‘It goes all the way up to the top of the mountain. But you shouldn’t have to go all that way. Just go halfway, as far as the caves.’
Lupus squeezed Pinchas’s hand to say thank you but the blind boy did not let go. ‘Lupus,’ he whispered. ‘I heard my mistress talking about your mission. When I was seven, I was kidnapped from my home, near Antioch. They took me to a house in Rhodes. I served a man named Magnus. Have you heard of him?’
Lupus frowned.
‘They also call him the Colossus of Rhodes.’
Lupus squeezed Pinchas’s hand and grunted an excited ‘yes’.
‘In his house was a big dark smelly room. They took me there and put me with other children. And they forced us to make carpets. All day, every day. They told us that children are the best weavers. They kept the room dark, so the colours wouldn’t fade. After a few years most of the children cough and some . . .’ Pinchas stopped talking for a moment.
Lupus squeezed his trembling hand again.
‘I’d only been there for three years when I began to lose my sight. At first I could still see the patterns, then only fuzzy blurs and colours. You try not to let them know, because if they find out—’ he was weeping now and the tears flowed down his face ‘—if they find out you are blind, then they put you out and you have nowhere else to go. I was lucky because I spoke Latin, Greek and Aramaic. A man brought me here to help serve my mistress. But Lupus . . .’ Now he was gripping Lupus’s hand so hard that it hurt. ‘Even the ones who go blind are the lucky ones. Not all the children they steal work in the carpet factory. Some of them . . . they take some of them away on a ship at the full moon, and nobody ever hears of them again.’
‘Look!’ cried Flavia, pointing. ‘There on the mountainside. That’s where the smoke is coming from.’
‘Do you think it’s a signal?’ asked Jonathan.
‘It must be. There’s no other sign of life,’ she said.
The Delphina was gliding into the crescent bay of a small island. Flavia’s father had taken Punicus’s advice and let the current carry the ship throughout the night.
‘I see house behind trees,’ said Nubia.
‘I think I know where the smoke is coming from,’ said Jonathan. ‘There’s a fire by those caves further up the mountainside.’
‘I see him!’ cried Nubia. ‘I am seeing the Lupus!’
‘By the gods you have good eyesight,’ said a deep voice, and Flavia turned to see Flaccus close behind them. For once he wasn’t chewing gum but Flavia could still smell the faint scent of mastic on his breath. She turned back to look at the thread of smoke ascending from the mountain.
‘Where’s Lupus, Nubia?’ she said. ‘I can’t see him.
‘There!’ cried Jonathan. ‘I see him. He’s by that cave. Waving his arms.’
‘Oh! Yes! I see him!’ squealed Flavia. She and Nubia put their hands on each other’s shoulders and hopped up and down with joy.
‘Where?’ said Flaccus again, squinting at the island before them.
‘See that little figure waving his arms?’ laughed Flavia.
‘No.’
‘Do you see that cave in the mountain?’ said Jonathan. ‘Straight ahead?’
‘I can’t . . . not really. No.’
‘Well then, do you see the smoke rising up into the sky?’
Flaccus squinted.
‘You can’t even see the smoke?’ gasped Flavia.
‘Which island is this?’ asked Bato, joining them at the prow.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Flavia. ‘Shall I ask pater?’
He nodded.
‘PATER!!’ bellowed Flavia in the direction of the helm. ‘What’s the name of this island?’
‘We’re just trying to find it,’ he said, looking up from the chart spread out on the top of the deckhouse.
From the masthead above them Zosimus called down. ‘I believe it’s Patmos, sir. Nothing there but sponge-divers.’
Flavia saw Flaccus and Bato exchange a look.
‘What?’ she asked Bato. ‘Have you heard of it?’
Bato nodded. ‘Patmos is notorious. An island of political exile.’
‘What?’ said Nubia.
Flaccus explained: ‘It’s one of the places they send highborn Roman men and women who have committed terrible crimes.’
‘Do you think your friends will come ashore?’ asked Julia Aquila, standing on the beach in the shadow of the tamarisks and watching the Delphina sail into the cove. ‘My bath-house is small but Pinchas can heat the water in less than an hour.’ She turned to look down at Lupus and he noticed she had powdered her face and stained her lips. She had also tied a belt around her thick waist. ‘We could have a dinner party.’
Still breathing hard from his scramble down the mountainside, Lupus shrugged. He knew his friends would be in a hurry.
‘You’re probably right,’ said Julia bitterly. ‘They won’t want to come. They never do. They’re afraid my bad luck will wear off on them. I was exiled, you see. Exiled by Nero so he could seize my estate. Oh, how I detest this wretched island!’ Julia turned and wove back through the trees towards the house. ‘Pinchas!’ she cried, pushing through the double doors. ‘There you are, Pinchas! Say goodbye to Lupus. He’s abandoning us.’
Lupus went into the small tablinum and took a wax tablet from the table.
THANK YOU FOR HELPING ME he wrote, and held it out to her.
‘Yes,’ she said gruffly. ‘I’m too kind. That’s my problem.’
Lupus pointed at Pinchas and then at himself.
‘What about Pinchas?’ She scowled.
CAN HE HELP ME PUSH OUT BOAT?
‘Yes, I suppose so. He wants you to help him, Pinchas. Make sure you come straight back.’
‘I’m sorry, Lupus,’ said Pinchas a short time later. ‘I think I understand why you’re tugging my hand, but I can’t come with you. I’ve seen what they do to runaway slaves.’
Pinchas was standing waist high in the sea, holding the edge of the bobbing skiff. ‘Besides,’ he said, ‘My mistress needs me. She’s not always as bad-tempered as she was today.’
Lupus leaned forward and gripped one of Pinchas’s wet hands and grunted.
‘Shalom, Lupus.’ Pinchas gave the boat a push. ‘I hope you come this way again some day. Or maybe I will meet you in Rome if my mistress is ever recalled.’
Lupus dipped his oars. Already he could hear Tigris’s barks coming from the ship anchored behind him in the bay.
‘Lupus, don’t forget!’ called Pinchas. ‘The children always disappear from Rhodes on the night of the full moon. If you want to save them you only have five days left.’
A cheer greeted Lupus as soon as he stepped back onto the deck. He was hugged and ruffled and given buttermilk to drink and installed in Captain Geminus’s leather captain’s chair in the shade of the deckhouse awning. But once the sail had filled and the Delphina was on a southeast course again, his friends grew quiet and presently he realised why. By going back for him, they had lost a day in their pursuit of the Medea.
‘Don’t worry, Lupus,’ said Flavia, with forced brightness. ‘We’re almost sure to find the Medea in Rhodes.’
Lupus took out his wax tablet and wrote what he had learned from Pinchas: that Rhodes was indeed the base of a criminal called Magnus who forced some children to weave carpets and sent others away on the night of the full moon.
‘The full moon is in five days,’ said Flavia. ‘Pater?’ she called. ‘Can we be in Rhodes in five days?’
‘If this fair wind continues, we should be there the day after tomorrow,’ he said from the tiller.
Later, when Flavia, Nubia, Jonathan and Zetes went down into the skiff with Atticus to fish for dinner, Lupus went to the prow. He had found a new retreat, a new place to think about his mother and his vow. If he climbed up the slanting foremast, he could sit on the small yard-arm with a foot dangling on either side. Now he rested there, hugging the mast and staring towards the place where Symi might app
ear on the dark blue horizon.
Footsteps creaked on the deck behind him and he turned his head to look.
It was only Zosimus. Zosimus and his pigeons.
Lupus unhooked his legs and slid down the polished foremast, then jumped lightly onto the deck. Zosimus grinned up at him. He was kneeling before his wicker cage. The door was open and he was reaching into it.
‘Take Patroclus for a moment?’ he asked.
Lupus nodded and extended his hands. As he took the pigeon he remembered the vow and sacrifice he had made on the beach at Ostia. It had not been difficult to twist off the head of the pigeon.
Zosimus rose from the cage and gave Lupus a sharp look.
‘You all right?’ he asked.
Lupus nodded and held out the bird.
‘Just hold him for another moment,’ said Zosimus and began to roll the scrap of papyrus around the copper wire.
Lupus grunted and raised his eyebrows at the message.
Zosimus chuckled. ‘Just a note to tell my old mother how we rescued you from the island. And also that we’ll be in Cos tonight. Her family comes from there, though she grew up in Rhodes.’ He paused for a moment, breathing heavily as he fixed the papyrus-wrapped wire around the pigeon’s pink leg. Then, without looking up, he said, ‘I hear your mother lives in Symi.’
Lupus stiffened but Zosimus kept his head down, still adjusting the message. ‘You can’t keep many secrets on board ship,’ he said. ‘I heard the Captain talking.’ He glanced up at Lupus. ‘Why don’t you visit her? If my old mother were nearby, I’d want to pay her a call.’
Lupus shrugged, but his heart was beating hard. It was a good question. Why didn’t he try to find her, now? They had five days until the full moon and they were only two days from Rhodes.’
‘I’m sure Captain Geminus wouldn’t mind,’ continued Zosimus. ‘He plans to spend the night in Cos and sail onto Rhodes the next morning. But with this breeze we could easily reach Symi tonight. And from Symi it’s only a few hours to Rhodes. There!’ Zosimus stepped back. ‘Of course, you and I can’t tell the Captain what to do, but you could suggest it to his daughter. She might be able to convince him.’
Lupus gazed at Zosimus. If he could just find out whether his mother was still alive, he could help his friends rescue the kidnapped children with an easy mind. Then he could sail back to Symi and sell the Delphina and with the money he and his mother could live happily for many years.
In his hands the pigeon stirred and he realised he was holding it too tightly.
‘Go on,’ said Zosimus gently. ‘Let the pigeon go. Let him fly home to mother.’
‘But Lupus,’ whispered Flavia a short time later. ‘We can’t stop at Symi now. We have to find the captured children. We’ve already lost our best chance to catch the Medea.’
I ONLY WANT TO SPEND ONE NIGHT Lupus wrote on his tablet. TO SEE IF SHE’S STILL THERE
He and his friends and Captain Geminus were in the deckhouse studying the map laid out on the table there.
‘I did consider spending the night at Symi, Lupus,’ said Captain Geminus, ‘but according to Punicus, that could pose a few problems. It’s close to the mainland, and mischievous breezes play havoc with navigation.’
He lowered his voice even more. ‘I know you’re desperate to see your mother, but can’t you wait until after we’ve been to Rhodes? Once we’ve rescued the children, we can drop you off on Symi and you can spend as much time as you like with your mother. The rest of your life, if you want!’
Lupus looked around at his friends. Jonathan had his head down, examining Tigris’s fur for ticks, but Flavia and Nubia looked back at him with solemn eyes. Lupus lowered his gaze and pretended to stare at the chart. He didn’t want to see the mixture of reproach and sympathy in the girls’ faces. His heart was pounding hard and he remembered the vow he had made on Ostia’s beach.
Finally he took a deep breath and tapped the island of Symi on the chart.
‘Very well,’ said Flavia’s father. ‘You’re the ship’s owner. Symi it is. I’ll give the order to alter our course immediately. We can pick up a cargo of sponges while we’re there. Don’t look so glum!’ he added, giving Lupus a pat on the shoulder. ‘You might see your mother tonight.’
Symi was gold and green in the setting sun, and now that the island lay before him, Lupus remembered it well. His eyes hungrily took in the familiar caves and grottoes dotting the seaside cliffs. A flock of sheep followed their own lengthening shadows up the scrubby mountainside and he could hear the faint, haunting sound of their bells clanking. But what brought the memories rushing back most strongly was a whiff of the scent of Symi: a mixture of thyme, dillweed and rosemary. He closed his eyes and inhaled and the thought occurred to him that even if he were blind like Pinchas he would know his home by this smell.
He kept his eyes closed and tried to see his mother’s face.
Nothing. Just the honey-coloured hair.
Lupus opened his eyes again and blinked away the tears. Maybe when he saw her he would remember her, as he now remembered Symi.
Presently they rounded the headland. The sun and wind were abruptly blotted out by the island, and the ship began to lose momentum. But there was just enough breeze to bring them slowly around another point and Lupus finally saw the crescent beach and the tiny house – like a cube of white cheese – that had been his home.
‘Is that your house?’ Nubia’s voice was soft beside him.
Lupus nodded without taking his eyes from it. His mother would be there. He was sure of it. And he knew he would recognise her as soon as she opened the door. Then he would have a family again.
A faint breeze caressed the mainsail, making the painted dolphin shiver in the grey light of dusk. Captain Geminus gave an order and the artemon at the front unfurled, but their progress was still barely perceptible. Lupus’s cove was too shallow for the Delphina, so they had to carry on around one more promontory to reach the main harbour, a sheltered tongue of water with hills rising up steeply around it. Now the wind had died completely, so Captain Geminus ordered the skiff round to the front. Presently the Cygnet’s oars rose and fell as she towed the Delphina towards a vacant berth.
By now it was almost dark, but Lupus could make out the shapes of men gathering on the dock, silhouetted by the torches of a tavern behind them. His heart had been thumping for nearly an hour, and now it beat so hard he almost felt sick.
The Delphina finally nudged up against the quayside on their right, and Lupus turned his gaze north, towards the dark shipyard and little promontory which they had just rounded.
Greek voices calling up: laughter, questions, welcome, the arrival of the harbourmaster, roused from his bed but cheerful, and finally the thud of the heavy wooden gangplank. Tigris was the first one down it, his tail wagging and his nose low, questing for new smells. Lupus followed him with trembling knees and blurred vision. At the bottom he nearly put a foot wrong and fell between the ship and the land, but calloused hands caught him and laughing men set him firmly on solid ground.
He was home.
Tigris led the torchlit procession almost as if he knew where Lupus was going. He led them around the dark promontory, along the curve of a shallow bay, and past the silent shipyard. As they went along the dirt path, more and more people joined them, some coming down the steep whitewashed steps on their left, some coming from behind. They carried torches, and in the flickering light Nubia saw that many of the islanders had thick, coarse honey-gold hair. She remembered that Lupus’s mother was called Melissa, which meant honey in Greek.
She also saw the glinting eyes of feral cats lurking in the shadows. One or two mewed, then caught Tigris’s scent and disappeared into the night. Nubia could hear the mutterings of the people around her, but she could only catch one or two words of their island Greek: the names ‘Lukos’, ‘Melissa’ and ‘poor boy’.
Lupus must have heard their whispers, too, but he ignored them and as Nubia watched him hurrying forward with hi
s torch, her heart melted for him. His slender neck made him look so vulnerable from behind.
At last the path carried them round the base of a jutting cliff and brought them to the lone house at the foot of the hillside. It faced a small beach and the black sea beyond.
Lupus hesitated and stopped but some of the villagers were calling. ‘Aphrodite, he’s home! Your great-grandson is home!’ And Nubia saw the crowd push him forward.
A light moving in a square window of the ghostly white house, then another, and then – just as Lupus was about to knock – a door opened, revealing a tiny, ancient woman with wrinkled skin and a wart on her forehead. She wore a black shift and her dishevelled hair was a white cloud around her head.
‘What is it?’ she cried, her eyes gleaming in the flickering light of a dozen torches. Then she saw Lupus standing there, holding his torch up and looking into the house. ‘Lukos?’ she cried. ‘Lukos?’
Nubia took Lupus’s flaming torch a moment before the old woman threw her arms around him. She was wailing and babbling, and at first Nubia could not understand her words. They came too fast and they were mixed with too many tears.
But presently one phrase chimed in Nubia’s understanding. One phrase in Greek that the old woman kept repeating. ‘Too late.’ She was saying to Lupus. ‘You’re too late.’
Lupus’s great-grandmother released him from her embrace but now all the other islanders were pressing forward to touch him. ‘Son of the murdered man. Melissa’s little boy. Lukos.’ They were talking at him and around him, kissing him, peering into his mouth, hugging him, pinching his cheeks.
He snarled as he felt a sudden panic.
‘Great Neptune’s beard!’ bellowed Flavia’s father in his deck voice. Although he spoke in Latin, the Greeks shrank back at the sight of the tall fair-haired Roman moving forward and brandishing his torch.
At the same moment Lupus saw an old man pushing his way through the crowd from another direction. He was shouting ‘Enough! Enough!’ in Greek.
The old man glared round at the villagers, his leathery face creased with disapproval. ‘Can you not see the boy is exhausted? Let him catch a breath. Go back to your beds. What kind of hospitality is this, that we do not even allow a son of Symi to rest after his voyage? Go! GO! Off with you! You will see him tomorrow.’
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 120