The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection

by Lawrence, Caroline

  ‘No,’ said Flavia, though her heart was pounding. ‘I promise it won’t be dangerous at all.’

  * * *

  PROGRAMME OF EVENTS

  INAUGURAL GAMES DAY II

  TO BE HELD AT THE NEW AMPHITHEATRE

  EGYPTIAN ACROBATS

  EXECUTION OF A CRIMINAL

  in which a temple robber will die,

  re-enacting the story of Orpheus

  BEAST FIGHT

  between Pygmies, Crocodiles and Hippos

  COMBAT OF NOVELTY GLADIATOR PAIRS

  featuring boys & girls

  COMBAT OF GLADIATORS

  AWNINGS AND DRINKS WILL BE PROVIDED PRIZES

  WILL BE DISTRIBUTED

  Crouching behind a tall umbrella pine, Flavia smeared dust on her face and rubbed it into her hair. She dug her fingernails into the earth at the base of the tree. She knew close examination would show that her hands were soft and manicured and that she had never spent a single day living rough. But the dirt under her fingernails would give an impression of grubbiness. She was betting Fabius didn’t have time to carefully interview all the girls for the Orpheus routine.

  She was right.

  ‘Did Blastus send you?’ he said when she finally stood before him. He was surrounded by slaves, making notes on a four-leafed wax tablet.

  ‘Er . . . yes.’

  ‘You’re an orphan?’ He glanced up at her from his tablet.

  ‘Yes,’ lied Flavia, and tried to make her lower lip tremble. ‘My parents died when I was –’

  ‘Pavo!’ barked Fabius, returning his attention to his notes. ‘Get this girl to Mater as quickly as possible.’ He turned to a scribe: ‘Now what were you saying about the Egyptian acrobats?’

  Nubia walked into the pungent smell of animals, hay, and dung. It was not long after dawn, so the room was still dim.

  ‘Nubia! Come look at this.’ Bar was leaning over a wooden pen. He held a long rod in one hand.

  ‘Hello, Bar.’ She joined him on a low ledge around the pen, then gasped as she saw what he was looking at. It was not a pen but a lead-lined, water-filled tank. And it was full of crocodiles.

  Instinctively she recoiled at the sight of their evil faces, but Bar smiled and said, ‘We’re safe here. They can’t get out of the tank. Ugly brutes.’ He prodded one with his rod. ‘The criminal swam right through them last night so they’re extra hungry today.’

  ‘I do not think you should be sticking them,’ said Nubia. ‘You will make them angry.’

  He grinned at her, his teeth gleaming white in his smooth brown face. ‘That’s the idea.’

  He jumped down from the ledge of the tank. ‘Follow me. I have something else to show you.’

  Nubia followed him out of the room through several other dim cells, each housing different caged animals. They passed lions, leopards, ostriches, even a giraffe. In a room with a fawn and several rabbit hutches, Nubia almost tripped over a wooden bucket full of black liquid.

  ‘Careful!’ laughed Bar, moving the bucket closer to one of the rabbit hutches. ‘If you’d splashed walnut juice on your lionskin it would take ages to come out.’

  ‘Why do you have walnut juice?’

  ‘To dye the rabbits’ fur. Otherwise the people on the highest level can’t see them against the pale sand.’

  Presently they reached another large room with a long tank similar to the first one. Bar helped Nubia up onto the ledge so that she could see into it.

  In this tank were half a dozen hippos. Big ones. Their backs and eyes and noses made shiny grey islands in the surface of the water.

  Nubia stared at Bar-Mnason in horror.

  ‘My father tells me that of all the animals, the hippo is the most dangerous!’ she said.

  ‘Your father’s right. Most of the animals here have to be trained to attack each other or people. But not the hippos. Put a hippo in the water with a person and they’re dead.’

  Lupus trailed behind a family with half a dozen children. As they entered one of the arched entrances of the amphitheatre he pushed among them. The real challenge would be getting down into the lower levels.

  It wasn’t difficult. Nobody wanted to go underground. They all wanted to hurry up to their seats.

  Lupus smiled to himself as he slipped through a door and down some dimly lit steps. It was almost too easy.

  ‘You!’ growled a man’s voice, and at the same instant Lupus felt himself jerked off his feet as a hand gripped the neck of his tunic. ‘You’re in for it now!’

  Flavia smoothed the pale blue tunic over her thighs. It was very short, and made of the finest silk, gossamer thin. The dim room had a large silver mirror on one wall and she stood for a moment scrutinising her reflection. She had never seen such a big mirror. For the first time in her life she could see herself from head to toe, and very clearly. The woman they called ‘Mater’ had sent her for a quick scrub in a tank of hot water and three slave-girls had busied themselves over Flavia for half an hour.

  Her hair had been brushed and pinned up, then topped with a pink garland woven of peony, crocus and honeysuckle. Her eyes were lined with dark kohl and her cheeks and lips reddened with some bitter tasting paste. Pale blue stibium shimmered on her eyelids. The colour matched her new tunic perfectly and complemented the pink garland. She looked much older than ten. She looked at least thirteen.

  Flavia smiled hesitantly at the unfamiliar version of herself in the mirror. Were her knees too knobbly? Was her nose too big? She turned her head and tried to see her profile. She sighed. Her nose did seem to have grown quite a bit in the past few months.

  She turned back to face the mirror, and frowned. She was supposed to be a river nymph. What did river nymphs have to do with the legend of Orpheus? She searched the back of her mind and had almost found the answer when suddenly she was jostled to one side.

  ‘Don’t spend all day in front of the mirror!’

  Flavia turned to see Marcia, the sharp-toothed street urchin. In contrast to Flavia, Marcia wore a tunic of palest pink. Her eyelids were shaded to match and her garland was made of purple crocus and violets, intertwined with honeysuckle.

  As the blonde girl preened in front of the mirror Flavia sighed. Marcia’s knees were not bumpy. Her nose was pert and pretty and just right. Clean and wearing makeup, the grubby street urchin was beautiful.

  Four other girls came chattering into the room, attended by slave-girls who bustled around them, tweaking ribbons, smoothing eyebrows, freshening lip colour. Mater followed the girls in. She was a big woman with large features in a heavily powdered face.

  ‘Time for the show, my beauties!’ She clapped her hands.

  ‘What?’ squeaked Flavia. ‘Already? What about the beast fights? And I haven’t found out where they keep the condemned criminals.’

  ‘Shhh!’ hissed Marcia fiercely in Flavia’s ear. ‘You’re not allowed to say “criminals” or “executions” or you’ll lose us all our gold!’

  ‘What?’ said Flavia. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Mater told us yesterday. It’s one of the rules. If Orpheus plays well today, then he’ll be pardoned. So don’t mention those words you just said or you’ll make him nervous. Look! Here he comes now.’

  The man dressed as Orpheus passed close enough for Flavia to see the strange contrast between his wrinkled face and his dyed black hair.

  Flavia lowered her voice. ‘But I want to know where they keep the people they’re going to . . . the prisoners.’

  Marcia shook her head, rolled her eyes and turned away.

  ‘Oh my dears!’ Mater clasped her meaty hands over her large bosom. ‘My dears, you look beautiful. Simply beautiful. So young and tender. Proper little river nymphs . . .’ She wiped her eye.

  ‘Now!’ she said briskly. ‘Into the boat with you. You’re to row Orpheus to the island as he plays his beautiful music. You all practised last night . . . well, all except for you . . .’ she turned to Flavia. ‘Presumably you can follow their lead? And
you know how to hold an oar, I hope?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Flavia. ‘My father is – er . . . I mean, before I was tragically orphaned, my father was a sea captain.’

  ‘How nice for you, dear. Now, everybody up the stairs and into the boat. Remember, blue tunics on the left and pink tunics on the right.’

  ‘May we keep the tunics after we’ve finished?’ asked a girl of about twelve.

  ‘Of course,’ said Mater. ‘And your sacks of gold will be here when you come back.’

  The bald slave called Blastus led them up the stairs and as Flavia followed she heard the girls chattering about what they would spend their money on. Presently they all emerged into a room with marble walls and a bright opening straight ahead. A thick layer of sawdust covered the floor, and on the sawdust a splash of some dark reddish-brown liquid.

  Flavia’s step faltered and she gazed down at the ominous stain.

  ‘Don’t worry, dear,’ said Mater, who had followed them up and who was dry-eyed and businesslike again. She gave Flavia a firm push. ‘One of the slaves must have had a little accident earlier.’

  ‘But that looks like –’

  ‘Into the boat, dears! Orpheus is waiting.’

  Mater hustled Flavia forward. Blastus took her arm and suddenly she felt herself being lifted out into the immense bright space of the arena and down into a pretty gilded boat draped with garlands of peony, violet and saffron.

  ‘Sit here at the back,’ said Blastus. He indicated a pale blue cushion covering a plank seat in the boat. Flavia was the last girl in. A moment later the ship wobbled as the bald slave stepped out of it and back up into the arch. He gave them a good push with a boat hook.

  As the boat slid smoothly forward, Flavia gripped her pink oar, looked over her shoulder and gasped. The sandy arena had been transformed into a mirror-bright lake with a lovely green island at its centre.

  ‘When did they do that?’ she murmured.

  ‘Last night,’ said Marcia behind her.

  ‘Don’t talk. Row!’ Orpheus spoke for the first time. ‘The Emperor’s brother has promised me a total reprieve if we perform well.’ He was dressed in a pure white tunic and golden sandals. ‘And sing!’ He strummed his gilded lyre.

  But Flavia and the other girls stared around, dumbfounded. Even if they had been able to utter a squeak they would not have been heard. For as the boat moved into view, a deafening roar filled the vast interior of the amphitheatre.

  Fifty thousand Romans were cheering the pretty blonde girls in the gilded boat.

  Flavia gulped. Fifty thousand Romans were cheering her!

  ‘You!’ growled the big man, and Lupus relaxed as he recognised Verucus’s ugly face looming over him.

  Lupus gave the man a sheepish smile.

  ‘Don’t grin at me like that!’ Verucus cuffed Lupus on the head. ‘Where were you yesterday? Watching the games no doubt! Well, your punishment today will be fitting. You can empty latrine buckets!’

  Lupus sighed, and trudged after the big slave. Presently his spirits lifted: they were going to a part of the arena he hadn’t been to before. That meant there were other prisoners being held in this part of the amphitheatre. Jonathan might be among them.

  ‘Look at that!’ Verucus pointed to water soaking the floor. ‘They flooded the arena last night. It’s supposed to be watertight but it isn’t. Half the prisoners are up to their ankles in water. It was Titus and Domitian’s bright idea for the shows last night and this morning. But it’s not working. I’ve already heard rumours that they’re going to forget the waterworks and put in cells like the ones at Capua, so the animals can appear in the arena as if by magic. Here we are. Orpheus’s cell.’

  Verucus lifted the thick oak bar and pushed open the heavy door. Lupus wrinkled his nose as he stepped in. The empty cell was dark and smelly. There was no furniture, only a plaster-covered sleeping shelf along one wall and a wooden bucket in the corner. At one end of the sleeping couch lay an iron chain with an empty leg-manacle on the end.

  ‘Grab the latrine bucket!’ growled Verucus. ‘This one isn’t coming back; we can take it with us.’

  He bolted the door after Lupus and shook his head sadly. ‘The prisoner in the next cell is just a boy. They say he started the fire last month.’

  Lupus’s heart thumped. Was it Jonathan? He knew he was about to find out.

  ‘Are these hippos for the beast fight?’ Nubia asked Bar Mnason. ‘How will they move the heavy tanks to where people can see?’

  ‘They won’t move the tanks.’ He laughed. ‘You haven’t seen the amphitheatre today, have you?’

  Nubia shook her head.

  ‘They flooded it with water last night for a show of nereids, a mock sea-battle and an execution. All done by torchlight. The water’s five feet deep. Same depth as the water in this tank.’ He laughed at the expression on her face. ‘The acrobats were swinging over it earlier and the tightrope walkers are on now. Let’s hope the elephant doesn’t fall in. That would make one big splash!’ He laughed. ‘See that door there, at the end of the tank?’

  Nubia nodded.

  ‘When we open it the hippos and crocs will be able to swim right into the arena. And the water is so clear that even the ladies on the top level will be able to see them.’

  ‘Then the hippos and crocs will do water beast fight?’ asked Nubia.

  ‘Much better than that,’ said Bar-Mnason with a grin. ‘Come here.’

  He led her to a slit in the gently curving marble wall. ‘Look through this viewing slit. It’s almost invisible to people in the stands but it means we can see what’s happening out in the arena.’

  Nubia put her eye to the horizontal crack. Her view was restricted, and at first she couldn’t tell what she was looking at. She could see a double tier of almost identical seats. Then she gasped. The arena was full of water, and rows of white-togaed senators were reflected in its glassy surface. The water was unbroken except where an island reared up in the middle.

  ‘Behold! I mean: look! An island!’

  ‘It’s good, isn’t it? Made of wood, covered with dirt, shrubs and trees. There’s even a cave. They used it last night for the naval battle and execution. Except the criminal survived,’ he said, and added, ‘I told them we should have put in the hippos.’

  ‘How do they find so much water?’

  ‘Channelled down from the aqueduct. Only took a few hours to fill before the night show.’ He gestured with his chin. ‘Father’s in the island now. With the caged bears.’

  ‘I do not see him on the island.’

  ‘I didn’t say “on” the island. I said “in” the island.’

  ‘Why is he in the island?’

  ‘For the Orpheus routine.’

  Nubia turned away from the viewing slit to look up at Bar.

  ‘Why is a criminal being dressed as Orpheus?’

  Bar shrugged. ‘The Romans like to publicly execute criminals and entertain the crowds at the same time. They’re efficient.’

  ‘But Orpheus was a musician who played beautiful music, so beautiful as to charm trees and stones and fierce animals.’ Nubia brought her eye to the slit again. ‘So why is a criminal being dressed as Orpheus?’

  Bar shrugged. ‘Who knows? Maybe the man was a musician. Or maybe he’s from Thrace, like Orpheus. The Romans don’t really need a reason. They love the Greek myths more than the Greeks.’ Bar chuckled. ‘Orpheus is going to be rowed to the island by beautiful blonde girls.’

  Nubia nodded to herself. Flavia had told them the night before about this routine. She hoped to take part in it so that she could ask Fabius about the prisoners.

  ‘There are already some tame animals on the island,’ Bar was saying, ‘but half way through his second song my father will release the bears. Then we’ll see if “Orpheus” can charm the animals with his music!’

  Nubia’s heart stuttered as she realised what he was saying. ‘Bears?’ she cried. ‘Alas, the girls will be in terrible danger!’
r />   ‘The girls are in danger!’ Nubia gripped Bar-Mnason’s arm.

  ‘What? Do you mean those little blonde water nymphs?’

  ‘Yes!’

  He laughed. ‘Those bears won’t hurt the girls. They’ll be too busy eating Orpheus.’

  ‘Oh.’ Nubia felt sick with relief.

  ‘No, the bears won’t eat the girls,’ he repeated, as he slid open the door of the tank. ‘That’s what these beauties are for.’

  ‘What?’

  Bar nodded. ‘It was Domitian’s idea. That’s why he told Fabius to choose girls less than five feet tall, all slaves and orphans. If they don’t drown, the hippos and crocs will get them.’

  ‘No!’ cried Nubia. ‘NO!’

  ‘What is it? They’re only slaves.’

  ‘One of them is my friend Flavia!’

  ‘One of the nymphs is your friend?’

  Nubia nodded. ‘Don’t let hippos out!’

  ‘Too late,’ said Bar. ‘There they go.’ He cursed under his breath.

  ‘We must do something!’ Nubia clutched his arm. ‘Bar, I must go out there to help her!’

  He shook his head grimly. ‘You can only get to the island when the arena is dry, not when it’s full of water. I’m sorry, Nubia. Your friend is doomed.’

  Flavia grinned in delight as wave after wave of cheering washed over her.

  The girls had got over their initial surprise and were now rowing in unison, the pretty oars flashing pink and blue as the boat moved out over the placid water towards the green island. Orpheus was strumming and as the cheers gradually subsided he began to sing.

  The girls sang ‘La, la-la-la, la-laa!’ and the water organ played the same tune, but softly so that the girls could be heard. People in the upper tiers had caught the tune and started to sing the ‘la-la’ part along with the girls.

  The scent of honeysuckle suddenly filled Flavia’s head and at the same moment an equally sweet sensation filled her chest. It was an emotion she had never felt before, a complex mixture of pleasure, excitement and self-consciousness.