The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection

by Lawrence, Caroline

  As the sun sank lower and lower in the west, Lupus urged the horses along the twisting road through dusty olive groves and orchards. The mountains reared on their left and the cliffs plunged to the sea on their right.

  The carriage rattled through Surrentum without stopping and began to climb again. Just as the sun touched the horizon, the horses automatically turned off the main road and trotted down a drive which ran between high stone walls.

  Presently the stone wall on their right gave way to columns. Now they were driving beneath a colonnade. The sinking sun painted the white columns orange, and Flavia kept catching glimpses of the shining sea through the twisted, ancient olive groves.

  The colonnade went on for nearly half a mile, winding down the mountainside towards the sea. The iron-rimmed wheels of the carriage and the horses’ hooves resounded in the half enclosed space.

  When at last they emerged into the open, the sudden silence and space around them seemed vast.

  The sea blazed like molten copper under the yellow sky of dusk and before them, as if floating on the water, was the most beautiful villa Flavia had ever seen.

  Flavia rubbed her eyes and looked harder. It had been built on an island attached to the mainland by two narrow strips of land. As the carruca stopped and one of the slaves wedged its wheels, Flavia stood up to get a better view. There were columns, domes, fountains, palm trees and two covered walkways.

  A pool of seawater lay between the villa and the mainland, a secret cove, surrounded on all sides by the honey-coloured rocks. An arch in the rocks led out to sea, making it a small natural harbour.

  As Flavia climbed down from the carruca, a girl about her own age came running from the main complex. She had long golden hair and wore a tunic the same dove grey as Felix’s tunic.

  ‘Pater,’ she cried with delight, and threw herself into his arms. ‘Pater! I’m so glad you’re home! I was getting terribly worried about you.’

  ‘My little nightingale.’ Felix smoothed a strand of pale gold hair and kissed her forehead. Then he turned to the others.

  ‘This is my eldest daughter Polla, whom we call Pulchra. Pulchra, meet Flavia Gemina, Jonathan ben Mordecai, and Lupus. Oh, and these are their dogs.’

  ‘And this is Nubia . . .’ began Flavia, but Pulchra had gathered Nipur into her arms and was covering his furry black face with kisses.

  ‘Oh, you are so precious!’ she gushed. ‘I just want to eat you up!’

  ‘Leda, bring me that box,’ demanded Polla Pulchra. Then she smiled at Jonathan.

  Felix’s daughter was showing them her bedroom. It was small, but exquisitely decorated with frescoes of cupids riding dolphins across a dark-blue wall. A window overlooked Vesuvius across the bay, its plume of smoke pink in the evening light.

  ‘Look at that!’ said Jonathan, going to the window. ‘Look at all the ash the volcano is still sending up.’

  ‘I know,’ sighed Pulchra. ‘It gets over everything! Leda has to dust twice a day. Leda! My box!’

  Pulchra’s slave-girl Leda was a thin, pale girl with lank brown hair and dull eyes. She wore a beautiful yellow tunic, but it did not flatter her dingy complexion. She almost stumbled as she held out a small lacquered box to Pulchra.

  ‘Careful!’ snapped Pulchra, taking the box impatiently. ‘These are my jewels,’ she announced, bringing out various necklaces, bracelets and bangles for them to admire.

  ‘Nubia has tiger’s-eye earrings,’ said Flavia. ‘They were given to her by . . . Nubia! One of your earrings is missing!’

  ‘I know,’ said Nubia. ‘I lose it in the sand by tent.’

  Polla Pulchra didn’t seem to hear. She had found something. She set the lacquered box on her bed and turned to Jonathan.

  ‘Look!’ She held out a gold ring. ‘This is a real ruby from Arabia.’

  ‘It’s . . . um . . . big,’ commented Jonathan. He wasn’t quite sure what she wanted him to say, so he added, ‘It must be worth a lot of money.’

  Her pretty face flushed with pleasure. ‘At least a thousand sesterces, according to pater,’ she said. ‘Here. It’s yours.’

  Jonathan stared at her. He’d only met her ten minutes ago and now she had given him a ring worth a fortune.

  There was a sudden clatter as the jewellery box slipped from the edge of the bed. Tails wagging, the dogs sniffed the chains and gems on the floor. Pulchra’s slave-girl stared down in horror.

  ‘You stupid girl!’ Pulchra said, and slapped Leda hard across the face. ‘Pick them up now!’

  As the slave-girl got down on her hands and knees, Pulchra smiled prettily at Jonathan and gave a little shrug. Then she scooped up Nipur and kissed his nose. ‘Come on,’ she said over her shoulder, ‘we’re late for dinner.’

  ‘Aren’t we going to eat with the rest of your family?’ asked Flavia, as Pulchra led them into a small sky-blue dining-room with views over the bay.

  ‘No. Pater always has his boring old clients to dinner and mater usually eats in her rooms. My sisters and I have our own private triclinium.’

  Pulchra’s two younger sisters Pollina and Pollinilla were six and five years old respectively. They had fair hair like Pulchra, though neither was as pretty as their older sister. Each had a slave-girl about her own age. After the slaves had washed their dusty feet and given them linen slippers, they reclined.

  Pulchra stretched out on her side on the central dining couch and patted the space next to her.

  ‘Recline by me, Jonathan,’ she said, and as her sisters each took one of the other two couches: ‘No, you two will have to share a couch so that Fulvia can recline.’

  ‘Flavia,’ said Flavia coldly. ‘My name is Flavia.’

  Pulchra looked horrified as Nubia started to lie down beside Flavia.

  ‘Oh no!’ she cried. ‘You must never let your slave recline at dinner!’

  Flustered, Nubia slipped off the couch and hung her head.

  ‘But where will she sit?’ asked Flavia.

  ‘You haven’t had a personal slave very long, have you?’ Pulchra rolled her eyes. ‘She should stand behind your dining couch like Leda here and cut your food for you!’

  Flavia was speechless. But she was a guest and could hardly complain. She gave Nubia a small nod.

  Nubia slowly went to stand behind Flavia’s couch and Lupus, who had been lingering near the doorway, started to recline beside Flavia.

  ‘No, no!’ giggled Pulchra to Jonathan. ‘Your slave should stand behind you.’

  ‘Lupus isn’t a slave, my dear.’ Pollius Felix stepped into the dining room, smiling at them. It was dusk and he held an oil-lamp in one hand.

  ‘Pater! Pater!’ The younger girls slipped off their couch and ran to Felix. He put down the lamp, bent to give them each a kiss and then gently directed them back to their couch.

  ‘Oh! But Lupus is so quiet and meek,’ said Pulchra with a pout. ‘I was sure he must be Jonathan’s slave.’

  Her father smiled. ‘Just because he’s quiet doesn’t mean he’s meek.’ Felix turned to Jonathan. ‘How is your breathing, now? Are you finding it easier here?’

  Jonathan coloured a little and coughed. ‘Um. Yes. It’s much better here. Sir. Thank you for inviting us.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Flavia, smoothing her hair, ‘thank you for inviting us.’

  Felix turned to Pulchra. ‘I’ve come to ask Lupus to dine with us. Can you spare him?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Pulchra, and caught Jonathan’s hand. ‘But you can’t have Jonathan. I want him!’

  Pollius Felix led Lupus upstairs to another dining-room.

  This triclinium looked inwards, onto a green inner courtyard. It was twice as big as the dining-room Lupus had just left, and the lighting was more subdued. The walls were black, with red panels, and the couches were covered with wine-coloured covers and cushion. All the oil-lamps were bronze, burnished to a deep gold.

  A dozen pairs of dark, wary eyes turned to look at Lupus as he stepped into the dining-room. The men were recli
ning or sitting around the room. Lupus guessed their ages ranged from mid teens to late twenties. Most wore tunics of fashionable sea-green and despite the scented oil they used to slick back their hair they exuded a pungent odour of masculinity.

  ‘This is Lupus,’ said Felix, and Lupus felt the Patron’s hand rest lightly on his shoulder. ‘I sense a rare courage in him. I believe he’s one of us.’

  ‘Pssst! Jonathan! Lupus! Wake up!’

  Flavia had waited until the entire villa was silent before creeping next door into Jonathan’s room.

  ‘Whuzzit?’ mumbled Jonathan and then, ‘I’m awake. Yes.’ He yawned, closed his eyes and snuggled back under the soft woollen cover. It smelled faintly of some disturbingly familiar fragrance.

  ‘Wake up!’ hissed Flavia, and shook him again. ‘We’ve got to plan tomorrow.’

  ‘Mmmph! Oh, all right.’ Jonathan sat up groggily and pulled the blanket around him. It was after midnight and the air was cool.

  Flavia held a small clay oil-lamp. She had trimmed the wick so that it burned dimly. Nubia was beside her and so was Lupus, ready with his wax tablet. Jonathan noticed that Lupus’s hair was now long enough to be rumpled by sleep. It had been over two months since the barber had shaved it off at the baths in Ostia.

  ‘Why did Felix ask you to dine with him tonight?’ asked Flavia.

  Lupus crinkled his chin and gave a little shrug.

  ‘Did you learn anything?’ asked Jonathan.

  Lupus waggled his head to say ‘not really’.

  ‘Who else was there?’ said Flavia. ‘Any pirates?’

  Lupus smiled and then took out his wax tablet and stylus. His spelling wasn’t perfect but he could tell them almost anything now, and he relied more and more on writing.

  He showed them the tablet:

  JUST MEN, XII OR XIII

  ‘Twelve or thirteen men,’ read Flavia. ‘Friends?’

  Lupus shrugged.

  ‘Slaves?’ asked Nubia.

  Lupus shook his head.

  ‘Clients?’ suggested Jonathan.

  Lupus looked at him, narrowed his eyes and nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Flavia, ‘Felix obviously likes you.’

  Lupus flushed and looked down.

  ‘Maybe we’re mistaken about Felix,’ said Flavia, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. ‘He seems to be all right: he knows my uncle, he helped the Emperor to bring aid to the camp, and he let Lupus drive the carruca.’

  ‘Which proves he’s crazy!’ Jonathan grinned.

  ‘Crazy, maybe,’ said Flavia with a blush, ‘but I like him.’

  ‘This is a bad place,’ said Nubia quietly. ‘And he is a bad man.’

  They all looked at her in surprise. Lupus shook his head in angry disagreement.

  ‘Well,’ said Flavia. ‘That’s what we’re here to find out. Lupus, you stick as close to Felix as possible. I think that should be easy. Nubia, you’re going to have to stay close to the other slaves and see if you can pick up any gossip from them. I’m sorry Pulchra is treating you so miserably. She’s a spoilt, cruel little . . .’

  ‘Hey!’ said Jonathan, colouring. ‘She’s not that bad.’

  Flavia started to say something and then changed her mind. ‘Well, Jonathan, it’s obvious that you’re the best person to keep an eye on Pulchra. As for me, I’ll just generally nose around. We’ve got to find out as much as we can as quickly as possible, or it may be too late. Any questions?’

  They all looked at each other in the dim lamplight.

  ‘I think they divide us,’ said Nubia quietly.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Flavia with a laugh. ‘We’ve been through too much together. But we will have to split up while we’re here. We’ll learn more that way. We’ve got to solve this mystery and save the children! Right?’

  They all nodded.

  ‘Good morning,’ breathed a soft voice in Jonathan’s ear.

  Jonathan snuggled deeper into the covers. The blankets were soft and sweetly fragrant. He never wanted to leave.

  ‘Time to get up,’ whispered the voice and something tickled his ear.

  Jonathan opened his eyes a crack and then opened them wide.

  Pulchra’s face was inches from his. Jonathan immediately sat up, wiped the drool from his chin and tried to look alert. At the foot of the bed Tigris stretched and yawned.

  Pulchra was holding Nipur in her arms and stroking his silky head.

  ‘Look!’ she said. ‘I have a puppy, too!’

  ‘That’s Nubia’s puppy,’ he said, and scratched his dark curly hair.

  ‘Don’t be silly! Slaves can’t own property. They are property. Where’s Lupus?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, Fulvia told me she isn’t feeling well today so you and I can have breakfast all on our own!’

  ‘Oh. Um . . . OK.’

  Jonathan looked at Pulchra and waited.

  Pulchra looked brightly back at Jonathan.

  ‘I’m . . . I’m not wearing any . . . If you could just . . .’

  Pulchra giggled. ‘Oh! You want me to turn around. Very well.’

  Jonathan quickly got up and slipped on his cream-coloured tunic. He noticed someone had cleaned it during the night. It bore the same smell as the blankets.

  He splashed his face with water from the jug, and reached for a small towel. In the middle of drying his face he stopped and sniffed the towel.

  ‘What is this smell?’ he asked Pulchra. ‘It’s in all the blankets and cushions, and now even my tunic smells of it.’

  ‘I’ll show you!’ She caught his hand and pulled him out into the corridor.

  It was a still, cool morning just after dawn. A huge moon, almost full and the colour of an apricot, floated just above the milky sea.

  Jonathan followed Pulchra up some stairs and into an inner garden surrounded by a peristyle. There were ash-dusted jasmine bushes, pomegranates and quince, but in the middle was a beautiful tree with glossy dark green leaves and heavy yellow fruit. Something about it was different from the other plants around it. Suddenly he realised what it was.

  ‘It’s not covered by ash!’

  ‘Pater had the slaves cover it with a linen cloth soon after Vesuvius erupted,’ explained Pulchra. ‘And they dust it every day. It’s one of pater’s most precious treasures.’

  Something stirred deep in Jonathan’s memory as he gazed at the tree.

  ‘What kind of tree is it?’

  ‘Some people call it the Persian apple tree but pater says it’s a citron tree. He calls it lemon. He named Villa Limona after this tree. Here.’ She carefully twisted one of the yellow fruits from the branch and handed it to Jonathan. It was heavy, with a waxy surface, and it filled the palm of his hand.

  ‘Pierce the skin with your fingernail and smell it,’ she said.

  Jonathan dug his thumbnail into the yellow skin and then brought the lemon to his nose. Its scent was hauntingly beautiful.

  ‘That lemon alone would cost a hundred sesterces in the markets of Rome,’ said Pulchra. ‘We use the oil to preserve wood and we make perfume from the little white blossoms that appear in the spring. We use it for everything. Sniff me.’ She lifted her golden hair and offered her smooth neck to Jonathan. Tentatively he sniffed the perfumed oil she had dabbed behind her ears.

  ‘Wonderful,’ he whispered, and for some reason tears sprang to his eyes.

  ‘Pater’s dream,’ said Pulchra, caressing one of the glossy green leaves, ‘is to cover the hillside with orchards and orchards of these trees.’

  ‘And where is your father now?’ Jonathan tried to make his voice sound casual.

  ‘Seeing his boring old clients,’ said Pulchra. ‘As usual.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Jonathan, and sniffed the lemon again. ‘Someone mentioned that your father was quite a powerful man and that even his clients were powerful. They must have been wrong.’

  Pulchra’s blue eyes blazed. ‘Pater is powerful! More powerful than the Em
peror himself.’

  Jonathan shrugged and started to stroll round the garden. ‘If you say so . . .’

  Pulchra caught his hand. Even though there was no one else in sight she brought her lips close to his ear. ‘I have a secret spying place we can watch him from,’ she whispered. ‘Would you like to see it?’

  Jonathan turned and looked at her. He had never seen such blue eyes. He nodded.

  Lupus made his way carefully down the steep path to the secret harbour. Although the Villa Limona was over twenty miles from Vesuvius, even here a thin layer of grey ash from the eruption dusted the rocks and wild flowers on either side of the track. Suddenly he stopped as he realised that the path itself was totally clear of ash. That could only mean one thing: it was frequently used.

  He shrugged. Perhaps they just came down to swim. But Felix’s daughter had mentioned that they had their own baths complex, so why bathe here? Then he noticed a rowing boat pulled up on the shore. It was small, but only a small boat would fit through the arched opening that led to the open sea.

  Lupus looked all around. He was alone. Pulling off his tunic, he quickly hid it beneath an oleander bush and then stepped into the water. There was a scum of grey ash and pumice dust at the waterline, but further out the surface of the sea was clean. He slipped naked into the water.

  Although its coldness took his breath away, he felt he was home. He had learned to swim before he could walk and now he swam forward with smooth powerful strokes, heading towards the arch in the rocks which led out to sea.

  ‘Shhh! I thought I heard a noise! Is anyone coming?’ Flavia was searching Pulchra’s bedroom for clues. Nubia stood guard at the door. She peeped out, then turned back and shook her head.

  Flavia closed the jewellery box and replaced it on the elegant bronze table. Arranged on the table were the usual things: ivory combs and hairpins, coloured glass perfume bottles, a highly polished bronze mirror.

  There was also a long thin rod. Flavia frowned and picked it up. It seemed to be made of willow or birch and it tapered at one end. It was slightly sticky. Flavia shrugged and replaced it exactly where she had found it.

  She turned and surveyed the room. There was a bed with dark blue woollen covers, a bronze standing lamp and a small leather and bronze stool. There was also a large cedar chest against the wall by the foot of the bed. Flavia tiptoed over to it, undid the latch and slowly lifted its heavy lid.