Was this what Fame felt like? Or was it Glory?
Whatever it was, she liked it.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw that they were nearly at the island. Presently the boat nudged the land and Orpheus leapt nimbly onto the grassy turf.
Two of the girls at the front used their oars to push the boat away from the island and they began to row languidly round the island.
Orpheus placed one foot on a painted rock and sang the story of how his wife Eurydice was bitten by a poisonous viper on the very day of their wedding. He sang of how he was willing to visit death to bring her back. His voice hardly quavered as he sang of how he, Orpheus, was going to descend to the underworld, charm Cerberus with his music and melt the hearts of Pluto and Persephone.
‘Then I will bring Eurydice back,’ he sang, ‘bring my true love back from death!’
‘Oooh!’ said the crowd, as a dozen colourful birds fluttered out of the cave mouth and settled on the small trees and shrubs around Orpheus.
‘Aaaaah!’ they sighed a moment later, as some white rabbits hopped out, followed by a dappled, long-legged fawn.
‘Wha –!’ The sharp intake of breath in fifty thousand Roman throats was one of the strangest sounds Flavia had ever heard. She looked over her shoulder to see a dark shape emerging from the cave mouth.
‘Bear!’ one of the girls behind her screamed. ‘There’s a bear on the island!’
Orpheus’s tremolo became a strangled squeal.
Flavia and the other girls stopped pulling their oars.
Orpheus’s eyes bulged in terror and although his mouth was open, no sound emerged.
As soon as he ran, the bear began to pursue him.
‘Here!’ he gasped, shoving the fawn into the bear’s path. ‘Eat this!’
But the bear must have been trained to crave human flesh. The huge creature ignored the tottering fawn and lumbered after Orpheus.
The amphitheatre resounded with waves of laughter as the bear chased Orpheus round the little island. Above the laughter Flavia heard catcalls drift down from the upper levels.
‘Eurydice has sent you a gift from the underworld,’ someone joked.
‘Use your lyre, Orpheus!’
‘Charm him with your music!’
‘Don’t throw it! Play it!’
‘Serves you right for robbing the temple!’
Suddenly – too late – Flavia remembered where river nymphs appeared in the story of Orpheus.
After his death, they had found his lyre, his dismembered limbs and his head.
Some of the girls in the boat were laughing now too, but Flavia could see the look of pure terror on the man’s face and something brown, presumably hair dye, dripping down his forehead with the sweat. She knew what must happen to him.
‘Jump in the water!’ Flavia shouted at him. ‘Jump!’
But Orpheus kept running. Perhaps he hadn’t heard her, or maybe he couldn’t swim.
Suddenly there was a thunderous cheer and Marcia pointed towards the cave. ‘Another bear!’ she laughed. ‘Now he’ll get it!’
Some of the girls were crying and some were laughing, but not one of them was rowing. The boat drifted slowly away from the island.
The crowd roared as the biggest bear finally brought down Orpheus with a swipe of his paw. As the two big creatures loomed over the fallen man Flavia averted her eyes. Presently she blocked her ears, too, in order to drown out his screams.
A sharp elbow in Flavia’s ribs forced her fingers out of her ears for a moment.
‘Look!’ said Marcia. ‘One of the bears has his arm!’ She giggled but suddenly her giggle turned to a scream. ‘Our boat!’ she cried, pointing down. ‘It’s sinking!’
Flavia looked down. Two inches of water lapped around her bare feet at the bottom of the boat. She had been so upset by the terrible scene on the island that she hadn’t even noticed. Now – even as she watched – she saw a crack widen in the bottom of the boat and a terrible thought struck her.
‘What if Orpheus wasn’t the only one who had been tricked?’ she said.
But nobody heard her. The other girls were beginning to scream and cry for help. Flavia glanced up towards the Imperial Box. Titus would help them.
But the man sitting in the Emperor’s chair was not Titus. He was younger, with brown hair. He was laughing, saying something to the woman next to him and pointing at them.
Domitian.
It was the Emperor’s younger brother Domitian.
And he wasn’t pointing at the sinking boat. He was pointing beyond it.
Flavia slowly stood in the boat and looked back.
‘The boat’s sinking!’ screamed Marcia hysterically. ‘I can’t swim and the boat’s sinking! We’re all going to drown!’
‘No,’ said Flavia in a trembling voice, ‘we won’t drown. Those hippos will get us first.’
Sound receded from Flavia, so that the cries of the crowds and the surge of the water organ and the screams of the girls in the boat were barely audible. She had seen hippos in mosaics and Nubia had told her what these huge creatures could do.
Everything seemed to happen very slowly. Two of the girls were trying to paddle back the way they had come, the others were standing, making the fragile boat rock violently. The water was up to Flavia’s ankles now and a girl’s terrified face loomed into view. It was Marcia, screaming something, shaking Flavia by the shoulders.
But all Flavia could hear was the roaring of blood in her ears.
Suddenly she felt rather than heard the boat crack. It split neatly in two. Flavia gasped at the shock of the cold water but managed to close her mouth a moment before it closed over her head. Her toes brushed the sandy bottom so she pushed herself back up.
Sobbing for breath and dragging the wet hair from her eyes, she began to tread water and look around. They were all in the water now. The boat was in pieces around them, oars and garlands floating, the girls thrashing.
A hand clutched at her arm, hurting her with the tightness of its grip: Marcia’s terrified face, eyes rolling, teeth bared. Then Marcia was wrenched violently away from Flavia as a hippo took her in his terrible jaws.
Water filled Flavia’s screaming mouth. She rose up, coughing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a second hippo drag one of the other girls under.
The island. She must get to the island. It was her only hope. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought she would die, but she kicked out for the island and swam. Thank the gods Lupus had taught her how to swim last summer. She concentrated on her breathing and her strokes, trying not to think about what she had just seen.
Presently she noticed the water around her was pink, but she tried not to think about that either.
Now every breath was an effort because her chest was tight with fear. Her legs and arms were trembling but she swam doggedly for the island. Not far now.
Over to her right, a log floated in the water. She veered towards that. If she could just reach it and hang on for a moment she could get her bearings and catch her breath. She was almost there when the log opened one evil yellow eye and turned with a flick of its terrible tail.
Flavia found herself staring into the opening jaws of a crocodile.
‘The prisoner in this cell is only a boy,’ said Verucus to Lupus. ‘They say he started the fire last month but it’s obvious the lad wouldn’t hurt a fly. Poor lad. He has no idea what’s in store for him.’
Verucus slid back the bolt, pushed open the cell door and attempted a cheerful greeting: ‘Good morning, Curly-top! We’ve come to empty your latrine bucket and I’ve brought you a nice white roll for your breakfast.’
Lupus’s heart was pounding. Jonathan. It had to be Jonathan!
As he stepped into the dim cell his eyes widened at the sight of a boy with dark, curly hair stretched out on the sleeping shelf.
Flavia had once heard that when you are about to die your past life unrolls before you like a painted scroll. But as she stared down the throat of
the crocodile she did not see her life unscroll.
She saw her father’s face. What would he do without her? He would be so sad. He had lost too many people. No! She refused to die!
She looked around for something to use as a weapon. An oar. A piece of wood from the boat. Anything. But there was only a purple garland floating on the pink water.
The crocodile had closed its mouth to move forward through the water.
Suddenly Flavia had an idea. She grasped the garland and instead of swimming away from the crocodile she swam straight towards it. Before it could open its terrible jaws again she thrust the garland over its snout and then rolled away and kicked out furiously for the island.
Even above the sound of her beating heart and the splash of her arms in the water she could hear the roar of the crowd. She dared not look behind her. The garland was made of violets, crocuses and honeysuckle threaded onto a hemp cord. It might gain her a little more time. But not much.
She was at the island now, but as she clawed at the grass bank above her, a chunk of turf detached itself and fell away. Then another. There was no handhold.
Flavia tried to pull herself up again and again, but now her arms were trembling and she was beginning to sob. She had failed. She knew the crocodile’s yellow teeth would sink into her legs any moment, dragging her down to a terrible death.
‘Flavia!’ cried a familiar voice from above her. ‘Behold! I am here.’
Suddenly dark brown hands gripped her wrists and Flavia felt herself being lifted up and up, out of the water, into the cool air.
She was flying!
Above her was Nubia’s beautiful, grave face, framed by the lion’s head of her cloak. Below her was the huge crocodile, rising up out of the water and snapping at her feet.
But his jaws shut on empty air as the two girls swung back over the island.
The crowd went wild.
The demigod Hercules had descended from Olympus to save the brave young river nymph.
‘Let go!’ gasped Nubia. ‘I am not being so strong as to hold you for the ride back up.’
Flavia nodded and let go. She fell a few feet and rolled on the grassy turf of the man-made island, sending rabbits hopping away.
Holding the rope with her right hand, Nubia undid the clasp of the harness with her left and dropped down after her friend.
It had taken all Nubia’s self-control not to faint as they had lowered her from a hundred and fifty feet up. She had hoped to help some of the other girls but by the time she reached the island she knew Flavia was the only one still alive.
Now, remembering what she had seen on her way down, Nubia knelt on the grass and vomited.
She looked up and saw a shivering Flavia standing with her hand outstretched. Nubia let herself be pulled to her feet and then shrugged off her lionskin cloak.
‘You wear it,’ she said, wrapping it around her friend’s shoulders. ‘You are shivering and cold and your tunic is see-through when wet.’
‘Quick, girls!’ said a man’s voice. ‘Get in the cave. Those bears have been trained to crave human flesh. If they smell you . . .’
Nubia nodded and took Flavia’s arm. She averted her eyes from the bloody arm on the grass and pulled her friend towards the mouth of the cave.
Suddenly she froze. One of the bears had appeared round the hillock, walking on its hind legs like a person. Nubia’s blood ran cold. It was a Nubian bear, the biggest and fiercest of all bears. Blood dripped from its paws and muzzle and its chest was matted with it. The bear paused and stood swaying, testing the air with its bloody nose.
Flavia drew a deep breath to scream but Nubia dug her fingers into her friend’s arm.
‘Never show an animal that you fear it!’ she said quietly.
Flavia closed her mouth and nodded. She was trembling so much that Nubia could feel her body shaking.
‘In here!’ came the voice from the cave, and Nubia recognised it as Mnason’s.
But now the bear was between them and the cave mouth. Its uplifted nose caught their scent and slowly it turned towards them.
Nubia thought quickly. Could she calm it with a song? Her instinct said no, so she spoke, calmly but loudly, ‘Go away, bear!’
The bear swayed, almost imperceptibly.
Nubia knew it wasn’t hungry – it had just been gorging on Orpheus – and she had used her most commanding voice. For one brief moment she thought her plan had worked.
Then the bear’s evil little eyes glinted as it dropped on all fours and charged straight at them.
Lupus felt a huge surge of hope fill his chest as the curlyhaired boy lifted himself from the sleeping couch and turned to face them.
Then his spirits plunged. Even in the dim light of the cell, he could see the boy was not Jonathan. This boy had delicate features, pale eyes and an odd smile.
‘Hello, Verucus,’ said the boy. ‘How are you?’ His voice was high, lilting, almost girlish.
‘I’m fine, sunshine!’ said Verucus. ‘Lupus here is going to empty your latrine bucket.’
‘Hello, Lupus,’ said the boy with a sweet smile.
Lupus barely glanced at him. He felt tears prick his eyes and he swallowed a sob that threatened to tear away his pride.
This was the curly-haired boy they had been looking for all this time. And it was not Jonathan. It was just a blue-eyed simpleton.
As the bear loped towards them, Flavia closed her eyes and gripped Nubia’s hand. She would not scream. If she had to die at least she would die bravely.
Suddenly she heard the crowd utter a thunderous cheer and she opened her eyes. The bear had staggered to a stop. Then she saw the arrow protruding from its shaggy side. Even as she watched, it received a second arrow in the neck. Another roar from the crowd.
The first bear was down, but now the second had appeared. Immediately it, too, received two arrows in the head.
Flavia turned to see who was firing the arrows; they seemed to be coming from the stands.
‘There!’ whispered Nubia, and pointed.
Flavia followed her finger and her jaw dropped.
The arrows were coming from the Imperial Box.
Another arrow, and as the second bear finally collapsed, the crowd erupted in a deafening cheer.
The archer laid aside his bow and waved at the girls.
They were safe. Alive and safe. Flavia felt her knees trembling violently and now everything was speeding away from her and she knew even Nubia wouldn’t be able to hold her up.
But just before she fainted Flavia managed to wave weakly back at their saviour, the Emperor’s younger brother. Domitian.
‘Oh!’ groaned Flavia. ‘What happened?’ She tasted wine and felt the hard leather nozzle of the wineskin against her teeth.
‘Drink this.’ The voice was familiar.
‘I’m going to be sick.’
‘Drink the wine, it helps.’ Nubia’s voice.
Flavia drank the undiluted wine and looked around.
She was in a dim, dank space made of wood and plaster.
‘Nubia,’ she said, and hugged her friend. Nubia was wearing her lionskin again and Flavia had a prickly blanket wrapped round her. It smelt faintly of dung and some musky animal smell.
Then she saw white teeth gleaming in a dusky face. ‘Mnason!’
He nodded. ‘Hello, Flavia Gemina. You were amazing. Putting your garland around the croc’s mouth: that was inspired.’
‘You saw that?’
He nodded. ‘Peephole there. Above the waterline. We’re inside the island, by the way. I wanted to help you but I was too far away. And you, Nubia! How did you get up to the top so quickly? And how did you convince the slaves to lower you on the rope?’
‘Your son,’ said Nubia. ‘He commands slaves to help me and he shows me how to do and undo clasp.’
‘Clever boy. And brave girl.’
‘Can we go now?’ whimpered Flavia. Despite the blanket, she was shivering uncontrollably.
Mnason sho
ok his head. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Not yet.’
Flavia heard a muffled cheer.
‘What’s happening?’ she asked, trying not to think about what she had just seen.
‘They’ve started to drain the water and they’ve sent in pygmies to kill off the crocs and hippos.’
‘What is a pygmy?’
‘A race of very small people from Africa.’
‘Oh. Can we go now?’
‘There’s no way out of here while the water is still in the arena. Only if it’s dry. When the water’s drained away, they’ll roll us off and we can get out of here.’ He paused and Flavia saw his teeth flash again as he grinned. ‘I don’t suppose you girls would like to join the pygmies out there?’ he said. ‘The crowd would love it and I could promise you a bag of gold each . . .’
‘No thanks,’ groaned Flavia, ‘I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day.’
‘His imperial majesty, Titus Flavius Domitianus!’ announced the soldier and gently pushed Nubia and Flavia forward.
It was almost noon and the girls had been summoned to take a light lunch with their saviour Domitian. In the Imperial Box a dozen interested faces turned towards them.
‘Thetis the sea nymph and Hercules the hero!’ exclaimed Domitian, rising from an elaborately carved ivory chair and coming towards them. ‘But now I can see it’s Hercula. You’re no boy!’
The Emperor’s younger brother was not tall, but he was muscular and good-looking, with curly brown hair and large brown eyes. Nubia felt her face grow hot under his gaze and she dropped her eyes.
‘Caesar,’ murmured Flavia, she moved forward and shakily kissed Domitian’s outstretched hand. Nubia followed her example.
Domitian lifted Nubia to her feet and she heard the quaver in Flavia’s voice as her friend said: ‘Thank you for saving our lives.’
‘You are very welcome. I enjoyed it. I’m an excellent archer and I never miss an opportunity to show off.’
Nubia darted a quick glance up at him and then quickly lowered her gaze.
He was still looking straight at her.
‘Sit, girls!’ said the Emperor’s younger brother, gesturing towards a cushioned couch to the left of his throne at the very front of the box. As he spoke a long-haired slave-boy set a light table before it. ‘We’re about to take some refreshment.’
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 105