The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection

by Lawrence, Caroline

  ‘What is baptise?’ asked Nubia.

  ‘A kind of ritual to wash away your past,’ Jonathan told the girls. He turned back to his father: ‘Has Venalicius really converted?’

  ‘Without a doubt,’ cried Mordecai. ‘Gaius told us Lupus was risking his life trying to recover some treasure and Venalicius offered to dive for it himself. To prove his remorse.’

  ‘No!’ cried Nubia. ‘Venalicius is evil.’

  ‘She’s right!’ called Flavia. ‘It must be a trick!’

  ‘You’re all missing the point,’ cried Jonathan. ‘Even if Venalicius has turned good, Lupus doesn’t know that. And he probably doesn’t care. He has a knife and he intends to use it!’

  Lupus did not need to use his knife.

  Framed by the breach, Venalicius was writhing desperately in the grip of a giant octopus. As the slave-dealer struggled, his good eye spotted Lupus and he held out one arm in a gesture of supplication.

  If he hadn’t been underwater, Lupus would have laughed out loud. Instead, he gave his enemy the rudest gesture he knew and started up for the surface. How fitting that Venalicius should be killed by his own greed.

  As Lupus swam away from the struggling pair, something blocked his ascent. Lupus looked up. It was Delphinus, the dolphin who had saved his life. The whimsical face passed inches from his and Lupus felt velvet-smooth skin caress his shoulder.

  He waited until Delphinus had passed, then kicked for the surface again, but with a powerful twist of his body the dolphin again blocked his way. This time the fish nudged him gently back down. Back towards the man still struggling in the grip of the octopus. The dolphin seemed to smile and Lupus saw the look of intelligence in its deep blue eye.

  Delphinus didn’t know Venalicius was evil. He only knew someone needed help, as Lupus himself had needed help the day before. Lupus shrugged at the dolphin, as if to say, what can I do?

  Delphinus opened his mouth in a smile and even underwater, Lupus heard him click. A few silver bubbles rose from the dolphin’s head. Delphinus swam towards Lupus again, tipping his dorsal fin as he passed. Instinctively, Lupus caught hold of it and felt a joyful surge as the dolphin pulled him strongly back down towards the wreck.

  But then the joy faded and Lupus’s stomach clenched. Venalicius was still alive and writhing in the grip of the octopus.

  Lupus wasn’t sure which of the two monsters repelled him most.

  Delphinus swam close to them. As he passed, Lupus let go and kicked towards Venalicius and the octopus. He still didn’t know what he was going to do.

  He pulled the knife from his belt and glanced back at Delphinus, who was making another pass. He heard the dolphin’s echoed plea, sweet and mournful.

  Lupus made his decision.

  He steeled himself, for what he was about to do was repulsive. But it was the only way.

  He swam forward and sank his blade deep in the brute’s eye.

  Phrixus started pulling. ‘I just felt three tugs on Venalicius’ lifeline!’ he said.

  ‘But where’s Lupus?’ cried Flavia.

  They all leaned forward and fixed their eyes on the dripping rope as Phrixus pulled it faster and faster.

  Suddenly two heads broke the surface, both clinging to the same lifeline.

  ‘Lupus!’ cheered Flavia and Nubia. ‘You’re alive!’

  ‘Lupus!’ cheered Jonathan. ‘You didn’t kill Venalicius!’

  Venalicius the slave-dealer squirmed on the couch of the sea-view triclinium. Blood oozed from his nose and the bandage wrapped round his head had blossoming stains of red, too. The girls squealed with horror and Mordecai hovered with a moist sea-sponge.

  ‘Dear God, what is it?’ he muttered. ‘What on earth is happening to him?’ He tried to staunch the flow.

  Lupus knew. He had once seen a sponge-diver writhe and bleed like this after his tenth dive. Shortly afterwards paralysis had set in and the man had died. Lupus clenched his jaw hard to stop himself smiling. He had only saved Venalicius to please Delphinus. Now he was glad to see his enemy dying in agony.

  ‘Lupus.’ It was Miriam, standing beside her father; she had been watching him. ‘Do you know what’s wrong?’

  Lupus sighed and wrote something on his tablet:

  HOW MANY DIVES?

  Mordecai squinted at the tablet. ‘How many dives did Venalicius make this morning?’

  Lupus nodded.

  ‘I don’t remember exactly,’ he said. ‘Ten or twelve.’ Phrixus nodded. ‘We couldn’t find the exact place, because of the fog. And the water was still very dark,’ he explained. ‘It took him several dives just to find the wreck . . .’

  Venalicius’ body convulsed again and he stifled a scream. Lupus knew the pain would only get worse, and that it would only be relieved by death. There was nothing anyone could do.

  Lupus looked at Mordecai and slowly shook his head.

  ‘Lukos?’ cried Venalicius. ‘Where’s Lukos?’

  ‘Who’s Lukos?’ Flavia was biting her thumbnail and shivering. She had her other arm around Nubia.

  Lupus stepped forward. Venalicius saw him and clutched Lupus’s wrist.

  ‘Lukos,’ the dying man gasped. ‘I’m sorry.’ He writhed and tried not to cry out. ‘So sorry for what I did to you and the others.’

  Venalicius began to weep tears of blood.

  Flavia screamed and buried her face in Nubia’s shoulder.

  Lupus shuddered with revulsion and looked up from the dying man’s twisted face. At that moment, Mordecai moved aside to dip the sponge in a bowl.

  And Lupus found himself gazing directly into the eyes of Venalicius as a young boy.

  Lupus stared over the writhing body of the slave-dealer into the face of Venalicius as a child. The boy was about his own age, with a swollen eye and a linen band round his head and an ugly face full of hatred. What was happening? Was the madness of the deep upon him too?

  Then he saw what he was looking at.

  Himself.

  He was looking at his own face, perfectly reflected in the mirrored shield held by the statue of Perseus.

  With a terrible clarity Lupus realised that he was becoming the person he hated most: Venalicius.

  No one else saw what he saw.

  Mordecai was sponging the slave-dealer’s face and Miriam held the bowl. Flavia and Nubia were trying not to look. Jonathan, Aristo and Pliny were staring at the dying man in horrified fascination.

  ‘Mother?’ whispered Venalicius, looking up at Miriam. ‘Mother? Is it you?’ He tried to smile but only succeeded in contorting his face into a horrible grimace. Miriam glanced at her father and tried to smile down at the dying man.

  ‘He’s losing his sight,’ whispered Mordecai.

  ‘Lukos!’ cried Venalicius suddenly. ‘Where is my nephew?’

  He tried to look round but his neck was paralysed. His good eye swivelled in its socket until it found Lupus.

  ‘Please. Lukos. Forgive me?’ The tears on Venalicius’ cheek were no longer bloody, but the spark of life in his eye was fading fast.

  Lupus did not feel the least desire to forgive. He was glad his uncle was dying. Perhaps if he refused the dying man’s wish Venalicius would go to that place of utter darkness. That would be good. Lupus wanted Venalicius to suffer for eternity. He had saved Venalicius from the octopus. Surely that was enough.

  He looked up again into the cold eyes of the boy reflected in the mirrored shield. His hatred made him like his enemy. And he did not want to become another Venalicius. That was too high a price to pay for revenge. He did not think his dead father or his living mother would want that.

  ‘Forgive me, Lukos. Please.’

  Lupus looked down at his hated enemy and gave a curt nod.

  ‘Thank you.’ Venalicius closed his eyes, smiling.

  Suddenly Lupus felt a huge release. As if something dark had pulled itself away from him and flown out between the spiral columns. And with the release came tears. Tears of relief, because his burden had bee
n so great, and he was only a boy.

  Venalicius was trying to speak but his paralysed lips barely moved. Lupus bent forward and his hot tears fell on the slave-dealer’s face.

  ‘Help . . .’ said Venalicius, speaking in the language of his mother. ‘Help the children . . . the ones I took.’ And with his dying breath, still in Greek, Venalicius uttered one final word. To Lupus it sounded like:

  ‘Rose.’

  They burned his body the next day.

  Gaius and Bato had travelled down from Ostia together. Mordecai pronounced Venalicius dead of natural causes and Bato made an official confirmation. The young magistrate offered to take the body away but Lupus held out his wax tablet.

  HE WAS MY UNCLE

  WE WILL PERFORM THE RITES

  Pliny’s slaves had already built the pyre on the shore and prepared the body. It lay in a litter on the terrace. Now four slaves dressed in black lifted it up.

  In silence Lupus led the way across the terrace and down through the gate towards the beach. It was a heavy, overcast day with a scent of rain in the air. A breeze ruffled the black garments of the slaves who carried the body. Behind them limped Captain Geminus, on his feet for the first time, steadying himself on his brother’s arm. Mordecai and Miriam came next, followed by Nubia, Jonathan and Aristo. The dogs – including Gaius’s huge hound Ferox – sensed the solemnity of the occasion and hardly wagged their tails at all.

  As the procession slowly moved out of the triclinium, and Pliny moved to take up the rear, Flavia touched his arm.

  ‘I have something to ask you,’ she said.

  He looked at her and then at the departing group.

  ‘It will only take a moment,’ said Flavia.

  Pliny nodded.

  Flavia held out the Dionysus kylix.

  ‘How much will you give me for it?’ she said, as calmly as she could.

  Pliny slowly took the cup.

  ‘Something like this,’ he said, ‘is impossible to value. It’s worth whatever the buyer is willing to pay.’ He caressed the cup with his fingertips and looked at her. ‘Are you trying to raise a specific sum?’ Even as he asked the question she saw understanding dawn on his face.

  ‘Ah.’ He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. ‘One hundred thousand sestercii?’ he asked without opening his eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ Flavia managed to say.

  Pliny winced. His eyes were still closed. ‘I haven’t yet inherited my uncle’s wealth. But I think I can raise that amount.’ He took a deep breath and opened his eyes again. ‘Very well, Flavia Gemina.’

  Flavia exhaled with relief. When she thought she could speak with a steady voice she said,

  ‘Can you find a way of paying my father’s debts without him knowing it was me? If he knew, he would feel . . .’ she couldn’t think of the right words.

  ‘Of course,’ said Pliny. ‘I understand. Bato and I will arrange it. We will be very discreet. No one else will know.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Flavia whispered and turned to follow the others. Quickly. So he wouldn’t see the tears.

  ‘Flavia.’ He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. ‘You know I’ll take very good care of this cup.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Flavia, without turning her head. ‘I know.’

  The body was burning fiercely when suddenly the heavens opened and the rain began to fall. It was a soft, autumn rain and they were not too wet by the time they ran back into the triclinium, shaking out their cloaks and brushing drops from their tunics.

  Pliny’s kitchen slaves had already laid out the funeral banquet. It was midday and the meal would serve as both breakfast and dinner. They settled down to the meal of cold ham, pickled fish and chickpea pancakes.

  As usual, Nubia and her friends sat at the table. The dogs had all gathered underneath; they knew the best place for tasty morsels. The remaining seven adults reclined on the couches: Aristo and Bato on one couch, Miriam and her father on another, and Pliny flanked by the Geminus brothers on the central couch. The welcome rain had led to a discussion of the effect of the volcano on weather patterns and the Roman economy.

  Nubia looked out through the pink columns at the pearly grey sky. She was not listening to the adults’ conversation but to the music of the rain as it drummed on the parapet, dripped from the eaves and gurgled in the gutters. It seemed to be telling a story as it muttered rhythmically. If only she could understand its song.

  She kneaded Ferox’s warm neck with her toes, just the way he liked it, and heard him sigh with pleasure. Then she turned back to her cold ham.

  ‘I’ve just had some very good news,’ Bato was saying to Captain Geminus, who reclined beside him on the couch. ‘An anonymous benefactor has promised to pay your debts in full. Your house is safe.’

  Nubia frowned. ‘What’s an ominous –’

  ‘It means someone has given him lots of money but we don’t know who,’ Jonathan whispered.

  ‘Praise the gods,’ whispered Flavia’s father, and Nubia saw him drop his head to hide the emotion on his face. She wondered who had been so generous.

  ‘It turns out Rufus and Dexter really needed the money,’ said Gaius. ‘One of their biggest loans was to a man who died in the eruption. He lost his entire estate as well as his family. They may not be good bankers, but at least they’re not crooks.’

  Bato sipped his wine. ‘The volcano hit some people very hard.’

  ‘It did indeed,’ murmured Gaius, with a quick glance at Miriam, reclining beside her father.

  There was a moment of silence and then Aristo said to Marcus, ‘But it’s wonderful news that the house is safe.’

  ‘It’s not all good news, I’m afraid,’ said Gaius. ‘I went to the slave sale in the forum yesterday. I’m afraid your brother was sold, Nubia. A representative from the school in Capua bought the whole lot for one hundred and fifty thousand sestercii.’

  Nubia put down her pancake. She felt numb.

  ‘What school in Capua?’ said Jonathan.

  Gaius looked at him. ‘The gladiator school.’

  Flavia said, ‘Maybe we could buy him back . . . if we dive for that treasure and –’

  ‘No!’ cried Aristo, Pliny and Gaius together.

  ‘No more diving for treasure!’ said Flavia’s father. ‘It’s too dangerous.’

  And Pliny added, ‘I think the gods have made it very clear that they don’t want that wreck disturbed.’

  ‘Besides,’ said Jonathan, ‘father says that if Lupus dives again soon he could lose the sight in his left eye.’

  They all looked at Lupus, who put down his cup and looked back at them.

  ‘Your eye looks a little better,’ said Miriam. ‘The swelling’s going down.’

  ‘No diving for a few months, though,’ said Mordecai. ‘Swimming is permitted. But no diving. Understood?’

  Lupus nodded and resumed drinking the warmed poculum they had made specially for him.

  ‘Also,’ said Captain Geminus, ‘it looks as if autumn has finally come. There’ll be no diving or sailing now for several months.’

  ‘That reminds me,’ said Mordecai, lifting himself a little higher on one elbow. ‘I have some very good news for Lupus. Before we left Ostia, Venalicius took me to the forum and we drew up a will in the presence of witnesses. I think he had a premonition of his death.’

  They all looked at Mordecai. ‘He left you everything, Lupus, including his ship. You are now the owner of the slave-ship Vespa.’

  Lupus stared back at Mordecai.

  ‘I guess Venalicius really did turn good in the end,’ murmured Flavia.

  ‘Told you so,’ said Jonathan.

  Nubia felt a strange tangle of emotions: anger, relief, confusion.

  ‘You are not old enough to officially inherit yet,’ Mordecai was telling Lupus, ‘so the money has been left in trust to me, as your guardian, until you put on the toga virilus at sixteen. As for the Vespa, I will do whatever you like with it. Sell it, burn it, whatever.’

  Nu
bia’s heart was pounding. She looked at Lupus and he looked back at her.

  After a moment he wrote something on his wax tablet.

  Jonathan picked it up and read it out for all to hear:

  I WOULD LIKE TO RENAME THE SHIP

  AND LET FLAVIA’S FATHER USE IT FOR HIS

  VOYAGES

  Nubia felt a wave of relief wash over her. Yes. Let that ship which had caused so much misery be used for good.

  Mordecai smiled. ‘A wise decision,’ he said. ‘And as owner, half the profits will go to you. Is that correct, Marcus?’

  But Flavia’s father seemed unable to speak.

  ‘Pater!’ cried Flavia. ‘Did you hear that? Lupus is going to let you sail his boat!’

  ‘Yes,’ said Captain Geminus at last. ‘I heard.’

  ‘By Hercules,’ said Jonathan. ‘You’re rich, Lupus.’

  ‘What will you be naming her?’ asked Nubia quietly.

  Lupus thought for a moment. Then he smiled.

  DELPHINUS he wrote.

  ‘You should really give a ship a girl’s name,’ said Flavia. ‘Otherwise it’s bad luck.’

  Lupus pursed his lips. Then he used the flat end of his stylus to rub out and the sharp end to make a small change.

  DELPHINA

  They all laughed and Lupus added:

  WE WILL CLEAN HER UP & GET

  A NEW SAIL A WHITE ONE WITH A DOLPHIN ON IT

  ‘I am glad,’ said Nubia. ‘I am hating that black and yellow one.’

  The sun came out and glazed the wet columns and dripping roof-tiles with gold.

  ‘Come on,’ said Pliny. ‘I have something I want to show you. All of you,’ he added, looking at Miriam. ‘It’s not far, half a mile up the drive. We’ll take the carruca.’

  Pliny took the reins with Aristo on one side and Phrixus on the other. The rest of them squeezed onto the benches on either side. Ferox lay on the floor at his master’s feet, and as Pliny flicked the reins and the horses moved off, Scuto and the puppies zigzagged behind the cart, sniffing the shrubs either side of the drive.

  ‘All this land belongs to me now,’ said Pliny, over his shoulder. He shifted the reins to his left hand and indicated with his right. ‘It’s mainly pasture for the sheep and cattle.’