Nubia realised she had been holding her breath. Now she let it out with a long sigh.
‘Are you all right, Nubia?’ Flavia’s arm came around her shoulder and Nubia smiled and nodded.
‘Yes. I think I will be all right.’
At that very moment a rising breeze ruffled the tawny fur on her lionskin cloak. Captain Geminus must have felt it, too, for he shouted out an order.
Within moments the crew was back on board. Nubia and her friends moved aside as a big sailor holding a rope ran up onto the platform. He bent over the stern rail to tie the skiff’s tow-line to a heavy brass ring. Now the Cygnet bobbed below them in the Delphina’s wake.
The sailor straightened up and grinned down at them. Nubia had heard the other men call him Punicus. Although he was as hairless as a baby and as bald as an egg, his sleeveless blue tunic revealed powerfully muscled arms and shoulders.
‘My special knot,’ he said in his curiously light voice, ‘so the little Cygnet won’t drift away.’
He jumped back down onto the main deck as Flavia’s father issued another series of commands. Nubia and the others turned to watch.
All four crew members had run to the hemp ropes which would release the sails.
Upon Captain Geminus’s order, Punicus and a grey-haired Greek sailor named Atticus loosened the small white sail at the front of the ship. Then it was the turn of the two sailors at the mainmast.
‘Who’s the young one?’ breathed Flavia. ‘The one with the wavy black hair? He’s as handsome as Paris.’
‘He may be pretty,’ said Jonathan, ‘but he isn’t as good as the one with the striped cap: his side of the sail is coming down much more quickly.’
‘The man with the cap is Zosimus,’ said Flavia’s father. ‘He’s a Rhodian. And the boy is Silvanus.’
Flavia and Nubia glanced at each other and giggled.
‘Silvanus is from Ostia,’ continued Flavia’s father, ‘He’s never sailed before. I couldn’t afford to be choosy,’ he added under his breath. ‘This ship is thought to be illomened.’
The mainsail was unfurling now and as the wind filled it, Nubia clapped her hands in delight. ‘Look! There is a dolphin on the sail. Were you painting it, Lupus?’
Lupus nodded.
‘It’s wonderful!’ said Flavia. ‘When did you do it?’
‘We did it a few days ago,’ said Jonathan. ‘The day you two went shopping with Alma. We laid out the sail on the dock and I had to stop people walking on it while Lupus sketched the dolphin with charcoal. Then I helped him fill in the outline with black paint.’
‘It is most charming,’ said Nubia.
Lupus looked pleased and Flavia said, ‘With the wind ruffling the sail like that, the dolphin really looks as if he’s leaping through the water.’
Nubia pointed. ‘And look at the bubbles coming up from his head.’
‘That’s where Tigris ran across the wet paint,’ said Jonathan with a grin. ‘Those bubbles are his paw-prints.’
‘Jonathan,’ said Nubia. ‘Where is the Tigris? Why did he not come to say goodbye to you with your mother?’
Jonathan turned away from her and leaned his forearms on the polished rail, as Flaccus had done a few moments earlier. ‘I thought it might worry Tigris if he saw me sailing off,’ he said. ‘Remember how upset he was the last time I disappeared?’
‘Yes,’ said Nubia. She was about to add that Tigris had almost died of longing but instead she pressed her lips together.
A moment later, she heard Aristo call them to lessons. Nubia turned with a secret smile and followed her friends down onto the main deck. At least there was one good thing about being on board the ex-slave-ship.
BEGINNING WITH YOU, BRIGHT APOLLO, I WILL DESCRIBE THE ADVENTURES OF THE HEROES OF OLD, WHO SPED IN THE SWIFT ARGO AFTER THE GOLDEN FLEECE, PASSING BETWEEN THE CLASHING DOG-ROCKS
Lupus looked up from his wax tablet as Flavia laughed.
‘No, Lupus,’ said Aristo gently. ‘Not dog-rocks. Blue rocks.’
The four friends and their tutor were sitting at a polished pine table fixed to the deck between the hatch-cover and the foremast.
‘I can see how you made the mistake,’ said Aristo to Lupus. ‘You thought you saw the Greek word for “dog-like” – kyneios – rather than kyaneas, which means “dark blue”. But you ignored two alphas and you supplied an iota where none existed. You have to look at every letter when you’re doing a translation.’
‘Letters in a translation are like clues in a mystery.’ Flavia nodded wisely. ‘Even the smallest ones – like iota – are important.’
Lupus glowered at her. He was Greek, and knew perfectly well what iota was.
On the table, the papyrus scroll rattled under the strengthening breeze, so Aristo placed a hand on either side of the open portion. ‘This poem is called the Argonautica,’ he said. ‘It was written over three hundred years ago by a man called Apollonius Rhodius. Although Apollonius originally came from Alexandria in Egypt, we call him the Rhodian because he settled on the island of Rhodes. He may even have got an idea for one of his monsters there. The bronze giant Talos might have been inspired by the Colossus of Rhodes.’
Flavia nodded. ‘I know about the monsters Jason had to overcome on his quest,’ she said. ‘There were the Sirens, and the Harpies, and Scylla and Charybdis. Though really Charybdis is a whirlpool, not a monster. And then there were the rocks that clashed together every time a ship sailed through but the argonauts managed to escape by sending a dove through first so the rocks clashed together but as they began to move apart again Jason told his men to row as fast as they could and they just made it but the rocks crunched some of the wood on their stern!’
‘That is what clashing dog-rocks do?’ whispered Nubia.
Aristo laughed. ‘I’ve told you, Nubia, there’s no such thing as dog-rocks.’
But even as he spoke, Nubia heard a sound that made the back of her neck prickle. It sounded like the faint echoing bark of a dog.
Jonathan’s stomach sank as he heard the muffled sound of a dog barking.
‘Hark!’ cried Nubia. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘Yes!’ cried Flavia, her grey eyes wide. ‘It was an eerie sound.’
Lupus nodded, frowned and tipped his head to one side.
‘I didn’t hear anything,’ said Jonathan quickly, and then, as the faint barking came again. ‘I didn’t hear that either.’
‘It sounds like there’s a dog down in the hold,’ said Aristo.
‘Great Neptune’s beard!’ roared Captain Geminus from his post at the helm. Jonathan glanced back and saw him hand the tiller to Punicus and stomp towards the box-like covering of the hatch.
‘Wait!’ Jonathan slid off his bench and lunged for the hatch-cover. ‘Captain Geminus, I can explain—’
But someone was lifting the cover from underneath. Jonathan groaned. He wasn’t surprised to see his dog Tigris, whom he had commanded to ‘Stay in the hold behind these bags and don’t make a sound!’ But he was surprised to see the person who held Tigris’s lead.
It was a boy of about fourteen with dark slanting eyes and straight blond hair long enough to brush his lightly tanned shoulders.
‘Look what I found!’ laughed the boy, showing white teeth. ‘He was tied up in a dark, damp corner.’
‘Zetes!’ called a deep voice from the stern platform. ‘Leave that dog and come here at once!’
‘Coming, master!’ The boy dropped Tigris’s lead and ran lightly across the deck towards Flaccus.
‘What was my first condition of agreeing to take you with me?’ boomed Flavia’s father in his sea captain voice. She had rarely seen him so angry.
‘No dogs,’ said Jonathan, staring miserably at the deck.
‘So why did you disobey me?’
Jonathan said nothing. Lupus held up his wax tablet: I DON’T MIND DOGS ON MY SHIP
‘That is beside the point! We had an agreement.’ Flavia’s father took a deep breath and closed his eyes
. Presently he opened them again and said in a lower voice: ‘Dogs eat as much food as people. They require exercise. They need to have their mess cleaned up. And they have fleas.’
‘I’m very, very sorry, sir.’
‘I’m tempted to put him ashore at Three Taverns.’
‘Oh please don’t do that, pater!’ cried Flavia. ‘Tigris is a good watchdog and ratcatcher.’
Her father sighed and ran a hand through his light-brown hair.
‘Jonathan.’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘You’ll swab the deck every morning and evening. Clean up any mess that dog makes and share your own food with him. You’ll also keep him quiet and out from underfoot. Is that understood?’
Jonathan nodded, his head still down. ‘I will, sir. Thank you.’
‘And now,’ said Captain Geminus, ‘please get back to your lessons.’
‘Who is that boy?’ asked Nubia, as they sat down again on the polished bench. ‘He is most beautiful.’
‘He must be Floppy’s slave,’ said Flavia. ‘What did he call him?’
‘Zetes,’ said Nubia. ‘Isn’t there a Zetes in the story of Jason?’ said Flavia. Aristo nodded. ‘He was one of the argonauts. Zetes and his brother could fly.’
‘Hey!’ cried Flavia. ‘That gives me an idea. Let’s play a game!’
Lupus reached for his dice-cup at the end of the table and rattled it hopefully.
‘Not that kind of a game, Lupus. Let’s pretend we’re on the Argo, searching for the Golden Fleece and that everybody on board is a member of Jason’s crew.’ She opened her wax tablet. ‘It can be part of our lesson. Can we do that, Aristo?’
‘Actually,’ he said, ‘that’s not a bad idea. Linking characters in a story with real people is a useful mnemonic.’
Nubia opened her mouth but before she could ask the question Aristo said, ‘A mnemonic means a way of remembering. Go ahead,’ said Aristo, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Who’s who?’
‘Well,’ said Flavia. ‘Zetes is obviously Zetes.’ ‘Obviously,’ said Jonathan.
‘And I think pater should be Jason,’ added Flavia.
Lupus shook his head vigorously and pointed at himself.
‘But you’re too young to be Jason,’ said Flavia. Lupus shook his head again and got up from the bench. He planted his feet wide on the bright moving deck and gestured round the ship and then pointed back at himself.
‘It is his ship,’ whispered Jonathan. ‘I think he should be Jason.’
‘Good point,’ laughed Flavia. ‘After all, Jason owned the Argo and you—’
‘Shhh!’ said Jonathan. ‘Nobody’s supposed to know Lupus owns this ship.’
‘That’s right,’ said Aristo. ‘Your father said it might undermine his authority if the crew found out he was taking orders from an eight-year-old boy.’
Lupus held up nine fingers.
‘Sorry,’ said Aristo. ‘A nine-year-old.’
‘You can sit down now, Lupus!’ Flavia tugged the fluttering hem of his sea-green tunic. ‘We agreed you can be Jason.’ She wrote on her tablet and presently – after a lively discussion – Flavia held up the list, neatly etched in the yellow beeswax on facing leaves of her tablet.
ON BOARD Delphina
ON BOARD Argo
Lupus the ship-owner is like
Jason, the Brave Hero on a Quest
Flavia Gemina is like
Atalanta, the speedy Heroine
Jonathan would like to be
Peleus, a Hero and father of Achilles
Nubia has agreed to be
Hercules, because both wear lionskins
Captain Geminus (a twin) is
Castor, Pollux’s mortal Brother
Aristo (a talented musician) is
Orpheus, whose Lyre tamed Beasts
Bato (former junior magistrate) is
Mopsus, a Wise Soothsayer
Flaccus (aristocratic snob) is
Acastus, arrogant son of King Pelias
Zetes (Flaccus’s slave-boy) is
Zetes, the Hero who could fly
Silvanus (the handsome youth) is
Hylas, young Squire of Hercules
(Zetes is also very beautiful and some people thought he should be Hylas but he is already Zetes and besides, Silvanus is handsomer)
Atticus (old and Greek) can be
Argus, who built the Argo
Punicus (Phoenician helmsman)
Tiphys, Helmsman on the Argo
‘I think that’s everybody,’ murmured Flavia, studying the list with satisfaction.
‘What about that little man with the striped cap?’ said Jonathan, pointing up towards the rigging.
ZOSIMUS IS FROM RHODES wrote Lupus on his own tablet.
‘He has pigeons,’ said Nubia.
‘Pigeons?’ said Flavia.
Nubia nodded. ‘I see him bring them onto the board. Look!’ She pointed towards the front of the ship.
‘There are pigeons in that cloth-covered crate by the anchor?’ said Flavia.
Nubia nodded. ‘Zosimus tells me I can help him look after them. I ask him before we sail away.’
‘Perfect!’ cried Flavia. ‘On the Argo, one of the sailors released a bird which flew through the clashing rocks.’
‘Do you remember his name?’ asked Aristo.
After a moment of silence Lupus snapped his fingers.
EUPHEMUS he wrote.
‘Well done, Lupus!’ Aristo patted Lupus on the back.
‘You fee muss?’ said Nubia, reading over Lupus’s shoulder.
‘Close enough,’ laughed Flavia, and made an addition to the list:
Zosimus (keeper of pigeons) is
Euphemus, a bird-loving Argonaut
Jonathan frowned. ‘I wonder. If we’re not sailing through clashing blue dog-rocks, why did Zosimus bring pigeons?’
Nubia lay in the Delphina’s hold, wide awake.
Her stomach was pleasantly full of the beef and raisin stew they had eaten for dinner. The hammock was comfortable and the ship’s gentle rocking had already lulled her friends to sleep. Tigris lay below them on some of the bags of Ostian salt they had brought with them; she could hear him snoring. Nearby, a swinging lamp-horn filled the hold with a soft apricot glow.
But Nubia could not sleep.
Up on deck she had been fine. Captain Geminus and his men had transformed the slave-ship so that the Delphina bore no outward resemblance to the hated vessel that had taken Nubia from her native land.
But they had not done anything to change the inside, except load the ship’s hold with amphoras of fish-sauce, crates of glassware and bags of salt.
The moment Nubia had descended into the ship’s dark belly the memories had come slithering back.
It was here in this very hold that the slave-dealers had stripped her, shaved her head and clamped a cold metal collar around her neck.
It was here they had beaten her.
And it was here they had strung a heavy chain through a ring on her collar and through the collars of other girls and women, so that a dozen of them were linked to each other. Nubia would never forget the constant jangling sound of those chains, their cold weight or their cruel tugging. Those at either end had been chained to posts or beams so that none of them could move more than a foot either way. They had no hammocks and there were only two positions they could adopt: sitting with their naked backs against the rough timbers or lying on the damp wood.
Once the chains were on, they did not come off. Nubia and the other captive women had not even been allowed to relieve themselves. Instead they had been forced to lie in their own filth.
Of all the humiliations, that had been the worst.
Every morning one of the slave-dealers would appear in a painful glare of light to sluice them down with buckets of gaspingly cold seawater. They were allowed a cup of drinking water only twice a day, and leathery bread only once. They ate so little that soon they did not need to relieve themselves. But then the
hunger had begun, twisting like a dagger in their bellies and forcing pathetic whimpers from their throats. One night an old grandmother from the Gazelle Clan had moaned all night for ‘a morsel of bread please, just a little morsel’. The slave-dealers had not understood her words. Even if they had, they would not have given her bread.
The old woman’s silence the next morning had been more terrible than her cries the night before. But it wasn’t until three days later that the men unchained her body and threw it overboard.
Nubia remembered something else. There had been a beam above her head with a pattern of knot-holes and flaws in the wood. From a certain angle it resembled a woman’s face wearing a sad but kind expression. Once Nubia had ‘seen’ this face she could not unsee it. So she pretended the face was her mother’s. And late at night, while the other captives slept, Nubia would speak to it and weep.
Now, swinging gently between her friends, with their steady breathing on either side, Nubia looked for the face-pattern on the wooden beams.
Suddenly she saw it, right above Lupus’s hammock. Only a foot or two away. She was lying in almost exactly the same place as when the slave-ship first took her far from her family and her native land.
‘Oh my mother,’ she whispered in her own language, as the hot tears rolled from the corners of her eyes down into her ears. ‘Please help me not to be afraid. Outside this ship is Delphina, but inside it is still Vespa.’
BEFORE LONG THEY SAW ANTHEMOESSA, HOME OF THE SWEET-VOICED SIRENS. HALF-WOMAN, HALF-BIRD, THESE SIRENS PERCHED HIGH ABOVE THE HARBOUR AND TEMPTED TRAVELLERS TO STAY FOREVER.
‘An excellent translation, Lupus,’ said Aristo. ‘Next line, Flavia?’
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 114