‘Was you insured, sir?’ said Greasy-hair.
‘No, that is . . . I can raise the money . . . but you must give me time. There was no time limit on that loan.’
‘Afraid that’s not entirely true, sir. According to this, the amount is payable at the lender’s discretion. And that’s now.’
‘But . . . you can’t do that!’
For the first time in her life, Flavia saw panic in her father’s eyes.
‘Marcus, let me handle this.’ Gaius turned to Greasy-hair. ‘Where do your employers operate from?’
‘I’m only the messenger,’ sneered the man, ‘I have lots of employers.’
‘I mean the bankers Rufus and Dexter. Where can I find them?’
‘Banker’s stall on the west side of the forum, opposite the little circular temple. But this states quite clearly,’ said Greasy-hair with a smirk, ‘that unless you pay one hundred thousand sestercii, they’re possessing your house tomorrow.’
‘Great Neptune’s beard!’ said Marcus, after the messenger left. ‘I’m ruined.’
Mordecai rose from his couch, looking grave. ‘Gaius, this is the worst thing for your brother. His mental state must remain positive. Is there anything you can do to stop this happening?’
Gaius pushed his hand through his fair hair. ‘A month ago I could have paid his debts. But since Vesuvius erupted . . .’
‘What about Cordius?’ suggested Flavia. ‘Your patron?’
‘Yes!’ said Marcus, then his face fell. ‘No. He’s away at his estates in Sicily. He always goes to oversee the grape harvest and remains there until the Saturnalia.’
‘Or Senator Cornix?’ suggested Aristo. ‘By the looks of his town-house in Rome, he has money to spare . . .’
Captain Geminus shook his head. ‘There’s bad blood between us . . .’ he murmured.
Flavia took a deep breath. ‘Publius Pollius Felix might help us,’ she said. ‘He’s rich. And powerful.’
‘He might,’ said Gaius, ‘but he’s in Surrentum. Even if I sent a messenger at dawn it would be a week before I heard anything back.’
‘We have to do something!’ Flavia blurted out. ‘I don’t want to leave our house. I love it!’ She bit her lip, aware that she wasn’t helping.
Sensing her distress, Scuto placed a paw on her leg. Flavia slipped off her chair and put her arms around Scuto’s woolly neck. From the couch behind her young Pliny spoke.
‘If the worst happens, you can always stay with me. I owe you a debt for your kindness towards my uncle in his last hours. I’ve inherited his Laurentum villa. It’s only a few miles down the coast and I’ve room enough for all of you.’ Here he glanced at Miriam. ‘I’d be most honoured if you would be my guests. All of you,’ he repeated.
‘That’s very kind of you,’ said Gaius, ‘but –’
‘– it might be an excellent idea,’ Mordecai said to Pliny’s nephew. He turned to Gaius. ‘May I have a word with you in private?’
‘Of course, doctor.’ The two of them rose and went out towards the study.
There was an awkward silence in the dining-room as everyone looked at one another. When they realised they could hear Mordecai’s accented voice in the study, repeating the phrase ‘must remain positive’, Jonathan began to hum a little tune, then asked Pliny’s nephew if he would like more peppered figs.
A few minutes later Gaius and Mordecai returned.
‘Secundus,’ said Gaius to the young man.
‘Please call me Pliny.’
‘Pliny,’ said Gaius, ‘your offer has come at a good time. My brother needs to recover his strength. And it would be best for the children not to be exposed to this unsettling business. We accept your kind offer. Mordecai and I will stay in Ostia and try to sort out this matter. But can you take Captain Geminus and his household and put them up at your Laurentum villa?’
‘My great pleasure,’ said the young man. ‘Er . . . does that include the doctor’s daughter?’
‘An excellent idea,’ said Mordecai. ‘Miriam is almost as skilled as I am. She can look after Marcus. Monitor his progress.’
‘And me?’ Aristo narrowed his eyes at Pliny. ‘Shouldn’t I go too?’ He looked at Captain Geminus. ‘Don’t you want me to continue the children’s lessons?’
‘Lessons?’ said Pliny. ‘To keep the children occupied? What a good idea.’
‘It’s an excellent idea,’ said Flavia’s father from his couch. ‘We mustn’t interrupt their education just because disaster has struck.’
‘Jonathan and Lupus will come, too, won’t they?’ Flavia unwrapped her arms from Scuto’s neck and stood up.
Mordecai glanced at Gaius, who nodded. ‘Of course,’ said Mordecai. ‘I think it would be better if you all went. Things here could get . . . difficult. Caudex and Alma can stay at my house with Gaius. There will be room if the boys go with Marcus and the girls.’
Gaius turned to Pliny. ‘I can’t thank you enough for your kind offer,’ he said. ‘Surely the gods sent you today.’
Pliny glanced at Miriam again and Flavia heard him murmur: ‘I am almost tempted to agree.’
Lupus woke instantly. Something was wrong.
It was just before dawn. Through the latticework screen of the bedroom window, the sky showed as grey diamonds in the solid blackness of the wall. It was not the steady sound of Jonathan’s breathing that had woken Lupus, but something else.
It came again: four urgent taps on the wall. Their secret signal!
Lupus grunted and threw off the linen sheet that half covered him. He quickly slipped on the tunic he had been wearing the day before and shook Jonathan by the shoulder.
‘Mmmf. Whuzzit, Rizpah?’ mumbled Jonathan. Tigris’s head appeared from beneath Jonathan’s sheet as the tapping came again. Lupus dragged the bed away from the wall – with Jonathan and Tigris still in it – and started to pull out the bricks.
‘Ow!’ Jonathan winced as he lifted himself up on his branded left arm. ‘What are you doing, Lupus?’
But Lupus already had one of the bricks out, and now hands were pushing from the other side, widening the hole.
‘Jonathan! Lupus!’ came Flavia’s voice from the other side. ‘They’re here!’
‘Who?’ said Jonathan, groggily slipping on his own tunic, back to front. ‘Who are here?’
‘Bailiffs. Two men, one with a scribe’s pen. They’re making a list of all the things in the house so that we don’t take them.’
‘They can’t do that, can they?’ Jonathan yawned again and helped pull out bricks. The diamonds in the window were already a lighter grey and as Lupus got down on his belly, he could see Flavia’s face: a dark smudge with darker smudges where her eyes were. Tigris padded over to investigate and touched noses with his brother Nipur, sniffing from the other side.
‘I think they can take almost everything,’ hissed Flavia. ‘My things, too! And Nubia’s! Can we hand them through to you?’
‘Of course,’ said Jonathan. ‘Tigris! Get back!’
‘This is the most important one,’ whispered Flavia. ‘Quickly, before they come upstairs.’
As Jonathan lifted Tigris out of the way, Lupus took the object Flavia had thrust through the wall. It was a smooth, flat ceramic cup with small handles. Suddenly he knew what it was: the elegant Greek kylix which the rich patron Felix had given to Flavia the month before. Lupus put it carefully on the bed and reached for the next object.
More things were coming through: Nubia’s flute, her tigers-eye earrings in their original pouch, a silver mirror, two scrolls and Flavia’s tambourine.
‘Flavia!’ said Jonathan suddenly. ‘What about all that gold in your store room? The gold you were keeping safe for your father’s patron?’
‘It’s all right,’ said Flavia. ‘After we caught the thief, Cordius took it back.’
She pushed a large wad of material through the gap. As Lupus put it on the bed he saw it was several silk tunics rolled together.
‘They’re coming!’
hissed Flavia. ‘I have to put my bed back. Can you close the gap?’
‘Yes!’ whispered Jonathan. He was still holding Tigris.
Lupus quickly replaced the bricks. He was just about to fit the last brick into its space when he heard voices and saw the flickering yellow light of an oil-lamp illuminate the floor beneath Flavia’s bed. He glanced over his shoulder at Jonathan and then put his eye to the diamond-shaped space where the last brick would go.
Lupus could see the calves of Flavia’s legs, silhouetted against the torchlight. Clever girl. She was sitting on the bed.
‘We’ll make note of all the items in here, too,’ said a man’s voice.
‘Ready,’ came the reply, presumably from the scribe.
‘Two beds; two folding stools, wood with bronze lion-feet; one oak table. On the table: two wooden combs; two bath-sets; three clay oil-lamps; three scent bottles, one ceramic, one glass and one rock crystal.’
Lupus heard the scraping of items on a table.
‘Three necklaces . . . just glass beads,’ continued the bailiff, ‘one make-up box, six brass hairpins, four ivory hairpins, seven bone hairpins . . . That’s everything on the table.’
There was a pause and the torchlight flickered.
‘Got a chest here . . . looks like it’s made of cedar-wood, full of clothes. Two woollen mantles –’
‘You can’t take our clothes!’ Lupus heard Flavia cry.
‘I’m afraid we can,’ said the scribe’s voice. ‘They’re valuable property.’
The bailiff continued: ‘We also have one bronze standing oil-lamp, one woven rug, one slave-girl –’
‘No!’ cried Flavia fiercely. ‘Nubia is not a slave. I set her free last month and my witness is Publius Pollius Felix. Don’t you dare put her on that list!’
There was a pause and then the bailiff continued. ‘Two watchdogs: one medium-sized mongrel with pale brown fur and one black mastiff puppy.’
‘Mongrel!’ Flavia’s voice sputtered with fury. ‘He’s not a . . . anyway, the dogs belong to our next-door-neighbour, not to me.’
‘Both of them?’ Lupus could hear the sneer in the bailiff’s voice. ‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘Yes,’ Flavia lied. ‘Both of them.’
‘We can verify that later. Now, if you girls don’t mind moving, we’ll just have a quick look under the beds.’
‘Jonathan, it was terrible!’ Flavia’s face was red and blotched. ‘They just came right in as if they owned everything already. And they tried to take Nubia. And Scuto and Nipur!’
‘I know. We heard everything.’ Jonathan patted Flavia on the back. Dawn was just breaking and they were in Jonathan’s house, sitting on the striped silk divan in his father’s study.
Lupus scribbled something on his wax tablet and held it up:
AT LEAST WE GOT BRICK BACK IN
Flavia blew her nose and nodded.
Nubia added, ‘It is good you make that hole in the wall yesterday.’
Jonathan gave her a rueful smile. ‘Yes, it was.’
Flavia blew her nose again. ‘Is my kylix safe?’
‘Yes, we’ve got your precious cup,’ said Jonathan.
‘And I’ve got the mint tea.’ Miriam came in with a tray of steaming beakers.
‘Thank you, Miriam.’ Flavia smiled through her tears. ‘Mint tea always makes me feel better.’ She warmed her hands on the side of the beaker and then took a sip. ‘Mmmm. Nice and sweet.’
‘Better?’ asked Jonathan.
‘A little,’ said Flavia, and took another sip of the fragrant brew. ‘Where’s your father?’
‘He went next door, just after you arrived. I think he’s helping Gaius supervise the rest of the inventory.’ He slurped his own tea.
‘Oh, Jonathan!’ Flavia’s lip began to tremble. ‘What are we going to do? Our beautiful house with its secret garden. And Scuto’s jasmine bush. And the fig tree.’
‘And fountain,’ added Nubia.
‘And pater’s study and all my scrolls . . .’
Jonathan could tell she was about to cry again. He had to do something.
Suddenly he jumped up from the divan. ‘Wait! A brilliant plan!’
‘Yes?’
‘That’s what we need,’ said Jonathan, sitting down again. ‘A brilliant plan.’
There was a moment of silence. Then everyone laughed.
‘Oh, Jonathan!’ Flavia said. ‘What would we do without you?’
He shrugged and grinned at her.
Flavia thoughtfully ruffled Scuto’s fur. ‘You know,’ she said presently, ‘there’s a mystery here. I think there’s someone behind all these bad things that are happening.’
‘Behind your father’s shipwreck?’
‘No. Behind Venalicius being set free and the bankers wanting to take our home.’
‘Who?’ said Nubia. ‘Venalicius?’
‘Maybe. I don’t know. But I have a few ideas about how we could find out. What time did Pliny say he was sending the carruca to pick us up?’
‘He said he would send it around noon,’ said Jonathan.
‘Then we only have a few hours. We’ll have to work fast.’
‘Uncle Gaius, can we go to the forum with you this morning?’
Flavia’s uncle frowned at her as he tore a piece of bread from the disc-shaped loaf. The bailiffs’ dawn visit had left him in a grim mood. ‘Why?’
‘We want to help,’ said Flavia honestly.
He sighed. ‘I don’t think so, Flavia. I have to go to the barber’s first and there’s nothing for you to do there. And the bankers won’t be impressed by two girls tugging the hem of my toga.’
‘We won’t be any trouble. Please can we come, Uncle Gaius? Nubia’s good at seeing things and I’m good at getting ideas.’
Her uncle’s face softened. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘But no toga-tugging.’
Not for the first time, Lupus stood beside Aristo in the office of Ostia’s junior magistrate, Marcus Artorius Bato. This time Jonathan was with them, too. It was a small bright room with an arched window that overlooked the red-tiled roof of the temple of Venus next door. Lupus inhaled. Bato’s office smelt of ink, wax, and papyrus, with a faint undertone of stale incense. Scrolls and wax tablets covered the large table and filled baskets underneath. In one corner was a small personal shrine to Hercules. The young magistrate tipped his chair back and eyed the trio with amusement in his pale eyes.
‘These your bodyguards?’ he asked Aristo.
‘My pupils,’ replied Aristo coolly. ‘I’m giving them a lesson in Roman justice. Trying to explain how bailiffs can seize a shipwrecked captain’s goods the day after he returns home.’
Bato scowled and let his chair fall forward. ‘Oh, that. Captain Geminus obviously didn’t read the codicil. Nasty business.’
‘How do you know about it?’ Aristo raised an eyebrow.
‘My superior, Aulus Egrilius Rufus, mentioned it to me. But that has to do with bankers’ contracts, not Roman law. Nor Roman justice.’
‘I see. Then would Roman justice be allowing a known kidnapper and slave-dealer to be set free without trial?’
‘Venalicius!’ Bato almost spat the word out. ‘That man is a disgusting, vile worm!’
Lupus grunted his agreement. He was beginning to like Bato.
‘So how is it that a “vile, disgusting worm” is wandering around Ostia?’ asked Aristo quietly.
‘You tell me,’ said Bato. ‘What else could grease Rufus’s palm enough to let that scum slip through his fingers?’
‘Money?’ said Aristo.
‘Yes, and lots of it.’ Bato leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘A heavy pouch full of gold convinced Rufus that Venalicius – we don’t even know if that’s his real name – could walk free until enough witnesses were brought to trial.’
‘But there are plenty of witnesses that he kidnapped freeborn children!’ cried Jonathan.
‘Who?’ Bato snorted. ‘You?’
‘Well .
. . yes!’
‘How old are you?’
‘I was eleven last month,’ said Jonathan.
‘No good, I’m afraid. Witnesses can’t be children or slaves. Only adult Roman citizens.’
‘Pollius Felix!’ cried Jonathan. ‘The Patron. He’s a citizen. And a friend of the Emperor’s. He’ll testify. He was here in Ostia a few weeks ago.’
‘By Hercules!’ Bato slammed his fist onto the table and several papyrus scrolls rolled over the edge and onto the floor. ‘Rufus told me Felix was out of the country. In Alexandria. This is bad. Very bad.’
Lupus scribbled something on his wax tablet and showed it to Aristo.
‘Rufus,’ said Aristo, reading Lupus’s tablet. He looked up sharply at Bato. ‘You said your superior is named Rufus. Is he related to the banker Rufus? Of Rufus and Dexter?’
Bato nodded and sighed. ‘They’re one and the same man.’ He shook his head wearily. ‘Never trust a banker turned politician.’
‘Flavius Geminus!’ The short man behind the banker’s stall leapt to his feet, knocking an abacus onto a pile of silver coins. With his narrow face and long front teeth he reminded Flavia of a rat.
‘Yes?’ said Gaius. Flavia could see that her uncle was surprised to be recognised so far from home.
‘We all heard you were shipwrecked and at the gates of Hades.’
‘Oh,’ said Gaius, and a look of realisation crossed his face. ‘Oh, you think I’m –’
‘Pater!’ said Flavia loudly. And before her uncle could protest, ‘Pater, imagine that! He thought you were practically dead. You know: very weak and helpless and at the gates of Hades. But you’re not, are you pater?’
‘Er . . . no! As you can see,’ said Captain Geminus’s twin brother, ‘the reports of my condition were exaggerated . . . that is, you can see that I broke my nose when the boat crashed . . . er, I mean ran aground on some rocks but, but otherwise I feel fine. In fact, I feel like a new man.’ He stood a little taller and brushed an invisible speck of lint from his toga.
‘And . . .’ He glanced at Flavia and she nodded back at him encouragingly. ‘And what do you think you’re doing? Threatening to take my home away! Sending your bailiffs at dawn, terrifying my . . . my daughter and the rest of the household!’
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 57