The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection

by Lawrence, Caroline

  Lupus had been writing on his wax tablet. Now he held it up:

  FORUM OF THE CORPORATIONS?

  ‘What about the Forum of the Corporations?’

  Lupus used his two hands to mime a fluttering butterfly, then shaded his eyes, as if searching for someone.

  ‘Good idea!’ said Flavia. ‘You try to find man with the butterfly birthmark at the Forum of the Corporations. I’ll go with Jonathan to the main forum. When the gongs clang midday, men will start coming out of the law-courts on their way to the baths. I’m sure one of us will be able to find that witness.’

  *

  It took Lupus no time at all to find out the name of the mysterious witness.

  Remembering Miriam’s description of the man, he etched a simple portrait on his wax tablet. First he drew a face with a long nose and high forehead. Then he added a small butterfly shape over the left eyebrow. Finally, as the gongs clanged noon, he waited for the stream of men to emerge from the Forum of the Corporations on their way to their preferred bathhouses. As they began to pour out of the main exit, he held up the wax tablet in his right hand and pointed at it with his left.

  A few curious men gathered round the portrait, attracting others who wanted to see what they were looking at. Soon there was a lively crowd, with some men jostling to see.

  ‘IT’S PAPILLIO, THE DECURION!’ boomed a tall, thin man. Praeco – one of Ostia’s town criers – was incapable of speaking in a normal voice.

  ‘Papillio?’ said another . ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘OF COURSE I’M SURE,’ thundered Praeco. ‘SEE THE BUTTERFLY-SHAPED BIRTHMARK OVER HIS EYEBROW?’

  ‘No, it’s Didius,’ offered someone else. ‘That’s not a birthmark, it’s just a smudge.’

  ‘It’s not a smudge,’ said a freedman in his soft conical cap. ‘You meant to draw that, didn’t you, boy?’

  Lupus nodded.

  ‘What’s the matter, boy?’ said a man with a squint. ‘Ox tread on your tongue?’

  ‘Shut up, you fool!’ hissed a bald Ethiopian. ‘That’s the boy what’s had his tongue cut out. You be careful how you talk to him. He’s a ship owner, he is. Might employ you and your sorry crew one day.’

  ‘Oh. Sorry, boy,’ said Squint. ‘I meant no disrespect.’

  Lupus shrugged, then pointed urgently at the drawing and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

  ‘IF THE BOY MEANT TO DRAW THE BIRTHMARK,’ blared the town crier, ‘THEN IT’S DEFINITELY PAPILLIO!’

  ‘He means Gnaeus Helvius Papillio, the decurion,’ explained Conical Cap. ‘You know: member of the city council.’

  Lupus nodded enthusiastically and wrote the name on the other leaf of his wax tablet.

  ‘Papillio has a bigger chin,’ offered someone.

  Lupus quickly rubbed out the chin he had drawn and replaced it with a bigger chin, then held up the tablet again.

  ‘THINNER EYEBROWS!’ boomed Praeco.

  ‘Bigger ears!’ came the light voice of a eunuch.

  ‘And some frown lines on his forehead,’ added Conical Cap.

  Lupus used his thumb to smooth the wax and the tip of his bronze stylus to make the necessary adjustments.

  Finally they all agreed. The portrait on Lupus’s tablet showed the decurion Gnaeus Helvius Papillio, a bachelor who lived on the fourth floor of the Garden Apartments down by the Marina Gate.

  ‘Miriam! Uncle Gaius! Where are you?’ called Flavia, as she and her friends followed the dogs up the gravel path of her uncle’s Laurentum Lodge. It had taken them over an hour to walk there, but it was a glorious afternoon. To their right, the silvery-green leaves of three olive trees gleamed. A dozen brown hens had been pecking contentedly at the gravel path, but as Scuto ran to greet them they scattered among the vine rows.

  ‘Scuto! Stop chasing the chickens!’ Flavia scolded. ‘Why can’t you be good, like Nipur and Tigris?’ Scuto gazed up at her, panting happily and wagged his tail. Flavia gave him a quick pat and called out again, ‘Uncle Gaius?’

  The front door squeaked open and an old slave appeared between the two wooden columns of the small porch. He smiled broadly, revealing a single tooth.

  ‘Hello, Senex,’ cried Flavia. ‘Is Uncle Gaius in?’

  ‘Gone to Rome with Dromo,’ replied Senex in a quavering voice. Flavia nodded and smiled. Dromo was the other slave at the Laurentum Lodge. He was not quite as ancient as Senex, having four teeth instead of just one. She knew her uncle and Miriam could not afford proper slaves and had taken the two old men in out of kindness.

  ‘The master and Dromo should be back soon,’ quavered Senex. ‘The mistress is in her bedroom.’ He shuffled to one side so that Flavia and her three friends could enter. The dogs stayed outside to investigate interesting smells.

  ‘Miriam!’ called Flavia. She led the way through the little garden courtyard and eagerly flung back the curtain to Miriam’s bedroom.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry!’ said Flavia. ‘I didn’t know you had a visitor.’

  Miriam was sitting on her bed combing a doll’s hair. A lovely girl of fourteen or fifteen sat beside her. As Flavia and her friends filled the doorway, the girl jumped up and regarded them with large brown eyes. She had pale skin and a mass of wavy hair the colour of dark copper. It was pulled back from her smooth forehead and contained by a hairnet.

  ‘Hello, Jonathan, Flavia, Nubia and Lupus!’ Miriam put down the doll and tried to rise. But her swollen belly impeded her and she fell back onto the bed, giggling. The auburn-haired girl smiled and helped Miriam to her feet.

  Miriam turned to them and said breathlessly, ‘This is my dear friend Hephzibah; the one I was telling you about. Hephzibah, that’s my little brother Jonathan. And Flavia, and Nubia, and that’s Lupus.’

  ‘Oh!’ cried Hephzibah, and clapped her hands in delight. ‘It’s baby Jonathan!’

  Lupus raised his eyebrows and Jonathan said, ‘What?’

  Hephzibah turned and looked at Jonathan’s sister. ‘Miriam, do you remember the day we stole baby Jonathan from his basket and pretended to be mothers?’

  ‘Yes!’ Miriam laughed. ‘We unwrapped his swaddling clothes to see what he looked like.’

  ‘So tiny and perfect.’

  Lupus guffawed and Jonathan scowled. ‘I wasn’t that tiny,’ he muttered.

  ‘Oh, Hephzibah!’ Miriam gave a strange sobbing laugh. She caught her friend’s hands and for a brief moment they exchanged an intense look, which Flavia could not decipher.

  Still holding Hephzibah’s hands, Miriam turned to the four friends. ‘Please tell us you have good news,’ she said. ‘Tell us you’ve found the man who witnessed Hephzibah’s manumission?’

  Flavia nodded and patted Lupus on the back.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘we have good news.’

  Half an hour later they were all sitting in a small rose garden behind the Laurentum Lodge, drinking lemon barley water and eating dried mulberries, when the wooden gate squeaked open and old Senex appeared.

  ‘Pliny is here,’ he quavered. ‘Brought him like you asked.’

  ‘Thank you, Senex,’ said Miriam, rising to her feet. She went to greet the young man coming through the open gateway into the garden.

  ‘Dear Gaius,’ she said. ‘Welcome.’ She turned to Senex. ‘Let me know as soon as my husband returns.’ The old slave tugged his wispy grey forelock and nodded, and the garden gate squeaked shut behind him.

  Gaius Plinius Secundus looked just as Flavia remembered him. He was about eighteen, of medium height, with a mop of brown hair, rumpled eyebrows and keen black eyes.

  Without taking his eyes from Miriam’s face, he bent to pat the dogs. Flavia and Nubia exchanged a knowing glance. It was obvious he was still infatuated with her.

  ‘You remember my brother Jonathan, don’t you?’ said Miriam, flushing under his adoring gaze. ‘And Flavia, Nubia and Lupus?’

  Pliny stood upright and reluctantly looked at the others.

  ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘It’s good to see you again. H
ow have you all been this past year?’

  For a brief moment Flavia considered telling him that they had fought beasts in the new amphitheatre, rescued kidnapped children from the Greek island of Rhodes, pursued a fugitive across half the Greek mainland and raced chariots in the Circus Maximus. Instead she replied: ‘Busy. We’ve been busy.’

  ‘I also,’ said Pliny. ‘I’ve been studying rhetoric up in Rome. I’ve just come back to prepare for the Saturnalia. Your sister and her friend were lucky to find me at home yesterday.’ Here he turned his attention back to Miriam, who had resumed her seat.

  ‘Do please sit down, Gaius,’ she said, and patted the empty chair between her and Hephzibah. ‘Will you have some lemon barley water? Or do you prefer hot spiced wine?’

  ‘Barley water is fine.’ He sat on the wooden chair.

  ‘Lupus found the witness,’ said Miriam, pouring Pliny’s drink.

  ‘Witness?’ Pliny gazed adoringly at Miriam.

  ‘The man who witnessed Hephzibah’s manumission.’ Miriam set the beaker before Pliny. ‘You said you needed him to appear when you take Hephzibah to see the magistrate.’

  ‘Oh! Yes. The witness.’ Pliny reached into his shoulder bag, pulled out a wax tablet and turned to Hephzibah. ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Gnaeus Helvius Papillio,’ said Hephzibah in her pleasantly accented voice. ‘He looks like this.’ She pushed Lupus’s open wax tablet across the table.

  ‘Of course!’ said Pliny. ‘I know this man. I’m sorry, Miriam. I should have guessed from what you told me. Papillio’s name means “butterfly”. I let you down badly.’

  ‘No, Gaius, you didn’t let us down. But what do we do now?’

  Pliny drained his beaker, plunked it down emphatically and stood up.

  ‘Nothing. You do nothing. I will issue Papillio with a summons requiring him to come to court. Not tomorrow – it’s nefas – but the day after, the day before the Nones. Will I see you there?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Miriam. ‘I’ll be there.’ She squeezed Hephzibah’s hand. ‘I want to support my dear friend.’

  ‘We’ll be there, too,’ said Flavia, ‘if Aristo agrees to make it part of our lessons. After all,’ she added, ‘we found the witness.’

  ‘Excellent,’ said Pliny, his eyes never leaving Miriam’s face. ‘Then I will see you the day after tomorrow. Good-bye, Hephzibah. Good-bye, Miriam.’ He managed to tear his gaze away from her for a moment and smile down at the rest of them. ‘Good-bye, my young friends!’

  At the garden gate he turned and added. ‘By the way, the hearing won’t be in the basilica, but rather in the forum. Probably by the little shrine of Ceres. After all,’ he added. ‘It’s only a formality.’

  Two days later, early on the day before the Nones, they all walked to the forum to watch Papillio testify that Hephzibah was free.

  ‘Aristo,’ said Flavia. ‘How do you set a slave free?’

  Aristo was the handsome young Corinthian who had been her tutor for three years. He had tanned skin, hair the colour of bronze and intelligent brown eyes.

  ‘One method,’ he began, ‘is for the master or mistress to invite the slave to recline beside them, in the presence of witnesses.’

  ‘That’s how I freed Nubia,’ said Flavia, catching her friend’s hand and giving it a quick squeeze. ‘What else?’

  ‘The official method is to free them in the presence of an official: a consul or praetor, if you want to go right to the top. But a duovir or an aedile will do today. Even a decurion.’

  ‘Who are those people?’ A pretty frown creased Nubia’s forehead.

  Aristo raised both eyebrows. ‘Can anyone tell Nubia the difference between a duovir, aedile and decurion?’

  ‘A duovir,’ said Jonathan, ‘is one of two men who run Ostia, like the two consuls in Rome. The aediles look after public buildings, especially temples and baths. The decurions are members of the town council. They’re more common,’ he added. ‘I think there are a hundred of them here in Ostia.’

  ‘Correct.’ Aristo flashed Jonathan an approving smile.

  ‘Are there other ways to make slaves free?’ asked Nubia.

  ‘Yes,’ said Aristo. ‘The other most common method of manumission is for a master to set free some of his slaves in his will. That way they serve him as long as he lives, then form a grateful crowd of freedmen at his funeral. In that case, the seven witnesses of the will act as witnesses to the manumission,’ he added.

  ‘Like Dives,’ said Jonathan. ‘He freed about a dozen of his slaves. They were all there celebrating.’

  ‘Don’t you mean mourning?’ said Flavia.

  ‘A bit of both, I suppose,’ said Jonathan, as they passed the theatre. ‘I wouldn’t want people celebrating at my funeral. I’d want them all to be miserable.’

  ‘We promise we’ll be miserable,’ said Flavia, and Lupus chuckled.

  ‘Don’t laugh,’ muttered Jonathan. ‘You might regret it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I keep having a dream.’

  ‘Bad dream?’ asked Nubia.

  Jonathan nodded. ‘The same one, every single night.’

  ‘Like Nubia’s nightmares a few months ago?’ said Flavia.

  ‘Yes, but it’s not like an ordinary dream. It’s so real. It’s more like the dream I had before Vesuvius erupted.’

  Lupus gave Jonathan a look of alarm and Nubia asked, ‘What is in your bad dream?’

  ‘I dream I’m watching a funeral procession on a foggy day—’ Jonathan took a deep breath ‘—and I think it’s mine.’

  ‘Jonathan!’ cried Flavia as they all made the sign against evil. ‘Don’t say such a thing!’

  ‘Poor Jonathan,’ said Nubia, and she patted his back.

  ‘Well,’ said Aristo, ‘it’s my job to keep you safe. I’ll try as hard as I can to make sure nothing happens to any of you.’

  Flavia made the sign against evil one more time, just for good measure, as they emerged into the open space of the forum.

  It was a cloudy morning and smoke from the dawn sacrifices still hung in the cold air.

  ‘Behold!’ cried Nubia. ‘Pliny. And Phrixus, too!’

  ‘Where?’ said Aristo, looking around.

  ‘There! Between small round fountain and Temple of Rome and Augustus.’

  ‘Oh, I see them!’ said Flavia. ‘By the shrine to Ceres. And look! There’s Miriam and Hephzibah and Dromo. That angry-looking fat man must be the magistrate.’

  ‘And there’s the town crier,’ said Jonathan.

  ‘GNAEUS HELVIUS PAPILLIO,’ bellowed Praeco from his plinth, ‘DECURION OF OSTIA, RESIDENT OF THE GARDEN APARTMENTS. COME TO THE FORUM TO CONFIRM A MANUMISSION!’

  ‘By Hercules!’ breathed Aristo, as they drew closer to the circular shrine of Ceres, ‘She’s so pregnant!’

  Miriam came to meet them, a worried expression on her lovely face. ‘Jonathan! Flavia!’ she cried. ‘He’s not here yet! Papillio isn’t here.’

  ‘I can’t understand it,’ said Pliny, coming up behind her. ‘I sent notification yesterday. It’s just lucky Nonius needed to use the latrines,’ he added. ‘He’s not back to complain . . . yet.’

  ‘Oh Flavia!’ cried Miriam. ‘What will we do? The magistrate says we have to produce the witness today or Hephzibah will forfeit the case.’

  ‘GNAEUS HELVIUS PAPILLIO,’ blasted Praeco behind them, ‘IF YOU DO NOT APPEAR, THE PLAINTIFF WILL FORFEIT HER CASE!’

  The magistrate – a fat, sour-faced man in a red-bordered toga – glared up at the town crier and said something to his clerk, who made a note on a wax tablet.

  ‘I can’t understand it,’ repeated Pliny. ‘I sent Papillio the summons yesterday. Phrixus delivered it in person, didn’t you?’

  ‘I did,’ said Phrixus. He turned to Flavia and said: ‘It is good to see you again.’

  ‘It’s good to see you, too, Phrixus,’ said Flavia.

  Phrixus turned back to Pliny. ‘Shall I go and look for Papillio in the ba
silica?’ he asked. ‘Maybe he went there by mistake.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Pliny. ‘Do that.’

  Phrixus hurried off towards the basilica.

  A swarthy young man ran up; he was breathing heavily. ‘So,’ he said, ‘where is your so-called-witness? Is he still not here?’

  ‘That’s Nonius Celer,’ said Jonathan in Flavia’s ear.

  She nodded and studied Dives’ heir. He was a tall, good-looking man with dark, woolly hair, light brown skin and green eyes. He wore a dark grey cloak over a rust-red tunic.

  ‘I’m a busy man,’ said Nonius, ‘and I have an estate to run. I’ve been waiting nearly half an hour for this Papillio.’

  ‘Shall we look for him, too?’ said Flavia to Pliny. ‘We know where he lives: on the fourth floor of the Garden Apartments by the Marina Gate. We’ll—’

  ‘GNAEUS HELVIUS PAPILLIO,’ thundered Praeco, ‘DECURION OF OSTIA AND RESIDENT OF THE GARDEN APARTMENTS YOU ARE SUMMONED TO THE FORUM TO CONFIRM A MANUMISSION!’

  ‘We’ll go right now,’ continued Flavia.

  ‘You’d better,’ growled the magistrate. ‘If you fail to produce the witness in the next half hour, then not only will this young woman lose her case, but she’ll have to pay a fine for wasting my valuable time.’

  *

  A few minutes later, Nubia and her friends stood before a tall red-brick apartment building.

  Nubia did not understand how people could bear to live in such lofty buildings. Jonathan told stories of tall apartment blocks collapsing without notice, but Flavia said that only happened in Rome.

  Nubia’s head tipped back as she looked up all five storeys. Instead of a red-tiled roof she saw green foliage peeping above the upper level. ‘Behold. There are trees on the roof,’ she said.

  ‘It must have a roof-garden,’ said Flavia, and looked at Lupus. ‘Is this it?’

  Lupus nodded and held up his wax tablet. Nubia saw what he had written:

  GARDEN APARTMENTS BY MARINA GATE

  FOURTH FLOOR

  ‘It’s big,’ said Flavia, ‘but luckily there are four of us. I’ll take the eastern side, Jonathan you take west, Nubia south and Lupus north. Start at one end of the corridor and work your way along. Just knock at doors. Or ask anyone you see. Someone must know where Papillio lives.’