The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection

by Lawrence, Caroline

  Jonathan examined the jewellery first: a silver necklace with pendants of green jasper, some plain silver thumb bands, and what might have been a nose ring. There was also a signet ring.

  The stone was sardonyx, the same colour and transparency as a nugget of dried apricot. It had a dove carved into it. Jonathan tried the ring for size and managed to squeeze it on the little finger of his left hand.

  Still wearing the ring, he picked up the small scroll. It wasn’t a continuous strip, but several sheets of papyrus rolled together. He was able to slip out the innermost sheet without undoing the knot in the cord.

  The sheets were yellow with age. They must be at least ten years old. Maybe fifteen.

  ‘How much more pleasing is your love to me than wine,’ Jonathan read in Hebrew, ‘and the fragrance of your perfume than any spice. With one glance of your eyes, Susannah, you have stolen my heart.’

  The scraps weren’t signed but Jonathan knew they must be love letters from his father to his mother. The handwriting looked like his father’s, but it was stronger, bolder, more vigorous.

  Jonathan felt his face grow hot. It was hard to imagine his father as a bold young man in love. Jonathan scanned the other sheets, but they were also love letters. Nothing there. Nothing to indicate why his mother hadn’t come with them when they left Jerusalem. What had he expected to find? He tried to swallow, but disappointment filled his throat.

  Carefully, he rolled up the sheets of papyrus and slipped them back into the knotted cord. Then he frowned, and sniffed the roll. Lemon. Faint but unmistakable.

  ‘Mother,’ he whispered. ‘Why didn’t you come with us? What did I do wrong?’

  He was about to put the jewellery box back on the shelf when he remembered the ring on his little finger. He tried to pull it off, but in vain. The day was very hot and his hand was sticky. Never mind. He would hold his finger under the fountain for a few moments and put a drop of olive oil on it to help it slide off.

  As Jonathan crept out of the storeroom and eased the door shut behind him he frowned. Why were men’s voices coming from the study? Surely his father was alone?

  He took a step closer. Now he could see his father’s turbaned head through a gap in the gauzy curtain. Mordecai was sitting on the striped divan beneath the scroll shelves. His head was in his hands.

  ‘Of course she’s dead,’ Jonathan heard his father say in Hebrew. ‘And it’s my fault. As her husband, I should have insisted she come with us.’

  ‘No, no,’ came a deep voice, as low as a lion’s purr. ‘She’d made up her mind to stay. Because of Jonathan. It wasn’t your fault.’

  Jonathan’s heart pounded. ‘Because of Jonathan.’ He’d been right. It was his fault. But who was the man? Jonathan took another cautious step. As he moved forward, the man sitting next to his father came into view. In the garden a bee buzzed among the lavender and he could hear Miriam singing softly in the kitchen.

  The man sitting next to his father had a dark beard and frizzy hair so long it fell over his shoulders.

  Jonathan’s blood went cold.

  Simeon.

  It could only be Simeon the assassin.

  Jonathan opened his mouth and yelled.

  ‘Help! Assassin!’ Jonathan yanked aside the study curtain. The man leapt to his feet but before he could run away or pull out a weapon Jonathan head-butted him in the stomach.

  ‘Ooof!’ The tall man collapsed on the floor.

  ‘Quick, father!’ Jonathan looked around for something heavy. ‘Hit him while he’s confused!’

  ‘It’s all right, Jonathan!’ Mordecai cried in Hebrew. ‘He won’t hurt us.’

  The long-haired man lay gasping on the floor.

  ‘Simeon! Are you all right?’ Mordecai’s prayer shawl slipped to the floor as he bent to help the man to his feet. The man groaned and lifted his big head. Jonathan found himself looking into a pair of amused blue eyes.

  At that moment there was the sound of running feet and barking puppy. Lupus and Tigris raced into the study. Lupus was brandishing Mordecai’s curved sword.

  ‘Stop!’ cried Mordecai in Latin. ‘It’s Jonathan’s uncle!’

  Lupus skidded to a halt.

  Tigris, however, did not understand Latin. All he knew was that his master was in danger and there was only one possible threat. With a fierce growl, Jonathan’s puppy leapt forward and sank his sharp teeth into the stranger’s ankle.

  ‘Simeon is your uncle?’ Flavia stared at Jonathan as he dried his hands on a linen towel. Jonathan nodded. It was early evening and they had all gathered for his birthday dinner party.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ asked Flavia.

  ‘We didn’t know ourselves,’ said Miriam, pouring a stream of water over Nubia’s hands. ‘He arrived this morning while we were having lessons at your house. Apparently Simeon was upstairs asleep in father’s room when the soldiers arrived. I didn’t recognise the name Simeon; I always called him Uncle Simi.’

  ‘And I was just a toddler, too young to remember him at all,’ said Jonathan.

  ‘Then your father lied to Bato?’

  ‘He had a good reason. Uncle Simi is on an important mission. No one must know.’

  Flavia’s eyes opened wide. She lowered her voice: ‘But Bato said Simeon was—’

  ‘—an assassin?’ A tall man with long dark hair followed Mordecai into the dining room. He had intense blue eyes above his dark beard.

  Flavia swallowed and nodded.

  ‘Flavia,’ said Jonathan, ‘this is my uncle Simeon. Simeon, these are my friends Flavia and Nubia.’

  Simeon nodded at the girls and sat cross-legged beside Jonathan on an embroidered cushion. Instead of reclining on couches, Jonathan’s family preferred to sit on the floor.

  ‘Are you sassassin?’ asked Nubia, her amber eyes wide.

  ‘I am . . . a messenger,’ said Simeon. ‘With important information for the Emperor Titus.’ Simeon leaned forward to hold his hands over the copper bowl while Miriam poured water on them.

  ‘But you’re Jewish like us,’ said Jonathan. ‘Don’t you hate Titus for destroying Jerusalem? Because father said, I mean . . . Is it true you were in Jerusalem when Titus destroyed it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Simeon quietly. ‘I was there.’

  ‘Will you tell us what happened?’ asked Flavia.

  ‘I was nineteen years old when Titus sacked Jerusalem,’ began Simeon. The candles had been lit and Mordecai had pronounced the blessing. Now Miriam was passing round the first course – a tray of hard-boiled eggs – while Lupus filled the cups with well-watered wine.

  Nubia frowned. ‘How did Titus sack Jerusalem?’

  ‘I think you mean “why”,’ said Mordecai. ‘Jerusalem and Rome have long been enemies, mainly for religious reasons.’

  ‘But how?’ persisted Nubia. ‘Titus is not a very big man.’ Nubia had seen the Emperor a few weeks earlier at the refugee camp south of Stabia.

  ‘He had four legions with him.’ Simeon dipped his egg in the mixture of salt and chopped coriander, then sniffed it reverently before biting into it. ‘Legions,’ he repeated at Nubia’s blank look. ‘Five and a half thousand soldiers per legion plus as many auxiliaries. That makes nearly fifty thousand men.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Nubia, and nodded solemnly. ‘But what did he do with the sack?’

  Simeon almost smiled. ‘To sack a city means to kill the defenders, carry off valuable objects and enslave the people who live there.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Nubia again. ‘You must were afraid.’

  ‘It was unspeakably awful. There was a famine. No food,’ he explained quietly, lowering his eyes. He had thick eyelashes, and despite his long face there was something appealing about him. He reminded Nubia of a sad puppy and she had the sudden urge to pat him on the head.

  Simeon continued: ‘There should have been food enough to feed everyone for ten years, but some of our own people destroyed the grain stores. They thought it would force us to come out of the city a
nd fight the Romans. But it didn’t work. Within a few months the food was gone. Soon we began to eat horses, mules and dogs. Finally we resorted to sandals, belts, even rats.’

  Nubia shuddered and Flavia put down her half-eaten egg.

  ‘When Titus’s legions finally broke through the walls and took the city, it was almost a mercy,’ said Simeon. ‘His soldiers killed the weak and the old and they enslaved the rest of us. Some were thrown to animals in the arenas. Others were taken to Rome for Titus’s triumphal procession; to be paraded and then executed. I was one of those sent to Corinth to join thousands of other Jewish slaves working on Nero’s isthmus.’

  ‘What is ithamus?’ asked Nubia.

  ‘An isthmus is a deep ditch joining two seas so that ships can sail through. It cuts months off their journey time.’

  ‘Pater sails through the Isthmus of Corinth all the time,’ said Flavia to Nubia, and turned to Simeon: ‘Our tutor Aristo comes from Corinth. Do you know him?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Simeon. ‘We Jews have our own camp outside Corinth. Though it’s more like a town now. We’ve been there many years.’

  Miriam rose to her feet. ‘I must get the stew before it gets cold,’ she said. ‘Lupus, can you bring the bread?’

  Lupus nodded. He and Tigris followed Miriam out of the dining room. They were back a moment later: Miriam with a big ceramic bowl, Lupus holding a fat round loaf.

  ‘It’s venison, lentil and apricot stew,’ said Miriam, setting the bowl on the low octagonal table. ‘With cumin and honey. It’s Jonathan’s favourite. Get down, Tigris! Or Jonathan will have to shut you in the storeroom.’

  They tore pieces of bread from the loaf and used them to scoop up the sweet stew straight from the bowl.

  ‘Wonderful!’ Simeon closed his eyes. ‘Ever since those terrible days of hunger in Jerusalem, I never take even a dry crust of bread for granted. But this! This is sublime.’

  ‘It is delicious, Miriam,’ said Flavia, and everyone else nodded.

  Nubia noticed that Jonathan had hardly touched his food. ‘Uncle Simeon,’ he said slowly, with a glance at his father. ‘Why did you stay in Jerusalem? Why didn’t you escape when we did?’

  ‘I was a Zealot, a freedom-fighter,’ said Simeon. ‘I was young and wanted to fight Romans. We called those who left cowards, but I wish now . . . You were right, Mordecai. In the terrible days that followed I often cursed myself for not listening to you.’

  Mordecai nodded sadly.

  Jonathan gave Tigris a piece of gravy-soaked bread. ‘Simeon,’ he said. ‘Was my mother with you in Jerusalem?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Simeon. ‘Susannah was my younger sister.’

  ‘What happened to her? After Titus sacked Jerusalem.’

  ‘I don’t know. I was telling your father earlier that they separated the men and women. There was terrible confusion. It was the last time I saw her alive.’

  ‘Do you know why she stayed? Did she ever tell you why she didn’t—’

  ‘Jonathan.’ Mordecai’s expression was grim. ‘Please don’t pursue this subject. I told you already why she didn’t come with us.’

  Nubia saw the injured expression on Jonathan’s face. He hung his head and stroked Tigris. Suddenly the puppy stiffened and gave a single bark. A moment later they heard pounding on the front door.

  ‘You must hide at once, Simeon,’ hissed Mordecai, as Miriam ran to answer the door. ‘It may be the magistrate again.’

  ‘It’s not the magistrate, father. It’s Gaius.’ Miriam held the hand of a tall, fair-haired man.

  Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and Mordecai turned to Lupus. ‘You can give Simeon the signal to come out now.’

  ‘Did you find a house, Uncle Gaius?’ asked Flavia.

  Her uncle shook his head. Despite a broken nose and a scar across one cheekbone, Flavia still thought him very handsome.

  Gaius smiled down at Jonathan.

  ‘I’m sorry I’m late for your dinner party, Jonathan. Happy birthday!’ He extended a flat wooden object painted with red and blue stripes. ‘It’s just a wax tablet but I thought you might like the stripes.’

  ‘I do,’ said Jonathan reaching to take it. ‘Thank you. It’s very . . . useful.’

  ‘Jonathan!’ cried Flavia. ‘You’ve hurt your finger!’

  A strip of white linen was wrapped round the little finger of his left hand.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ Jonathan flushed and put his hand under the table.

  Mordecai gave his son a sharp look, but at that moment Lupus and Simeon came back into the dining room.

  ‘Gaius,’ said Miriam, ‘this is my Uncle Simeon.’

  After the introductions had been made and Miriam had washed Gaius’s hands, they tucked into the venison stew again.

  ‘It looks lovely on you,’ said Gaius.

  ‘Thank you,’ Miriam whispered, and blushed as everyone looked at her. ‘My new tunic,’ she explained. ‘It’s a present from Gaius.’ The long tunic was white linen, edged with a narrow gold border.

  Simeon looked at Miriam. ‘It’s been nearly ten years since I saw you last,’ he said slowly. ‘You have become a great beauty, like your mother.’ He looked at Gaius. ‘You are very blessed.’

  ‘I know,’ said Gaius, without taking his eyes from Miriam.

  ‘Have you set a date for the wedding yet?’ asked Simeon.

  Gaius shook his head and dipped his bread in the stew. ‘I won’t set a date until I’ve found somewhere for us to live. And that reminds me . . .’ He looked up at Flavia. ‘Tomorrow I must go to Stabia. I have some unfinished business with Felix and I want to see whether it’s possible to rebuild the farm.’

  Flavia and Nubia glanced at each other. Soon after the eruption, they had looked down on the remains of Gaius’s farm from a nearby mountain ridge. It had been almost completely buried by ash.

  Suddenly Lupus grunted and held up his hand.

  ‘What is it, Lupus?’ asked Flavia.

  Lupus put his finger to his lips and widened his eyes.

  In the silence they all heard the noise: a distant moan coming from the direction of the sea. Then came several short blasts, followed by a long mournful note again.

  ‘It makes the hair on the back of my neck all prickly,’ said Flavia. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It is sounding like a horn,’ said Nubia.

  ‘It’s the shofar,’ said Miriam. ‘A trumpet made from a ram’s horn. And that means it’s time for our last course.’ On her way out of the dining room, Miriam glanced up at the darkening sky. ‘Yes. I can see three stars. The first day of the new year has begun.’ Flavia saw her give Gaius a radiant smile before she went out towards the kitchen.

  The ram’s horn trumpet sounded again, a long blast followed by nine staccato bursts and a final long note.

  ‘It’s coming from the synagogue, isn’t it?’ said Flavia.

  Mordecai nodded. ‘We celebrate our New Year today,’ he said. ‘We call it the Day of Trumpets.’

  ‘But I thought you were Christians,’ said Flavia with a frown.

  ‘We are,’ said Mordecai. ‘We haven’t abandoned our customs and festivals. We have merely added to them our belief in a Jewish prophet we call the Messiah.’

  Miriam came back into the dining room with a platter.

  ‘It’s apple and honey. For the festival,’ she said. ‘Happy New Year, everyone!’

  ‘Happy New Year!’ they replied.

  A warm breeze drifted in from the dusky garden, bringing with it the shofar’s haunting call.

  ‘Why do they blow it?’ asked Flavia, crunching a piece of apple.

  ‘To get our attention,’ smiled Mordecai. ‘To remind us that today we can make a fresh start. Have our sins wiped away.’

  ‘What is arsons?’ asked Nubia.

  ‘Our sins,’ said Mordecai. ‘Things we’ve done wrong. We remember them over the next ten days, which are called the Days of Awe. Then on our most holy day, Yom Kippur, we fast and pray and say sorr
y to God and to our fellow man.’

  Simeon looked around at them. ‘I’m sorry I frightened you. Especially you, Jonathan. Will you forgive me?’

  Jonathan shrugged, not even bothering to look at his uncle. Flavia realised he had hardly touched the stew.

  Mordecai frowned at Jonathan’s rudeness, and said to Simeon. ‘Of course we forgive you.’

  Simeon smiled, took a piece of apple, dipped it in the honey and ate it.

  ‘Does anyone else want to say sorry?’ said Mordecai. ‘Perhaps you, Jonathan?’

  ‘Why are you asking me?’ Jonathan scowled and glanced around. ‘What about Lupus? He has plenty to be sorry about.’

  Lupus’s head jerked up. He stared at Jonathan, then rose slowly to his feet and took out his wax tablet. His ears deepened from pink to bright red as he wrote on it. Finally, he threw it down onto the table with such force that it sent a wine cup flying. Then he ran out of the triclinium. A moment later they heard the sound of the back door slamming shut.

  Miriam burst into tears. A pink wine stain was spreading across the front of her white tunic.

  Abruptly Jonathan got up and ran out of the room. Flavia was surprised to hear his footsteps going upstairs instead of to the back door, so she got up, too, and hurried through the twilit garden.

  ‘Lupus!’ she called through the open door. ‘Come back!’ But the sky above the graveyard was such a deep blue that she could barely make out the tops of the umbrella pines. Flavia closed the door and ran back to the triclinium.

  ‘It’s too dark,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I couldn’t see which way he went. Shall we light torches and go after him?’

  Mordecai shook his head. ‘You know Lupus often loses his temper and runs off like that. He’ll come back when he’s ready.’

  Gaius was comforting Miriam while Nubia dabbed at the wine stain with her napkin. Simeon held the wax tablet that Lupus had thrown down.

  ‘What does it say?’ asked Flavia.

  Jonathan’s uncle silently handed her the tablet.

  ‘Oh, no,’ murmured Flavia, and read aloud what Lupus had written:

  GOD SHOULD SAY SORRY FOR WHAT HE’S DONE TO ME!!