31