The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection

by Lawrence, Caroline

‘That was most clever,’ said Nubia.

  ‘He’s probably found himself a pair of sandals by now, too,’ said Flavia. ‘So he’ll be moving faster.’

  ‘But at least this proves we’re still on his trail,’ said Jonathan.

  Flavia nodded and tossed her uneaten piece of bread and cheese to Tigris. ‘Good dog,’ she said, and to the others, ‘Let’s go. I have a feeling our fugitive is not far off.’

  ‘What I don’t understand,’ said Jonathan a short time later, ‘is why Aristo hit and tried to strangle your father as well as stabbing him.’

  ‘Stop it!’ cried Flavia, pressing her hands to her ears. ‘How can you say such a thing when I’m sitting right beside you?’

  The carruca was climbing a narrow road along the edge of the cliff. According to Jonathan’s guidebook, this part of the road was called the Evil Stairs, and in ancient times it had been the haunt of Sciron, the robber who threw his victims from the precipice into the sea.

  ‘Flavia,’ said Jonathan. ‘If you want to find Aristo and solve the mystery of why he attacked your father, then we have to discuss it.’

  ‘I know.’ Flavia sighed. ‘But it’s hard. It’s not a random person we’re discussing. It’s pater! I feel sick every time I think about it.’

  ‘Maybe if we call him something else? Like the Victim?’

  ‘That makes him sound dead.’

  ‘How about the Paterfamilias?’

  ‘Or Marcus?’ said Nubia.

  Lupus held out his wax tablet. On it he had written:

  THE CAPTAIN?

  ‘Those all make me think of pater,’ said Flavia.

  Lupus scribbled something else, then held up his wax tablet again. On it he had written one word: VIR

  Jonathan raised his eyebrows. ‘That’s not bad, Lupus. How about it, Flavia. We’ll call him Vir, the Man. Will that work?’ he said.

  ‘Maybe,’ said Flavia, taking a breath. ‘Let’s try.’

  ‘OK.’ Jonathan gripped the edge of the carriage as it rocked, and caught a sickening glimpse over the edge. Far below him on the right, the emerald surface of the sea glittered with a million diamonds of sunlight. Jonathan turned to look at the bone-coloured cliffs rearing up on the left. ‘Let’s review the facts,’ he said. ‘At dusk on the fourth day of May in a hospitium in the Corinthian port of Cenchrea, a young man called Aristo asked his employer Vir if he could be released from a contract two years early.’

  Flavia nodded. ‘They decided to discuss it privately. Pater – I mean Vir – doesn’t like to talk about money in front of us.’

  ‘So they go upstairs to Aristo’s room and discuss the breaking of the contract,’ said Jonathan. ‘But they disagree and a heated argument breaks out. Aristo is so angry that he stabs Vir, then bangs his head on the bed and then tries to strangle him.’

  ‘No, no, no,’ said Flavia. ‘Yes, they did go to discuss the breaking of the contract at dusk, but the crime didn’t occur until three or four hours later, around midnight. It doesn’t make sense that Aristo would wait four hours to try to kill . . . Vir.’

  ‘It makes sense,’ said Jonathan, ‘if Aristo wanted to wait until the victim was asleep and then take him by surprise!’

  ‘Yes,’ said Flavia slowly. ‘That might explain something that’s been bothering me. Why curse someone if you intend to kill them? But maybe Aristo put the curse on Vir right after their meeting, then later he was afraid it wouldn’t work so then he decided to kill him.’ She shuddered.

  Lupus nodded his agreement but Nubia frowned.

  ‘Why was your father – I mean Vir – in Aristo’s bedroom?’ she said. ‘In the Orpheus room.’

  ‘Good question,’ said Jonathan. ‘It’s not very likely that Aristo waited until it was dark and everyone was asleep and then crept into Vir’s room and whispered “Wake up, sir. I’d like you to come next door so I can attempt to stab, strangle and beat you.”’

  Lupus nodded and pointed at Jonathan, as if to say: He’s right.

  ‘And why,’ said Nubia, ‘was Vir in Aristo’s bed?’

  There was a pause and then Flavia and Jonathan stared at each other wide-eyed.

  ‘You don’t think they were . . .?’ said Jonathan.

  ‘No,’ said Flavia, shaking her head. ‘Pater only likes women. Aristo, too. I don’t think that is the motive.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Nubia, and Lupus nodded, too.

  Jonathan scratched his dark, curly hair. ‘Maybe Aristo laid Vir out on the bed after he had stabbed and strangled him!’

  ‘And then covered him with a blanket and stood over him with a bloody knife looking guilty?’

  ‘He did not look guilty,’ said Nubia suddenly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘He looked . . .’ Nubia tried to find the word, ‘he looked horrible. No. I mean horrified.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Flavia bitterly. ‘Horrified by what he had done.’

  ‘No,’ said Nubia, ‘not by what he had done. Because later he has another thing in his eyes.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Jonathan and Flavia together, and Lupus gave her his bug-eyed look.

  ‘Pleading,’ said Nubia. ‘Yes, that is the word: pleading. There is pleading in his eyes. I do not think that Aristo committed this crime.’

  ‘What do you mean: Aristo didn’t commit the crime?’ asked Flavia angrily. The road was still climbing but it had curved away from the cliff edge and they were passing through pine woods. ‘We all saw him standing over the body with a bloody knife in his hand.’ She shuddered.

  ‘Maybe,’ said Nubia softly, ‘Aristo comes upon someone else trying to hurt your . . . Vir. Also, that other person runs away. Remember a person runs by us in the corridor?’

  ‘So Aristo is left standing over the body,’ said Jonathan. He looked at Flavia. ‘It’s a possibility,’ he said. ‘You have to admit that.’

  ‘I’ll admit it’s possible. But if Aristo didn’t try to kill Vir, then why didn’t he say so? Why didn’t he say “I just saw the person who did it running away!” or something like that? He just let them lead him away like a lamb to the altar. Also, why was he holding the knife? And if he was innocent, why did he run away from the slaves? He could have told the vigiles – ow!’ she cried, as Lupus gripped her forearm hard. He had his finger to his lips and his sea-green eyes were open wide in alarm.

  ‘Atticus, stop the carriage!’ cried Jonathan.

  As Atticus reined in the mules and the cartwheels stopped grinding they all heard a scream coming from the sun-dappled woods to their left. Without hesitating, Jonathan reached for his bow and arrows and leapt out of the carruca. In the time it took him to notch an arrow, the others were out, too, running towards the pines. Atticus was in the lead.

  As Lupus reached the clearing, he stopped for an instant to take in the scene before him. Atticus was half-crouched, his knife Flora flashing in his right hand. Facing him was a rat-faced man whose knife was not much smaller than Flora. A few paces away, by some small boulders, Tigris had seized the ankle of a second man, who was bellowing with pain and trying to hit the growling dog as he hopped on his free foot. Something was crawling in the dust at their feet. It was a boy. A boy in an oversized grey tunic and a grubby blue cloak, his short hair mussed and his face bloody. Robbers and a victim.

  Lupus started to untie his belt, which doubled as a sling, but he was suddenly aware of Jonathan beside him, loosing an arrow. The man with the knife screamed as the arrow embedded itself in his upper arm. Then he turned and fled into the woods.

  ‘Let go of him, Tigris!’ called Jonathan grimly, pulling another arrow from his quiver. ‘I don’t want you to get hurt when I shoot him, too!’

  Tigris instantly released his grip and Jonathan drew back his bowstring a second time. But the other robber was already crashing off into the bushes after his friend. Jonathan lowered his bow.

  ‘Atticus!’ cried Flavia. ‘Are you all right?’

  Atticus was breathing so hard he couldn’t speak but he nodded his
head and then pointed towards the boy on the ground.

  But Nubia was already there. She had helped the youth to sit up against the rough bark of a pine tree and was giving him a drink from her water gourd. Tigris was sniffing the boy’s sandalled feet with interest.

  They all stood in a semi-circle looking down. The boy was crying. His left cheekbone was red, where it had been struck, and his lower lip swollen and bloody. He had pale skin and smooth cheeks and from this Lupus guessed he was about fourteen or fifteen.

  ‘Are you all right?’ said Flavia in Latin.

  The boy nodded and winced as Nubia touched her handkerchief to his bloody lip. ‘Stupid robbers,’ he said through his tears. ‘Couldn’t they tell I’m just a beggar? I don’t even have a copper coin to give them.’ He spoke good Latin with no trace of an accent.

  ‘You’re lucky we came along, young man,’ said Atticus, who had recovered his breath. ‘This road isn’t one to be travelling on your own. What in Neptune’s name is a beggar doing out here anyway? Not much chance of getting alms with only a few mountain goats and a handful of travellers per day.’

  The boy wiped his nose with his finger. He was trembling. ‘I’m on my way to Athens,’ he said, pulling his grubby blue cloak closer around his shoulders. ‘I thought the pickings might be better there. I’ve had enough of Corinth.’

  ‘What’s your name?’ Flavia asked the boy.

  The boy hesitated, then glanced up at her. ‘Nikos,’ he said at last.

  ‘Well, Nikos, we’re going towards Athens,’ said Flavia. ‘Why don’t you come that far with us. We have a carruca,’ she added.

  The boy looked up at them and Flavia could hear his teeth chattering.

  ‘Better make up your mind quickly,’ said Atticus, glancing around nervously. ‘I don’t want to wait for those robbers to return with their friends!’

  ‘Why are you going to Athens?’ said Nikos as he limped after them through the pines to the carruca.

  ‘We’re searching for someone.’ Flavia took a deep breath. ‘We’re searching for the man who tried to kill my father.’

  Nikos’s long-lashed brown eyes opened wider and his curved dark eyebrows went up.

  ‘A robber tried to kill your father?’

  ‘Not a robber. Our tutor Aristo.’

  Nikos stopped. ‘Not Aristo son of Diogenes?’ he said.

  ‘Yes!’ It was Flavia’s turn to stop and stare. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘It’s an uncommon name,’ said Nikos.

  ‘Do you know him?’ asked Nubia.

  ‘Of course,’ said Nikos. ‘One of my best begging spots is near the well at the end of their street. His family and mine are some of the original Corinthians, pure Greek blood.’

  ‘Your family?’ asked Jonathan with a frown. ‘Are they beggars, too?’

  ‘Um . . . no,’ said Nikos, hanging his head. ‘They were tragically wiped out by a fever, leaving me a destitute orphan beggar-boy.’

  ‘Tell us!’ cried Flavia, fumbling in her coin purse. ‘Tell us everything you know about Aristo and his family and we’ll reward you. I’ll give you this denarius!’

  ‘I’d rather have your company on the road to Athens,’ said Nikos, glancing around nervously. He was trembling again. ‘I want to get there alive.’

  ‘You can have both!’ cried Flavia, handing him the silver coin. ‘And if you help us catch Aristo, you can have a gold coin, too!’

  ‘Aristo’s family was never rich,’ said Nikos as the carriage began to move. ‘His father Diogenes was a teacher in the agora, until he started to go blind. Even after he lost his sight, he always used to give me a copper when he passed. Sometimes Aristo’s mother gave me a piece of bread or fruit on her way to visit a patient. She is a midwife. Dion and Aristo were kind to me, too.’

  ‘Who’s Dion?’ asked Jonathan.

  ‘Dion is Aristo’s younger brother,’ said Nikos.

  ‘He never told us he had a brother,’ said Flavia. ‘What’s he like?’

  ‘He’s a carpenter. He’s kind, and helpful and handsome.’

  ‘As handsome as Aristo?’ asked Nubia softly.

  ‘They look very similar,’ said Nikos. ‘But Dion is taller and more masculine. Sometimes Aristo is almost pretty.’

  Just like you, thought Flavia, but she did not say the words out loud.

  ‘Do many girls like Aristo?’ asked Nubia.

  Nikos rolled his brown eyes. ‘Yes. All the girls like Aristo. Personally, I think Dion would make a far better husband. He’s steadier. Less moody. Aristo is so self-obsessed.’

  ‘Sounds like you know them very well,’ said Jonathan.

  ‘When you sit around all day on someone’s street, you get to know almost everything about them.’ As the road curved, Nikos turned his head to stare out over the back of the carriage towards the blue horizon.

  ‘In the past few weeks,’ said Flavia, ‘while Aristo has been staying with his parents, have you noticed anything strange about his behaviour?’

  ‘Well, he seemed even moodier than usual, if that’s possible. Always twanging his lyre.’

  ‘Do you not like Aristo’s music?’ asked Nubia.

  ‘Not really. It’s so plinky-plonky and sad and “isn’t my life miserable?”’

  ‘Aristo is suffering from unrequited love,’ said Flavia.

  ‘Is he?’ Nikos arched an eyebrow. ‘Serves him right. He’s broken enough hearts.’

  ‘You don’t like him much, do you?’ said Flavia, scratching a flea bite on her ankle.

  ‘Frankly, no. Everyone in Corinth seems to think he’s Orpheus reborn, especially his parents. Even after he left, he was still their favourite. They were always talking about their wonderful son in Rome who works for a senator.’

  ‘He doesn’t live in Rome,’ said Jonathan. ‘He lives in Ostia, the port of Rome.’

  ‘Pater isn’t a senator,’ said Flavia.

  ‘But Aristo is a very good tutor,’ said Nubia.

  Nikos shrugged. ‘I suppose they exaggerated. All I’m saying is that poor Dion couldn’t win.’

  ‘Nikos,’ said Flavia, ‘can you think of any reason why Aristo would want to murder my father, his employer, who has always been kind to him and was about to take him back to Ostia?’

  Nikos slowly shook his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t like Aristo much, but I can’t think of any reason he would do such a thing.’

  ‘I think the mules are afraid of the cliff,’ said Nubia to Atticus. ‘Shall we disembark from the carruca and walk beside them?’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Atticus, pulling up the carruca. ‘This road’s not getting any wider.’

  They carefully climbed out the back, led by Tigris, who had been riding with them to rest his paws.

  ‘Look at that!’ breathed Flavia. They were at the road’s highest point and the precipitous view over the cliff edge made Nubia catch her breath.

  ‘The sky is so big here,’ she said. ‘Also the sea.’

  ‘It’s very panoramic,’ said Nikos the beggar-boy.

  ‘What is pamoranic?’ asked Nubia.

  ‘Panoramic,’ corrected Flavia. ‘It means you can see all around.’

  Tigris barked and wagged his tail as he sniffed the base of a shrine further up the road.

  ‘Hark,’ said Nubia. ‘Tigris says we are still on Aristo’s trail.’

  ‘Good,’ said Flavia. ‘He can’t be far off now, especially as we have transport and he’s only on foot.’

  Jonathan pointed across the bay. ‘Is Athens over there, Atticus?’ He glanced down at his guidebook and then up again. ‘This is the Saronic Gulf, isn’t it?’

  Atticus nodded. ‘Athens is that way all right, though you’re looking at Salamis, the famous island where we Athenians conquered the Persian fleet in the greatest sea battle of our history.’

  ‘But you can see Athens from here?’ asked Flavia.

  ‘Yes. Beyond Salamis. Right on the horizon. It’s a little hazy today, but they say that some
times at sunrise you can see the sunlight spark on the tip of Athena’s bronze spear.’

  ‘You can see Athena?’ said Nubia.

  ‘Athena is the Greek name for Minerva,’ said Flavia. ‘The goddess of wisdom and war.’

  ‘There’s a huge bronze statue of her on the Acropolis,’ said Atticus. ‘Her spear is the highest point.’

  ‘No,’ said Jonathan, shading his eyes. ‘Can’t see it.’

  ‘Athens,’ whispered Flavia. ‘Pater always promised he would take me there one day.’

  ‘Look!’ said Nubia. ‘A strange rock far below. It is all alone in the sea.’

  ‘That’s probably Sciron’s Rock,’ said Jonathan. ‘Sciron was the robber I told you about who forced travellers to wash his feet. Then he would kick them over the edge and his turtle would devour them. But Theseus did the same thing to him and that’s how he died.’

  Lupus moved to the cliff edge.

  ‘According to the guidebook,’ said Jonathan, ‘Sciron was so evil that after Theseus kicked him over the edge, the sea tossed him back. But the land didn’t want his body either so it rejected him, too. Back and forth went Sciron until he ended up suspended between sea and earth. That rock is supposed to be him.’

  Lupus gave a snort of laughter and took another step forward, so that his toes were hanging over the edge of the shelf-like path.

  ‘Lupus, please!’ said Atticus. ‘Come away from the edge!’

  Nubia and Atticus moved forward to guide the mules and presently the carruca reached a little shrine on a narrow strip of verge between the road and cliff edge.

  ‘Look!’ said Flavia. ‘This shrine is to Castor and Pollux. It’s a sign!’

  ‘Why?’ asked Nikos.

  ‘Castor and Pollux are special protectors of my family.’

  Nubia left Piper and came to look at the shrine. It was made of white marble and shaped like a miniature temple. The brightly-painted details had been faded by the sun and wind, but when she bent to look inside she could just make out the twins and their horses painted on the tiny back wall. On the shelf between the two white columns lay offerings left by travellers: bunches of dried wild flowers, a withered apple, a spent candle and something that looked like a dead snake.