‘Yes,’ said Aristo. ‘You could only reach his room through mine. Because he intended to leave before dawn he suggested giving me the inner room, so that he wouldn’t disturb me when he left.’
‘Were you not going to come with us to the ship to say farewell?’ said Nubia. ‘You promised you would.’
Aristo looked at her and then away. ‘I don’t know. I felt so bad . . . I was so tired. Marcus and I had stayed up late talking.’
‘Did pater agree to cancel your contract?’ said Flavia.
‘Of course,’ said Aristo. ‘Your father was very gracious. He always has been. That’s why I felt so terrible when—’ He shook his head. ‘Praise the gods he’s alive.’
Flavia nodded and turned back to Dion. ‘Do you understand what happened? You assumed it was Aristo in the bed but it was really my father. He’s older, but he’s about the same height and build. Also,’ said Flavia, ‘he wears myrtle-scented oil.’
‘Dear gods!’ whispered Dion. ‘I attacked the wrong man.’ He rose slowly and looked at Aristo. ‘I attacked the wrong man,’ he whispered. ‘I thought I killed you and that your ghost was pursuing me. I thought I was mad. But, I saw them! I saw the Kindly Ones . . . hiding in the shadows, among the trees, behind columns in the moonlight. Once I even heard them laughing at me. They were everywhere and they wouldn’t leave me alone.’
‘The Furies pursue the guilty,’ said Aristo in a tired voice. ‘You may not have killed me, but you wanted to.’
‘You wanted to kill me, too,’ said Dion, nodding towards the knife in Flavia’s hand.
‘Maybe.’ Aristo shrugged.
‘Why did you decide not to go back to Rome?’ said Dion, suddenly. ‘It’s because of Tryphosa, isn’t it?’
Aristo sighed and shook his head. ‘No, it’s nothing to do with her.’
Dion stood up and looked down at his brother. ‘I never complained when you went off on your travels, leaving me to look after mother and father. Even though all they talked about was you and how wonderful you were. I was glad to have you out of my life. This year, for the first time, things were going well. I found a woman I could marry. My business was prospering. Then you came back and ruined everything. Why won’t you go away again?’
‘Yes, Aristo,’ said Flavia. ‘Why didn’t you want to come back to Ostia with us? Don’t you like us anymore?’
‘You know why,’ said Aristo wearily.
‘Is it Miriam?’ asked Nubia.
Aristo glanced at her. ‘Of course it is.’ He turned to look up at Dion. ‘You say I have everything, but I can’t have the one thing I really want. I can’t bear seeing her and not being able to be with her. Are you happy now?’
‘You mean there’s a woman somewhere on earth who doesn’t love you?’ asked Dion in mock amazement. He stared up at the dark ceiling. ‘Maybe the gods have heard my prayers after all!’ He muttered something in Greek.
Aristo growled a reply in the same language and then launched himself at Dion.
‘Stop it, you two!’ cried Flavia, as the brothers rolled on the stone floor. ‘Nobody’s died yet, but someone might if you don’t stop acting like children!’
Aristo thrust Dion angrily away and stood up. He was breathing heavily. Dion remained lying on his back, staring up at the soot-blackened ceiling.
‘I’m sorry I tried to kill you, Aristo,’ he said presently. ‘I’m glad you’re alive. So glad. Please will you forgive me?’
Aristo turned away.
Still lying on the floor, Dion began to weep again.
‘Aristo,’ said Nubia quietly. ‘Look how much he suffers. His feet are bloody and he is so thin and pale. He is being tormented.’
‘My feet hurt, too,’ said Aristo. But he stretched out his hand and when Dion grasped it he pulled his brother to his feet.
‘Anyway, it’s not my forgiveness you need to ask,’ said Aristo, and turned to Flavia. ‘It’s hers.’
Dion looked at Flavia. ‘I’m sorry I almost killed your father,’ he said. ‘Will you forgive me? If you do, then perhaps the Furies will leave me alone.’
‘No,’ said Flavia. ‘I won’t forgive you. My father doesn’t recognise me anymore. He can’t even remember who he is. He may never get better. You did that to him, Dion, and I want justice!’
Flavia’s outburst had obviously exhausted her because now she slumped beside Nubia on the semi-circular marble bench. The walls of the cylindrical room were covered with hundreds of votive plaques of silver, bronze, copper and painted terracotta. They glinted in the flickering torchlight.
Nubia looked from Dion to Aristo, then back. ‘Dion,’ she said softly, ‘why do you hate Aristo so much?’
Dion raised his head from his hands and looked at her in surprise. Then he gazed at his brother. ‘I didn’t always hate Aristo,’ he said slowly. ‘When we were little, I used to think the sun rose and set on him. He was my wonderful older brother, the golden boy. But as I got older I realised I would never be as clever or musical as he was. Mother and Father claim to love us both equally but their eyes never light up when I come into the room.’
‘That’s not true,’ said Aristo. ‘They love you.’
‘You say that, but all they ever talk about is you,’ said Dion, bitterly. ‘When you first left Corinth I was so glad. I thought finally they’d begin to appreciate me. After all, I was the dutiful one. The one who stayed to look after them. But you’re still the one they praise.’ He closed his eyes.
‘Why did you leave Corinth, Aristo?’ asked Flavia. ‘I mean the first time, the night you saved pater’s life? What was the argument that made you so angry?’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t even remember now. We were always arguing and one day he just said something and I thought, this is too much.’
‘I remember what upset you,’ said Dion. ‘I remember it clearly because the day you left was the best day of my life. It was your lyre. I broke it.’
‘That’s right!’ said Aristo. ‘You broke my lyre right before a dinner party father was giving.’
‘You can repair a lyre,’ said Dion. ‘But you can’t repair a broken heart.’
In the silence which followed, Nubia heard the crackle of the pinewood torches. The flames flickered and it seemed to her that the light in the room was growing dimmer.
Dion looked at Flavia. ‘What are you going to do to me?’ he asked.
‘I’m going to take you back to Corinth,’ she said, ‘and if pater’s not well enough to take you to court, then I will.’
‘Wonderful,’ he sighed. ‘I’ve just confessed everything so you’ll have no trouble winning your case. You know what they’ll do to me, don’t you? If I’m lucky they’ll send me to the mines. If not, they may execute me.’
‘Good,’ said Flavia, though she felt faintly nauseous.
‘In either case I’ll have to stay in Greece,’ sighed Aristo, ‘to look after father and mother.’
‘You were thinking maybe you would not stay in Greece but come back to Ostia after all?’ said Nubia. Her voice sounded small and strange in the echoing room.
‘Yes,’ said Aristo. ‘Over these past three days I’ve had plenty of time to think about things. Like the fact that I have a brother who hates me so much he tried to kill me.’
‘That reminds me, Aristo,’ said Flavia, pausing for a moment to yawn. ‘Why didn’t you tell us that you were innocent? That Dion did it?’
‘I didn’t know Dion did it. At first I had no idea what was happening.’ Aristo leaned back against the wall and some of the votive plaques clinked softly. ‘I’d fallen asleep but some thumps from next door woke me. I was sleeping in my tunic, with my cloak as a blanket. I pulled it around me and ran into your father’s room. It was very dim, but I was just in time to see a figure running out the door. All I could tell was that it was a man. Then I went closer to the bed and saw Marcus and the knife in his shoulder. When I pulled it out I recognised the handle. I bought that knife myself, and gave it to Dion for his last birt
hday. I was too stunned to speak.’
Aristo yawned and closed his eyes. ‘The slaves were dragging me towards the main road when a woman screamed somewhere in the darkness up ahead. One of the slaves ran off to investigate and I seized the moment. I head-butted the one holding me. He collapsed like a big baby and dropped his torch. I ran away as fast as I could. There was just enough starlight for me to find the main road.’
‘You didn’t kick him senseless?’ said Flavia.
‘Of course not,’ said Aristo with a look of surprise.
‘That explains why he looked fine the next day,’ murmured Flavia. ‘But Helen said you had an accomplice, the woman who screamed.’
‘I have no idea who she was,’ said Aristo.
‘I do,’ said Dion. ‘It was Nikostratos’s daughter, Megara. I don’t know what she was doing lurking in the shadows there. I almost ran into her and when she saw me she screamed. There was blood on my tunic,’ he added, ‘and I suppose I looked half-mad; I thought I’d killed you.’
‘Did you speak to her?’ asked Nubia.
‘To Megara?’ said Dion. ‘Why should I speak to her? I assumed she was keeping guard while Tryphosa was with him.’ He glared at Aristo.
‘I told you,’ said Aristo, ‘Tryphosa wasn’t with me that night.’
‘Not that night, then. But other nights.’
Aristo shrugged and looked away.
‘How could you go with Tryphosa, knowing I loved her?’
Aristo did not reply.
‘Tell us about Tryphosa, Dion,’ said Nubia softly.
Dion turned to Nubia. ‘She’s wonderful,’ he said. ‘She’s not like any of the women I’ve ever met in Corinth. She’s beautiful and she has spirit and courage. I suppose she’s more like you Roman girls. Most girls in Corinth gasp and swoon if you talk to them.’
‘Tryphosa is totally unsuitable for you, Dion,’ said Aristo. ‘She’s vain and vapid and she’ll go with anyone.’
‘Anyone but me, apparently,’ said Dion with a hollow laugh. ‘You know, it would be funny,’ he added, ‘if it didn’t hurt so much.’
‘You deserve someone better,’ said Aristo. ‘Someone who loves you.’
‘I’d settle for any girl who doesn’t like you,’ said Dion with a yawn.
‘Not much chance of that,’ said Aristo, straight-faced. Then he winked at Dion and they both laughed.
‘I know a girl who can’t stand Aristo,’ said Flavia, with a quick glance at Nubia.
‘Who?’ said Dion, sitting up. ‘Tell me her name. I’ll marry her tomorrow.’
‘Megara,’ said Flavia. ‘Your neighbour. The girl we’ve just been talking about.’
‘That little thing?’ said Dion. ‘I suppose she’s pretty enough, but she’s so timid. Like all the other girls here in Achaea. Maybe I should look for a wife in Italia.’ He yawned again.
‘I think you might be surprised the next time you see Megara,’ said Flavia. ‘She’s not as timid as you think.’
Nubia gripped Flavia’s arm and squeezed it hard.
‘Don’t worry, Nubia,’ Flavia whispered in her friend’s ear. ‘I won’t say any more.’
‘It is not that,’ whispered Nubia. ‘It is the torches. They are dying.’
‘Then we can get some sleep,’ said Flavia with a yawn. ‘I’m feeling very tired and—’
‘No, Flavia,’ said Nubia. ‘It is not the dark I am worrying for. I think we are running out of air!’
‘It’s no use,’ gasped Aristo, after their third attempt to shoulder open the heavy bronze door. ‘There’s probably a big oak bar on the other side. It must have fallen down when Flavia closed it. It’s no good shouting any more. If there was anyone out there, they would have heard us.’
Nubia gazed at Aristo. He was gleaming with sweat and in the red light of the dying torches he looked like a statue made of Corinthian bronze.
‘Aristo, the knife!’ she said suddenly. ‘Can you stick knife in crack?’
‘Yes!’ cried Flavia. ‘You could slip it between the door and the wall and use it to push up the bolt!’ She handed the knife to Aristo.
‘Good idea!’ he said, but a short time later he cursed and struck the door with his fist. ‘I can’t even get it into the crack. The room is completely sealed.’
‘Why?’ cried Flavia. ‘Why did they make it so dangerous?’
Aristo just shook his head. He was breathing hard.
‘The priests probably won’t be here until dawn.’ Dion sat panting beside his brother. ‘That must be hours away.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ cried Flavia. ‘It’s all my fault. If only I hadn’t closed the door. Now we’re all going to die.’
‘Probably,’ said Dion. He was still breathing hard. ‘One little action . . . can lead to another . . . and before you know it . . . people are dying.’
‘I only meant to close the door,’ said Flavia in a small voice.
‘I only meant to see if Aristo was with Tryphosa,’ said Dion. ‘But I nearly killed a man and now the four of us are all going to die. It only took one spark to set Troy on fire,’ he whispered.
It was very dim in the Cave of the Furies, and Nubia could barely see her friends. But she reached over and squeezed Flavia’s hand.
‘Oh, Nubia,’ whispered Flavia. ‘I’m so sorry I brought you here to Athens and that you’re going to die. I’ve been so foolish. I should have listened to you and Jonathan and Lupus. Will you forgive me?’
‘Yes,’ said Nubia, ‘I will forgive you. You have been a good friend to me and I love you.’
‘Oh, Nubia! I love you, too!’
The two girls hugged each other for a moment, and Nubia felt Flavia trembling.
‘Aristo,’ said Dion, ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you . . . or anyone. I only wanted my own place in the world.’
‘I know,’ said Aristo. ‘I’m sorry, too. I never knew how much you were hurting.’
The two brothers looked at each other.
‘Pax?’ said Dion.
After a pause Aristo nodded. ‘Pax.’ Then he closed his eyes and slowly let his back slide down the polished bronze door until he was sitting on the ground.
Nubia felt sick and dizzy. She knew she was dying, but in her head music was playing. It was one of Aristo’s songs. She gazed at him as he sat on the floor with his back against the door. His curly hair was tousled and his eyes were closed and his lips slightly parted. As the music filled her head she knew Aristo was the love of her life. Even if she had lived to be a hundred years old she would never have loved him any more than she did at this moment. He was panting lightly and she could see his chest rising and falling. They only had a few more breaths left in this life. If she was ever going to tell him how she felt, it must be now.
Nubia rose to her feet. She fought the dizziness that made the room spin around her and looked down at him.
‘Aristo,’ she said, barely able to hear the words above the sound of the music in her heart. ‘Aristo, I have something to tell you, too.’
The words were on Nubia’s lips but before she could say them Aristo fell backwards. The door had swung open behind him. The torches suddenly burned brighter and a cool wave of pine-scented air filled the cave.
The combined sense of relief and regret was so great that Nubia’s world grew black for a moment. She found herself slumped awkwardly on the cool stone floor with a hot wet tongue lathering her face. Tigris! Then his tongue was gone and she heard the clicking of his claws as he went to greet the others. The air was still full of swirling black spots and she couldn’t see, so she took another deep drink of cool air, filling her lungs with it.
‘Lupus!’ she heard Flavia cry, ‘Jonathan! You came just in time. We were almost out of air!’
‘How did you get in here?’ said a man’s angry voice. ‘This is sanctified ground. Explain your presence here.’
As Nubia’s vision finally cleared she saw a scowling priest in black robes standing behind Jonathan and Lupus.
‘Th
e Kindly Ones led us here,’ said Dion, ‘and they have granted us mercy.’
‘Then your deaths would not have pleased them,’ said the priest, a little less harshly. ‘Tell me what happened.’
Flavia began to speak and Nubia saw amazement on the faces of Jonathan, Lupus and the priest as she explained what had happened. It took a long time to tell the whole story, because the priest kept asking for details.
‘So no person here is tainted with a relative’s blood?’ he said at last.
‘No one,’ they all said.
‘Have you two reconciled?’ he asked Aristo and Dion.
The brothers glanced at each other. Aristo shrugged, then nodded.
‘And all is forgiven?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Dion, turning to Flavia. ‘Is all forgiven?’
Flavia dropped her gaze. She was so glad that they were alive and that she would see her father again, but Dion had done a terrible thing. How could she forgive him?
‘Flavia,’ Nubia whispered in her ear. ‘If you forgive him, then Aristo will not have to stay with aged parents and he can come home with us.’
Flavia looked at her friend’s pleading eyes and remembered how Nubia had forgiven her a few hours before, when it seemed they must surely die. She nodded and turned to Dion.
‘All right, Dion,’ she said. ‘I forgive you. I won’t take you to court. But if my father chooses to do so, I won’t stop him.’
‘That’s all I ask,’ said Dion. ‘Thank you, Flavia Gemina. You are a wise maiden, almost as wise as Athena herself.’
‘Behold!’ exclaimed Nubia, as they emerged blinking and squinting into brilliant light. ‘It is morning!’
There was something so pure about the bright spring morning with its golden sunshine and green leaves that Nubia felt the whole world was new. Birds sang, butterflies twinkled, and in the cool shade of a pine tree beside the sanctuary wall, a priest was pouring a crystal arc of water from a wooden bucket into a marble tank.
Nubia ran to the tank and cupped her hands and drank from it, not minding the Gorgons’ snaky heads carved on its side. The others were suddenly beside her, drinking and laughing. Even Tigris lapped at the overflow on the ground.
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 143