‘It was you who sent those mushrooms, wasn’t it? You stuffed them with your disgusting potion. Did you really think that would work?’
‘No, Aristo . . . it wasn’t me. Don’t look at me like that!’
‘Then take that ridiculous wig off.’
‘But you don’t like my short hair.’
‘I don’t like that wig either. And don’t try to change the subject. You sent those mushrooms. You pretended they were from your sister. Admit it!’
‘All right. But I’m only telling you because I love you, Aristo, I don’t want anything to come between us.’
‘Us? There is no “us” . . . I don’t love you. Dear gods, I don’t even like you.’
‘But last week. In the woods. Didn’t that mean anything to you? The way you held me, kissed me . . . You told me you loved me then . . .’
Lupus heard Aristo groan. ‘Did I say I loved you? I was beside myself. Some god must have possessed me.’
‘It wasn’t a god. It was her, wasn’t it? You were thinking of her.’ Her voice was quiet, almost calm. ‘You called me something. What was it? Melania? Is that her name?’
‘Diana, please. I’m sorry, but I don’t love you.’
‘No. You love her. Is that it, Aristo? You love Melania and she won’t have you? I’m right, aren’t I?’ There was a note of wonder in her voice. ‘So you closed your eyes and imagined I was her?’
There was a pause.
‘Something like that.’
‘You vile crawling thing.’ Diana’s voice was quiet. ‘If she causes you half as much pain as you’ve caused me then I’ll be glad.’
‘Be glad,’ Aristo said miserably.
Flavia’s eyes grew wider and wider as Lupus wrote out the conversation he had just overheard. The four friends sat on the central dining couch near a brazier full of glowing coals. Outside in the garden, night had fallen.
‘Diana!’ breathed Flavia, as she watched Lupus write. ‘Diana was the one Aristo was kissing!’
Lupus nodded.
‘So she borrowed her mother’s cloak? The one with the hood?’
Lupus nodded again and added three words to his tablet.
AND HER WIG
‘I’m an idiot!’ said Flavia pulling a blanket tighter round her shoulders. ‘I should have realised it was Diana. Look at this label, the one that came with the mushrooms. The handwriting is the same as the note Diana gave to Aristo. I don’t know why I ever thought it was Cartilia.’
‘You haven’t been thinking very clearly,’ said Jonathan.
‘I know,’ sighed Flavia. ‘And I’m still confused.’
‘Me, too,’ said Jonathan, handing back the papyrus. ‘I understand the bit about Diana loving Aristo. But why did Diana sign the label Paula?’
‘Maybe because Aristo wouldn’t have touched the mushrooms if he knew they were from Diana,’ said Flavia.
‘Ugh!’ Jonathan shuddered. ‘I can’t believe I ate three of those things. I hope I don’t fall in love with Diana!’
SHE’S NOT THAT BAD wrote Lupus.
‘Oooh!’ said Jonathan. ‘Lupus loves Diana! Did you eat some tasty love mushrooms, Lupus? Ha!’Jonathan laughed as Lupus wrestled him to the couch. Nipur and Tigris barked with excitement.
‘Be careful, you two!’ cried Flavia. ‘You’ll knock over the brazier and set the whole house on fire!’
When the boys had calmed down Nubia said: ‘I think Diana is being jealous of Cartilia. In my clan I was having a friend who always strives with her sister.’
‘Nubia, you may be right,’ said Flavia. ‘Diana hasn’t even been married once and her sister is about to marry for a second time. That’s probably why she said Cartilia was a greedy old witch. She meant greedy for husbands, not money.’ Suddenly she gasped. ‘Oh no!’
‘What?’ said Jonathan.
I’ve just had a terrible thought. What if Diana didn’t just sign Cartilia’s name on notes. What if she actually pretended to be Cartilia?’
‘But Diana has short hair.’
‘Yes,’ said Flavia. ‘And her mother has a wig! I’ll bet Diana’s been telling everyone she’s Paula: Fimus at the stables, Oleosus at the baths . . .’
Flavia looked at her friends. ‘We haven’t got much time to find the truth. Tomorrow is the last day of the Saturnalia. We have two labours left: the Golden Apples and Cerberus the Hound of Hades. Jonathan. You and Lupus check out the Atlas Tavern, the one you were telling me about. Find out whether Diana could have been impersonating her sister. And find out anything you can about Cartilia’s dead husband. That’s the one thing I still don’t understand. Why she acts so strange whenever I mention him.’
‘All right,’ said Jonathan. ‘How about you and Nubia? Are you going to pay a visit to the underworld?’
Nubia made the sign against evil but Flavia nodded slowly.
‘In a way,’ she said. ‘Yes, in a way we are.’
Flavia took Nubia’s hand as they gazed down at the tomb of Avita Procula. In the grey light of an overcast morning the fresco of the little girl and her dog looked flat and dull.
Although she had never met the girl whose ashes lay there, Flavia felt she was looking at a friend’s grave.
‘Coming here makes me think of the first mystery we solved together. Do you remember, Nubia?’
Nubia nodded, not taking her eyes from the fresco of the little girl lying on her death couch. Scuto and Nipur had watered their favourite trees and came up to sniff the tomb.
‘Can you believe it was only six months ago?’ said Flavia. ‘It seems like so much longer.’
‘Her tomb is making me think of wild dogs,’ said Nubia.
‘And of the three-headed thing . . .’ Flavia shivered. ‘That’s why we’re here. The final task of Hercules was to bring Cerberus back from the land of the dead. This is the only place I could think of which is a bit like the underworld.’
‘I hope we do not meet any wild dogs,’ said Nubia.
‘Me too.’ Flavia ruffled Scuto’s head and looked around. ‘We’ve been here nearly half an hour. There’s nobody here. I don’t understand. The clues of Hercules haven’t failed us yet.’
Nubia touched her arm. ‘Listen. Do you hear that noise?’
Flavia listened, then nodded.
‘Over there,’ said Nubia suddenly, pointing towards some umbrella pines. ‘There is someone sitting at bottom of tree.’
‘You’re right. It’s a young hunter . . . no! It’s Diana, and . . . and she’s crying!’
‘I guess this is the one,’ said Jonathan, stopping in front of the tavern and peering up at the crude fresco over the wide doorway. ‘Does that look like Atlas holding up the sky?’
I COULD PAINT A BETTER ATLAS wrote Lupus.
‘You already did. At Flavia’s.’ Jonathan grinned and then shook his head. ‘If father knew I was going into a tavern . . .’ He went up the three steps, then moved to the bar and rested his forearms on the marble counter. Its smooth, cream-coloured surface was inlaid with a pattern of green and pink squares. Lupus leaned on the counter beside him.
‘Good morning, boys!’ said the innkeeper. ‘What can I get you?’
‘Two cups of hot spiced wine,’ said Jonathan, with as much confidence as he could muster. ‘Well-watered please.’
‘Certainly. Would you like extra pepper?’
Jonathan nodded.
The innkeeper dipped his ladle into a hole in the bar. Jonathan leaned over and looked in. The wine jar was actually sunk into the bar. Clever. The man filled two ceramic beakers half full of a wine so dark it was almost black, then topped up the mixture with hot water from a silver urn. Finally he sprinkled some pepper on top.
‘There you are.’
‘How much?’
‘Three sestercii.’
Jonathan fished in his coin pouch for a denarius. He put the silver coin on the counter and sipped the wine.
The innkeeper took the denarius and slid a copper sestercius back across the marble
surface. ‘Tasty?’
‘Very.’ Jonathan took a breath and before the innkeeper could turn away he said, ‘My friend Cartilia Poplicola hasn’t been in today, has she?’ It was a feeble question but Flavia had told them to try anything.
‘No,’ said the innkeeper, and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘But her husband’s here.’
‘Wh-ghak!’ Jonathan nearly choked on his wine and Lupus coughed so hard he had to be patted on the back.
‘Sorry,’ said the innkeeper. ‘Too much pepper?’
‘Cartilia’s husband? Her dead husband?’
The innkeeper chuckled. ‘Caldus is a bit hung-over but I wouldn’t call him dead. That’s him right over there in the courtyard. Talking to his friends. He arrived from Rome last night. He’s the big fellow in the brown cloak.’
‘Hello, Diana.’ Flavia sat cross-legged on the damp pine needles in front of the weeping girl. Nubia sat gracefully beside her. Scuto and Nipur greeted the huntress with cold noses and wagging tails.
Diana looked up at them with swollen eyes, then dropped her head. ‘Go away.’
Flavia and Nubia exchanged glances.
Presently Diana lifted her head again. ‘Why aren’t you going away?’
‘We want to comfort you,’ lied Flavia.
‘So he’s told you? He’s told you all about poor lovesick Diana?’
‘No,’ said Flavia. ‘Aristo hasn’t said anything. We guessed.’
‘Oh.’ Diana hugged her legs and pressed her forehead on her knees for a moment. She was wearing Vibia’s grey, hooded cape over her short red tunic.
‘You’re so lucky,’ Diana whispered at last. ‘You can be with him every day.’
Flavia opened her mouth to say something, then remembered what Nubia had taught her and closed it again.
‘I remember the first time I saw him,’ whispered Diana. ‘Two years ago. I thought he was a god come down from Olympus. He was walking out of the woods with Lysander. He’d caught a deer. A beautiful dead doe. I longed to be that creature, draped over his shoulders.’
Diana’s head was still down and her voice was muffled. ‘That was when I decided to become a hunter. And about a year ago I finally met him. Sometimes we went hunting together, with Lysander. Then Aristo went away for the summer and when he came back he seemed distant. He barely looked at me.’
Diana shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around her.
‘Last month I found him hunting in the woods alone. I went up to him and told him how I felt. It was the bravest thing I’ve ever done. And he . . . he looked at me as if I was demented. He told me he could never love me.’
In the tree above them, a bird trilled its sweet song.
‘That was when I cut off my hair and dedicated it to Diana. I vowed I would never marry, that I’d be a virgin forever. Aristo didn’t like my short hair. And he didn’t like me calling myself Diana. But I didn’t care. I felt new and strong. At first. Then, when the gladiator arrived and they said he was selling love potion, I couldn’t resist. I bought a jar and put it in the quail pie.’
‘Can I just ask . . .’ said Flavia. ‘You know you’re supposed to put some of your bodily fluids in it . . .’
Diana looked up at them with liquid eyes. Tears,’ she whispered. ‘I added my tears.’
Flavia breathed a sigh of relief and waited.
‘Last week I was hunting in the grove. It was afternoon. The first day of the Saturnalia. I heard a noise. It was him. Weeping. I thought that perhaps the potion had worked . . . So I went to him, took his face in my hands. He let me kiss away his tears and then he was kissing me back. And then . . . and then.’ She hugged her knees tightly.
‘But later he grew distant again. So I bought more potion. But yesterday he told me he didn’t love me and I realised it had never been the potion. I was a fool. And now my sister is going to be married for the second time. It’s not fair. I hate her! And I hate Melania, whoever she is. But most of all I hate Aristo!’
Scuto sensed Diana’s distress and put a comforting paw on her arm. At this, she burst into tears.
‘And I wish . . .’ sobbed Diana. ‘I wish I were dead!’
The courtyard of the Atlas Tavern was filled with the pearly light of a cloudy day and the smell of sizzling sausage. There was an ivy-covered trellis against one wall, a small bubbling fountain and a single wooden table with long benches on either side. Four men sat at this table, and although they were not wearing togas, Lupus could see immediately that they were highborn. ‘How are we going to approach him?’ whispered Jonathan. ‘We can’t just march up to him and say: “Hello, why aren’t you dead?”’
Lupus shrugged.
Then he grinned as he heard a sound he recognised. The rattle of dice in a wooden box.
He knew exactly how to break the ice.
Flavia ran to her front door, slid back the bolt and threw it open.
She and Jonathan stood face to face.
‘You’ll never believe what we found out!’ they both cried at the same time. And laughed.
‘You first,’ said Jonathan. He and Lupus followed Flavia through the atrium into the study. Nubia was already there, warming her hands over the coal-filled brazier. It was still early in the afternoon but the red sun had already slipped behind the city wall and the inner garden was in cold shadow.
‘We discovered,’ said Flavia, ‘that Diana has been in love with Aristo for nearly two years. She’s angry at him because he got her hopes up last week only to dash them again. Also, she’s furious that her sister is engaged for the second time.’
POOR DIANA wrote Lupus.
‘I’d feel sorry for her, too, if she hadn’t gone around town pretending to be Cartilia.’
‘She admitted it?’ said Jonathan.
Flavia nodded. ‘She said she’d put on her mother’s wig and cloak and kept her head down. She told Oleosus the bath-slave that her name was Paula. And she’s the one who asked Fimus where Taurus the gladiator bathed.’
Jonathan nodded. ‘Because she didn’t want anyone to know Diana the virgin huntress was out buying love potion!’
Flavia stared at the glowing embers and nodded. ‘I hate to admit it, but it looks as if I was wrong about Cartilia. She’s innocent. Her husband must have died of natural causes.’
‘No,’ said Jonathan, folding his arms. ‘He didn’t. That’s our news.’
Flavia looked at him, wide-eyed. ‘He was murdered? You have proof?’
‘He wasn’t murdered and he didn’t die of natural causes,’ said Jonathan. ‘In fact he’s not dead at all. He’s alive and well and staying at the Atlas Tavern.’
Flavia opened her mouth but no sound came out. Finally she managed a squeaky, ‘What?’
‘He’s down from Rome. Staying at the Atlas Tavern. We gamed with him. We won two dozen walnuts and we learned that he divorced Cartilia.’
Flavia gasped. ‘He divorced her?’
Jonathan nodded.
‘But that’s wonderful!’
‘I know,’ said Jonathan. ‘Now your father can marry her and he’ll be happy and you’ll have a mother again.’
‘Cartilia will never be my mother,’ said Flavia fiercely. ‘She’s the one trying to marry me off and keep me indoors. It’s wonderful because it means she lied to pater. Now I’ll be able to get rid of her and keep things just the way they are!’
Flavia had no time to waste. She put her plan into action immediately. Lupus delivered her carefully-worded message and returned before anybody missed him, just as they were all gathering for the last dinner of the Saturnalia.
Flavia was so nervous she could hardly eat her ostrich stew. When the knock came at the front door her heart started pounding, and her hands were shaking, so she put her spoon down.
‘Man here to see you, master.’
‘Caudex!’ cried Captain Geminus, climbing off the couch. ‘What are you doing here? It’s the last day of the holiday! You should be down at the tavern enjoying yourself.’
&nb
sp; ‘Feeling a little tired, master. Thought I’d come home, have a rest.’
‘Well, show this fellow in and then go and have your rest . . . Who did you say he was?’
‘Name’s Caldus. He says he got your message.’
Flavia glanced up at Cartilia. And almost burst out laughing at the look of surprise on the woman’s face. Flavia kept her head down and bit her lip.
‘Caldus?’ said Flavia’s father. ‘I don’t know anyone named Caldus.’
‘Says he got a message from you.’
‘Well, I suppose you’d better show him in.’
‘Marcus, no. Send him away.’ Cartilia was trying to get off the couch but a table blocked her descent.
‘Sweetheart! What’s the matter?’ Flavia’s father pushed the table aside and lifted her down.
‘I have to go! I can’t stay here!’ Cartilia turned and started for the doorway, then stopped as a figure in a brown cloak blocked her way. He was a red-faced man, as tall as Flavia’s father but broader.
‘Cartilia!’ His eyes widened as he looked down at her. ‘Cartilia, is this some kind of joke?’
‘Postumus,’ she stammered. ‘Postumus, what are you doing here?’
‘I got a message.’ He frowned around at them all. ‘Who are these people?’
‘I’m Marcus Flavius Geminus, sea captain. This is my home. May I ask the nature of your business with Cartilia?’ Flavia’s father stood behind Cartilia with his hands protectively on her shoulders.
‘Oh, so that’s it!’ Caldus snorted. ‘Trying to make me jealous, Cartilia? Or do you just want to rub my nose in it?’
‘Cartilia, who is this man?’
Flavia felt almost sorry for Cartilia as she said, ‘Marcus, it’s my husband. I’m sorry. I was going to tell you . . .’
‘Your husband? But you said he was dead!’
Caldus gave a bark of laughter. ‘What? Tried to kill me off, did you? Not a bad idea. Far better to be a grieving widow than a divorced woman.’
‘You’re divorced?’ Marcus looked down at Cartilia. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Cartilia was silent, so Caldus answered.
‘Because if she told you she was divorced she’d have to tell you the reason why! Looks like the joke’s on you, Cartilia. Why don’t you tell Captain Square-jaw here why I divorced you? Go on!’
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 78