‘No!’ Cartilia covered her face with her hands.
Caldus folded his muscular arms and looked down at her, then up at Flavia’s father. ‘I divorced her,’ he said, ‘because she was incapable of giving me children. And because she was too damned independent!’
Flavia lay awake for a long time, going over the events of the evening.
After Caldus had left, her father and Cartilia had gone into the study.
In the dining room, while eating their dessert, they heard Flavia’s father say ‘How can I marry you now? You’ve broken our trust!’
A short time later the front door had closed and her father had gone heavily upstairs to his room.
The marriage was off. Cartilia was out of their lives. Flavia’s plan had worked perfectly. She had won, but for some reason the victory seemed flat.
She rolled over on her side and gazed at her Felix doll, its face barely visible in the dim light of a night-lamp.
‘I did the right thing, didn’t I?’ she asked him.
The doll did not reply.
‘It was my task,’ she whispered. ‘Pater wants descendants and Cartilia wouldn’t have been able to give him children. That must be why the gods wanted me to get rid of her.’
The Felix doll gazed back at her impassively.
‘She lied to him! She broke his trust!’
In the flickering light the doll’s tiny black eyes were steady.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ said Flavia. ‘I know I did the right thing. Now things will be back to normal. Just the way they were.’
The next morning, it did seem as if things were back to normal. The Saturnalia was over. Alma made breakfast and Caudex unwrapped the ivy from the columns. Captain Geminus quietly made his offering at the lararium and went out early.
They resumed their lessons and after the boys went home Flavia and Nubia took the dogs for a walk among the tombs.
It was noon, and the sun was shining bravely.
As they approached a clearing, the dogs froze and Scuto growled.
‘Behold!’ breathed Nubia. ‘The camelopard.’
‘Great Neptune’s beard,’ gasped Flavia.
The camelopard stood in the pale sunshine. It had a body like a horse and a head like a camel, and its neck was immensely long. It was browsing among the branches of an acacia tree.
‘Shhh, Scuto! Quiet!’ commanded Flavia. ‘Oh, Nubia, he’s beautiful. Look at the pattern on his skin, and his long eyelashes. And his tongue is blue!’
They watched the camelopard until it moved slowly off into the woods.
The dogs looked up at the girls and Scuto gave a whining gulp.
‘Good boy, Scuto!’ said Flavia. ‘You didn’t chase it away.’ She turned to Nubia. ‘One of us should go and tell Mnason. Shall I?’
‘I will seek him,’ said Nubia. ‘Then I can greet Monobaz. I will run now swifter than the wind, before some hunters kill the giraffe.’
‘What did you call it?’
‘Giraffe. That is what we are calling him in my country.’
‘I’ll take the dogs back home then,’ said Flavia and laughed as Nubia sprinted for the Fountain Gate.
Flavia followed the dogs slowly back. The day was almost warm. Birds were singing. The sky was blue. She wouldn’t have to battle with a stepmother and there would be no more talk of marrying. Not yet.
And maybe one day – when she was sixteen and miraculously beautiful – Felix would carry her over the threshold in his arms. She didn’t know how it might happen, but at least it was a possibility again.
Flavia felt a huge surge of euphoria as she pushed open the back door. Life was wonderful. It held the intoxicating promise of anything and everything.
Scuto and Nipur went straight to the kitchen and their water bowls. Flavia followed and hung their leads on the peg as they lapped thirstily.
‘Pater?’ she called happily. ‘We saw the camelopard! Pater? Alma?’
Flavia bounced into the study, then stopped short. ‘Pater, what’s wrong?’
Her father was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands.
Flavia felt a cold sinking sensation, right down to her toes. ‘Pater,’ she said in a horrified whisper. ‘Are you crying?’
He lifted his head and looked at her. His eyes were red and his cheeks wet.
‘Oh, pater! Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.’ Flavia ran to him and threw her arms round his neck.
‘No!’ He pushed her away. ‘I just want to be alone. Please.’
‘Shall I make you some mint tea? Would that cheer you up?’
‘I don’t want to see you right now, Flavia. Please go away.’
‘What?’
‘You sent that message, didn’t you?’ he said, then shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter. Just go away.’
‘But pater . . .’ Her throat hurt and tears pricked her own eyes.
‘GO AWAY!’
He rested his head on his arms and his shoulders shook.
Flavia looked down at him for a moment. Then she turned and ran out of the room.
‘Oh, hello Flavia,’ said Jonathan, standing in the open doorway. ‘You just missed him.’
Tigris greeted Flavia with a wag of his tail and began sniffing her feet with great interest.
‘What?’ said Flavia, blinking back tears.
‘You just missed him.’
‘Who?’
‘Felix. He left a few minutes ago.’
‘What?’ gasped Flavia. ‘My Felix?’
Jonathan nodded. ‘He stopped by to pick up some more elixir.’
‘Some more what?’
‘Elixir. For his wife.’
Flavia stared at Jonathan. Nipur had moved on from sniffing her feet to sniffing the gutter.
‘You remember his wife Polla wasn’t well?’
‘What do you mean, “Polla wasn’t well”? She was barking mad.’
‘Father says she was just depressed. He sent her some tonic last September and apparently it had an amazing effect. Felix was travelling back from Rome to Surrentum today, so he stopped by to pick up some more and discuss the dose with father.’
‘He was here in your house? Just now?’ Flavia felt as if someone had kicked her in the stomach.
Jonathan nodded. ‘Don’t you want to come in?’
‘And you saw him?’
‘Not for very long.’
‘Did he . . .’ Flavia felt sick. ‘Did he mention me?’
‘He said we must all come and stay with them again next summer.’
‘He . . . What were his exact words?’
‘Um . . . “You must all come and stay with us again next summer.” Those were his exact words.’
‘So he didn’t mention me at all? Not even to ask how I was?’
‘Tigris! Come here! Get away from that!’ Jonathan focused on Flavia again. ‘Sorry, Flavia. I think Felix was in a rush to get back. He was travelling light, on horseback with just two of his men.’
Flavia looked at Jonathan. His face seemed strange. Everything seemed strange. Why was she standing here in front of his open door on the bright pavement? Something was moaning. Just the wind. When had the wind started to blow?
Jonathan’s face was sympathetic. ‘Flavia,’ he said gently. ‘Come in and have some mint tea. It will – TIGRIS! I said get away from that! BAD DOG! Come here at once!’
‘Excuse me,’ said Flavia. ‘I’m just . . .’
She turned towards her house, then remembered her weeping father and turned back to Jonathan. But he was bending over Tigris, struggling to drag the big puppy back into the house.
Flavia turned away and walked slowly past her front door, the blue one with the Castor and Pollux knocker. She walked past the brown door with its lion’s head door-knocker, past the yellow door and the faded green one. Her step quickened. Faster and faster, until she was running. If she hurried she might just catch him.
She thought she heard Jonathan calling her but she kept her head down and ra
n. Past the green fountain. Out through the Fountain Gate. And down the tomb-lined road in the direction of Surrentum.
‘Flavia! Flavia, where are you?’
Nubia shut the back door and let the bolt fall. She bent to greet the wagging dogs, then stood and looked around.
‘Flavia!’ she called again. ‘I am just now helping Mnason to catch the camelopard.’
No reply. The house was silent. Only the sound of the wind moaning in the eves.
‘Alma? Caudex?’ Nubia frowned. ‘Captain Geminus?’
She went along the columned peristyle and through the corridor to the atrium. The door to Alma’s cubicle was slightly ajar.
‘Alma?’
As Nubia scratched on the door, it swung open.
Alma lay on the bed, a cloth draped across her forehead. She groaned and turned her head.
‘Oh, Nubia,’ she murmured. ‘Not feeling too well. Bit hot. And my ears are buzzing. Just having a little rest. Caudex resting, too. Will you ask Doctor Mordecai . . . Will you ask . . . Will you . . .?’
Doctor Mordecai shook his turbaned head. ‘This is bad,’ he said to Nubia. ‘Very bad. Lupus came down with a fever around noon and I’ve just put Jonathan to bed, too. And now both Alma and Caudex. How do you feel?’ He pressed his hand to her forehead.
‘I am fine,’ said Nubia.
‘And Flavia?’ said Doctor Mordecai. ‘How is she?’
‘I don’t know. She is not here. I think she is out with her father.’
Mordecai shook his head again. ‘If I get many more cases it will be an epidemic. And I may not be able to attend everyone. Nubia?’
‘Yes?’
‘Can you make sure Alma and Caudex have plenty to drink? And keep them warm? They may want to kick off the covers, but they need to sweat out the fever. I’ll have to treat them later. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Doctor Mordecai.’
‘Can you make up a pot of broth? Chicken preferably. But anything clear and with some meat in it.’
‘Yes, Doctor Mordecai.’
‘You’re a good girl,’ said Mordecai. ‘Bless you.’ He rested his hand lightly on her head and she felt a sort of tingly warmth pass through her.
Nubia hoped it was not the fever.
Flavia waited for him under an acacia tree. Above her, the wind was moaning. In the space of an hour the temperature had plunged. The sun – exhausted from trying to warm the world on one of his weakest days – was sinking towards the red horizon.
Flavia looked up at the rattling leaves. She wore only her tunic and she knew she should feel cold. But for some reason she felt curiously warm.
Presently her patience was rewarded. She heard him before she saw him. A strange buzzy pulsing tune filled her ears. It was unlike any she had ever heard. At last he came into view, gliding down the road between the tombs. He was riding a lion and he wore a garland of grape leaves. Strange creatures danced behind him. Mythical beasts who were partly man and partly goat. The satyrs played double flutes and shook tambourines. Behind them came a huge dog with three nodding heads: one white, one black, one red.
Flavia didn’t care about the satyrs. She didn’t care about Cerberus. She only cared about him. She struggled to her feet and called his name.
Felix turned his head and looked at her. Then he climbed down from the lion. Monobaz rolled at his feet, like Scuto when he wanted his stomach scratched. Felix took out a sharp knife, bent over and with one swift motion he cut the lion open.
‘No!’ Flavia cried. ‘Not Monobaz!’
But it was too late. Felix smiled and walked towards her, holding the empty lion skin in his hands.
‘It’s all right,’ said Monobaz’s head. ‘I don’t mind.’
Felix put the lion’s head on her, as if it were a hat, then he wrapped the empty paws around her shoulders. The fur was soft and warm. She looked up into his handsome face and he smiled down at her with his dangerous dark eyes. She didn’t know if he was a man or a god.
‘Felix?’ she whispered.
He nodded, and placed a heavy shield gently on her head. Then he took first her right hand and then her left hand, lifting them up so that they supported the shield on either side.
Then he backed away.
‘Felix!’ she called after him. ‘Come back! I love you!’
But now he was moving off down the road again, playing his lyre, his head back and his eyes closed. Behind him danced a crowd of people.
Jonathan and Miriam came first, and Mordecai too. Nubia danced behind them, playing her flute. Then came Lupus, banging his goatskin drum with a sponge-stick. Aristo followed, and then Diana, clutching the hem of his red cloak. Caudex and Alma skipped hand in hand. Pulchra was there, with her little sisters and her slave-girl Leda.
Then came Avita and her father Avitus. There was Captain Alga, old Pliny and young Pliny. And Phrixus. Vulcan rode his donkey. Rectina and Tascius and their nine daughters danced behind.
‘No,’ cried Flavia. ‘You should have eleven now.’
The shield on her head was getting heavier and heavier.
‘Why is it so heavy?’ she asked Sisyphus.
‘My dear,’ he said, ‘it’s because you’re carrying the weight of the world.’ And he jumped lightly up to join the others on the shield.
‘Do you want me up there, too?’ asked the Emperor Titus.
‘No,’ said Flavia. ‘I can’t hold you all.’
But he climbed up anyway.
‘No, it’s too heavy for me,’ sobbed Flavia. ‘I can’t hold it. Pater? Where are you?’
‘Right here.’ Her father’s voice came from up above. ‘I can see the lighthouse.’
‘Flavia,’ said a woman’s voice. ‘Let go. You can’t carry them all. You’re only a girl.’
‘Mater?’ cried Flavia. ‘Oh, mater, I’ve missed you so much.’
‘Shhh!’ Flavia felt a cool hand on her hot forehead. ‘Let go, Flavia. The world will continue and the gods will have their way.’
‘Won’t everyone die if I let go?’ said Flavia.
‘Yes. Eventually. But you can’t prevent it. Let go, Flavia.’
‘I’m frightened.’
‘Don’t be frightened. Just let go. It will be all right.’
So Flavia let the shield fall and everyone tumbled onto the ground. Some of them were laughing and some of them were angry. But Flavia didn’t care.
She felt lighter than she had ever felt before, and freer.
‘Oh mater!’ she sobbed. ‘Promise you won’t leave me again?’
‘Shhh! I can’t promise that. But I’m here now.’
Flavia felt her mother’s arms around her – firm but soft – and she pressed her face against the smooth neck and wept.
And presently she slept.
‘Oh, – Flavia groaned. ‘Where am I?’
‘Father! She’s awake!’ It was Jonathan’s voice.
‘Ugh!’ said Flavia. ‘My mouth feels like something crawled in and died.’
‘I know exactly what you mean,’ said Jonathan. ‘And I only had the fever for two days.’ She felt his firm hand under her neck and tasted cool water on her tongue.
When she had drunk her fill, Flavia rested her head back on the pillow and looked around. She was in her bedroom. From the pattern of bright diamonds on her bedroom wall, she guessed it was mid-morning.
‘What time is it?’ She frowned.
‘About the third hour,’ said Jonathan. He was sitting on the side of her bed with a copper beaker of cool water. ‘And in case you’re interested, today’s the Sabbath.’
‘Saturn’s day? But how can it be? Isn’t today Mercury’s day?’
Doctor Mordecai came into the room, drying his hands on a linen towel. His face looked thin and pale under the dark turban and there were shadows under his eyes.
‘Doctor Mordecai, what happened?’ said Flavia. ‘The last thing I remembered I was waiting by the road for . . . How did I get back here?’
‘You’ll never
guess who found you,’ said Jonathan.
‘Pater? Was it pater?’
‘No,’ said Mordecai. ‘We found him upstairs in his bedroom. Everyone in your house has had the fever. All except for Nubia. You were lucky we found you.’
‘Mater!’ Flavia tried to sit up. Then she let her head fall back on the pillow. A hot tear trickled from the corner of her eye. ‘I dreamt mater was alive. She was looking after me.’
Jonathan and his father exchanged glances.
‘No,’ said Jonathan. ‘It was Cartilia. She stayed with you day and night for three days. She and Nubia tended you and your father and Aristo. Alma’s better now. Caudex, too. Nubia’s sleeping in the spare room, and Cartilia went home a few hours ago.’
‘Oh,’ said Flavia. ‘I thought it was mater.’ Her cheeks were wet and she turned to look at him. ‘It was Cartilia? After all I’ve done to her?’
Jonathan nodded.
‘It’s thanks to her your father is alive,’ said Mordecai. ‘She called me out two nights ago when his fever was at its worst. If I hadn’t treated him . . .’
‘Is pater . . .?’
‘He’ll be fine,’ said Mordecai. ‘I’ve just been with him. He’s awake and he’s having some broth. Alma’s with him. I’m just about to check on Aristo.’
As Mordecai went out, Scuto tapped into the room and wandered over to Flavia.
‘Oh, Scuto,’ said Flavia, hugging his furry neck. ‘I’ve missed you. Did you find me?’
‘No,’ said Jonathan with a grin. ‘It was the last person you’d expect.’
Flavia looked at him. ‘Was it Felix?’ she whispered.
Jonathan sighed and rolled his eyes. ‘No, Flavia. It wasn’t Felix.’
‘Give me a clue then.’
‘Who practically lives out in the woods?’
Flavia thought for a moment. Then her eyes lit up: ‘Diana?’
Jonathan nodded. ‘Diana.’
Although the Saturnalia was officially over, Flavia’s father had allowed them to recline for dinner on the pretext that they were still weak from the fever.
‘Next week you’re back at the table like proper Roman children,’ he’d told them. ‘But for the next few days I’ll allow you to recline.’
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 79