‘Is it called mithridatium?’ asked Tranquillus, coming over to her.
‘Yes!’ Flavia looked up at him in surprise. ‘How did you know?’
‘Mithridates was a king who lived in fear of being poisoned, so he developed lots of antidotes and remedies, including a universal antidote which protects against any poison. Is the recipe there?’ Tranquillus leaned over her shoulder.
Flavia nodded. ‘Pound two walnuts,’ she read, ‘two dried figs and twenty leaves of rue in a mortarium. Add a pinch of salt. Anyone who takes this on an empty stomach will be immune to poison for the whole day. Do you think it really works?’
‘No,’ said Pulchra with a sigh. ‘When mater was first ill pater called in all the physicians in Campania. Some of them prescribed universal antidotes like that one, but nothing helped. The elixir Jonathan’s father sent was the best. But even that one only worked for a while. We don’t want a universal antidote. We need a specific antidote.’
‘And for that,’ said Tranquillus, ‘we need an expert on poisons.’
‘Philodemus knows about poisons,’ said Jonathan. ‘He showed me half a dozen different poisonous plants on the way back from the hunt yesterday.’
Flavia’s eyes grew wide. ‘Do you think he’s the culprit?’
Jonathan shrugged.
‘I was thinking of a real expert on poisons,’ said Tranquillus. ‘Someone like Locusta.’
‘Who’s Locusta?’ they asked.
‘Only the most famous poisoner in the world,’ said Tranquillus. ‘They say three Emperors died because of her skills. She was one of Nero’s most valuable assassins.’
‘And how do you know about her?’ asked Flavia suspiciously.
‘Nero is one of my hobbies,’ said Tranquillus. ‘I want to be a biographer when I’m older.’
Jonathan stared at him. ‘You want to be a biographer?’
Tranquillus nodded. ‘I’ve already written one book. It’s not exactly a biography, though; more like a collection of Greek swear words.’
Jonathan raised his eyebrows. ‘That I’d like to see.’
‘You know,’ said Flavia thoughtfully, ‘now that you mention it, I do remember reading the name Locusta somewhere recently. Maybe in Admiral Pliny’s book.’ She began twisting the scroll back to scan earlier passages.
‘Locusta probably knows ten times more than any scroll,’ said Tranquillus. He turned to Pulchra. ‘I’ll bet if we told her your mother’s symptoms, she’d know what poison was being used straightaway.’
‘And she would probably know the antidote, too!’ said Pulchra.
‘But how will we ever find her?’ said Flavia.
‘Simple,’ said Tranquillus. ‘She lives just the other side of the bay.’
‘Euge!’ breathed Pulchra. ‘Pater promised to take us on an excursion. We could go tomorrow! Where does she live?’
‘Baiae,’ said Tranquillus triumphantly. ‘As a reward for her services, Nero gave her a villa at Baiae.’
‘Flavia?’ said Pulchra. ‘Why are you crying this time?’
Flavia lifted her wet face from her pillow. Pulchra stood framed in the bedroom doorway.
‘Because I can’t go with you all to Baiae tomorrow. I want to go so much, but I can’t.’ Flavia began sobbing again.
‘Oh dear,’ remarked Tranquillus, stepping into the doorway. ‘Blotched face and swollen eyes – not a good look for you, Flavia.’
‘Why did you bring him here?’ wailed Flavia, and buried her face in the pillow again.
‘It’s not her fault,’ said Tranquillus. ‘I followed her.’
‘Go away!’ Flavia’s voice was muffled. ‘I’m miserable.’
Pulchra sighed. ‘Then why don’t you stop wallowing in your misery and agree to come with us tomorrow?’
‘Behold, we have returned!’ said Nubia, coming into the room with four happy but tired dogs. Scuto came panting up to Flavia and she wrapped her arms around his hot, furry neck. The other three dogs went to their water bowl and lapped thirstily.
‘Panther is a big pussycat,’ announced Nubia.
‘What about the panther?’ said Jonathan and Lupus, coming into the bedroom with Lupus.
‘Why are you all in here?’ cried Flavia. ‘Go away!’
‘You told us to meet back here at midday,’ said Jonathan.
‘We’re not leaving you alone until you’ve told us why you can’t come,’ said Pulchra, sitting on the side of Flavia’s bed.
Flavia released Scuto and wiped her nose on her arm.
Tranquillus winced. ‘My dear girl,’ he said, ‘if you’re going to marry me you must learn to use a handkerchief.’
‘I’m not your dear girl,’ snapped Flavia, ‘and I’m not going to marry you!’ But she accepted his handkerchief and blew her nose.
‘Flavia,’ said Pulchra, scooping up Ajax and kissing his nose. ‘Why can’t you come with us to Baiae tomorrow?’
‘Because I promised pater,’ said Flavia in a small voice.
‘Excuse me?’ said Jonathan, sitting on Nubia’s bed. ‘Your father specifically made you promise him that you wouldn’t go to Baiae?’
‘Yes.’
‘You can’t blame him,’ said Tranquillus to Jonathan. ‘Baiae does have an extremely bad reputation. They say no maiden who goes there ever comes back the same, if you know what I mean.’
‘That’s not true,’ said Pulchra. ‘I’ve been there and I’m still the same.’
Lupus shrugged, then beckoned Flavia with a flick of his wrist, as if to say: Why don’t you come anyway?
‘Yes,’ agreed Pulchra. ‘Just don’t tell him.’
‘That would be wrong,’ said Jonathan. ‘Especially if she promised.’
‘Jonathan’s right,’ said Tranquillus. ‘A Roman woman should obey her father. And her husband,’ he added.
YOU’VE BROKEN PROMISES TO YOUR FATHER BEFORE, Lupus wrote on his wax tablet.
‘Yes, but this time I took a vow,’ said Flavia. ‘If I break my vow, then the gods might punish me. Or – even worse – they might punish pater.’ Flavia made the sign against evil. ‘But I want to go so much.’
Tranquillus rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t start crying again. I’ll take extremely thorough notes and when you read them it will be just as if you’d interviewed her yourself.’
‘That’s right,’ said Jonathan. ‘I’m going to tell Locusta all Polla’s symptoms and ask her what poison was being used and what the antidote is.’
‘I will use my senses to see if she is telling the truth,’ said Nubia.
AND I WILL DRAW HER, wrote Lupus, SO YOU CAN SEE WHAT SHE LOOKS LIKE.
‘Also,’ said Pulchra, ‘if we’re all at Baiae tomorrow, the villa will be practically empty. You could look for clues while we’re all out.’
Flavia sniffed and looked round at their encouraging faces.
‘That’s better,’ said Tranquillus. ‘You almost smiled. Don’t worry. We’ll tell you every detail of what happens. And I know the gods will honour the fact that you kept your vow.’
*
After lunch, Jonathan rested on one of the smooth marble slabs in the tepidarium. The bath-slave had finished massaging his shoulders, back and thighs and he felt more relaxed than he had in days. As he lay there, halfway between sleep and wakefulness, he thought about the previous day’s hunt and Felix’s words of approval. He was beginning to understand why Flavia was under Felix’s spell.
‘What?’ he mumbled, and opened his eyes. ‘What is it, Lupus?’
Lupus was still damp from the cold plunge, but he was dressed and beckoning excitedly.
Jonathan sighed and pushed himself off the bench and slipped on the tunic that Lupus extended. Then he followed his friend back into the changing-room of the baths.
The domed room was full of men. Felix stood in the centre, laughing. A red and gold rooster with blue tail feathers struggled in his arms. Jonathan saw that the circular marble floor had been sprinkled with sawdust.
Felix’s
bearded secretary Justus was making notes on a wax tablet as men shouted out their bets. There must have been thirty or forty of them, crowding into the cylindrical room.
‘Jonathan. Lupus.’ Felix looked up from his struggling cockerel. ‘Come stand on the bench behind me. You’ll get a better view from there.’
The men grinned down at the boys and parted to let them through.
‘First time?’ said Felix to Jonathan, and raised an eyebrow at Jonathan’s nod. ‘You’ll never be the same.’
Jonathan and Lupus stepped onto the bench behind the Patron. Tranquillus was already up there and he grinned at them and gave them a thumbs-up. Jonathan looked around. From here he could see over the men’s shoulders and he noticed Flaccus and Vopiscus standing on the other side of the apodyterium. Vopiscus nodded at Jonathan and then turned to say something to Flaccus, whose smile faded when he caught sight of the three boys.
Jonathan felt a twinge of guilt. He noticed Philodemus was absent and he thought he could guess why. He had often heard his father condemn cock-fighting as a barbaric and decadent sport. But how could he leave without insulting his host? Besides, he was here to keep an eye on the suspects.
The shouts grew in volume as Jason, one of Felix’s right-hand men, came into the domed room with a pure white rooster. The men were increasing their wagers, making rude jokes and laughing.
‘These are the only living creatures,’ said a voice in Jonathan’s ear, ‘who crow for joy but fight to the death in utter silence.’ Vopiscus had come up onto the bench to stand beside the boys. Flaccus remained on the other side of the room.
‘Felix’s bird is a Rhodian,’ added Vopiscus. ‘They say he needs at least five hens to keep him satisfied.’
Jonathan nodded and shifted slightly; Vopiscus was standing uncomfortably close to him.
Suddenly the domed room grew quiet. At a sign from the scribe, Felix and Jason stepped forward to let their birds assess each other. The cocks struggled in their owners’ arms but were kept just far enough from each other to do no damage.
‘They do that to get the cockerels in a fighting fury, don’t they?’ Tranquillus said to Vopiscus.
Vopiscus nodded. ‘Now watch carefully for the referee to give the signal. The first bird released has the advantage.’
Felix and Jason were crouched opposite one another, holding their cockerels behind lines drawn in the sawdust. They were about six feet apart.
‘Pugnate!’ cried Justus and the air was suddenly full of flapping wings. Felix’s blue-tailed Rhodian must have been released first, for he flew up above the white bird and brought his heel down, instantly piercing his opponent’s right wing with the sharp bone projecting from the back of his leg. But the spur was stuck and the two birds flapped wildly, unable to detach from one another.
‘Pax!’ cried Justus. Felix and Jason moved quickly forward to free their birds from one another. After a few seconds’ pause, Justus cried ‘Pugnate!’ again and this time the white had the advantage.
Jonathan watched in fascination as the cockerels beat their powerful wings and used beak and spurs to attack each other. There was no forcing them to fight; he could tell they wanted it with every fibre of their being. Soon the sawdust was spotted with blood and feathers. Felix’s soldiers were yelling and Lupus was making a wild howling sound. Jonathan realised that his own throat was hoarse from shouting, too.
Suddenly it was over. The white cock was dead, his neck broken by a powerful blow from the Rhodian’s thigh. Jason held his dead bird up by its feet, and the men cheered the vanquished warrior. Then Justus handed a small palm branch to Felix and the men roared their approval.
‘What reward does the bird get?’ asked Jonathan.
Vopiscus shrugged. ‘A handful of barley and access to his hens. But he doesn’t do it for the reward. He fights for the pure joy of it.’
Jonathan nodded. His heart was beating hard and in spite of himself he was filled with a strange euphoria. The colours around him seemed brighter and he felt a deep surge of affection for all the men around him, even the ugly, brutish ones. By Hercules, it was good to be alive!
Felix was holding the victor, stroking it and kissing it and murmuring into its ear, not minding that his cheek and tunic were smeared with the cockerel’s blood. For the second time that afternoon, Jonathan understood Flavia’s feelings for the Patron, and as he looked around at the men’s faces, he saw he was not alone.
Nubia lay naked on a rock, as happy as a lizard in the sun. She and Flavia and Pulchra and the three widows had left their clothes in the shade of the Temple of Neptune and had swum out to the smallest of the three rocks in the sea behind it. Pulchra called these tiny islands the Sirens’ rocks.
When they had gone swimming the first day, they had paddled modestly around the secret cove in their tunics. But today Pulchra had boldly shed all her clothes and encouraged the others to do the same.
Voluptua and Annia Serena immediately followed her example, but Nubia, Flavia and Claudia hesitated.
‘Don’t worry,’ Pulchra laughed, treading water. ‘We’re going to swim to the littlest rock. Nobody can see us from the villa. The Temple of Neptune and the other rocks hide us. Come on!’
Nubia had only ever swum in her tunic before, and although she was used to being naked in the baths, the thought of stripping off outside frightened her. Just over a year ago, she had been led through the streets of Ostia wearing only a chain round her neck, a price tag, and chalk dust on her feet. Her face flushed as she remembered the terrible humiliation of being sold as a slave. But now she was among friends, so when Flavia and Claudia slipped off their tunics, Nubia took a deep breath and followed suit. She was not a slave any more.
As soon as Nubia entered the water she was converted. It was glorious to swim in the nude.
There were three roughly cube-shaped rocks behind the temple: one medium-sized, the next big and tall and the last very low and flat. When they arrived at the furthest rock they discovered linen towels and cushions already laid out by slaves. On the middle rock, within touching distance, were parasols, a picnic basket and some musical instruments. Wedged in the cool water between the two rocks was a small amphora of watered wine with a copper beaker attached to its neck by a silk cord.
Now, lying on a linen bath-towel, Nubia felt warmed to her very core by the golden sunshine.
‘Oh,’ sighed Flavia from the shade of a parasol. ‘That cool breeze feels wonderful, doesn’t it?’
‘Mmmm,’ purred Voluptua, who had managed to keep her elaborate hairdo dry. She had tried to coax her panther into the water but he had refused, so they had left him tied to a pillar of Neptune’s temple, dozing in the shade.
Claudia – the one Flavia called the tawny beauty – lay beneath a parasol, her eyes closed. She had been very quiet and Nubia wondered if it had anything to do with her aborted confession at the dinner party the night before. Flavia had reported the events of the evening in detail.
‘So ladies,’ giggled Pulchra, who was lying between Nubia and Flavia. ‘What do you think of the bachelors?’
‘They’re all very sweet,’ said Annia Serena. ‘But I prefer my men older and more mature.’
‘Me, too,’ said Flavia, and although Nubia knew she was perfectly serious, the others laughed.
‘I like all three of them,’ said Voluptua in her low, husky voice. ‘Especially Vopiscus and Flaccus.’
‘You only like the size of their money-pouches,’ said Annia Serena.
‘Not at all.’ Voluptua stretched luxuriously. ‘Still, I wonder which one of the two is richer?’
‘Vopiscus,’ said Pulchra quickly. ‘I’m sure Vopiscus is far richer than Flaccus.’
‘But Flaccus is much more handsome,’ said Annia Serena. ‘Nice hair, nice voice, wonderful body.’
‘I thought you liked your men older and more mature,’ said Pulchra.
‘I like the way Vopiscus looks at me,’ said Voluptua.
Annia Serena gave an unladylik
e snort. ‘Don’t you mean the way he leers at you?’
Nubia let their voices float away in the distance. The depilatory the previous day had left her skin sleek and smooth. After a swim in the sea, the hot sun on her naked body made her feel deliciously heavy and relaxed.
The handsome face of her tutor Aristo swam up into her mind’s eye, but she didn’t want to think about him. That would just make her sad and spoil the beauty of the moment. So she pushed his image away and tried to make her mind as still and blank as a smooth grey pebble.
For a moment she achieved it. Her mind was perfectly calm and she was only aware of her breath coming and going as she lay on her soft linen towel in the hot sunshine.
Then another image blossomed in her mind. A beautiful dark stallion with a pale gold mane and tail. He was galloping along the wet sand where the water met the beach, full of joy and power and life. His presence was so strong and so clear that she sat up and shaded her eyes and looked towards the crescent beach that lay to the south. But they were too close to the water here; a low rocky promontory blocked her view.
‘What is it, Nubia?’ murmured Flavia. ‘Are you hungry?’
‘No,’ said Nubia, ‘but is there flute? I left mine with clothes at temple.’
‘No flute,’ said Pulchra, who had been combing out her damp hair in the shade of the parasol. ‘But there’s this.’ She stood up, reached over to the big rock and handed a double aulos back down. ‘Here you are.’
Nubia had only played the double aulos a few times but she practised her own flute daily, so it was not difficult to make a sound. This double pipe made a strange buzzy noise and the vibrating reed tickled her lip. When she had made friends with it, she began to play the joyful feeling of the stallion running on sand. As she played, the image became strong in her head again.
When she finished the song, she opened her eyes to see Flavia and Pulchra and the three women staring at her in amazement.
‘Oh,’ said Claudia. ‘That was wonderful. It made me feel so free and happy.’ And Nubia saw that her cheeks were wet with tears.
‘Jonathan! Lupus!’ cried a boy’s voice. ‘Come quickly!’
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 152