‘And?’ Titus stabbed a piece of meat with the sharp end of his spoon and held it up. Biztha took a step towards his master and his silky hair screened his face as he bent forward, delicately took the piece of meat in his mouth, chewed and then swallowed it.
Nubia tried her own meat. It was roast boar: tender and delicious.
‘We haven’t come up with the answer yet, Caesar,’ said Flavia bravely. ‘But we will.’
‘Good. I have every confidence in the four of you.’ Titus was eating his boar now. ‘How about you, doctor? I hear that you’ve already had remarkable results with your method of treating the fever. Results as good as Cosmus, if not better.’
Mordecai kept his eyes lowered. ‘Praise God, my patients are doing well. I believe they are responding to herbal steam.’
Titus held out his cup and Biztha moved forward instantly to refill it.
‘My informants say you did not lose a single patient today.’
Mordecai inclined his head. ‘I give the glory to God.’
Titus frowned and pressed his knuckles to his forehead. ‘Nubia,’ he said presently. ‘Do you remember how the three of you played music for me once in the Golden House?’
‘Yes, Caesar,’ she said softly.
‘Did you bring your instruments with you as I requested in my letter?’
‘Yes, Caesar.’ Nubia wore her flute on a cord round her neck. Now she pulled it out. ‘Behold!’
‘Our instruments are in our rooms,’ said Flavia.
‘Bigtha, fetch their instruments, please.’ Titus continued to massage his wide forehead with his knuckles. ‘My head is throbbing as if a blacksmith was beating his anvil in my skull. Your music brought me some relief before. I pray it might do so again.’
The black-walled triclinium was full of golden lamplight, the smell of roast boar, and vibrant music. Jonathan and his friends were playing a song Nubia had composed: The Storyteller. Jonathan glanced up from his barbiton to see the Emperor’s reaction.
It was strange, almost surreal, to see his father reclining on a couch beside the Emperor Titus. Especially because Jonathan had dined with his mother and the Emperor only the day before. Now here he was with his father and the Emperor: the dark, aristocratic-looking Jew reclining next to the stocky, sandy-haired ex-soldier.
Titus had his head back and his eyes closed but Jonathan noticed that his usually ruddy face was pale and his lips pinched. The music swelled and then came the resolution, with the sound reverberating even after they had played the last note.
Titus opened his eyes, and took a sip of his wine.
‘Biztha. Bigtha. Dance for me.’ He spoke to the slave-boys, who stood either side of the doorway. And to Nubia, ‘Play that first song again. What did you call it? Slave Song?’
Nubia nodded and lifted the flute to her lips.
The slave-boys stripped down to their loincloths and began to dance. For the first time, Jonathan really looked at them. He guessed they were about his age. But unlike him, they had no puppy fat on their lithe, muscular bodies.
Jonathan glanced uneasily at his father, who was staring fixedly down at the couch, and he felt his conscience twinge. What could he have been thinking? Bringing his father here to the inner sanctum of Titus, the great enemy of the Jews?
Suddenly there was a crash, and a sizzling sound. Titus had thrown his cup against the wall beside the doorway and drops had spattered on the red-hot coals of the brazier. The dripping splash mark on the black and grey panels was almost invisible.
‘No!’ Titus was clutching his head with one hand and pounding the couch with the other. ‘It’s no good. I can’t . . . make it . . . stop!’
‘What do you think is wrong with Titus?’ Flavia whispered to the others after Mordecai and the slave-boys had followed the Emperor out of the dining-room.
‘His headaches, of course,’ said Jonathan. ‘Father will give him something, maybe the elixir . . .’
Suddenly Flavia’s eyes grew wide. ‘You don’t think someone is trying to poison Titus, do you? Another assassination attempt?’
Lupus had been carefully pouring watered wine down his throat, but at this he coughed and hastily put down his cup.
‘He makes his slaves taste his food,’ said Jonathan, ‘so presumably it’s not poisoned.’
‘That is why he is feeding Biztha?’ asked Nubia. ‘In case of the food being poisoned?’
He nodded. ‘If the food is poisoned then the slaves die.’
‘Jonathan!’ breathed Flavia. ‘I’ve just thought of something else; something we should have thought of long before now. After we stopped the assassin last year, you told us that Berenice had an agent in the imperial household—’
‘You’re right,’ said Jonathan. ‘Berenice told my uncle that she had an agent in the palace. Someone close to Titus. She said her agent would be watching. And the assassin would only be paid after he had done the job.’
‘Did you ever discover who Berenice’s agent was?’
‘No.’ Jonathan shook his head slowly. ‘We never did.’
WHY DIDN’T SHE JUST ASK HER AGENT TO
KILL TITUS? Lupus wrote on his wax tablet.
‘Titus was never the assassins’ target, remember?’ said Flavia.
‘That’s right,’ said Jonathan. ‘My mother was the one Berenice wanted dead. She hoped that with my mother out of the way Titus might recall her and make her his Empress.’
Lupus used the flat end of his brass stylus to rub out one name and the sharp end to write another.
WHY DIDN’T SHE JUST ASK HER AGENT TO
KILL SUSANNAH?
‘Good question,’ said Jonathan.
They all looked at one another.
‘I think I know why,’ said Flavia after a few moments. ‘Berenice needed – maybe still needs – someone close to the Emperor to tell her what’s happening. If anything went wrong and her agent was exposed, she’d be completely in the dark, with no contacts left here in the palace.’
‘What if the Berenice is wanting to kill your mother again?’ Nubia asked Jonathan.
Flavia gasped. ‘Great Neptune’s beard, Nubia! You’re right. What if “Prometheus” in the prophecy is not a man but a woman? What if it’s Berenice! Maybe she’s so furious with Titus that she wants to destroy Rome! Like Queen Dido, who adored Aeneas at first, but hated him with equal passion after he rejected her love!’
‘Berenice often seeks the vengeance,’ said Nubia. ‘She branded Delilah, the pretty slave-girl who flirts with Titus.’
‘And she threw Huldah out of the Golden House just because Titus looked at her,’ said Flavia.
‘Berenice is probably back in Judaea by now,’ said Jonathan airily.
‘Do we know that for certain?’ asked Flavia. ‘What if she’s come back to Italia in disguise and has hired some more assassins? Or has another evil plan?’
Jonathan frowned. ‘No way of knowing,’ he said.
‘Maybe not,’ said Flavia, looking round at their faces. ‘But I think I know where we could look for clues.’
THE GOLDEN HOUSE wrote Lupus.
‘Exactly!’
‘Will we see your friend Rizpah there?’ Nubia asked Jonathan.
‘Probably. I don’t know.’
‘I hope we do,’ said Flavia. ‘I’ll bet she could tell us about Berenice. Aren’t you worried, Jonathan? That Berenice might still be trying to kill your mother?’
Jonathan was using a roll to mop up the juices of roast boar. He shrugged. ‘Whoever Berenice’s agent was, I’m sure he’s told her by now.’
‘Told her what?’ asked Flavia.
‘That there’s nothing between Titus and my mother. My mother and the Emperor are just friends.’
‘Then why was he holding her hand yesterday?’ asked Flavia.
‘They’re just FRIENDS!’ shouted Jonathan. Furiously, he kicked away the table with his foot and slid off the dining-couch. ‘There’s NOTHING between them!’
Flavia, Nubia and L
upus stared open-mouthed as Jonathan stalked out of the black triclinium.
Nubia’s eyes were swollen the following morning and she tried splashing water from the fountain onto her face. But Flavia noticed immediately.
‘Have you been crying, Nubia? What’s the matter?’
‘Venalicius the slave-dealer. All night long he is chasing me in my dreams.’
‘But Venalicius is dead. He can’t hurt you any more.’
‘I know. But he feels alive.’ Nubia felt Flavia’s arm around her and leaned her head on her friend’s shoulder. She tried to stop herself from trembling.
‘Poor Nubia,’ said Flavia gently. And after a pause, ‘I’m sure that was an ivory dream.’
‘Ivory?’
Flavia nodded. ‘Remember in the Aeneid, when the Sibyl takes Aeneas to the underworld? She shows him two gates: one made of horn and one made of ivory. And she tells him that the true dreams come through the gate of horn but the false dreams come through the ivory. You had an ivory dream.’
‘But it felt like horn dream,’ said Nubia in a small voice.
‘Father’s just left for Snake Island again,’ said Jonathan, coming into the girls’ bedroom with Lupus. ‘He said he’ll be there all day tending the sick. What’s the matter, Nubia?’
Nubia couldn’t reply.
Flavia said, ‘Bad dreams about Venalicius.’
Lupus nodded sympathetically, wrote on his wax tablet and showed it to her:
HE IS DEAD NOW AND
WON’T EVER HURT YOU AGAIN
‘But he does still hurt me,’ whispered Nubia.
‘While we sleep,’ came a voice from the doorway, ‘the pain we can’t forget falls drop by drop upon our hearts . . .’
Nubia and her friends looked up to see Ascletario. He bowed. ‘Please to note Aeschylus says that, in his play called Agamemnon. Now where would you like me to take you today?’
As they followed Ascletario down the Palatine Hill, Jonathan remembered the joy he had felt when he first discovered his mother was still alive. And the despair – the utter despair – when she had refused to come home with him. She had told him she had a ‘calling’, that it was her duty to help Titus be a wise ruler. Jonathan knew she was trying to atone for the sin of abandoning her husband and children.
That had been nearly half a year ago, thought Jonathan as he bit into a piece of bread which he had taken from the breakfast table. A person could atone for many sins in six months.
He looked around as it grew brighter. They had left the protection of a long portico and were cutting across a level square.
Ascletario was pointing out the enormous amphitheatre on their right, telling them how tall it was, how many exits it had, how many people it could seat. Parts of the great oval building were still covered in scaffolding and Jonathan knew that the slaves working on it were captives from Jerusalem. Fellow Jews oppressed by Titus. Jonathan tore another angry bite of bread.
While waging war in Judaea, Titus had fallen in love with a beautiful Jewish queen named Berenice. At least some good had come of that unlikely love affair. When the legions under Titus’s command finally breached the walls of Jerusalem and stormed the city, Berenice had pleaded with Titus to spare the lives of the inhabitants. He had been merciful. Hundreds had to die in gladiatorial games and in the triumphal parade – that was to be expected – but Titus had sent thousands as slaves to Corinth, to help maintain the isthmus, and thousands more were spared to work on Vespasian’s new amphitheatre.
And to please his beautiful Jewish lover, Titus had given Berenice two hundred high-born Jewish women as her handmaids. Including Jonathan’s mother. Berenice had installed them in a building so hateful to the people of Rome that no public use could be made of it.
That was where they were going now: Nero’s Golden House.
*
Flavia yawned as Ascletario led them down a long corridor of the Golden House.
‘Please to note,’ said the Egyptian as he trotted along, ‘this is only part of the so-called Golden House. Nero built it sixteen years ago to be a magnificent setting for his dinner parties. But he died soon after. Later Titus generously allowed the Jewish Queen Berenice to live here with her two hundred handmaidens. Our illustrious Emperor recently set the women free. Many have gone and there are only a few left in this wing. The Golden House will become a school to train gladiators.’
Lupus raised his eyebrows in interest.
‘May I ask who are you investigating today?’ Ascletario bowed.
‘Berenice,’ said Flavia.
Ascletario stopped short. ‘But she is gone, vanished, departed. Our illustrious Emperor sent her far away.’
‘Yes,’ said Flavia patiently. ‘But we want to look for clues in her bedroom.’
‘Desolated, desolated, desolated. Her quarters are off-limits. No persons are allowed there.’
Lupus reached into the neck hole of his tunic and found the ivory pass. He held it out at the full stretch of the cord.
‘That won’t be any use in this case.’ Ascletario bobbed his head and rubbed his hands in abject apology.
‘But it’s an all-areas pass,’ protested Flavia.
‘Please to note that Berenice herself decreed her quarters off-limits; even to the Emperor. Besides, her rooms are locked and she took the key, the key, the key.’
They suddenly heard the echoing sound of running footsteps and looked up to see one of Titus’s slave-boys, the brown-haired one. Flavia thought it was the one called Bigtha.
‘Ascletario,’ he gasped. ‘Come quickly. Caesar wants you to read the portents.’
‘Has something happened?’
Bigtha nodded. ‘It’s his daughter Julia. She’s ill. She has the fever!’
Ascletario looked almost relieved. ‘You must excuse me,’ he said to Flavia and her friends. ‘I humbly bow.’
He backed away, bowing with each step, then turned and trotted down the long corridor after Bigtha.
The four friends looked at each other.
‘I didn’t know Titus had a daughter,’ said Jonathan, scratching his curly head.
‘What now?’ said Flavia. ‘How will we find Berenice’s quarters?’
Lupus was writing on his wax tablet.
RIZPAH?
‘Yes!’ cried Flavia. ‘There’s bound to be a secret tunnel into Berenice’s rooms and according to you, Jonathan, Rizpah knows them all. She’s our only hope of getting in there. How can we find her?’
Jonathan shrugged. ‘You don’t find Rizpah,’ he said. ‘She usually finds you.’
‘He’s right,’ said a little girl’s voice from behind them. ‘And you’ve just been found.’
*
‘Rizpah!’ cried Jonathan, and then laughed as the little girl threw her arms around his waist. She drew back shyly before he could hug her back and he felt a pang of guilt. They had been in Rome for well over a day and he had barely thought about her. ‘How long have you been spying on us?’ He pretended to be stern.
Rizpah gazed up at him solemnly. ‘Since you came here to the Golden House,’ she said.
‘You should have come out sooner.’
Rizpah’s fine white hair flicked back and forth as she shook her head. ‘I don’t trust that astrologer.’
‘Ascletario?’
Rizpah nodded. ‘Why do you want to go to Queen Berenice’s quarters?’
‘We’re trying to solve a mystery and we need some clues,’ said Flavia.
Jonathan smiled. ‘Rizpah, these are the friends I told you about: Flavia, Nubia and that, of course, is Lupus.’
‘The Emperor wants us to solve a prophetic mystery,’ said Flavia. ‘“When a Prometheus opens a Pandora’s box, Rome will be devastated.”’
Lupus had been circling Rizpah, examining her from different angles. Tentatively he reached out and fingered a strand of her hair. Rizpah flinched and Lupus jumped back, too. They stared warily at one another for a moment, then Rizpah turned back to Flavia.
&
nbsp; ‘I am not sure,’ she said, ‘what a Pandora’s box is. But there is a special box in Berenice’s room. One that must not be opened.’ She looked at Jonathan. ‘You will be amazed.’
‘It is beautiful,’ breathed Nubia.
Rizpah had disappeared into one of her tunnels and a few minutes later she had opened Berenice’s door from the inside.
Now Nubia followed her friends into the room. The space around them was suffused with a golden glow, as if they stood in the middle of a cool yellow flame.
Nubia barely noticed the wide low bed with its head against the right-hand wall. She didn’t see the gold and ivory chairs, the beautiful tapestry of scarlet, purple, blue, and white. All she saw was an object illuminated by a circular glass skylight.
It was a beautiful golden chest.
She took a step towards it. She had seen objects covered in gold before, but nothing like this. Perhaps it was the pearly light, pouring down from above. Or the fact that three of the four walls in the room were painted gold. Whatever it was, the box seemed to be the source of the light.
As Nubia took another step forward, she felt her face grow hot. Then warmth flooded her whole body. Was the source of the heat the golden box? Did it have special powers? Nubia knelt before it and reached out to touch it. Her fingertips almost touched the smooth gold surface.
‘Stop, Nubia!’ cried Jonathan. ‘Don’t touch it!’
‘What?’ She turned reluctantly to look at him.
Jonathan looked at Rizpah. ‘It’s the ark, isn’t it?’
Rizpah nodded.
‘Ark?’ said Flavia. ‘What’s an ark?’
‘The ark of the covenant,’ breathed Jonathan. ‘From the Temple of God in Jerusalem. If you touch it you will die.’
‘Tell us, Jonathan,’ said Flavia. ‘What on earth is an ark?’
They had shut and bolted the door, and the five of them were sitting on the creamy fleeces which covered Berenice’s wide bed. They gazed down at the golden box before them.
‘Ark is just another word for box. But this box is special. If it really is the ark. It was made of acacia wood and covered with pure gold, and inside the priests placed Aaron’s rod, a jar full of manna and the two stone tablets engraved with the ten commandments. They were meant to remind the Jewish people of all the things God had done for them. The staff to remind them of how God brought them out of Egypt, the manna to remind them of how he looked after them in the desert, and the tablets to remind them of how he would look after them in the promised land.’
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 89