He turned and pointed through the umbrella pines towards the sea. They could see the red rooftops of other villas.
‘Most of that land belongs to my neighbours. But here, where our drive meets the main road, we have a small plot of land and a lodge. My uncle tried to grow exotic vegetables and vines here once, when he was researching volume twelve of his Natural History.’
Pliny pulled the reins and the carruca rocked to a halt.
‘Here we are,’ he said. ‘This little vineyard and those three olive trees belong to us. And there’s the lodge.’ He handed the reins to Phrixus, jumped down and walked round to the back of the carruca.
Scuto and the puppies were sniffing the dripping vines with great interest and Ferox joined them as Pliny helped the others out of the carriage.
Flavia could smell the musky scent of fox, and the rich aroma of damp earth. Somewhere in one of the olive trees a bird let forth a sweet trill. The early afternoon sun washed the wet vine leaves with liquid gold.
Flavia smiled at Pliny as he helped her down, then she took her father’s arm, allowing him to lean on her. The boys ran ahead to explore the lodge and the rest of them strolled through the dripping vine rows after them.
Pliny fell into step beside Gaius, who walked ahead of Flavia and her father.
‘The vines have gone a bit wild,’ Pliny said. ‘But at least they’ve been harvested.’
He stopped and uttered an oath. ‘By Hercules! Those peasant boys and their graffiti! What is today’s youth coming to?’ He glanced at Gaius and started walking again. ‘As you can see, the lodge has suffered the lack of a tenant. But with a little work . . . and look! It has its own well.’
Jonathan and Lupus appeared between the two wooden columns of the small porch. ‘It smells like something’s died in here,’ yelled Jonathan. ‘We’re trying to find the carcass!’ They disappeared again.
Flavia’s uncle Gaius stopped and fingered one of the grape leaves. ‘They’re getting the blight. You want to attend to this quickly, before it spreads.’
‘No,’ said Pliny, stopping and turning to Gaius. ‘You want to attend to it quickly.’ He spread his hands, palms out. ‘I need a tenant farmer and I think you would do very well. It needs a bit of work but I’m sure you’re up to it. You and Miriam may have the lodge and land rent free. All I ask is that you give me half your output of wine each year. And that you invite me to the wedding.’
Gaius stared at him, then his face broke into a delighted smile.
Pliny smiled, too. ‘Do you accept?’
‘Oh Uncle Gaius!’ cried Flavia, squeezing her father’s arm in her excitement. ‘Say “yes”. You’d be so close to us and we could visit you and Miriam and it would be so wonderful.’
‘Of course! I can’t begin to . . . I mean –’ Gaius turned to Miriam and swallowed. ‘Miriam, do you like it?’ He gestured towards the lodge. Ferox had lowered himself into a patch of sunlight beside the well and was panting gently with his eyes half closed.
Miriam did not turn to look at the lodge. Her shining eyes had not left Gaius’s face.
‘Yes,’ whispered Miriam, taking his hand in hers. ‘I like it.’
Lupus had never written so much in his life.
When they had returned to Pliny’s villa, he had gone into the library and found papyrus and ink. Now his hand ached and he was developing a callous on the ink-stained middle finger of his right hand. But he had finished. He had written it out. And it felt . . . not good. But better. Better to know his friends would finally know what had happened. He put the sheet of papyrus on the bedside table where Jonathan would be sure to see it. Then he walked down to the beach.
Maybe the dolphins would be there.
FATHER AND I HAD BEEN OUT NIGHT-FISHING. WE CAUGHT LOTS OF GOOD FISH AND ONE OCTOPUS. MOTHER HATED OCTOPUS. I USED TO TEASE HER. I COULD MAKE HER SCREAM BY HOLDING ONE UP WHEN SHE DIDN’T EXPECT IT. MAYBE FATHER DIDN’T KNOW THAT.
WHEN WE GOT BACK AT DAWN, FATHER WENT INSIDE AND MOTHER SCREAMED. I SAW THAT A MAN WAS THERE. HE AND FATHER WERE FIGHTING. THERE WAS A KNIFE IN THE MAN’S HAND BUT THEN FATHER TOOK IT AND PUSHED THE MAN AGAINST THE WALL. I KNEW HE WAS MY UNCLE PHILIPPOS THEY SOMETIMES TALKED ABOUT.
MY UNCLE SCREAMED AND GOT THE KNIFE BACK SO I JUMPED ON HIM. I TRIED TO PULL HIM AWAY BUT THEN I WAS ON THE FLOOR AND ALL I COULD SEE WAS THEIR FEET AND A DEAD OCTOPUS WAS LYING IN THE BLOOD STARING AT ME.
THE ROOM WAS ROCKING LIKE A BOAT. I FELT SICK. THEN FATHER WAS ON THE FLOOR TOO. HE WAS SO WHITE AND THERE WAS SO MUCH BLOOD AND I SAW MY FATHER’S EYES. THEY WERE DEAD LIKE THE OCTOPUS.
I HEARD A VOICE SCREAMING YOU KILLED HIM YOU KILLED MY FATHER! I’LL TELL ON YOU! IT WAS ME. THE VOICE WAS ME.
MY UNCLE TURNED AND CAME TOWARDS ME. HE HAD THE KNIFE IN HIS HAND. I DON’T REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED NEXT.
LATER IN THE BOAT SOME SAILORS SAID THAT I WOULD DIE IF THEY DIDN’T STOP THE BLEEDING. DO YOU WANT TO LIVE THEY ASKED ME. I NODDED. I WANTED TO LIVE SO I COULD KILL MY UNCLE.
YOU HAVE TO BE BRAVE SAID THE SAILOR. BRAVER THAN YOU’VE EVER BEEN IN YOUR LIFE. THIS SPOON IS RED HOT FROM THE COALS, SAID THE SAILOR. I HAVE TO PUSH IT AGAINST THE PLACE WHERE YOUR TONGUE HAS BEEN CUT OUT. THE ONLY WAY I CAN DO THAT IS IF YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH AND LET ME. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?
SO I OPENED MY MOUTH BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT COULDN’T HURT ANY MORE THAN IT ALREADY DID BUT I WAS WRONG.
Nubia stood by the parapet and gazed out over the water as Mordecai read the message Jonathan had found by his bed.
‘I think it’s good he shared this with you,’ said Mordecai, as he finished. ‘It means the healing can begin.’
‘Incredible to think what he’s been through,’ said Aristo quietly. ‘How he lost his family.’
‘We’re his family now,’ said Flavia firmly. ‘And now that he has his own ship we can go and rescue all the children that Venalicius captured. Rose and the others. Can’t we, pater?’
Marcus gave her a weak smile. ‘Lupus is the owner now. He can do what he likes.’
‘I think Lupus will be all right,’ said Jonathan.
‘I think Lupus will be very all right,’ said Nubia from the parapet. ‘Behold!’
They all moved to the marble half-wall and gazed out over the blue Tyrrhenian Sea.
Far out in the water, silhouetted against the setting sun, they saw a sight none of them would ever forget.
It was a boy riding a dolphin.
FINIS
Amphitrite (am-fee-try-tee)
beautiful sea-nymph (minor goddess) loved by Neptune, god of the sea
amphora (am-for-a)
large clay storage jar for holding wine, oil or grain
Arion (air-ee-uhn)
mythical musician from Corinth who rode on the back of a dolphin
atrium (eh-tree-um)
the reception room in larger Roman homes, often with skylight and pool
aulos (owl-oss)
a wind instrument with double pipes; reeds probably gave it a buzzy sound
barbiton (bar-bi-ton)
a kind of Greek bass lyre; NB: there is no evidence for a ‘Syrian barbiton’
basilica (buh-sill-ik-uh)
Roman building in the forum which housed law courts, offices and cells
Capua (cap-yoo-uh)
a town south of Rome famed for its gladiator school
carruca (kuh-roo-kuh)
a four-wheeled travelling coach, often covered
Charybdis (kar-ib-diss)
a mythical whirlpool near Sicily that could destroy entire ships
cicada (sick-ah-duh)
an insect like a grasshopper that chirrs during the day
Cicero (siss-er-oh)
Rome’s greatest orator; lived from 106–43 BC
Corinth (kor-inth)
Greek port town with a large Jewish population
Delphinus (dell-fee-nuss)
the Latin word for dolphin; a constellation of the same name
Dionysus (die-oh-nye-suss)
&
nbsp; Greek god of vineyards and wine
dithyramb (dith-i-ram)
a kind of Greek hymn or poem, often passionate and wild
Fortuna (for-tew-nuh)
the goddess of good luck and success
forum (for-um)
ancient marketplace and civic centre in Roman towns
freedman f(reed-man)
a slave who has been granted freedom
Hebrew (hee-brew)
holy language of the Bible, spoken by (religious)
Jews in the first century
Herculaneum (herk-you-lane-ee-um)
town at the foot of Vesuvius, buried by the eruption in August AD 79
Ides (eyedz)
the 13th day of most months in the Roman calendar, but the 15th in March, May, July and October
impluvium (im-ploo-vee-um)
a rainwater pool under a skylight in the atrium
Judaea (jew-dee-ah)
ancient province of the Roman Empire; modern Israel
Juno (jew-no)
queen of the Roman gods and wife of the god Jupiter
krater (kra-tare)
big Greek ceramic bowl for mixing wine, often beautifully decorated
kylix (kye-licks)
elegant Greek wine cup, especially for dinner parties
Laurentum (lore-ent-um)
village on the coast of Italy a few miles south of Ostia
Livy (liv-ee)
famous Roman historian, lived from 59 BC–AD 12
Meditrinalia (med-i-trin-all-ya)
Roman festival celebrating the wine harvest
Medusa (m-dyoo-suh)
hideous female monster with snaky hair and a face so ugly it turned men to stone
Misenum (my-see-num)
Ancient Rome’s chief naval harbour, near Naples
mortarium (more-tar-ee-um)
rought flat pottery bowl, embedded with grit, for grinding spices, etc.
Odysseus (oh-diss-yooss)
Greek hero who fought against Troy; his journey home took ten years
Ostia (oss-tee-ah)
the port of ancient Rome and home town of Flavia Gemina
palaestra (pal-eye-struh)
the (usually open air)
exercise area of public baths
papyrus (puh-pie-russ)
cheap writing material, made of Egyptian reeds
Periander (pair-ee-an-der)
mythological King of Corinth
peristyle (pair-ee-style)
a columned walkway around an inner garden or courtyard
Perseus (purr-syooss)
mythological son of Jupiter and Danae, his task was to get Medusa’s head
Pliny (plin-ee)
(the Elder) famous Roman author; died in the AD 79 eruption of Vesuvius
Pliny (plin-ee)
(the Younger) nephew of Pliny the Elder; became famous for his letters
poculum (pock-you-lum)
a cup or the drink inside the cup; in this story a mixture of spiced wine and milk
Pompeii (pom-pay)
a prosperous coastal town buried by the eruption of Vesuvius in AD 79
scroll (skrole)
a papyrus or parchment ‘book’, unrolled from side to side as it was read
Scylla (skill-uh)
a mythical sea-monster whose seven heads devoured passing sailors
sestercii (sess-tur-see)
more than one sestercius, a silver coin
sica (sick-ah)
small sickle-shaped dagger used by Jewish assassins (sicarii) in the 1st century AD
Stabia (sta-bee-ah)
modern Castellammare di Stabia; a town south of Pompeii
stylus (stile-uss)
a metal, wood or ivory tool for writing on wax tablets
Surrentum (sir-wren-tum)
modern Sorrento, a pretty harbour town south of Vesuvius
Symi (sim-ee)
Greek island near Rhodes, famous in antiquity for its sponge fishing industry
Thetis (thet-iss)
beautiful sea-nymph; mother of the Greek hero Achilles
Tishri (tish-ree)
the month of the Jewish calendar roughly corresponding to September/October
Titus (tie-tuss)
Emperor of Rome and son of Vespasian, aged 39 when this story takes place; (full name: Titus Flavius Vespasianus)
toga (toe-ga)
a blanket-like outer garment, worn by freeborn men and boys
triclinium (tri-clin-ee-um)
ancient Roman dining-room, usually with three couches to recline on
tunic (tew-nic)
a piece of clothing like a big T-shirt; children often wore a long-sleeved one
Tyrrhenian (tur-wren-ee-un)
the name of the sea off the coast of Ostia and Laurentum
Vesuvius (vuh-soo-vee-yus)
the volcano near Naples which first erupted on 24 August AD 79
wax tablet
a wax-covered rectangle of wood used for making notes
Pliny the Younger is the only real person in this story. He was Admiral Pliny’s nephew, aged seventeen when he witnessed the eruption of Vesuvius in AD 79. Many years later he wrote about the eruption in a letter to the Roman historian Tacitus. Pliny the Younger is famous today because of the letters he wrote. He published most of them in his lifetime, hoping that they might bring him lasting fame. He got his wish.
In another of his letters, Pliny the Younger describes his beautiful seaside villa on the coast at Laurentum near Ostia. His description is so captivating that many people over the centuries have tried to find or recreate Pliny’s ‘Laurentine villa’. There is a site a few miles south of Ostia called Villa di Plinio, but scholars are not sure whether this was really Pliny’s villa or not.
My plan at the front of this book is based on many speculative plans and on the seventeenth letter in Pliny’s second scroll.
In ancient times, sponge-divers were often crippled or even killed by their profession.
To my sister Jennifer,
who loves wisely and well
* * *
This story takes place in Ancient Roman times, so a few of the words and names may look strange.
If you don’t know them, ‘Aristo’s Scroll’ at the back of the book will tell you what they mean and how to pronounce them. ‘The Last Scroll’ will tell you a little about the Saturnalia and the Tarantella.
* * *
The day Flavia Gemina learned she was to be married began like any other winter day in the Roman port of Ostia.
When Flavia awoke, shortly after dawn, the sky showed as pearly pink diamonds through the latticework screen of her window. She could hear rain gurgling in the gutters and there was a delicious freshness in the air: the smell of rich earth and wet brick. Flavia snuggled deeper under her woollen blanket and wormed her feet beneath her dog Scuto’s warm bulk. Today was the day of her uncle’s betrothal feast and tomorrow they were preparing for the festival of the Saturnalia, which would last five days. So there would be no lessons for a whole week.
Presently, the scent of spiced wine and scalded milk brought Flavia padding downstairs to the kitchen, her blanket wrapped round her. Scuto trailed behind, tail wagging absently.
‘Good morning, dear,’ said Flavia’s old nurse Alma, pouring hot milk into a ceramic cup half-filled with spiced wine. ‘Cheese or barley?’
‘Both, please,’ said Flavia. ‘And a little pepper. Does pater have his poculum yet?’
‘Yes,’ said Alma, sprinkling cheese and barley onto the steaming liquid. ‘I took it to him a few moments ago.’ She passed a cube of cheese over a silver grater so that melting curls covered the surface of the drink.
‘There you are, my dear.’ Alma handed the poculum to Flavia.
‘Thanks,’ murmured Flavia and sipped the warming drink. She ate some of the cheese-coated barley floating on top and reflected that she liked a drink she could chew. The barley made her think of Pistor the baker. She and her f
riends had spent most of November trying to discover who had been stealing his poppy seed rolls. Flavia liked mysteries, and in solving Pistor’s case she had proved to herself that she really was a detective.
Her blanket still trailing behind, Flavia took her spiced drink out of the kitchen and along the peristyle to her father’s study. On the other side of the red-based columns, rain fell softly on the inner garden. The fig tree had lost its leaves but the shrubs nodded under the rain’s caress. Scuto wandered over to the quince bush to perform his morning ablutions.
‘Morning, Caudex.’
‘Morning, Miss Flavia.’ The big door-slave was standing on a small wooden stool, winding spirals of glossy ivy round the columns.
‘That looks nice.’ Flavia nodded her approval.
Caudex grunted.
On this mid-December day the rooms of the house were dimmer than usual. But in the study, a standing oil-lamp added its golden glow to the pearly light filtering in from the garden. Beside the lamp was a copper brazier filled with glowing coals.
‘Morning, pater.’
‘Good morning, my little owl.’ Marcus Flavius Geminus sat hunched over his desk, his toga draped round his shoulders like a blanket. He shot her a fond but distracted smile.
Flavia curled up on the old leather chair, tucking her feet up and pulling her blanket around her. For a moment she warmed her hands on the cup as she watched her father work.
She was still not used to his short hair. Two months ago the doctor had cut off his matted, lice-ridden locks, but at that time her father had been too weak to dedicate his hair to the sea god. So last week he had shaved off the new growth and offered it at the Temple of Neptune to thank the god for sparing his life in a shipwreck. Now, his short hair and the new lines on his forehead made him look older. His face reminded Flavia of her grandfather’s death mask in the household shrine.
Next door in the atrium, she could hear the rain gushing from lion-mouthed terracotta gutters and splashing into the pool beneath the skylight. From upstairs drifted the sound of flute and lyre. Flavia’s ex-slave-girl Nubia and their tutor Aristo practised together every morning before breakfast. Aristo said he found it easiest to compose music straight after waking.
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 67