‘No,’ whispered Rizpah, ‘It is a tall, slim man.’
‘Uncle Simeon!’ cried Jonathan.
His uncle stepped into the lamplight at the head of the table, and gave Jonathan his radiant gap-toothed smile.
‘Before Susannah recites the blessing,’ Simeon said in his deep voice, ‘I have some news to give you. Titus has just made me steward of this house. As you know, the Emperor set you free three days ago. You are now his freedwomen, under his protection for as long as you choose. You will be given quarters here and elsewhere, and you will be allowed to marry.’
He looked round at them all. ‘You are probably wondering who I am. My name is Simeon ben Jonah. Susannah here is my sister. For half a year you have shunned her for befriending the Emperor. But today is the day when God wipes our sins from his memory and writes our names in his scroll of life.
‘Will you forgive her, at last, and receive her back into your company?’
There was a positive murmur and then Rizpah’s mother stood and looked around at them all. ‘None of us is without sin,’ she said. ‘We forgive you, Susannah.’ Rachel smiled at Susannah and Simeon, then resumed her seat.
Jonathan’s mother remained standing. She lifted her veil and covered her head, and she looked so much like Miriam that Jonathan wanted to cry.
‘Blessed are you, O Lord our God, who gives us bread to gladden our hearts and oil to make our faces shine,’ she recited as she lit the special candles. ‘Let us eat and be glad,’ she added with a smile.
As Jonathan began to eat, he felt his spirits lift.
‘It takes so little,’ he said.
‘What?’ said Rizpah. Her pale eyes looked pink in the lamplight.
‘A few bites of food make us happy again. Food is a wonderful thing.’
‘Yes,’ said Rizpah. ‘Food is wonderful.’
Jonathan took a mouthful of chicken. ‘I suppose you’ll be leaving here with your mother. After what she said to the Emperor today. You’ll miss your tunnels, won’t you.’
‘Oh, I don’t think we’ll be leaving here,’ said Rizpah with a smile, and glanced at her mother. ‘Not if your handsome uncle is remaining as steward. No,’ said Rizpah, popping a bean into her mouth, ‘Here I was born and here I’ll die.’
‘Caesar,’ said Jonathan, and rose from the couch.
‘No don’t get up, Jonathan. Sit. I need to talk to you.’
It was late morning of the Sabbath. Jonathan had spent the night in a luxurious guest room on the Palatine Hill.
Jonathan sat back down on the edge of the couch and the Emperor sat beside him. For a moment Jonathan and the Emperor Titus both looked at the painting on the wall opposite. The fresco showed the return of Odysseus in the moment where he discards the disguise of a beggar to reveal his true identity.
‘I have fought in many battles,’ said Titus presently, ‘and many have called me brave. But what you did in coming here to find your mother, risking torture and possibly death – that was remarkable.’
Jonathan looked down. ‘Thank you,’ he said.
‘Jonathan. Your mother is teaching me so much.’ The Emperor looked down at his hands, at the thick fingers covered with rings. ‘She is a very wise and beautiful woman.’
Jonathan kept his eyes down.
The Emperor reached out his right hand and almost touched the brand on Jonathan’s left shoulder.
‘I’m sorry about this, Jonathan.’
Jonathan looked away and shrugged. ‘I belong to you. I’m Caesar’s slave now.’
‘No.’ The Emperor fished in a pouch at his belt and pulled out Jonathan’s ruby ring and bulla. ‘You are not my slave.’ He held them out to Jonathan. ‘I release you from servitude to me and I grant you not only your freedom, Jonathan, but your citizenship.’
Slowly, Jonathan took his ring and bulla. Roman citizenship was a precious and sought-after gift.
‘You’re too young to receive it now, but I will bestow that honour upon your father. Then your whole family will be citizens. By the way, your father is no longer in prison.’
‘My father was in prison?’
‘The magistrate in Ostia took him in for questioning. Your friends told me and I sent word that he be released at once. As a Roman citizen he will of course have special privileges. This sort of thing should never happen to him again.’
‘Thank you.’
The Emperor removed one of the rings from his little finger. ‘Take this ring, too. If anyone questions the brand on your shoulder, mistakes you for my slave, show them this. It proves that you are no longer a slave but under my protection. And if you should ever need anything, you have only to come to the Palatine and present that ring. I will see you at once.’
Jonathan nodded and glanced at the Emperor. He could see his eyelashes and the mixture of green, gold and brown in his hazel eyes. For the first time he saw Titus as a man and not the Emperor.
‘Thank you,’ said Jonathan. And he took the ring.
Beneath the grape arbour in the house of Senator Cornix, Sisyphus the Greek secretary took the message from Bulbus and thumbed the parchment open. The seal fell off and rattled onto the table like a small wax coin.
Flavia picked up the disc of red wax and studied it as Sisyphus scanned the message. Titus’s seal was the boar of the tenth legion, the legion he had commanded in Judaea. Underneath it were the letters IMP TITVS CAES VESP.
‘It’s in Titus’s own hand,’ said Sisyphus, raising his eyebrows. ‘He thanks us for our loyalty and devotion to him and to the Roman Empire. He says that our friend Jonathan is rested and well,’ Sisyphus looked up in surprise, ‘and already on his way back to Ostia.’
Jonathan lay on a rush mat between Flavia and Nubia and looked up at the chinks of turquoise sky gleaming through the lattice of branches. Tigris was curled up at his feet panting gently with his pink tongue. It was the next to last day of September, and the three friends were back in Ostia, lying beneath a shelter woven of branches in Jonathan’s garden.
‘So,’ said Flavia quietly. ‘Your mother is alive.’
‘Yes. You and Nubia and Lupus saved her life.’
‘So did you. If you hadn’t gone to Rome . . .’
Jonathan grunted.
‘And your father doesn’t know?’ whispered Flavia.
‘No,’ said Jonathan. ‘He doesn’t know she’s alive. She asked me not to tell him. Yet.’
‘I hope we can go back to Rome again one day,’ said Flavia. ‘I’d like to meet her.’
‘I have a feeling,’ said Jonathan, ‘that we’ll go back.’
Flavia reached up and brushed a green palm frond with the tips of her fingers. ‘So what’s this thing called again?’
‘A succah. The word means shelter. It’s supposed to remind us of the time the Jewish people wandered in the desert. Before we found the promised land.’
‘So this is another festival.’
‘Yes. We call it the Feast of Tabernacles. A tabernacle is a tent or a shelter like this.’
‘What are those dates hanging from roof?’ asked Nubia.
Jonathan grinned. ‘They’re for you.’
Nubia sat up and reached for one.
‘And we’re going to eat dinner in here tonight?’ said Flavia.
‘Yes.’ Jonathan sat up. ‘Miriam’s cooking my favourite stew again. I didn’t eat much of it on my birthday.’
Flavia sat up too, hugged her knees and inhaled. ‘I like it in here. It smells lovely.’
‘And you can see the sky,’ added Nubia.
‘Yes,’ said Jonathan. ‘You’re supposed to be able to see the stars at night.’ He reached up and pulled a few grapes from a cluster hanging above his head.
‘You sleeping here?’ asked Nubia, her amber eyes gleamed with interest.
Jonathan nodded. ‘It’s the full moon tonight.’
‘Can we sleep here, too?’ cried Flavia.
‘I’ll have to ask father but I think he’ll say yes. It’s big enough for us
all.’
‘Do you all sleep out here?’
‘Of course. For eight nights we eat and sleep in the succah. Me and Miriam and father and Lupus.’
Nubia frowned. ‘Where is the Lupus?’
‘He had a visitor just before you arrived. A man in a green tunic with his hair all oiled and combed back. He looked like one of Felix’s men. They went off towards the harbour.’
‘Hey!’ cried Flavia. ‘Two weeks ago Lupus told us that Felix was looking for something for him. Maybe he’s found it.’
‘He did indeed,’ said a voice from outside the shelter.
‘What is it, Father?’ Jonathan emerged from the succah, followed by Flavia and Nubia. Mordecai was thin and pale, but smiling. He held a tray with cups of mint tea on it and gestured with his bearded chin towards the front of the house.
They all saw Lupus step into the bright inner garden, hand in hand with a small dark-haired girl.
‘Great Neptune’s beard,’ breathed Jonathan. ‘It’s Clio.’
‘Clio!’ Flavia squealed with delight and ran to hug the little girl. ‘You weren’t buried by the volcano!’
Clio grinned and shook her head.
‘It’s thanks to her we survived,’ said a woman’s voice. ‘She insisted we all clamber over the landslide and walk to Neapolis.’
‘Rectina!’ said Flavia. ‘You’re alive, too! And all eight of Clio’s sisters?’
Rectina nodded and smiled. She was a tall, elegant woman with beautiful dark eyes.
‘Where are they?’ said Flavia, looking behind Rectina, and then stopped as she saw a man and a girl standing in the shadowed corridor. Flavia’s heart skipped a beat and she barely heard Rectina’s answer: ‘My husband and Vulcan and the girls are all in Stabia, helping with the relief operations.’
Flavia nodded vaguely at Rectina and moved past her. ‘Hello, Pulchra,’ she said. ‘Hello, Patron.’
‘Flavia darling,’ cried the blonde girl. She stepped forward and managed to kiss Flavia on both cheeks without touching either of them. For a moment they looked into each other’s eyes. Then they both grinned and hugged each other tightly.
‘Jonathan!’ Pulchra thrust Flavia aside and rushed forward into the sunshine.
Flavia staggered and laughed and watched Pulchra hug Jonathan. Then she turned back to the man standing in the shadows. He was tall and tanned, with dark eyes and prematurely grey hair.
‘Hello, Flavia Gemina,’ he said. ‘Are you well?’
‘Very well,’ said Flavia, touching her hair to make sure it was tidy.
Publius Pollius Felix was wearing a sky-blue tunic and a short grey travelling cloak. He looked even more handsome than she remembered. Flavia swallowed. ‘Were you the one who found Clio? Was that what you were looking for? For Lupus, I mean?’
Felix nodded and smiled at the group of friends in the sunlit garden, all chattering and hugging and writing on wax tablets. ‘I had my men looking everywhere. Then one day I had to visit my estate at Pausilypon and I rode into Neapolis to do some business. A colleague there told me the story of a woman and her nine daughters who had escaped the volcano on foot. I knew it had to be them.’
‘They walked all the way to Neapolis?’ Flavia pulled a myrtle twig from her hair and let it drop on the ground behind her.
Felix nodded. ‘It’s only about four miles. But they made the right decision. By the worst stage of the eruption, they were safely out of danger. Now they are reunited, and helping me with the relief operations. Tascius and Rectina have adopted two more orphans.’
‘Girls?’ asked Flavia.
Felix smiled. ‘One of each, actually.’
‘Hey,’ said Flavia, looking back over her shoulder at the happy crowd. ‘Where’s Miriam?’
‘I brought your uncle Gaius back with me,’ said Felix, half turning towards the atrium. ‘I believe Miriam is greeting him.’
‘Oh,’ said Flavia. And then, ‘Oh!’
Felix gave her an amused glance.
‘Hello, Patron.’ Jonathan stepped forward and held out his hand.
‘Hello, Jonathan.’ Felix grasped his hand. ‘Are you well? You look . . . older.’
‘I am older,’ said Jonathan. ‘I celebrated my eleventh birthday a few weeks ago.’
‘Congratulations.’
‘Patron, I would like to invite you and Pulchra to dine with us this evening under the succah.’
Felix looked over Jonathan’s shoulder at the shelter woven of palm, myrtle and willow. Beside it, Nubia was introducing Clio to Pulchra.
‘It looks like it might be an interesting experience,’ said Felix. ‘Pulchra and I would be honoured to stay for dinner.’
Jonathan looked around his succah with satisfaction. He had built it well. In a few days it would begin to grow stiff and yellow and the fruit would wither, but for now it was good. The branches were green and supple and fragrant. The fruit hanging from the woven canopy was ripe and full of sweet juices. And there was room for everyone. They sat on embroidered cushions around the octagonal table and sipped their watered wine and chatted as they waited for the dessert course.
His sister Miriam looked beautiful in her white tunic. Whenever he looked at her now, he saw his mother. Miriam and Gaius were speaking softly, as lovers do, oblivious of everyone else.
Clio was dressed in a bright orange tunic, chattering away to Lupus, describing their escape from Vesuvius in great detail and with vigorous arm movements.
Mordecai and Rectina, both in dark blue, sat next to each other. They were discussing useful ointments for baby skin irritation.
Nubia sat straight in her prettiest yellow silk tunic. She was demonstrating some fingering on her cherry-wood flute to Aristo.
On Jonathan’s left sat Flavia. She was wearing her best pale blue tunic and Nubia had arranged her hair. A strand had already escaped and Flavia kept brushing it out of her eyes as she told Felix about how she and Sisyphus had discovered the tunnels in the Golden House.
‘Jonathan,’ purred a voice in his ear. ‘Is it true you saved the Emperor from an assassin?’
He turned to look at Pulchra and smiled.
‘We all had a part in it.’
‘Will you tell me about it?’ She was wearing a pink silk tunic and pink ribbons were braided into her yellow hair. She smelled of lemon blossom.
‘Some day,’ said Jonathan. ‘Not yet. But I would like to play you a song I wrote.’
‘You’ve learned to play!’ Pulchra opened her blue eyes in delight and clapped her hands.
‘Let’s say I’m learning.’ Jonathan smiled as he reached behind his cushion and lifted up his bass lyre.
‘A Syrian barbiton!’ Felix sat up with interest and Jonathan remembered he was a keen musician. ‘Where did you get it?’
‘My uncle bought it in Rome, and he gave it to me,’ said Jonathan. ‘He taught me how to play, but so far I can only play one song. Would you like to hear it?’
‘Yes!’ everyone cried.
Jonathan settled the instrument and gripped the smooth bulb of the sound box between his bare feet. Already it felt right, as if it were part of him.
‘I wrote this song myself,’ he said, looking around at them. ‘I call it “Penelope’s Loom”.’
Jonathan closed his eyes and found his heartbeat. Then he speeded it up and began to play.
FINIS
alabastron (al-uh-bas-tron)
a small ceramic perfume jar, designed to look as if it is made of alabaster
amphitheatre (am-fee-theatre)
an oval-shaped stadium for watching gladiator shows, beast fights and mock sea-battles; the Colosseum in Rome is the most famous one
amphora (am-for-uh)
large clay storage jar for holding wine, oil or grain
Aramaic (air-uh-may-ik)
closely related to Hebrew, it was the main language of first-century Jews
atrium (eh-tree-um)
the reception room in larger Roman homes, often with skylight a
nd pool
ballista (buh-list-uh)
a type of Roman catapult used for hurling stones and other missiles
barbiton (bar-bi-ton)
a kind of Greek bass lyre, but there is no evidence for a ‘Syrian barbiton’
basilica (buh-sill-i-kuh)
Roman building in the forum which housed law courts, offices and cells
Berenice (bare-uh-neece)
a beautiful Jewish Queen, from the family of Herod, aged about 50 when this story takes place
Britannicus (Bri-tan-ick-uss)
son and heir of the Emperor Claudius, he was poisoned by Nero
cicada (sick-ah-duh)
an insect like a grasshopper that chirrs during the day
Circus Maximus (sir-kuss max-i-muss)
long racecourse in the centre of Rome, near the Palatine Hill
Corinth (kor-inth)
Greek port town with a large Jewish population
cryptoporticus (krip-toe-por-tick-uss)
means ‘secret corridor’ in Greek, usually a long inner corridor
Cyclops (sigh-klops)
a mythical monster with a single eye in the centre of his forehead
denarii (den-are-ee)
more than one denarius, a silver coin. A denarius equals four sestercii.
Domitian (duh-mish-an)
the Emperor Titus’s younger brother, 29 when this story takes place
ecce! (ek-kay)
Latin word meaning ‘behold!’ or ‘look!’
Feast of Trumpets
the Jewish New Year (Rosh Hashanna) so called because the shofar is blown
forum (for-um)
ancient marketplace and civic centre in Roman towns
Fortuna (for-tew-nuh)
the goddess of good luck and success
freedwoman (freed-woman)
a female slave who has been granted freedom
fullers
ancient laundry and clothmakers; they used human urine to bleach the wool
Hebrew (hee-brew)
holy language of the Old Testament, spoken by (religious) Jews in the first century
Herculaneum (herk-you-lane-ee-um)
the ‘town of Hercules’ at the foot of Vesuvius; it was buried by mud in the eruption of AD 79 and has now been partly excavated
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 53