‘Ow!’ Jonathan jerked his head back. ‘It’s not a smudge!’ he said in Latin. ‘It’s a scar from a sword cut. And it still hurts like Hades!’
‘Jonathan, do not curse and please do not shout at me.’ Susannah’s beautiful eyes filled with tears.
‘I’m sorry, mother.’ Jonathan sighed. ‘But I’m not a baby. I’m eleven.’
‘But I love you so much, my dear, dear son.’ She took his face between her hands and began to cover it with kisses.
As Lupus watched them, he remembered how distant Susannah had been with him the month before, when everyone thought Jonathan was dead. He also remembered the vow he had made.
‘I think I lose you forever,’ Susannah was saying to Jonathan. ‘Then I find you but now you go away again.’ She began to weep. ‘Why you go away? Why you leave me now?’
‘Don’t cry, mother,’ said Jonathan, glancing at the others. Lupus knew he was embarrassed by his mother’s clumsy Latin. ‘We’ll be back in a few months. Flavia’s father says maybe even by the end of May.’ Jonathan rolled his eyes at Lupus. But he submitted to his mother’s embrace and said something to her in Hebrew as he patted her back.
Lupus felt a strange tightness around his heart. He had not seen his own mother for three years, since he had been kidnapped by the man who murdered his father. Venalicius the slave-dealer had cut out Lupus’s tongue to stop him from talking and kept him prisoner aboard the slave-ship Vespa. But Lupus had finally managed to escape, here in Rome’s port, far from his home on the Greek island of Symi. Dazed by pain and grief, he had lived for some years among the tombs on the outskirts of the city. During those years of begging and scavenging Lupus quickly learned to understand Latin.
Then, last summer, three children had befriended him. Flavia Gemina, a brilliant ten-year-old who liked to solve mysteries, her African slave-girl Nubia and their Jewish next-door-neighbour Jonathan. After their first adventure, Lupus moved in with Jonathan and joined the others for daily lessons with Aristo. Within months he had learned to read and write Latin, and also Greek – his native language.
Now that it was April, and the sailing season had begun, Lupus was about to fulfil his uncle’s dying wish. He and his friends hoped to find and rescue the freeborn children that Venalicius had kidnapped and illegally sold as slaves.
Beside him, Flavia and Nubia had knelt on the warm wooden pier to hug their dogs. The members of the Delphina’s crew were saying their goodbyes, too. A dark haired youth of about sixteen was kissing his parents, and a plump old woman was pinching the cheek of a scrawny sailor in an embroidered felt cap.
Lupus turned away. There was nobody for him. Nobody to care if he lived or died on the voyage. Nobody to offer daily prayers for his safety. Nobody to look out over the water and wonder where he was. At this moment he would even have welcomed Alma’s squishy embrace, but she was hugging Flavia and weeping loudly.
Lupus’s throat tightened, and to his dismay he felt tears prick his eyes. He went quickly up the gangplank of the ship and stepped down with his right foot first. Keeping his back to the others, he crossed the deck and gripped the polished oak rail.
As he gazed out over the water, he remembered the secret altar he had made on the beach three days before. He remembered the feel of the damp sand as he formed it into a cube as high and wide as his forearm. And how easy it had been to twist off the pigeon’s head and tip out its blood, like dark wine from a twitching feathered jug. The waves would have washed away his altar by now, but he hoped that the blood he had poured onto it would fix it permanently in the memory of the gods.
Now, fingering his new good-luck charm, his tongueless mouth soundlessly formed the words of the pledge he had made over the blood-splattered altar.
I will find you, mother, Lupus silently vowed, and we’ll be together again. And I will never, ever come back to this place!
‘Where’s your father?’ said Aristo to Flavia as he came back down the gangplank onto the dock.
Flavia pulled away from Alma’s arms and turned to look at her young tutor. ‘I’m not sure. He was going to make a dawn sacrifice at the temple of Castor and Pollux, and then see the harbourmaster. But that was over two hours ago. He should be here by now.’
Aristo jerked his head towards the ship. ‘Our paying passenger has just arrived and he wants to know when we set sail.’
Flavia shaded her eyes against the early morning sunshine and looked around the busy marina. ‘There’s pater!’ she said. ‘Just coming out from behind the customs stall, near those men pulling the mule.’
Marcus Flavius Geminus was a tall, fair-haired Roman of the equestrian class. Although it was not fashionable for men of his social standing to choose the career of captain, Flavia knew her father was happiest at sea. But he did not look happy now.
‘Is everything all right, pater?’ she asked, following him up the gangplank. ‘You look worried.’
‘I’m fine,’ he said, stepping carefully onto the deck. ‘Remember: right foot first,’ he added.
Nubia and Jonathan followed Flavia onto the ship and Lupus came over to join them.
‘Was the sacrifice all right?’ Flavia asked her father. ‘It wasn’t blemished, was it?’
‘No, my little owl.’ He gave her a distracted smile and began to unwrap himself from his toga. ‘The sacrifice was fine, but I still feel . . . uneasy. I don’t suppose . . . did any of you dream about owls or bears last night?’
Flavia glanced at her friends. All four of them still had nightmares about the terrible things they had seen at the games in Rome the previous month.
But Jonathan shook his head and Nubia said, ‘My dreams are fuzzy. I think I was being chased by Venalicius the slave-dealer.’
Lupus took out his wax tablet, his main method of communication, and he wrote: I DREAMT I WAS SWIMMING WITH DOLPHINS
‘Dolphins are good luck,’ said Flavia’s father, folding his toga, ‘but slave-dealers are bad. And today’s Thursday. It’s never good luck to set sail on a Thursday. Also, it’s an even day of the month. Maybe we should set sail tomorrow.’
‘But, pater!’ hissed Flavia. ‘We performed the lustratio yesterday morning and had the feast last night and we’ve said our goodbyes and now we’re all ready to go.’
‘And the wind is perfect,’ added Aristo, gesturing towards the north, where a plume of smoke drifted gently away from Ostia’s lighthouse.
Lupus pulled his lucky pendant from under the neck of his sea-green tunic and gave its tiny bronze bells an emphatic tinkle.
‘I’m not sure.’ Flavia’s father ran his hand through his light-brown hair. ‘I can’t risk offending the gods.’
Flavia sighed. Since her father had lost his ship and crew the previous summer, he had become obsessed with signs and portents.
‘Captain Geminus! Wait!’ A short man of about her father’s age was hurrying up the gangplank. He had thinning hair and pale brown eyes.
‘It’s Marcus Artorius Bato, the junior magistrate,’ murmured Flavia. ‘What’s he doing here?’
‘He’s not a junior magistrate any more,’ said Jonathan in her ear. ‘His term finished at the end of December.’
‘Right foot first!’ cried Flavia’s father, as Alma, Susannah and the dogs followed Bato down onto the deck. ‘Step onto the deck with your right foot first, everyone, or you’ll bring bad luck!’
‘Captain Geminus,’ said Bato, dropping his heavy leather satchel on the deck. ‘Is it true that you’re about to set sail for Corinth and Delos?’
‘That’s right,’ said Flavia’s father.
‘Do you have any room for passengers? I can pay.’ Bato touched the small leather pouch at his belt.
‘Of course. But I’m not sure when we’ll set sail.’
Bato took Captain Geminus by the arm and drew him aside. ‘Listen. I had a visit from a friend of mine and his wife yesterday. Their two little girls have gone missing. And another girl disappeared a few days ago, an innkeeper’s daughter, though I�
�ve only just found out about it.’
‘Our baker’s son is missing, too,’ said Alma, who had pushed close enough to hear.
‘Porcius?’ gasped Flavia.
Alma nodded. ‘He’s been gone for three days. His father thinks he went to Rome to see the games so he isn’t worried, just angry.’ She looked at Bato. ‘But what if Porcius hasn’t run off to Rome? What if he’s been kidnapped?’
‘Kidnapped?’ cried Susannah, clutching Jonathan’s arm. ‘Someone kidnaps children?’
‘Shhh!’ hissed Bato, glancing around. ‘Please keep your voices down.’
Nubia’s amber eyes were wide. ‘Venalicius!’ she whispered. ‘He is back like in my nightmares.’
‘Don’t worry, Nubia,’ Flavia slipped an arm around her friend’s shoulder. ‘It can’t be Venalicius. He’s dead. But maybe there’s a new slave-dealer in town.’
Bato nodded grimly. ‘My friend and his wife suspect kidnapping,’ he said. ‘I’ve just been to see the harbourmaster. According to him, a Greek ship set sail without authorisation yesterday at noon.’ He glanced round at them with his pale brown eyes and then added, ‘A fisherman claims he heard children on board, crying.’
‘Oh, the poor things!’ Jonathan’s mother started weeping again.
‘Great Neptune’s beard!’ muttered Captain Geminus.
‘Pater, we have to go today!’ cried Flavia. ‘While the trail is still fresh!’
‘She’s right,’ said Bato. ‘That ship might lead us to the mastermind behind these illegal operations. I thought I cracked this ring last year. But I was obviously wrong.’ Bato shook his head and muttered. ‘He must have agents everywhere.’
Flavia could still see the doubt in her father’s eyes and she had a sudden flash of inspiration. ‘Don’t forget, pater, we promised Lupus’s uncle. And we don’t want to break a promise to a dying man. It might anger the gods and bring bad luck.’
Lupus’s brass stylus made sticky noises as he urgently pushed it through the beeswax coating of his wooden writing tablet.
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ said Flavia’s father. ‘Perhaps this is a sign from the gods.’
Lupus showed his wax tablet to Captain Geminus, and Flavia craned her neck to see it.
IT’S MY SHIP, Lupus had written, AND I SAY WE SAIL TODAY!
As the Delphina moved away from the pier, Flavia and her friends waved goodbye to Ostia.
They stood at the back of the ship, on the stern platform beside a small altar to Venus and a large swan ornament. Usually the wooden bird’s head gazed down at a little skiff trailing behind – like a mother swan with her cygnet – but at the moment the Cygnet was still towing its mother out of the harbour. The Delphina’s four-man crew were rowing while Flavia’s father stood behind the deckhouse and steered.
But Flavia was not watching her father or the crew.
Her eyes were fixed on Scuto, an alert golden form sitting on the dock between Jonathan’s mother and Alma. Nipur was a black shape running back and forth, straining at the lead in Alma’s hand. But Scuto’s patient face – Flavia could still see the tiny dots of his dark eyes – was even more heartbreaking than Nipur’s frantic barks.
Flavia glanced at Nubia. Her friend’s cheeks were wet and there was such a look of yearning in her amber eyes that Flavia could barely hold back her own tears. She stifled a sob.
‘It’s not too late for you to change your minds and go back,’ said Flavia’s father over his shoulder. He stood a few feet behind them at the helm, holding a rod of polished wood attached to the steering paddles. By moving this tiller he could guide the direction of the ship. ‘I’d be much happier knowing you were safe at home.’
‘No, pater,’ sniffed Flavia, her eyes fixed on Scuto. ‘We’re saying goodbye of our own free will. The kidnapped children didn’t have a choice. They didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to their dogs or their families. We have to find them.’
From behind her came a low voice. ‘Why do you have to find them?’
Flavia turned to see Bato.
‘Because freeborn children shouldn’t be kidnapped,’ she said. ‘It’s not right.’
‘Of course it’s not right. But you should leave it to the experts.’
‘And being an ex-magistrate makes you an expert?’ said Jonathan.
Bato raised his pale eyebrows. ‘I’m surprised to see you on board, Jonathan ben Mordecai. I thought your mother only recently returned home from abroad. Don’t you want to spend time with her?’
‘I . . . we . . . she and my father haven’t been together for ten years. They want to get to know each other again.’ Jonathan flushed. ‘I thought it might be easier for them if I wasn’t around.’ He took a breath. ‘Also, I want to help find the kidnapped children.’
‘I, too,’ said Nubia.
‘We all do,’ said Flavia. ‘It’s our quest!’
Lupus folded his arms and grunted his assent.
Bato sighed. ‘No, I didn’t think I could talk you out of it,’ he said. ‘But listen to me. This particular investigation could be extremely dangerous. Don’t tell anyone what you’re up to. And for Jupiter’s sake don’t let anybody on board know the real reason I’m here. The official story is that I’m taking a holiday after my year as junior magistrate. Understood?’
They all nodded.
‘Good. If you happen to get any information, tell me. But discreetly. Remember, I’m just a passenger. Just an ordinary tourist. Who’s that?’ He nodded towards a young man rising up from the hatch into the brilliant sunshine.
‘Him?’ said Flavia. ‘He’s just a passenger. Just an ordinary tourist.’
Bato narrowed his eyes at her, then gave a half-smile. ‘What’s his name?’
‘I don’t know.’ Flavia shrugged. ‘Pater told me but I’ve forgotten it.’
‘Never mind,’ said Bato. ‘We’ll soon find out. He’s coming this way.’
Flavia studied the young man as he came towards them across the moving deck. She remembered seeing him and his slave-boy come on board, but she had been too busy saying goodbye to Scuto and Alma to take much notice.
He was tall and muscular, with dark eyes and floppy dark hair. The two broad stripes on his short-sleeved tunic told Flavia he was a patrician, like Bato. She guessed he was a little younger than her tutor Aristo, about eighteen or nineteen years old. He was very good-looking, so she gave him her prettiest smile.
The young man ignored her smile and went straight up to Bato.
‘Hello,’ he said in a deep cultured voice. ‘My name is Gaius Valerius Flaccus.’
‘Marcus Artorius Bato,’ said the other. ‘Let me introduce you to Flavia Gemina, the captain’s daughter, and her friends Jonathan, Nubia and—’
‘How long do you think it will take us to reach Corinth?’ said the passenger, not even looking at Flavia, He was chewing some kind of gum or resin.
‘Four or five days,’ said Aristo, stepping up to join them on the crowded platform. ‘That’s if the wind is favourable. It will take a week to ten days if not.’
Flaccus nodded and moved to the rail. As he did so, he jostled Flavia. She fought back an urge to thump him hard.
‘Big oaf,’ she muttered under her breath, and gave him a withering look.
But Flaccus was oblivious. He had rested his forearms on the polished stern rail and chomped his gum. ‘My father left me a nice legacy,’ he remarked, ‘and I thought I’d see the Seven Sights before I begin to practise law in Rome.’
‘Oh, I know the Seven Sights!’ cried Flavia, her desire to show off overcoming her irritation. ‘They’re the famous monuments which everybody says you must see before you die. Some people call them the Seven Wonders of the world.’
‘From Delos I plan to go on to Rhodes or Alexandria,’ said Flaccus to Bato and Aristo, with barely a glance at Flavia, who had begun to count on her fingers.
‘There’s the statue of Zeus at Olympia,’ she began. ‘the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, the Colossus of—’
/>
‘Let’s go down to the main deck,’ said Flaccus abruptly to Aristo and Bato. ‘We can talk more easily there.’
‘How rude!’ hissed Flavia when the three men had left the stern platform.
Lupus nodded.
‘I didn’t tell him there would be four children on board,’ said Captain Geminus. He glanced over his shoulder at them. ‘Flaccus is very rich and he’s paying me well, so keep out of his way.’
‘Happily,’ muttered Flavia and then made her voice deep and cultured: ‘My father left me a nice legacy,’ she said, mimicking Flaccus and pretending to chomp. ‘I thought I’d see the Seven Sights before I become a pompous lawyer up in Rome . . .’
Lupus laughed and Jonathan grinned.
Flavia snorted. ‘Look at him, chewing like a cow. And Flaccus is a stupid name. It means big-eared or flabby.’
‘Well, he doesn’t have big ears and he certainly isn’t flabby,’ said Jonathan. ‘He’s got more muscles than most gladiators I know.’
‘Then it must refer to his floppy hair.’ Flavia clenched her fists to make her biceps big and flipped an imaginary fringe out of her eyes: ‘I’m Gaius Vapidius Floppy,’ she breathed huskily. ‘But you can just call me Floppy.’
‘Flavia . . .’ Her father’s warning tone.
But it was gratifying to hear her friends laugh. Laughter made her feel better, too. It took her mind off the memory of Scuto sitting patiently on the dock, already longing for her return.
*
When Nubia could no longer see Nipur she dried her tears, took a deep breath, and turned to face forward.
It was strange being on this ship again, the same vessel that had taken her far from her family and desert home. Without its hated yellow and black striped sail, the ex-slave-ship Vespa looked more like a cheerful beetle than a wasp. Now re-named the Delphina, it had a round hull and two masts, one of which stood straight up in the middle while the other leant forward from the prow. Both masts now carried white sails, not yet loosened to catch the wind.
Although the ship belonged to Lupus, Captain Geminus had been working on her for months. He and his men had sanded the peeling brown hull and brightened it with a fresh coat of blue paint. They had scrubbed the deck to a silken finish and waxed the oak rail until it was smooth as glass. They had polished the Delphina’s brass fixtures so that they shone like gold. And they had set up a small altar to Venus next to the swan’s neck ornament here at the back of the ship.
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 113