Lupus wrote something on his wax tablet.
BUT YOUR FATHER ISN’T RICH
‘I know,’ said Flavia. ‘But just between us, he’s trying to give the impression we are. Maybe Cartilia thinks he’s rich and wants to marry him for his money and then kill him off.’
‘Whoa!’ said Jonathan. ‘You think Cartilia’s only after your father’s money? And that she’s going to murder him for his inheritance?’
Flavia nodded. ‘But I admit we need more proof. We’ve got to continue our investigations. We’ve completed the first four tasks: the lion, the hydra, the deer, and the boar. Hercules’ fifth labour was to clean the stables.’
‘Stables?’ said Nubia, her eyes lighting up.
‘Yes,’ said Flavia, ‘King Augeus had some stables. The fifth task of Hercules was to clean them out, because nobody had bothered for ten years.’
Lupus grimaced and held his nose.
Flavia giggled. ‘Exactly. The poor horses were up to their noses in it.’
Jonathan grinned. ‘Can I tell Nubia how he completed the task?’
‘Of course.’
‘Hercules wasn’t just strong,’ said Jonathan, turning to Nubia. ‘He was clever, too. In the hills above the stables was a stream. Hercules put a huge boulder in the stream and diverted the water down the hillside. Then he opened the front doors and the back doors of the stables. The water swept through and washed all the dung away!’
‘Clever,’ said Nubia.
‘Shouldn’t we investigate Taurus the Cretan Bull before we go round the stables?’ asked Jonathan.
‘No,’ said Flavia. ‘I think we should complete the tasks in order. Capturing the Cretan bull was Hercules’ seventh task. We still haven’t completed five and six.’
‘So we have to go and clean some stables this afternoon?’ Jonathan raised an eyebrow.
‘Hopefully we won’t have to clean them, just visit them,’ said Flavia. She sucked a strand of her light brown hair thoughtfully. ‘There are two stables in Ostia. Any idea which one has the most dung?’
They all looked at Lupus.
He gave them his bug-eyed ‘What?’ expression, then snapped his fingers and nodded.
‘I knew Lupus would have the answer,’ laughed Flavia. They leaned in to watch him write:
HEAD SLAVE AT
LAURENTUM GATE STABLES
IS CALLED FIMUS
Flavia laughed again. ‘That’s it then. Shall we go?’
‘Wait,’ said Jonathan. ‘The sixth task of Hercules was to kill the Stymphalian birds, wasn’t it?’
‘Correct,’ said Flavia.
‘Well,’ said Jonathan, nudging Lupus, ‘Apparently the ostrich was spotted in the woods this morning. Aristo invited Lupus and me to go hunting with him this afternoon. The magistrate declared all the escaped animals fair game, so Aristo and some friends are going to try to catch it.’
‘Perfect! That’s my Stymphalian bird! You two don’t mind going, do you?’
‘Do we mind hunting instead of trailing around the stables after you?’
Jonathan and Lupus glanced at each other.
‘Not at all,’ said Jonathan with a grin.
‘There’s definitely something strange about those Poplicola girls,’ said Fimus the stable-slave. He was a pot-bellied man with a blotched face and infected eyes.
Nubia averted her eyes from his unpleasant face and inhaled. The Laurentum Gate stables smelled nice – a mixture of hay and horses and dung. It was warm, here, too. Nubia knew that whenever Flavia’s father or uncle needed to hire a horse, this was where they came.
‘What’s strange about the Poplicola girls?’ asked Flavia.
A chestnut-coloured mare put her head over one of the stall doors and nickered softly. Nubia moved over to the stall and let the mare sniff her hand.
‘The Poplicola women all ride,’ Fimus said. ‘It’s not often you see a woman on horseback. Barbaric, if you ask me.’
Nubia stroked the mare’s nose. She didn’t think there was anything strange about a woman riding a horse. All the women in her clan could ride a horse as well as a camel.
‘Also,’ said Fimus, ‘one of them’s just gone and cut off all her hair.’
‘Diana,’ said Flavia.
‘Is that her name?’ Fimus frowned. ‘I thought it was something else.’
‘Diana’s just her nickname,’ said Flavia. ‘She and her sisters are all called Cartilia.’
‘Oh,’ said the slave. ‘Well, anyway, the women in that family aren’t quite right, if you ask me. Their mother rides too.’
‘Vibia?’ said Flavia.
‘That’s her.’
‘Can you tell us anything else about that family?’
‘Paula! That’s her name. She’s the strange one. She came in here last week, asking about that gladiator.’
‘Who? Taurus the Cretan Bull?’
‘That’s him. He’s spending the holidays here in Ostia.’
‘I know. And Paula asked where he lived?’
‘No,’ said Fimus, scratching his belly. ‘That’s the strange thing. She asked which baths he usually went to.’
Aristo’s friend Lysander was a short dark Greek employed by the corporation of grain measurers as a scribe and accountant. But today he had put aside his abacus and wax tablets to enjoy a day of hunting.
‘Can you boys make a lot of noise?’ he asked Jonathan and Lupus. ‘All the slaves are on holiday and we need some beaters.’
‘Of course,’ said Jonathan. Lupus nodded vigorously and started howling.
‘Not yet!’ Lysander rolled his eyes. ‘We have to set up the net first.’
They were standing near the tomb of Avita Procula near the Grove of Diana. The afternoon was cold but the wind had died and a high cloud cover gave the world an unreal, pearly glow.
‘Let’s go then,’ said Aristo.
‘We’re just waiting for one more person,’ said Lysander, flushing.
Aristo gave Lysander a sharp look. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve invited her!’
‘I’m sorry, Aristo. But she asked to come. And you know how I feel about her . . .’
‘By the gods, Lysander! Now she’s going to think I—’
‘Shhh!’ Lysander hissed. ‘Here she comes.’
Lupus heard Aristo curse under his breath and he saw Jonathan’s eyes open wide. He turned to see a boy striding confidently towards them from the direction of the Laurentum Gate. He wore a red tunic and red leather boots. A short cloak of moss-green wool was slung over his shoulders and in his right hand he carried a hunting javelin.
Lupus frowned and as the boy drew nearer he saw it was not a boy at all, but a girl with unnaturally short hair.
Jonathan bent his head and whispered in Lupus’s ear, ‘Diana.’
Lupus nodded. And stared. Jonathan had called her pretty. Nobody had said she was beautiful.
‘I’m afraid I can’t let you girls in,’ said Oleosus, the door-slave at the Forum Baths. ‘Men only today . . .’ He was a loose-limbed youth with floppy black hair and heavy-lidded brown eyes.
‘But we just saw two women come in,’ protested Flavia. ‘One of them was wearing a pink mantle and the other was holding a waxed parasol.’
‘Oh, them.’ Oleosus gave them a lazy smile. ‘The senator’s daughters. They’ve just come to watch Taurus training. And for some of his scrapings.’
‘For some what?’
‘Some of his scrapings. After he’s worked up a sweat, his slave scrapes him down. Then he puts the . . . er . . . mixture in cheap little bottles and sells it to the ladies. They pay a gold coin per bottle.’
‘What?’ Flavia’s jaw dropped. ‘Why?’
He winked. ‘They say if you mix a little in someone’s food—’
‘In their food?’
He nodded. ‘Mix a little in someone’s food and he’ll become very passionate and desire you.’
‘A love potion!’ Flavia breathed.
She and Nubia glanced at eac
h other.
‘Does it work?’ Flavia asked him.
Oleosus shrugged. ‘It works for Taurus. They say he just bought his mother a nice little farm with the money he’s made from his scrapings.’
‘And respectable women buy the scrapings?’
‘All sorts of women buy it.’
‘I don’t suppose you remember any of their names?’ Flavia toyed with the pouch tied to her belt, so that the coins clinked softly. ‘A woman named Cartilia Poplicola, for example?’
He frowned.
‘A little taller than me?’ prompted Flavia. ‘About twenty-five? Pretty in a cold sort of way? Calls herself Paula?’
His face relaxed into a smile. ‘Oh, Paula!’ he said. ‘She came round as soon as he arrived in town. Bought a jar last week and another one yesterday!’
As they set up the net, Lupus couldn’t stop looking at Diana.
He noticed that Lysander was watching her, too, and saw a wounded look in his eyes. Glancing back at Diana, Lupus saw the reason. She had bent down to whisper something in Aristo’s ear. Her fingers, resting lightly on the back of his neck, toyed with his curls in a gesture of startling intimacy.
Aristo, intent on anchoring the net to the ground, did not even raise his eyes to look at her. Lupus saw his jaw clench and suddenly he realised what was happening.
Lysander loved Diana, but she loved Aristo. And it was obvious that Aristo despised her. Lupus snorted as he tied one of the red feathers to the edge of the net: Cupid the love god was such a mischief-maker.
‘So, Diana,’ said Jonathan, ‘you’re Paula’s sister.’
‘What?’ Diana scowled at him, then stood up.
‘Cartilia Paula is your sister,’ repeated Jonathan.
Diana nodded curtly and moved forward to inspect one of the fastenings on the net.
‘Is she nice?’
Diana pouted. ‘No. She’s a greedy old witch.’
‘Oh. Sorry to upset you.’
‘Don’t mention her and I won’t be upset.’
‘Right then.’ Jonathan whistled a little tune, then gave Lupus a significant look.
When the net was securely fixed between some trees, and its edge marked with red feathers, the five of them moved quietly back through the grove, scanning the soft ground for any sign of their prey.
Lupus pretended to look for ostrich tracks, too, but he was really watching Diana out of the corner of his eye. His alertness paid off. When they were almost out of the grove, Lysander knelt to examine something near a tiny stream.
‘Here,’ said Lysander, pointing at the mud. ‘That’s the footprint of an ostrich.’
As they all gathered round to look, Lupus saw Diana slip something into Aristo’s belt. A piece of papyrus.
‘It’s fresh!’ said Jonathan.
As they all peered down at it, Lupus saw Aristo’s hand close over the note.
‘This must be where the creature comes to drink,’ said Lysander, standing up again and looking round. ‘I think the bird was here this morning and he may well return tomorrow.’ He glanced up at the sky. ‘It’s getting late. I suggest we make an early start tomorrow – maybe bring some dogs. We’ll start over there at the edge of the grove and beat towards the net. Agreed?’
The others nodded.
‘Can you boys bring something noisy? Castanets, rattles, tambourines? There are only a few of us so we’ll have to make a lot of noise.’
As they walked back towards the town walls, Lupus saw Aristo unfold the scrap of papyrus that Diana had slipped him. Aristo scanned the note, then crushed it into a ball and let it drop to the muddy ground.
‘So we’ll meet tomorrow just past dawn?’ said Diana a few minutes later. They stood at the fork in the road. Diana was looking at Aristo but it was Lysander who replied.
‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘At the tomb of Avita Procula. Same place we met today.’ Lysander nodded towards the Laurentum Gate, ‘Are you going home now, Diana? Shall I walk with you?’
‘No,’ said Diana over her shoulder. ‘I’m going to make an offering to the goddess and ask her to give me success in the hunt.’
I think I know what you’re hunting, thought Lupus.
And later, back in his room, when he smoothed out her papyrus note, he saw that his suspicion had been correct.
‘Scrapings,’ said Flavia to Jonathan. The door-slave at the Forum Baths told us that if you mix some of a gladiator’s sweaty scrapings in someone’s food then that person will fall in love with you.’
‘Ewww,’ said Jonathan and then frowned. ‘But how can you be sure the person falls in love with you? I mean, wouldn’t he fall in love with the gladiator? Or the first person he sees? Because that never works. At least not in the plays . . .’
‘No,’ said Flavia. ‘Before you put it in their food you say a kind of prayer over the mixture. To Venus. And then – here’s the really disgusting bit – you spit in it. Or put some of your other bodily fluids in.’
‘And again I say: ewww.’ Jonathan shuddered. He was at Flavia’s house, leaning against the warm kitchen wall and watching the girls prepare dinner. Nubia was stirring a pot of stew and Flavia was cutting up some firm white mushrooms. When she reached for another handful Jonathan grabbed some slices from the chopping board. They were delicious.
‘Apparently,’ said Flavia, ‘when the person eats the food with the potion in it, they have a gladiator’s passion for whoever spat in the potion. And that’s why Cartilia wanted the gladiator’s scrapings. She has obviously bewitched pater! I told Nubia the first day I saw her. I said: “I’ll bet she’s bewitched pater.” Didn’t I, Nubia?’
‘Yes,’ said Nubia and continued to stir the stew.
Jonathan popped a slice of mushroom in his mouth. ‘And the slave at the baths said she bought some of Taurus’s scrapings?’
Flavia nodded. ‘Twice. About a week ago and yesterday.’
She slapped Jonathan’s hand as it crept forward to take another mushroom.
‘So you think she’s already put some of this disgusting love potion in your father’s food?’ he asked.
‘Yes. They saw each other a few days ago at Cordius’s house. I think she must have done it then. Maybe mixed it in his spiced wine or something. Remember I told you he seemed different? That morning we ran away from the ostrich?’
‘Yes,’ said Jonathan.
Flavia pushed the mushroom slices to one side of the chopping board and removed some leeks from the bowl of salted water.
‘Speaking of ostriches,’ she said, as she began to slice the leeks, ‘how did you get on today? Any luck?’
‘No,’ said Jonathan. ‘The ostrich wasn’t in the woods. But we saw a fresh footprint and we’ve set a trap for it. A big net with red feathers at the edges. Lysander says the animals avoid the feathers and run straight into the centre of the net. Tomorrow we’ll beat the woods and drive the ostrich into it. If he’s there, that is.’
‘I meant did you get any more information about Cartilia?’
‘Actually we did. Cartilia’s sister was helping us set up the net.’
Flavia stopped slicing. ‘Diana was hunting with you?’
Jonathan nodded. ‘And she called Cartilia a greedy old witch.’
‘I knew it!’ said Flavia, putting down her knife. ‘What else did she say?’
‘Nothing. She went all pouty when I mentioned Cartilia.’
‘Do you think you can milk her for more information?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Jonathan. ‘She doesn’t like talking about her sister.’ Seeing the expression on Flavia’s face, he added: ‘Lupus and I are going hunting with them tomorrow at dawn. We’ll try to get more information then.’
‘Good!’ Flavia resumed her chopping. ‘Where did you say Lupus was?’
‘Running an errand for father. He volunteered to go into town and deliver some ointment to one of father’s patients. He shouldn’t be long.’
Lupus hid behind a column and waited until the group o
f drunken revellers had passed by on their way home from the tavern. Then he looked at the scrap of papyrus again. He was glad he had learned how to read. Only a few months ago the black marks would have meant nothing to him. Now they made his heart pound with excitement.
MEET ME BEHIND THE SHRINE OF THE CROSSROADS AT DUSK. WE MUST TALK. FROM CARTILIA.
Lupus could barely see the letters in the fading light. Soon it would be dark. He had delivered the doctor’s medicine and now he was waiting to see whether Aristo would meet Diana at the shrine.
Ostia’s main street was almost deserted now. Only one or two drunken slaves wandered about, trying to remember where they lived. Lupus pressed his back to the column as a pair of vigiles strolled past. Both held torches. One had a large water skin slung over his back, the other carried a thick hemp mat rolled up on his shoulders. Lupus knew their job was to patrol the town to prevent crime and especially fire, a particular danger during the winter when braziers, oil-lamps and torches burned in every home.
The men passed by without seeing him and Lupus felt a slow smile spread across his face. He had missed the excitement of the hunt. Of becoming invisible. Of watching people who thought they were alone.
After the vigiles turned the corner, Lupus ran silently along the murky colonnade until he reached the end. Then, like a shadow, he quickly descended the three steps and slipped through the forum. Crouching low, he moved towards the shrine of the crossroads, glad of his silent new boots.
The thickening purple gloom of dusk blanketed the town now. He could see a single yellow lamp flickering somewhere inside the shrine and the black silhouettes of two cypress trees rising up behind it. Somewhere a blackbird uttered its warning cry in the cold air. He could smell the winter smell of wood smoke.
As he started to make his way to the back of the marble shrine, he tripped on something and fell onto the damp ground.
He could barely make out the dark form lying beside the shrine.
Tentatively, Lupus reached out and touched it.
It was the body of a man.
His heart pounding, Lupus recoiled from the body. It was still warm.
The body groaned.
He was still alive!
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 74