The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection

by Lawrence, Caroline

  Scuto padded into the study from the garden, leaving wet pawprints on the marble veneer floor. He sighed and sank heavily beneath the brazier. Soon the comforting smell of wet dog filled the room. It occurred to Flavia that, like her father, Scuto was also getting old.

  ‘Pater?’ Flavia took another sip of her hot spiced drink.

  ‘Yes, sweetheart,’ he said absently, his head bent over a papyrus tally sheet.

  ‘Pater, have the sands of time just about run out for you?’

  He gave her an amused glance. ‘I’m only thirty-one,’ he said. ‘I trust I have a few years left.’ He looked back at his sums and frowned.

  ‘Pater?’

  ‘Yes, Flavia?’

  ‘Pater, are we poor now?’

  Her father sighed and put down his quill pen and turned to face her.

  ‘I mean,’ said Flavia, ‘they won’t take our house away, will they?’

  ‘No, my little owl. They won’t take the house away. A gift from an anonymous benefactor saved our house.’

  Flavia nodded. Her father still didn’t know that she herself was the unknown donor.

  ‘As for our daily living expenses,’ he said, ‘I may have to sell the divine Vespasian. Titus, too.’

  ‘Oh no!’ said Flavia, looking at the marble busts of the current emperor and his scowling father. ‘I like them. I like things just the way they are. Don’t change anything.’

  He sighed. ‘My only other option is to ask my patron Cordius to lend us enough money to see us through the winter.’ Her father shook his head. ‘Usually at this time of year I’ve plenty of cash on deposit with my bankers. But I’d invested everything in that cargo of spices and when it went down with the Myrtilla . . .’ His voice trailed off and he stared down at the sheets on his desk.

  Flavia could guess what he was thinking. Her father had named his ship after Flavia’s mother, Myrtilla, who had died in childbirth seven years previously. Now he had lost both Myrtillas.

  ‘But you can use the ship Lupus inherited, can’t you?’ said Flavia in her brightest voice.

  ‘Yes.’ Her father smiled. ‘But the Delphina needs some work done to her before the sailing season begins. And we’ll need to perform the purification ceremony. That means purchasing a bull: another vast expense.’ Her father’s chair scraped on the marble veneer floor as he pushed it back. ‘Flavia.’ He stood.

  ‘Yes, pater?’

  ‘Flavia, you must be very discreet. You must not let anyone know that we are in debt. If people know we’re struggling financially, they’ll take advantage of us. I may even be stripped of my rank as an equestrian. We must behave as if we are prosperous, but without spending anything more than is absolutely necessary.’ Her father tugged at the folds of his toga to make them hang properly over his shoulder.

  ‘I understand, pater,’ said Flavia with a sigh. She had been planning to ask him for money to buy Saturnalia gifts for her friends, but now that looked impossible.

  Her face brightened as Nubia appeared in the doorway, holding a steaming cup.

  ‘Good morning, Nubia!’

  ‘Good morning, Flavia.’ Nubia sipped her drink and watched her puppy Nipur romp into the study. He was pure black, almost as big as Scuto and still growing. He greeted Flavia and her father with wagging tail and acknowledged Scuto with a brief sniff. Then he hurried back into the garden to see if the rain had brought out any snails.

  A young man appeared beside Nubia in the wide doorway. Their tutor Aristo was a handsome Greek with intelligent brown eyes and curly hair the colour of dark bronze. Today he was wearing a thick, oatmeal-coloured tunic, leather boots, and a short red cape. A net was slung over his left shoulder and in his right hand he held a light spear.

  ‘I’m just off hunting,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back in time for . . .’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’ll be back by the seventh hour.’

  Captain Geminus gave Aristo a grateful look. ‘May Diana give you luck with the hunt,’ he said. ‘I believe we ate the last of your friend’s quail pie yesterday afternoon.’

  ‘I’ll try to catch us a big boar for the Saturnalia.’ Aristo disappeared towards the back door.

  ‘I’m off now, too,’ said Flavia’s father. ‘Going to the barber and then to see my patron Cordius. I’ll be back in a few hours. Oh, Flavia. Hercules the wall-painter is coming today to make a start on the new fresco in the dining-room.’

  ‘A wall-painter? I thought you said we had to be careful with our money.’

  ‘He’s doing it gratis. He owes me a favour,’ said Flavia’s father, and added, ‘I gave him free passage to Sicily last year. Besides, it will give the impression that we’re well off. He doesn’t celebrate the Saturnalia so he’ll be working here over the next week.’

  ‘Imagine not celebrating the best festival of all,’ murmured Flavia.

  ‘Goodbye, sweetheart.’ Flavia’s father bent to kiss her forehead. ‘Goodbye, Nubia.’ He disappeared into the atrium and a moment later Flavia heard the front door close and the bolt fall into place.

  Nubia lingered in the peristyle, looking anxiously towards the back door. ‘I hope Aristo is joking,’ she said. ‘I hope there are no foaming boars in the woods today.’

  ‘He looked sad,’ remarked Flavia. ‘And the music you were playing was sad, too.’

  ‘I know. He is wretched because of today, because he is still loving Miriam.’ Nubia shivered.

  Flavia opened her blanket. ‘Come and sit beside me, Nubia.’

  Nubia squeezed onto the chair and pulled her side of the blanket round. ‘It is most chilly,’ she said.

  Flavia knew that Nubia was used to the dry desert heat, not damp Italian winters. And this winter was particularly damp and cold. Everyone blamed the weather on the volcano which had erupted at the end of August. Flavia’s nurse Alma said it was just laziness: ‘They’ll be blaming Vesuvius for everything that happens over the next twenty years,’ she had grumbled. ‘I’ve known colder winters.’

  But Nubia obviously hadn’t. She was still shivering.

  ‘You should wear more than one tunic,’ said Flavia, putting her arm round Nubia’s shoulder and rubbing briskly. ‘Like the divine Emperor Augustus. He used to wear five tunics in the winter.’

  ‘Yes. I will do that.’

  ‘And we’ll go to the baths later,’ promised Flavia. ‘After we’ve been to the market.’

  ‘Good,’ said Nubia. ‘I will sit in the steamy sudatorium.’

  A loud knocking on the front door brought Scuto to his feet and Nipur in from the garden. They skittered across the study and into the atrium.

  Flavia heard Caudex grumbling in the peristyle, so she called out, ‘We’ll get it, Caudex!’

  Leaving the blanket on the chair, she and Nubia went into the atrium and past the rainwater pool to the oak door with its heavy bolt. Scuto and Nipur were scrabbling at the wood. They could smell their friend Tigris on the other side.

  The door swung open to reveal two boys and a puppy standing in the shelter of the porch. They were dripping wet and their breath came in excited white puffs.

  ‘Just come from shopping in the forum . . .’ Jonathan, the taller of the two, suffered from asthma. ‘You’ll never guess . . . what happened!’ he gasped. ‘The whole town is . . . talking about it! Ship from Alexandria . . . delayed by storms . . . carrying animals for the games . . .’

  Lupus – the younger boy – was making marks on a tablet, nodding as he wrote. He had no tongue and a wax tablet was his main form of communication.

  ‘Animals . . .’ Jonathan was leaning on the door frame. ‘Wild, ravenous beasts . . . the lion knocked the trainer . . . off the gangplank and . . . all the animals escaped!’

  ‘A lion?’ breathed Flavia. She and Nubia exchanged wide-eyed looks.

  ‘Other animals, too . . .’ Jonathan was still breathless.

  ‘What animals?’ asked Nubia.

  ‘You tell them, Lupus,’ gasped Jonathan.

  This was the moment Lupus had bee
n waiting for. He held up his wax tablet and Flavia squealed as she read what he had written:

  ESCAPED ANIMALS!!!

  LION

  CAMELOPARD

  ELEPHANT

  AND A GIANT MAN-EATING BIRD!!!

  ‘A giant man-eating bird?’ cried Flavia. ‘Like the Stymphalian bird Hercules had to kill in the myth?’

  Lupus nodded emphatically. One of his eyes was slightly bloodshot.

  ‘Did you behold it?’ Nubia asked.

  ‘No,’ said Jonathan, stepping into the atrium. ‘But Decimus the scroll-seller’s son did. He said the bird was twice as big as a man, with a huge body, a long neck and evil yellow eyes.’

  Lupus followed Jonathan into the atrium and bared his teeth fiercely.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Jonathan, ‘and lots of sharp teeth!’

  ‘A bird is having teeth?’ said Nubia.

  Jonathan shrugged. ‘According to Decimus.’

  ‘Have they caught any of the animals yet?’ asked Flavia. She closed the door and made sure the bolt was down.

  ‘No,’ said Jonathan. ‘That’s why we came straight here. To warn you not to walk the dogs or go gathering ivy like yesterday. Apparently the elephant headed straight down the Decumanus Maximus towards Rome but the other animals ran along the beach towards the synagogue. They may have reached Laurentum by now. Or maybe they’re hiding in the woods.’

  ‘Oh, I wish I’d seen the elephant running down the main street!’ said Flavia.

  ‘Aristo!’ cried Nubia. Her fingers were digging into Flavia’s arm.

  ‘What about him?’ said Jonathan.

  ‘He is hunting,’ said Nubia. ‘In the woods.’

  ‘And all he has to protect himself,’ cried Flavia, ‘is a javelin and a net!’

  Nubia’s eyes were as round as gold coins. ‘We must warn him!’

  ‘Are you crazy?’ said Jonathan. ‘A bird as big as Ostia’s lighthouse and a man-eating lion and a camelopard . . .’

  ‘What is a camelopard, anyway?’ asked Flavia, leading them along the corridor towards the kitchen.

  Lupus shrugged and Jonathan said: ‘I don’t know. I thought you might.’

  ‘We’d better look it up in Pliny’s Natural History,’ said Flavia. ‘But first, do you two want a hot poculum?’

  The boys nodded and followed her into the kitchen.

  ‘Alma!’ said Flavia. ‘There are some wild animals loose in the woods. They ran off a ship this morning!’

  ‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ Alma tutted. ‘Not the first time that’s happened. You’d better not go into the woods today. Barley or cheese for you, Wolfie?’

  Lupus shook his head. Although the name Lupus meant ‘wolf’, Alma was the only person he allowed to call him ‘Wolfie’.

  The friends lingered in the small kitchen, unwilling to leave the warmth of the glowing hearth. Alma didn’t seem to mind. As the boys sipped their drinks, she turned back to her mortarium and continued grinding chestnuts into flour.

  ‘So tell us what happened again,’ said Flavia. ‘How did the animals escape?’

  Jonathan put his cup down and wiped a cheesy pink moustache from his upper lip. ‘Well, they think the ship from Alexandria was delayed by storms. Everyone was amazed to see a ship sail into the harbour in December. They must have run out of food. Decimus said the animals were ravenous.’

  Lupus roared.

  ‘Yes,’ said Jonathan. ‘Decimus and his father were just setting up their bookstall in the forum when they heard this enormous roar, coming from the direction of the river harbour. They ran to the Marina Gate just in time to see the giant bird run past. And then the lion. Decimus’s father said he thought the lion was a Nubian lion.’

  Flavia frowned. ‘A Nubian lion? What does a Nubian lion look like, Nubia? Nubia?’

  Jonathan, Lupus and Flavia looked round the small red kitchen and then out through the ivy-twined columns into the wet green garden.

  But Nubia was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘She always does that!’ said Jonathan, hitting his forehead with the heel of his hand. ‘I wish she’d teach me how to disappear like that.’

  Lupus nodded.

  ‘Nubia!’ called Flavia. ‘NUBIA!’

  All they heard was the steady sound of the rain on the terracotta roof tiles.

  ‘She’s probably just gone upstairs to put on some more tunics,’ said Flavia. ‘Let’s look for her.’

  But as they headed for the stairs, Jonathan glanced towards the back door.

  ‘You don’t think . . .’ he murmured. The others followed his gaze. The back door of Flavia’s house was built into the town wall; it led directly into the tombs of the necropolis and the woods beyond. As the three friends moved closer, they could see by a thread of light that it was wedged open.

  ‘Oh no!’ cried Flavia.

  ‘She wouldn’t be foolish enough to . . .’ Jonathan shook his head. ‘I mean, why would she go into the woods when she knows there might be savage beasts lurking there?’

  ‘Aristo!’ cried Flavia. ‘She’s gone to warn Aristo!’

  Lupus barked, then gestured round the garden and shrugged dramatically, his palms to the sky.

  ‘You’re right, Lupus. She’s taken the dogs with her.’

  Jonathan turned to them grimly. ‘Lupus, you get your sling. I’ll get my bow and arrow. We’ve got to go after her.’

  ‘Well, you’re not going without me,’ said Flavia. ‘Just wait while I get my cloak.’

  Nubia followed the three dogs into the woods. The rain was lighter under the shelter of the umbrella pines but already there was cold mud squelching between her toes; she was only wearing her house sandals.

  ‘Aristo!’ she called. ‘Aristo, come back!’

  She knew he must be somewhere nearby; he had only left a few moments ago. ‘Aristo! There are wild beasts!’

  Her heart was thudding against her ribs and her teeth were chattering. It was not the cold that made her tremble as much as a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  Nubia stopped and tried to still the chattering of her teeth so she could listen. Then, as her father had taught her, she reached out with all her senses, not just her sense of hearing.

  Presently she had the impression that she should go straight ahead and a little to the left. She knew that this feeling – however vague – was her intuition, so she obeyed it. She moved forward, not calling out now, just listening. The dogs sensed her mood and followed her quietly. Like shadows, they slipped between the rain-glazed trunks of the pine trees. The fine drizzle had stilled all birdsong; the woods were utterly silent.

  Then she heard it. A rustling in some myrtle bushes up ahead. Something was moving towards her. Something big.

  Cautiously, Nubia moved forward and peered round the wet trunk of an acacia tree. And gasped.

  Lupus was several paces ahead of his two friends when suddenly Scuto exploded out of the woods.

  ‘Here’s Scuto!’ said Jonathan.

  But Flavia’s dog did not stop to greet them. He ran yelping back towards the town walls. Flavia and Jonathan turned and watched him with amazement.

  ‘I’ve heard the expression “tail between his legs” before,’ Flavia said. ‘But I’d never actually seen it until now. Look! Here come the puppies!’

  The two puppies raced past the three friends after Scuto. Then Nubia emerged from the woods, her cloak flapping behind her.

  ‘Run!’ she cried. ‘Big bird is pursuing me!’

  Lupus’s jaw dropped as a huge black and white bird loped out of the woods and stopped to regard him with an enormous long-lashed eye. It had a long white neck and muscular legs. The huge bird clacked its beak and ambled towards him.

  ‘Aaaaah!’ Lupus yelled. He turned and ran as fast as he could back towards the safety of the town. He didn’t need to urge Flavia and Jonathan to run. They were well ahead of him.

  ‘Man-eating bird!’ screamed Flavia, bursting through the back door into her inner garden. ‘A giant man-eat
ing bird is after us!’

  She stood panting and held the door open. Nubia and the dogs were already inside. Lupus charged through a moment later and Jonathan came last, wheezing and gasping. Flavia kicked the wedge out of the way, slammed the door and pressed her back against it.

  ‘Are we all safe?’ cried Flavia, breathing hard.

  They looked at one another and nodded. The dogs crowded around the gasping friends, snorting and wagging their tails.

  ‘Flavia! What on earth is this commotion!’ Her father stepped out of the triclinium and into the garden. The rain had stopped and it was brighter now, although the leaves were still wet and dripping.

  ‘You come in covered in mud, yelling like a fishwife—’

  ‘Pater!’ cried Flavia. ‘Oh pater! A giant bird . . . a Stymphalian bird! It was the most terrifying thing . . .’ Her voice trailed off as she saw a figure emerge from the study behind him. It was a woman Flavia had never seen before.

  Her father turned to the woman.

  ‘Flavia,’ he said somewhat stiffly. ‘This is Cartilia Poplicola. Cartilia is a friend of my patron Cordius, and she’s recently moved back to Ostia from Rome.’

  The woman was slender and not very tall, only about Jonathan’s height. She had brown eyes and dark hair, pinned up in a simple knot at the back. She wore a cream-coloured stola and had wrapped a brown palla round her shoulders. The smile on her face seemed stiff and unnatural.

  Flavia disliked her at once.

  Her father turned to Cartilia: ‘That’s my daughter Flavia,’ he sighed. ‘The one covered in mud.’

  Flavia looked back at her father. ‘I can’t help it, pater. I slipped when I was running away from the Stymphalian bird!’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Flavia. You know there’s no such thing as a Stymphalian bird. If you’re trying to embarrass me—’

  ‘No, pater. It’s true. I’m not lying! Am I, Nubia?’

  ‘Nubia’s just a slave, Flavia,’ said her father quietly, with a rapid glance at the woman. ‘I’m sure she’d say whatever you told her to say.’

  ‘Pater!’ cried Flavia, ‘I did see a Stymphalian bird! And Nubia’s not my slave any more. I told you I set her free three months ago when—’