Nubia gasped. Sure enough, the white team’s wooden chariot had overturned, and sixteen tiny pink paws scrabbled at the air.
‘Naufragium! Shipwreck!’ cried Porcius exultantly. And when the others stared at him he said, ‘That’s what you’re supposed to shout when a chariot crashes.’ He reached down and carefully scooped up the four writhing brown mice.
‘Hey, Lupus,’ said Jonathan. ‘Here’s a joke. How many supporters of the Reds does it take to light an oil lamp?’
Lupus shrugged, so Flavia obliged, ‘Tell us, Jonathan. How many supporters of the Reds does it take to light an oil lamp?’
‘Both of them!’
Everyone laughed except Nubia. ‘I do not understand,’ she said.
‘The joke is that very few people support the Reds,’ explained Flavia.
‘Look!’ cried Porcius. ‘The Greens are running again. And they’re catching up!’
Nubia’s handsome young tutor Aristo bent forward to flip down the last dolphin marker in the central island of the racecourse. Nubia had chosen him to be the magistrate and referee of the race. He must have felt her gaze because he smiled up at her. Nubia quickly looked down at the three remaining chariots.
‘Last lap!’ shouted Captain Geminus. ‘They’re on the last lap!’
‘Come on, Blues!’ Flavia’s voice cracked with excitement.
But in the end it was the Red team that took first place with the Blues second and the Greens third.
Lupus whooped and did a victory dance around the fountain. His howl of triumph was so loud that none of them heard the door-knocker.
But the dogs did. They had been shut in the storeroom during the race, and their excited barks were loud enough to alert Caudex, who lumbered towards the atrium.
Lupus was still doing his victory dance around the fountain, wiggling his hips and whooping. He had plucked a leaf from a fern and was waving it like a palm branch. Presently he realised he was the only one making noise. He stopped and grinned sheepishly at them, then followed their gaze to the entryway of the garden. Standing beside Caudex was a boy in a broad-brimmed straw travelling hat and a dusty blue cloak, with a canvas bag slung over one shoulder. Nubia guessed the boy was a little older than she was: thirteen or fourteen.
‘Salvete!’ said the boy loudly, in Greek-accented Latin. He raised his arm in an awkward gesture of greeting. ‘My name is Scopas. I come from the sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi. I seek a boy called Lupus.’
From Melissa, a novice priestess of Apollo, to her dear son Lupus.
I send this letter via Scopas, a youth from a village near here. Although I am learning to read and write, my hand is still not as steady as yours, dear son. So I am dictating this letter to Philia, who is a priestess here and my good friend. I want you to know that I am well and happy here in Apollo’s great sanctuary. I trust that you and your friends are also well: this is my fervent and daily prayer to the Far-seeing One.
I have a favour to ask of you, my dear son. I know that you live near Rome and that you know people of great influence there. Could you ask them to help this youth Scopas find a place at one of the chariot factions? The Pythia prophesied that he would be crowned in Rome. He has won the laurel wreath twice here at Delphi, though he is not yet fourteen. Please excuse his strange behaviour. A priest found him aged three, wandering in the sacred grove. His parents were never found, so the priest asked his brother to raise him. If you help Scopas, then it will help me find favour in the eyes of the priest whose brother adopted him, and also of Apollo the Far-shooter, may his name be praised.
NOW SEE! I TAKE UP THE PEN MYSELF TO WRITE IN MY OWN HAND TO SAY BE WELL, MY DEAR SON, BE WELL. AND WRITE TO ME QUICKLY!
Captain Geminus handed the letter back to Lupus. ‘Thank you for letting me read the letter out loud, Lupus. And praise the gods your mother is well. We will make a thanks-offering to Apollo tomorrow.’
Lupus had been writing on his wax tablet. Now he showed it to the boy who had brought the letter: HOW IS MY MOTHER? DOES SHE LOOK WELL? IS SHE REALLY HAPPY?
Scopas stared at the wax tablet and muttered something in a strange language.
Lupus frowned and Jonathan said, ‘Beg pardon?’
Scopas took a breath. ‘Scopas cannot read,’ he said, and then loudly corrected himself. ‘I cannot read.’
‘Lupus wants to know if his mother really is well and happy,’ explained Flavia.
‘I believe so.’ The boy from Delphi gave a stiff nod. He was still wearing his straw travelling hat and he stood as straight as a legionary at attention. Lupus glanced at Jonathan, who raised an eyebrow at him in return.
‘Well, young Scopas,’ said Captain Geminus, clapping his hands and rubbing them together, ‘what do we do with you now?’
‘Please may he stay for Nubia’s party?’ Flavia asked. ‘Then tomorrow we can take him up to Rome.’
‘Ohe!’ cried Captain Geminus. ‘Whoa! Of course he may stay for the party and sleep here tonight, and I’m happy to act as Scopas’s patron. But I’m afraid I don’t have any connections with the racing world.’
‘Sisyphus might know somebody,’ said Flavia. ‘He knows practically everyone in Rome.’
‘Who’s Sisyphus?’
‘Oh, pater! I’ve told you myriads of times. Sisyphus is Uncle Cornix’s secretary and scribe.’
‘I know someone in the racing world.’
Everyone turned to look at Porcius, who continued, ‘My cousin knows the head trainer of the Greens. His name is Titus Flavius Urbanus. He lost some stable boys in the big fire last winter and he’s looking for new ones. You don’t get paid and you have to provide your own kit and they work you like a slave, but it’s your best chance of becoming an auriga.’
‘What is oar rigger?’ asked Nubia.
Lupus guffawed.
‘An auriga,’ said Porcius, ‘is a charioteer. I would have applied,’ he added, scuffing at the gravel pathway with his foot, ‘but my father says I can’t go to Rome until I’m thirteen.’
‘There, pater!’ cried Flavia triumphantly. ‘Tomorrow we can hire a mule cart and take Scopas to Rome and introduce him to the trainer—’
‘Urbanus,’ said Porcius.
‘—to Urbanus. It could be part of Nubia’s birthday present. Nubia loves horses, don’t you, Nubia?’
Nubia nodded and Lupus saw Scopas turn his whole body to face her.
‘After what happened last time you went to Rome?’ said Captain Geminus. ‘I wonder if that would be wise.’
Lupus glanced at Flavia. He knew she hadn’t told her father half of what had happened to them at the Inaugural Games in Rome.
‘My father’s going up to town tomorrow or the next day,’ said Porcius, ‘to visit his sick aunt. He could take Scopas to the Stables of the Greens. They’re located in the Campus Martius.’
‘Excellent!’ said Captain Geminus. He turned to Porcius. ‘Tell your father that if he agrees to take Scopas up to Rome, I’ll pay for the mule-cart as well as the lad’s kit.’
‘Oh pater!’ cried Flavia, ‘that’s so kind of you! Isn’t that wonderful, Scopas? Tomorrow you’ll be in Rome. Maybe even in the stables of a chariot racing faction!’
Everyone looked at Scopas, who was muttering something under his breath. Lupus was not sure, but it sounded like: ‘Zip q’nee, zip q’nee, zip q’neeee!’
Including Scopas, there were eight people attending Nubia’s twelfth birthday party that afternoon. Although Captain Geminus did not usually allow the children of his household to eat reclining, this was a special occasion. Nubia lay in the place of honour on the right of the middle couch, with Flavia and Porcius stretched out next to her. Captain Geminus occupied the host’s place at the fulcrum of the couch on her right, with Aristo beside him. Jonathan, Lupus and Scopas took the couch on Nubia’s left. Scopas had taken off his straw hat to reveal short dark hair, but he still wore his dusty travelling cloak, even though it was a hot afternoon.
Nubia reached up and touched her birthda
y present. Her friends had given her a fine gold chain for the cherrywood flute she always wore around her neck.
As Alma removed the plates of the main course, Nubia noticed that Scopas had scraped away the sauce from his stew. He had only eaten the chicken pieces and had arranged the olives and raisins in a circular pattern on his plate.
No one else noticed, for Porcius had been telling Scopas about his rescue from slave-traders in Rhodes.
‘So then,’ concluded Porcius, ‘Lupus appears in the ship’s hold with Ostia’s junior magistrate and Flavia’s father and a muscular man who looks like Jason, and they say, “You’re all free. We’re taking you home to Ostia.” Isn’t that amazing?’
Scopas gave a single nod. ‘You have had many adventures and solved many mysteries,’ he stated.
‘Tell Scopas about the games at the new amphitheatre in Rome,’ said Porcius. ‘Nubia, tell him how you saved—’
‘The games were very exciting,’ interrupted Flavia, with a nervous glance at her father. ‘But your life must be interesting, too, Scopas. After all, you’re an auriga. Racing chariots must be very thrilling.’
‘That’s right,’ said Aristo. ‘They say it’s the most dangerous job in the world!’
Scopas looked at them. ‘This is correct. It is very dangerous. But Scopas is not afraid.’
Nubia studied Scopas. She had never met anyone like him. He had wide hazel eyes and a pleasant face, but it betrayed no expression. His voice was flat and loud, and his movements stiff and clumsy. Strangest of all was his occasional habit of referring to himself by name.
‘How did you become a charioteer, Scopas?’ asked Captain Geminus, taking a sip of wine.
‘Zip q’nee,’ muttered Scopas. Then he took a deep breath and spoke quickly and without inflection, as if reciting a prepared passage. ‘The man who raised Scopas has a stable in Delphi village. Scopas grew up with horses. During the sacred games Scopas helped harness the horses to their chariots and drove them to the starting gates. One day an auriga became yellow so Scopas took his place.’
‘Became yellow?’ said Jonathan, raising an eyebrow. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Yellow. Unwell. One day an auriga became unwell, so Scopas took his place. I do not like yellow,’ he added.
‘And you won?’ prompted Flavia, after a pause.
‘Yes. I won,’ said Scopas. He reached down to stroke Tigris’s head and Nubia saw Jonathan raise his eyebrows in surprise. Tigris didn’t usually allow strangers to touch him.
‘Was it a biga or a quadriga?’ asked Porcius, and turned to Nubia. ‘A biga is a two-horsed chariot and a quadriga is four.’
‘It was quadriga,’ said Scopas flatly.
‘You don’t seem very excited about racing,’ said Jonathan.
‘I am good at racing,’ said Scopas, and added, ‘Scopas does not understand people but Scopas understands horses.’ He seemed to be quoting someone.
Nubia heard Lupus snicker, and she saw Flavia and Jonathan exchange a glance. Even Captain Geminus and Aristo were raising their eyebrows at each other.
Nubia caught Scopas’s eye, and she gave him an encouraging smile. The others might think he was strange, but the animals liked him, and so she did, too.
Two weeks later, just as Jonathan and Lupus were leaving after their morning lessons at Flavia’s, a messenger appeared at the open doorway.
Jonathan tipped the man a brass sestertius and frowned down at the square of papyrus. ‘It’s addressed to all four of us,’ he said, turning towards the girls. ‘I don’t recognise this seal. Or the handwriting. Hey!’
Flavia had snatched the letter from his grasp and now she eagerly thumbed off the seal. ‘It’s from Scopas,’ she said.
‘I thought he couldn’t read or write,’ said Jonathan.
‘He can’t,’ said Flavia without taking her eyes from the letter. ‘He dictated it to a scribe. He says he’s working as a groom for the Greens and – oh!’
‘What?’ asked Jonathan, circling round in an attempt to see the letter.
‘A prize racehorse called Sagitta has gone missing. Scopas wants us to come to Rome to try to find it.’
‘Why us?’ said Jonathan.
Flavia rolled her eyes. ‘Because he remembered we’re good at solving mysteries, I suppose.’ She turned her attention back to the letter. ‘Great Juno’s peacock,’ she breathed. ‘He says the reward is a hundred thousand sesterces!’
‘Nnnngh!’ grunted Lupus, and pointed at the last line of the letter.
‘I knew it was too good to be true,’ said Jonathan, reading over Lupus’s shoulder. ‘The reward is only good if we find the horse before the first day of the Ludi Romani. That’s four days after the Kalends,’ he said, ‘and today is the Kalends. Even if we arrived in Rome at dawn tomorrow that would only give us three days. It’s impossible.’
‘Don’t be pessimist,’ said Nubia, with a little smile.
‘Quite right, Nubia!’ Flavia turned to Jonathan. ‘I say we try! We could stay with Uncle Aulus and Sisyphus could help us investigate.’
‘There’s only one problem,’ said Jonathan.
‘Yes?’
‘Your father thinks Rome is dangerous. Will he let you go?’
‘Good point,’ said Flavia. ‘We need a plan. A very clever plan.’
‘Is pater back yet, Alma?’ called Flavia, as she closed the front door. ‘I want to ask him something.’ She and Nubia had gone to the baths and then shared the Sabbath meal at Jonathan’s house. Now it was after dark.
‘Come and gone,’ replied Alma. She was already dressed in her sleeping tunic, with her hair tied up in a scarf. ‘He and Aristo have gone to dine with Cordius. They told Caudex not to wait up. And your pater took his house key with him.’
‘Oh, Pollux!’ muttered Flavia. ‘That means they’ll be home late.’
‘Don’t use that word. It’s not ladylike.’
‘What word?’ said Flavia innocently. ‘Late?’ She giggled and when Nubia yawned she said, ‘Come on, Nubia. Time for bed.’
‘Flavia?’ said Nubia half an hour later.
‘Yes?’ The girls were in bed but not asleep. Flavia was reading a scroll by the light of her small bronze oil-lamp and Nubia was brushing her dog Nipur.
‘Do you remember Pegasus from the Villa Limona?’
Flavia looked up from her scroll and frowned. ‘I don’t think so. Was he one of the slaves?’
‘No. Pegasus was horse that refuses to run through fire when Felix rides him.’
‘The dark brown horse with the blond mane and tail?’ asked Flavia.
‘Yes,’ said Nubia, putting down the brush. ‘I dream of him almost every night.’
‘Nice dreams, I hope.’
‘No,’ said Nubia softly. ‘I always dream I am riding Pegasus through fire.’
‘Oh! That’s terrible! Why haven’t you told me before?’
‘At first the dreams were not bad,’ said Nubia, ‘but every night they are becoming worse.’
‘Is that why you cried out in your sleep last night?’
‘Did I?’
Flavia nodded. ‘Poor Nubia! You should imagine you’re riding the other Pegasus. The one that can fly. Listen to this—’ Flavia expertly turned her wrists so that the scroll moved backwards ‘—Where is it? Oh! Here: Pegasus glides above the clouds and under the stars, with the sky his earth, and wings instead of feet. That’s Ovid.’
‘I thought your pater does not allow scrolls of Ovid.’
‘This one’s permitted,’ said Flavia. ‘It’s called Fasti and it’s all about sacred festivals. You’d think it would be boring, but it’s not. It’s wonderful. Especially that part about Pegasus, the winged horse.’ Flavia closed her eyes and recited: ‘Pegasus glides above the clouds and under the stars, with the sky his earth, and wings instead of feet.’
‘Are his hooves having little wings either side of feet, like the god Mercury?’ asked Nubia.
‘No,’ said Flavia. ‘He has two big wings t
hat sprout from the tops of his forelegs. Wait. I’ll show you.’ She put the scroll on the table, pushed off the covers and reached out to take her coin purse from the dressing table. As she emptied the contents of the leather pouch onto her bed, her dog Scuto wagged his tail and sniffed the gleaming pile of coins.
‘Here!’ cried Flavia, choosing a silver denarius. ‘Look at this one.’
‘It has profile of Domitian,’ said Nubia, taking the small coin. ‘Brother of Emperor Titus.’
‘No, the other side.’
‘Oh!’ cried Nubia, her eyes wide with delight. ‘It is a horse with wings.’ She showed it to Nipur.
‘It’s Pegasus,’ said Flavia.
Nubia frowned. ‘Is Domitian having a flying horse?’
‘Of course not. It’s only a myth.’
‘Tell me.’
‘It all began with Medusa.’
‘The monster who is so ugly she is making people turn to stone with one look?’
‘Yes. Before the gods made Medusa ugly, she was stunningly beautiful. The sea-god Neptune saw her and fell in love with her and she became pregnant. She was still pregnant when the gods made her hideous and when Perseus killed her.’
‘I know this,’ said Nubia. ‘Perseus cuts off her head and puts it in a bag.’
‘Exactly. But did you know that when he cut off her head, a tiny Pegasus sprang forth?’
‘Pegasus is born of Medusa?’
‘Yes. His mother was Medusa and his father was Neptune, who is the god of horses as well as god of the sea. Later, when Pegasus was fully grown, a hero named Bellerophon tamed him with a magic bridle given to him by Minerva, the goddess of Wisdom. With the help of Pegasus, Bellerophon conquered the chimera, a lion-headed monster with the body of a goat and a snake for a tail.’
‘Flavia! That is the creature from my dream. With the head of a lion and the body of a goat.’
‘It’s called a chimera,’ said Flavia. ‘They breathe fire.’
Nubia gasped. ‘Fire!’
‘That’s right. Fire.’
‘No,’ said Nubia, pointing to Flavia’s bedside table. ‘Fire!’ The linen scroll-case had been pushed too close to the oil-lamp and now a pretty orange tongue of flame flickered up from it.
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 165