‘Lupus,’ she said. ‘Venalicius spoke his last words in Greek. Today you translated them into Latin. Can you write down exactly what he wrote? But this time in Greek?’
Lupus yawned, then nodded, his eyes very green in the yellow lamplight. He sat up, took the wax tablet and thought for a moment. Then he began to write. The bed creaked as Nubia came to sit beside Flavia. Tigris pushed his cold nose against Flavia’s knee, and Jonathan came over, his shadow flickering on the red and black wall.
They all watched as Lupus wrote in Greek.
‘Don’t forget the last word he spoke,’ whispered Flavia. ‘The girl’s name.’
Lupus suddenly gripped her arm, and she saw understanding in his eyes.
‘Yes!’ she whispered. ‘He wasn’t trying to tell us who, but where!’
POΔON wrote Lupus.
‘Eis Rhodon,’ whispered Flavia in Greek. ‘He was trying to say “eis Rhodon”!’
And Jonathan translated: ‘To Rhodes.’
‘Rhodes?’ said Bato the next morning at breakfast. ‘Are you sure?’
They were all sitting in the cool morning courtyard of the hotel, eating a breakfast of olives, cheese and sesame rolls with honey. Below the table, brown hens pecked at the crumbs, and from somewhere nearby came the raucous crow of a rooster.
‘Yes,’ said Flavia. ‘It’s a girl’s name but in Greek it’s also the name of the island. It fits all the facts, and it even explains one of the Big Buyer’s nicknames.’
‘Of course!’ said Bato. ‘The Colossus . . . The Colossus of Rhodes!’
‘What about the Colossus of Rhodes?’ said a deep voice.
Flavia looked up to see Flaccus coming towards their table. He was wearing a clean tunic and his dark hair was damp. Zetes – his golden hair also damp – pulled back a chair for his master but remained standing.
‘What about the Colossus?’ repeated Flaccus, taking a plate and a sesame roll.
‘It’s one of the Seven Sights!’ said Flavia, thinking fast. ‘You wanted to see the Seven Sights and . . . that’s one of them.’
‘So is Rhodes our new destination?’ Flaccus grasped a handful of olives, dropped them on his plate and wiped his fingers on Zetes’s tunic. ‘I thought we were heading for Delos.’
‘We’ll stop at Delos,’ said Flavia. ‘But then I think pater wants to go to Rhodes to get some . . . um . . . Rhodian things.’ She caught a whiff of the musky cinnamon-scented oil which Flaccus had rubbed on his body. ‘Scented oil,’ she said. ‘Rose-scented oil. The island of Rhodes is famous for its roses. They should all be in bloom now.’
‘And hardbake,’ said Bato, biting into a soft sesame roll.
‘What?’ said Flavia.
‘Rhodian hardbake. It’s a kind of bread, but rock hard. Also oil flasks,’ he added. ‘Rhodes is famous for its oil flasks. I have one at home in the shape of a warrior’s helmet.’
‘And chickens,’ said Jonathan as the cock crowed again. ‘The . . . er . . . famous chickens of Rhodes.’
‘That’s right,’ said Bato. ‘Rhodes breeds some of the fiercest fighting cocks.’
Jonathan looked surprised, but Flaccus did not seem to notice. He was staring at the bronze charm that Flavia was absent-mindedly fingering. When she saw the direction of his gaze she blushed furiously and dropped the amulet back under the neck of her tunic.
And for the first time in a week, Gaius Valerius Flaccus smiled at her.
After the crew had finished repacking the Delphina’s hold, Captain Geminus sacrificed a sheep at the Temple of Poseidon in Corinth, asking the god of the sea to give them a good voyage.
Their prayers seemed to have been answered, for as they left Cenchrea, a wind rose from the west. It was a strong warm breeze which filled the dolphin sail with a delicious urgency and gave the Delphina’s prow a white moustache as she sped across the dark blue Aegean. Flavia’s father called it Zephyrus, and he explained that such a following wind meant Jove was in a good mood.
Because the Medea had not been sighted at Corinth, they knew it must have taken the longer southern route. They might catch up with the slave-ship at Delos, but for the next two or three days there was no point even looking out for it.
They had said their goodbyes to Aristo in Lechaeum and promised him that they would spend a few hours every morning studying the Argonautica. But because the Greek version was too difficult to tackle without his help, Flavia and Jonathan took turns reading Varro’s Latin translation out loud. When Zetes wasn’t shaving his master or washing or mending, he would join them and listen with open-mouthed attention.
After their morning reading, Flavia wrote in her diary, Jonathan did his exercises, Nubia helped feed the pigeons, and Lupus helped the crew. Flavia knew Lupus was trying to learn the ropes so that he could be a good captain. Bato and Flaccus spent their time discussing politics and philosophy at the stern platform, which had become their area of the ship. Flavia was pleased that although they were of the patrician class and her father only an equestrian, they often included him in their conversations.
After lunch, Flavia would read and Nubia would play her flute. Lupus and Jonathan practised archery, shooting at a knot-hole near the top of the foremast, but they lost too many arrows overboard, so they abandoned bow and arrows for their slings. Oyster shells were their ammunition and seagulls their targets. Zetes occasionally joined them, if he was not attending his master.
Like Jove, Captain Geminus was in a benevolent mood and sometimes he let them play hide-and-seek with Tigris. One of them would hide – usually Lupus – and the others would take Tigris into the deckhouse and count to a hundred. Then they would let Tigris out with a cry of: ‘Where’s Lupus, Tigris? Where’s Lupus?’ Tigris would race around the ship in his search for Lupus. Finally his deep regular barks told them where Lupus was hiding.
Jonathan’s dog had now become an accepted member of the crew. He was used to the constantly moving deck and he kept out of the way. At dinner he sat under the table where the sailors would ruffle his fur affectionately and give him scraps to eat.
Dinner was Flavia’s favourite time of the day. She knew that on most ships the passengers were expected to provide their own food, and that they rarely ate with the crew. But on board the Delphina, everybody ate together. That meant she could position herself next to the youngest crew member, Silvanus. Or better yet, across from him. He had long-lashed green eyes and a flashing smile. And his hair smelled faintly of lavender.
After Corinth, Flaccus allowed Zetes to sit, rather than make him be the only one standing throughout the meal, so sometimes Flavia found herself seated opposite the two most beautiful boys she had ever seen.
The grey-haired sailor called Atticus had proved to be a skilled cook. Every night he brought out a big bowl of stew which everyone scooped up with flat bread bought at their most recent port. They had finished the beef, but now there was mutton left over from their sacrifice at Corinth, and Atticus varied it with fish stew on alternate days.
They ate dinner in the shelter of a port, or anchored in a secluded cove, and twice they docked early enough to visit the baths first, once on Cythnos and once on Syros.
After sunset, during that magical hour of twilight, they would sit around the long table to drink pine-scented wine and eat honeyed sweets and talk or play music. Flavia’s father told stories which Flavia had never heard before. Flaccus could recite whole tracts of Homer’s Iliad in Latin, but more often they asked for passages from his poem, a reworking of the Odyssey. The verses still made Flavia shiver and aroused a strange confusion in her. When Flaccus recited these verses with his soft voice she could almost love him. But a moment later he would do something to make her hate him again: he would look right through her or chomp his gum like a cow.
Zetes was only a slave, but he played the buzzy double aulos superbly. Flaccus strummed the lyre, and although he was not as good as Aristo, his singing voice was as deep and soft as rabbit’s fur. When Flaccus and Zetes played together it
sent shivers down Flavia’s spine. When she and her friends played music in their turn, Flavia could tell the others were impressed.
Finally, when it was too dark to see each other’s expressions, Punicus would light the night-lamps and they would retire to their hammocks or sheepskins. Since Nubia’s first restless night, all four friends had slept together up on deck, in the sheltered ‘V’ of the prow. Flavia’s father and one of the crew also slept up on deck, but the other crew members, the two passengers and Zetes slept in hammocks below.
After a third day of perfect sailing, as Flavia lay on her sheepskin and gazed up at the star-filled sky, with music still ringing in her head, she realised there had been no accidents or bad omens since they had left Corinth.
‘Maybe,’ she thought, as she drifted off, ‘maybe Fortuna is smiling on us at last. Maybe we’ll catch up with the Medea at Delos and save all the children.’
Despite their hopes, an afternoon’s exploration showed them that there was no slave trade on Delos, and no ship named the Medea had ever dropped anchor there.
As the Delphina left the tiny island in its wake and sailed on through the golden light of late afternoon, Jonathan finally achieved the task he had set himself ten days before. He pulled himself up the rope all the way to the top of the mast.
He ignored a smattering of good-natured applause from the deck below and tried to keep his face straight. But he was still smiling when he jumped back down onto the deck. He had done it. He had accomplished something he had set his mind to.
‘Very good,’ said Flaccus, folding his own muscular arms. ‘Your self-discipline is admirable. And I applaud the fact that you haven’t allowed your asthma to be a handicap.’
Jonathan nodded politely. A few steps took him to the wooden rod which held the awning in front of the deckhouse. Ignoring the ache in his left shoulder, he gripped this bar underhanded, and started to do his pull-ups.
Flaccus followed him. ‘I’ve been watching you,’ he said. ‘And if I didn’t know better I’d say you’d trained in a gladiator school.’
‘What makes you . . . say that?’ Jonathan grunted between pull-ups.
‘My old boxing teacher was a gladiator,’ said Flaccus. ‘He taught me those exercises. And a few others.’
Jonathan lowered himself from the bar and turned to face Flaccus.
‘You know how to box?’
‘I do.’
‘Will you teach me?’
Flaccus raised a dark eyebrow and gave Jonathan a half smile. ‘It’s a brutal sport. And once I’ve taught you, your fists will be deadly weapons. Are you sure you want to learn?’
‘Yes,’ said Jonathan without hesitation. ‘Oh, yes.’
‘Watch out, Lupus!’ screamed Flavia Gemina a few moments later. ‘One false move and you’re dead!’
Lupus scowled, his hand hovering over the wooden game board. Finally he moved one of the bone discs.
‘Wrong move,’ said Bato with a chuckle, moving his ebony counter to take Lupus’s piece. ‘I win.’
Lupus sighed as Bato chalked his twelfth win onto the hatch-cover beside them. He wished Bato hadn’t found out about his special dice. He was much better at games when he could cheat.
‘Watch out, Lupus!’ Flavia screamed again.
Again Lupus glared at her but this time he saw her horrified upturned face and heard the creak of ropes from above. He looked up just in time to see the Delphina’s massive yard-arm plunging straight towards him.
The yard struck the Delphina’s long table with a resounding boom which made the whole boat shudder, and as the echo died away Jonathan heard the sound of the sail crumpling to the deck, like the collapsing wings of a giant wounded bird.
‘Lupus!’ Jonathan ran forward from the stern where he had been practising boxing moves with Flaccus.
‘He’s all right!’ cried Flavia’s father, helping Lupus out from under the folds of heavy linen. ‘But Bato’s pinned down. I need help. Zosimus! Atticus!’
But Flaccus was already there. His biceps bulged as he strained to lift the heavy yard-arm. Jonathan moved to help him and together they lifted the heavy beam long enough for Captain Geminus to disappear back underneath the sailcloth. A moment later he emerged with his arm around a white-faced Bato.
Jonathan saw that Bato’s right arm hung limply and that it seemed too long for his body. ‘I think you’ve dislocated your shoulder,’ he said. ‘Does it hurt?’
Bato nodded. Then he fainted into the captain’s arms.
Nubia held the steaming beaker and hesitated as Flavia disappeared down the wooden hatch steps into the shadowy hold of the ship. Every time she descended she felt the ghostly clamp of cold iron around her neck and the memories came rushing up.
But they needed the drink she and Flavia had prepared, so she took a deep breath and went down.
‘Will he be all right?’ she heard Flavia ask as she reached the bottom step.
Nubia gripped the rail with her left hand, and as her eyes adjusted she saw that Bato was not in his hammock, but stretched out on a firm bag of salt beneath it. He was pale but conscious, with Lupus on one side and Jonathan on the other.
‘He’ll be fine,’ said Jonathan. ‘Lupus helped me pull his shoulder back into place while he was unconscious. The arm was only dislocated, not broken. I’ve helped Father do it once or twice.’
‘Just as well I fainted,’ said Bato, giving Jonathan a weak smile.
‘And just as well Jonathan brought his father’s spare herb pouch,’ said Flavia. ‘Nubia and I made you a cup of hot spiced wine with poppy tears.’
Jonathan nodded. ‘I gave them the recipe. It will ease the pain and help you sleep.’
The Delphina was running smoothly again, but Nubia stepped carefully on the firm bags of salt so that she wouldn’t spill the potion. She knelt and helped Bato drink.
‘Thank you,’ he said a moment later, letting his head sink back onto a pillow made from a folded cloak. ‘That’s wonderful.’
Flavia sat beside Bato and whispered. ‘Pater just told me there’s no way that yard could have fallen by itself. Someone loosened the knots of a rope at the very back of the ship.’
Lupus wrote: HALYARD
‘Someone tries to hurt us?’ Nubia’s hand went automatically to her throat.
Flavia nodded. ‘It was no accident. The ship’s not evil and the gods aren’t angry. I should have thought of this earlier. Someone on this ship is trying to thwart our mission.’
‘I was afraid of this,’ said Bato, looking at them with his pale eyes. ‘We have an enemy on board.’
Flavia nodded. ‘Probably an agent of the Big Buyer.’
‘Who do you think it is?’ asked Jonathan.
Flavia glanced around the dim hold, them lowered her voice. ‘Pater said that anybody who knows about ships could have untied the knot and then moved away. It wouldn’t fall straight away if the knot was just loosened.’
‘So that means it could be anyone on board this ship,’ said Bato.
‘Not Flaccus,’ said Jonathan. ‘He’s not a sailor.’
‘But he might know about ships,’ said Flavia. ‘And I haven’t trusted him from the first moment I saw him.’
‘Shall I ask him if he knows anything about ships?’ said Jonathan.
‘You can’t just ask him directly. He’ll guess that we suspect him.’ Flavia thoughtfully sucked a strand of hair that had come unpinned. ‘Eureka!’ she said a moment later. ‘I’ve got a plan to find out if Flaccus knows the ropes.’
THEY SET UP THE TALL MAST IN ITS MASTBOX AND SECURED IT WITH FORESTAYS PULLED TIGHT ON EACH SIDE. THEN THEY LET DOWN THE SAIL FROM THE YARD-ARM AND FASTENED THE HALYARD TO THE DECK, ROUND ITS OWN WELL POLISHED PIN
‘Very good, Lupus,’ said Gaius Valerius Flaccus between chomps of his gum. ‘That’s an extremely competent translation.’ The sun was low in the sky, shining red through a haze above the horizon. Its light gave Flaccus’s straight hair deep mahogany highlights as he bent over the scroll.
‘Thank you for helping us with this part of the Argo-nautica,’ said Flavia to Flaccus with a sweet smile. ‘But I’m confused. Can you tell me the difference between a forestay and a halyard?’
‘Well,’ said Flaccus, flicking his hair away from his face. ‘Do you see those two big ropes running from the mast to the very front of the ship, the prow?’
‘Yes.’
‘Those are the forestays. They hold up the mast.’
‘Is not the mast being stuck to the ship with big nails?’ asked Nubia.
‘No. You need to be able to adjust its angle.’ Flaccus held up his forearm to demonstrate.
‘Why doesn’t the little mast at the front have ropes?’ asked Flavia.
‘Unlike the mainmast, the foremast is fixed to the hull, so it doesn’t need ropes to hold it up.’ He got up from the bench and gestured for them to follow him to the other side of the sail. ‘Now, do you see those four heavy ropes which come down on either side of the mainmast? The ones Jonathan has been climbing? Those are called stays. They prevent the mast from falling to one side or the other.’
Jonathan pointed to half a dozen short ropes above the sail. ‘What about those little ropes up there, going from the top of the mast down to the yard-arm?’
‘What is yard-arm?’ asked Nubia.
‘It’s that lying-down piece of wood,’ said Flavia. ‘The one that fell down an hour ago.’
Flaccus nodded and cracked his gum. ‘That’s right. The yard is the cross-beam from which the sail hangs.’
Flavia looked at the back of the sail, blood-red in the light of the sinking sun, and she shivered.
Flaccus continued, ‘And those short ropes Jonathan was asking about are called lifts. They hold the yard-arm in place. They’re attached to the halyard at that discus-shaped fitting near the top of the mast.’
Nubia pointed. ‘So that big rope there is called hal-yard?’
Flaccus squinted at the rope, then nodded. ‘Yes. It’s attached to a brass pin near the back of the ship.’
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 117