Jonathan knew he had to act now or the moment would pass. Pluto had not sufficiently loosened the rope binding his left hand. It was still trapped. With a silent prayer he gave one strong wrench. It brought tears to his eyes but now his left hand was free. Without the rope holding him up his knees gave way and he nearly fell onto the lion. Somehow he managed to remain upright. He patted Monobaz on the head.
‘Dionysus,’ said Jonathan, but his voice came out as a croak. ‘Dionysus!’ he attempted again, and this time Monobaz seemed to react. The big cat stopped licking Jonathan’s feet and stood quietly.
‘Please God may this work,’ muttered Jonathan. And then he climbed onto the back of the big black lion.
Lupus opened his tongueless mouth and cheered.
All around the amphitheatre people were laughing and cheering, too.
Jonathan had wrapped his arms round the lion’s neck and his bare legs round its stomach. Now the beast and his rider moved slowly down the sandy hill, weaving through the palmettos until they reached the soft sand of the arena.
‘By the gods!’ said Titus. ‘Look at that! I’ve never seen a person ride a man-eating lion before. Not even Carpophorus could do that.’
‘The boy must be favoured by the gods!’ gasped Africanus.
‘The people think so, too,’ said Calvus, nodding at the spectators. Lupus glanced away from Jonathan. The water organ was playing the deep triumphant tune it played whenever a gladiator won. Many people in the amphitheatre had their thumbs up. Others were waving white handkerchiefs. ‘Mitte!’ he heard them cry: ‘Mitte!’
‘They want you to spare him, pater!’ Julia laughed.
‘So they do,’ said Titus, and Lupus heard him mutter, ‘how fickle they are.’
Titus slowly rose from his throne and looked around at his subjects. Then he spread his arms wide and gave an exaggerated nod to show that he would bow to the wishes of the people and allow the boy to live.
The crowd went wild.
Lupus punched the air with his fist and added his cheer to the others.
And in the arena below him the black lion and his rider plodded steadily towards the Gate of Life.
‘It seems the gods have spared you, Jonathan ben Mordecai,’ said the Emperor. ‘I have never seen anything like that, a trained man-eater rubbing up against you like a big kitten . . . I have pardoned you and you are free to go.’
In the Imperial Box, Jonathan knelt before Titus and bowed his head. ‘Thank you, Caesar.’
Titus lifted Jonathan to his feet. The guards had found him an old red tunic and they had scrubbed most of the dried blood from the backs of his legs.
‘Jonathan!’ Nubia pushed between the guards and into the Imperial Box. ‘You are alive!’ She was feigning surprise but when she threw her arms around him and wept for joy he knew she was not pretending. Presently she let go of him and, catching sight of Lupus, she hugged him, too. They both turned and looked at Jonathan with eyes full of joy.
At that moment the bright notes of the trumpets blared and the deep chords of the water organ began the gladiator’s march.
‘Jonathan,’ said Titus, ‘I don’t have long.’ He gestured towards the gladiators entering the arena. ‘You said the fire was an accident and I never gave you a chance to explain. Can you do so now? Quickly?’
Jonathan did so.
‘I tried to stop him,’ he said after he finished his account, ‘but I failed. I’m sorry, Caesar. So sorry. All those people.’
The Emperor patted his shoulder. ‘The gods have seen fit to pardon you and so do I. Go in peace, Jonathan ben Mordecai.’ Even though the music was loud, Titus lowered his voice. ‘And give your mother my love.’
Jonathan’s head jerked up. ‘My mother?’ he said. He felt as if a cold hand had gripped his stomach and was squeezing it. ‘She’s dead. I . . . my mother’s dead. You attended her funeral. Didn’t you?’
‘Dear gods,’ said Titus. ‘Don’t you know? Of course you don’t,’ he turned away and then back. ‘How could you?’
‘Jonathan,’ whispered Nubia. ‘Your mother is alive. She is not dead.’
Jonathan stared at Nubia, whose eyes were full of tears. Then he looked at Lupus, who nodded vigorously and gave him a thumbs up. Out in the arena, the music soared.
‘Her life was in danger . . . as you know,’ said the Emperor in a very low voice. ‘We had to make it look as if she had died. Pretended to have a funeral. It was the only way to keep her safe. Do you understand?’
Jonathan nodded stupidly. He felt numb.
Suddenly a black barking shape exploded into the Imperial Box. Tigris hurled himself at Jonathan and covered his face with ecstatic kisses.
‘By all the gods!’ bellowed Titus, ‘we can’t have –’
‘Jonathan!’ cried Flavia Gemina, running into the box after Tigris. ‘Are you free? Tigris ran out of the door and I followed him – oh, Jonathan!’
Flavia was hugging him tightly and Tigris was scrabbling at his legs with his paws.
‘Ouch, Tigris!’ gasped Jonathan, and to Flavia, ‘Can’t breathe!’
‘Oh Jonathan, I’m sorry! I forgot about your asthma. Are you all right?’
‘He’s fine,’ said Titus with a smile. ‘He’s just discovered that his mother is alive.’
‘That’s right, Jonathan!’ cried Flavia. ‘She and your father are together now. Together at home in Ostia. Oh, Jonathan! When they find out you’re alive they’ll be so happy!’
Jonathan nodded. He was glad to be holding a big squirming puppy in his arms. He didn’t want them to see how much this news affected him.
‘Now,’ said Titus, ‘I suggest that the four of you return to Ostia immediately.’ He lowered his voice and leaned forward. ‘There are many people in Rome who lost relatives in the fire. Today the people were for you, but they are a fickle lot. Tomorrow they may be against you. So go now. Quickly.’
Jonathan put down Tigris and followed his friends out of the box. But at the doorway he paused and looked back at Titus.
‘Thank you, Caesar,’ he said again.
Titus inclined his head and gave an odd half-smile. ‘Shalom, Jonathan ben Mordecai. Peace be with you.’
‘I can’t believe I slept through all that,’ Flavia said a short time later.
Jonathan nodded. He had been telling her about his escape from death as they walked back through the bright March afternoon to Senator Cornix’s house.
At first the girls had put their arms round Jonathan’s shoulders but he needed space to breathe and had shrugged them off. So now they walked four abreast with a big ecstatic puppy romping around them and getting tangled in their legs.
Jonathan was wheezing a little as they climbed the steep Clivus Scauri.
Suddenly Flavia stopped. ‘How did you get free of the cross?’
‘Yes,’ said Nubia. ‘Mnason and I could not think how to set you free without the people must see us.’
Jonathan stopped, too, and frowned. ‘Oh no! I completely forgot. Pluto, the masked man. He loosened my ropes. He told me to run for the Gate of Death. I don’t know who he was, though his voice sounded familiar.’
‘Without him we could not save you. You would still be tied to cross.’
‘I know. I owe him my life.’
Suddenly Tigris began to bark and they heard the sound of running footsteps behind them.
Jonathan’s chest tightened with fear. They had come to drag him back to the amphitheatre. To do the job properly.
He turned and when he saw who it was he almost sobbed with relief.
Suddenly he knew.
‘Here’s my rescuer,’ he said, unable to stop tears filling his eyes. ‘Here’s my Pluto.’
As the man came panting to a halt before them, Jonathan threw his arms around the big slave and hugged him.
‘Caudex,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’
Nubia and her friends sat on padded seats in the dim interior of a well-sprung carruca. They were on their way back to Ostia
. Tigris lolled across Jonathan’s lap, his eyes half closed, content to feel his master’s hand on his head. Lupus sat on one side of Jonathan and Caudex on his other. Flavia was still weak, so she had stretched out along one whole bench with her head on Nubia’s lap.
Beyond the canvas walls of the carruca and above the clip of the mules’ hooves on stone and the grinding of the wheels, Nubia imagined she heard the faint roar of fifty thousand Romans cheering at the games.
She knew the gladiatorial combats were now underway. Would her brother be fighting? No, Taharqo had said he wouldn’t fight for two more days. That meant he would be in his tent near the Golden House. She had not even thought to say goodbye to him.
Images passed through her mind. Taharqo running his victory lap around the arena. Taharqo pulling the green-eyed girl into his arms. Taharqo throwing back his head and laughing with white teeth. He might need her some day.
But he didn’t need her today.
Nubia looked over at Jonathan. In the dim blue light of the covered carruca she saw that he gazed straight ahead, his battered fingers slowly moving on Tigris’s head. She knew he was thinking of his mother.
Jonathan was the one who needed her. And Lupus, also unusually still and pensive. And Flavia, so deeply shaken by her ordeal in the water. Flavia must have felt Nubia’s gaze because she turned her head a little and looked up. They smiled at each other.
Nubia stroked Flavia’s light brown hair and felt a deep contentment as Flavia closed her eyes again.
Things would be good now. Their little family was reunited. She would look after them and make sure nothing ever separated them again. They had shared so many adventures. They had survived the volcano, the pirates, the assassins and the plague. And the games.
A huge surge of affection filled her as she looked at them.
Flavia, her eyes closed, breathing steadily.
Lupus, head down, deep in thought.
Jonathan, scratching Tigris behind his ear.
And brave Caudex, leaning back against one of the timber frames of the canvas roof, his eyes closed. He was part of their strange family, too. It occurred to Nubia that without Caudex they wouldn’t be taking Jonathan home to his mother and father.
‘Caudex?’ she said softly.
‘Yes?’ Caudex opened his small brown eyes.
‘How are you knowing they throw Jonathan to the beasts?’
Caudex shrugged his muscular shoulders. ‘Flavia said people thought Jonathan started the fire. They throw those people to the lions. I told the man called Fabius that I would be Pluto.’
‘Caudex, you’re a hero,’ murmured Flavia without opening her eyes.
Caudex grunted.
‘And you were training to be a gladiator?’ persisted Nubia.
Caudex nodded. ‘Yes. Capua.’
Flavia opened her eyes. ‘You’re from Capua, too?’
Caudex shook his head. ‘From Britannia. Trained in Capua.’
The cart rocked a little as it slipped out of a wheel rut.
‘Why were you not becoming a gladiator?’ asked Nubia.
‘Don’t like killing things. Hate blood.’
Nubia shook her head. ‘Me too,’ she said softly.
‘How I got my name,’ he said. ‘Blockhead.’
‘I always wondered why we called you that,’ said Flavia, and to Nubia, ‘Caudex means blockhead.’
‘Why did they call you blockhead?’ asked Nubia.
‘Because I wouldn’t kill a man.’
They all stared at him for a moment and then, almost apologetically, Lupus flapped his arms.
Nubia nodded solemnly. ‘Lupus is right,’ she said. ‘You did kill someone. The man who plummets to earth. When you were being Pluto. You hit him on the head.’
‘But Ganymede was dying,’ said Flavia. ‘Caudex was just putting him out of his misery.’
‘Still, you killed him.’
They all looked at Jonathan in surprise. He had spoken for the first time since the carruca had rattled away from the Trigemina Gate. He was pulling Tigris’s silky black ear between his thumb and forefinger.
‘That must have been hard for you, Caudex,’ said Jonathan quietly. ‘Very hard.’
Caudex dropped his head. ‘It was.’
‘You did it for Jonathan, didn’t you?’ said Nubia.
Caudex nodded and looked up at them. ‘I did it for all of you,’ he said gruffly and looked around at them. ‘You are like . . . ‘his voice trailed off. ‘Family,’ he said at last. ‘You are like family.’
And as the carruca rolled on towards Ostia, Nubia smiled. She knew exactly what he meant.
Actaeon (ak-tay-on)
mythological hunter who came upon the goddess Diana bathing; she turned him into a deer so that his own hounds pursued and devoured him
Aeneid (uh-nee-id)
Virgil’s epic poem about Aeneas, the hero whose descendants founded Rome
amphitheatre (am-fee-theatre)
an oval-shaped stadium for watching gladiator shows, beast fights and executions; the Flavian amphitheatre in Rome (the ‘Colosseum’) is the most famous one
amphora (am-for-uh)
large clay storage jar for holding wine, oil, grain, etc.
andabata (an-da-ba-ta)
type of gladiator whose helmet had no eyeholes; he had to stab blindly at his opponent, usually another andabata
atrium (eh-tree-um)
the reception room in larger Roman homes, often with skylight and pool
Aventine (av-en-tine)
one of the seven hills of Rome, close to the River Tiber and Mount Testaccio
Baiae (bye-eye)
a desirable area in the Bay of Naples where the richest people had villas
barbiton (bar-bi-ton)
a kind of Greek bass lyre, but there is no evidence for a ‘Syrian barbiton’
Berenice (bare-uh-neece)
a beautiful Jewish Queen who was Titus’s lover after the sack of Jerusalem
Caelian (kai-lee-un)
one of the seven hills of Rome, site of the Temple of Claudius and many homes
Capitoline (kap-it-oh-line)
The Roman hill with the great Temple of Jupiter at its top; not as impressive today as it would have been in Flavia’s time
Capua (cap-you-uh)
now known as Santa Maria Capua Vetere, 20 miles north of Naples, Capua was famous in Roman times for the gladiator school established by Julius Caesar
carruca (ka-ru-ka)
a four-wheeled travelling coach, often covered
Castor
one of the famous twins of Greek mythology (Pollux being the other)
ceramic (sir-am-ik)
clay which has been fired in a kiln, very hard and smooth.
Cerberus (sir-burr-uss)
three-headed mythological hellhound who guards the gates of the Underworld
Circus Maximus (sir-kuss max-i-muss)
long race-course in the centre of Rome, at the western foot of the Palatine Hill
Clivus Scauri (klee-vuss scow-ree)
a steep road on the Caelian Hill still visible today
Cloaca Maxima (klo-ak-ah max-im-ah)
the Great Drain: the sewer which ran under the Roman forum; it was so well-built that parts of it are still in use today
colonnade (coll-uh-nayd)
a covered walkway lined with columns
Colosseum (call-a-see-um)
this nickname for the Flavian amphitheatre probably came from the colossal statue of Nero nearby; the term ‘Colosseum’ was not used in Flavia’s time
denarius (den-are-ee-us)
small silver coin worth four sesterces
domina (dom-in-ah)
a Latin word which means ‘mistress’; a polite form of address for a woman
Daedalus (die-dal-uss)
mythological inventor who was imprisoned by Minos of Crete; he made a maze called the labyrinth and also invented wings to escape his imprisonment
Dion
ysus (die-oh-nye-suss)
Greek god of vineyards and wine; he is often shown riding a panther
Domitia (doh-mish-uh)
Domitian’s wife
Domitian (duh-mish-un)
the Emperor Titus’s younger brother, aged 30 when this story takes place
editor
the person who sponsors (pays for) the games, in this case the Emperor Titus
Eurydice (your-id-iss-ee)
in Greek mythology she was the beautiful wife of Orpheus who died of a snake bite; Orpheus went to the underworld to bring her back but did not succeed
ex machina (eks mack-ee-nah)
literally: ‘from a crane’; usually referring to the part of a play
where an actor dressed as a god or goddess is lowered onto the stage to put everything right.
familia (fam-ill-ya)
the group of gladiators who train together in a particular ‘school’ are said to belong to one familia or ‘family’
Flavia (flay-vee-a)
a name, meaning ‘fair-haired’; Flavius is another form of this name
Flavian amphitheatre
what we know as the Colosseum; it was called Flavian because Vespasian, Titus and Domitian – who built it – were from the Flavian gens or tribe
forum (for-um)
ancient marketplace and civic centre in Roman towns
freedman (freed-man)
a slave who has been granted freedom, his ex-master becomes his patron
furca (fur-kah)
two-pronged fork used as an instrument of punishment, with two prongs to which the arms were tied; sometimes people were hung on it
furcifer (fur-kee-fare)
Latin for ‘scoundrel’; literally someone who wears a forked piece of wood around their neck or who is crucified on a forked piece of wood
galerus (gal-air-uss)
the metal shoulder-guard of a retiarius; its large rim protected his head
gladiator/gladiatrix
refers to all classes of those who fought in the arena, but literally a man or woman who fights with a gladius (short thrusting sword)
greaves (greevz)
metal shin-guards; the Thracian and hoplomachus wore tall ones, the murmillo wore a single one on his left leg
habet! (hab-et)
Latin for ‘he has!’; the crowds shouted this when a gladiator received a hit; they also shouted hoc habet! ‘he has it!’ (ie the hit or wound)
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 111