Nubia nodded and followed her ex-mistress. They passed through a dim, vaulted entry way and emerged into a bright, spacious courtyard with a large rainwater pool at its centre. Nubia saw cooking hearths at the north end of the courtyard and latrines at the south. There were no trees in this courtyard, but a few shrubs had been planted near the latrines, and a pretty herbbed surrounded the pool. The outside of the large building had been blank and uninviting, with small windows in a flat expanse of the brick; inside, she could see that each of the apartments had larger windows overlooking the balcony corridors and courtyard beyond.
Flavia indicated the stairs at the southwest corner and Nubia dutifully began to go up them. They were made of gleaming white marble. The thought occurred to her that this would make them easier to climb at night. She went up four flights, then turned to approach the door nearest the stairs. She was surprised to find it slightly ajar. As she tentatively knocked, it swung open.
Almost at her feet lay the man with the butterfly birthmark: flat on his back, his eyes open but unseeing. A glistening smear of blood on the white marble floor showed how he had crawled across the room and almost made it to the door before he died.
Nubia stared in horror at the dead man lying at her feet. Blood had soaked his cream tunic and turned it dark red.
Suddenly his staring eyes moved to lock with hers.
Nubia screamed: he was still alive.
She was about to turn and run, but then she saw the terror in his eyes and a thought entered her mind: comfort him. He is dying.
‘Papillio?’ she whispered.
He groaned, and reached up a bloody hand imploringly. She knelt beside him and took his outstretched hand.
He opened his mouth, but no words emerged.
From the balcony corridor behind her came the sound of running footsteps.
‘Don’t worry, Gnaeus,’ she said, somehow remembering his praenomen. ‘People are coming to help.’ She attempted a smile. ‘Do not try to speak.’
He opened his mouth again, and managed to gasp: ‘I didn’t tell . . . Quick!’ She nodded as if she understood, and he seemed to take courage from this. Even as the light in his eyes faded, he managed to say: ‘Find the other six . . . By Hercules!’ Then she heard the death rattle and she knew he was gone.
Outside the footsteps skidded to a halt. Nubia turned to see Flavia and Lupus arriving together in the open doorway. A moment later, Jonathan, Pliny, Phrixus and the swarthy man called Nonius appeared in the balcony corridor behind them.
For a moment they all stared in horror at the dead man.
Then Nonius fainted, and Flavia began to scream.
‘Are you certain?’ said Flavia to Nubia an hour later. ‘Are you certain that’s what he said?’
‘Yes,’ said Nubia, taking a sip of mint tea. ‘His last words were: I didn’t tell. Quick. Find the other six. By Hercules.’
Nubia lay wrapped in a blanket on the divan back at Jonathan’s house. Jonathan’s father, Doctor Mordecai, had bled her to ease the shock. Then, after commanding her to rest, he had hurried to the scene of the murder in order to examine the corpse.
‘Nubia, are you sure Papillio didn’t say anything else?’ said Flavia. ‘That doesn’t make sense.’
‘Master of the Universe, Flavia!’ muttered Jonathan. ‘Leave Nubia alone. She’s just had a terrible shock. A man died in her arms. And she’s just had a cup of her own blood drained from her.’
‘He’s right,’ said Aristo. ‘Nubia’s had an awful shock. Thank the gods Miriam didn’t see the body. I hope she and her friend got back to Laurentum all right.’
‘I’m sorry, Nubia,’ said Flavia, ‘but that poor man was murdered. And we’ve got to find out why.’
Nubia nodded.
Lupus held up his wax tablet. He had written one word: SUICIDE?
‘I don’t think so, Lupus,’ said Flavia. ‘Why would he fall on his sword and then try to crawl for help?’
‘Also,’ said Jonathan, ‘his last words were: I didn’t tell. As if someone had threatened to make him talk and he refused and then they stabbed him.’
Lupus pursed his lips and nodded, as if to say: Good point.
Suddenly there was a thunderous pounding on the front door and Tigris started to bark.
Flavia glanced at Jonathan. ‘That doesn’t sound like your father,’ she said.
‘No,’ agreed Jonathan.
A moment later Delilah appeared in the wide doorway of the tablinum.
‘It was soldiers,’ she said breathlessly. ‘They wanted Nubia. I say you are next door because they want to arrest you.’
‘Why would they want to arrest Nubia?’ said Flavia with a frown.
‘Maybe they think she murdered Papillio,’ said Jonathan.
‘What?’ cried Flavia.
‘Delilah,’ said Jonathan, ‘what were their exact words?’
The letters on the slave-girl’s forehead crinkled as she frowned. ‘That they want to arrest and interrogate Nubia. They say she must come because she is a slave.’
Flavia frowned. ‘But Nubia’s not a slave. I freed her in Surrentum over a year ago.’
‘In the presence of a magistrate?’ asked Aristo.
Next door they could hear Scuto and Nipur barking, as the soldiers pounded on Flavia’s door.
‘No,’ said Flavia. ‘I freed Nubia in the presence of Publius Pollius Felix and his family. I told you this morning. I invited her to recline on the couch beside me.’
Aristo stood up and his face grew pale. ‘Flavia,’ he said, ‘did you ever pay the slave-tax?’
‘What’s that?’
‘Dear gods,’ said Aristo. ‘You didn’t do it properly. She’s not free. Nubia’s officially still a slave.’
Flavia stared blankly at him. ‘But you said that if you invite a slave to recline with you, then they’re free.’
‘Yes, but you have to register their manumission in your home town, and then you have to pay twenty per cent of the purchase price.’
Flavia shrugged. ‘I can do that.’
‘You don’t understand. Roman law says that slaves who witness a crime can not give evidence unless they’ve been tortured. A Roman citizen just died in Nubia’s arms. If they want her to give evidence, and if she’s still technically a slave, that means they have to torture her. It’s the law. There’s no time to officially free her now.’
The pounding came again at the door, so loud that the whole house seemed to shake.
‘They’re back!’ cried Delilah. ‘Someone must have told them Nubia is here.’
‘Run, Nubia!’ said Flavia, pulling her dazed friend off the divan. ‘Go out the back door!’
Nubia’s blanket slipped to the floor and she stood trembling, her left elbow still bandaged where Doctor Mordecai had made the cut in order to bleed her.
‘Where?’ she whispered. ‘Where can I go?’
‘I don’t know,’ cried Flavia hysterically. As the front door splintered and crashed open, she shoved Nubia towards the back of the house. ‘Just run! Run, Nubia. Run!’
Nubia ran.
She ran through Jonathan’s inner garden and out the back door and straight into the necropolis, the city of the dead. The low dark clouds hung menacingly above her.
She ran among the umbrella pines, weaving back and forth, not daring to look behind to see if they were pursuing her. The blood sang in her ears while her running feet beat a terrified rhythm.
Nubia ran.
She could smell the rain and feel the charged air.
She had to find shelter. She could go to the Geminus family tomb, but if they searched the necropolis that would be the first place they would look. She must go to another tomb. One which Flavia and her friends knew about, but no one else.
A drop of rain spattered onto her cheek. Then another. And another. From her left came a flash and the crack of thunder.
Nubia veered right, weaving between the tall umbrella pines.
Above her the heavens opened
and the rain poured down.
Nubia ran.
‘Master of the Universe,’ said Mordecai, coming into the tablinum. ‘What happened to our front door?’ He was shaking out his dripping cloak.
Flavia lifted her face from her hands and looked at him. ‘Oh, Doctor Mordecai!’ she cried. ‘It’s Nubia!’
A flash of lightning illuminated his concerned face and a moment later came a huge crash of thunder.
‘What?’ cried Mordecai. ‘What’s happened to Nubia?’
‘Soldiers came to arrest her,’ said Aristo, ‘claiming that she’s still a slave.’
‘Dear Lord,’ said Mordecai, his face pale. ‘That means . . .’
‘We know what it means,’ said Jonathan. ‘We’re going to try to find her, as soon as it stops raining.’
‘I should have gone with her,’ sobbed Flavia. ‘Or sent Nipur with her. But I just pushed her out of the door. She doesn’t even have her lionskin cloak.’
Lupus awkwardly patted her arm and Jonathan said, ‘Don’t cry, Flavia. They took us by surprise. We all panicked.’
‘What’s happening to us?’ said Flavia through her tears. ‘Why did they kill that poor butterfly man? And who told the officials that Nubia might not have been properly freed?’
‘I think,’ said Aristo slowly, ‘that whoever committed the murder wants to frighten you off. That’s why they’ve gone after Nubia.’
‘What did you discover, father?’ asked Jonathan. ‘Did you see the body?’
‘Yes. I saw the body.’ Another flash of lightning came, further off.
‘Could it have been suicide?’
‘I doubt it.’ Mordecai sat on the striped divan and looked around at their concerned faces. ‘Papillio was killed by a single blow from a gladius – the short thrusting sword of a legionary. We found it in his apartment, lying on the floor at the other end of the trail of blood. There were brackets for it on the wall. Papillio obviously kept it there as a trophy.’ Mordecai looked around at them with his heavy-lidded dark eyes. ‘Not long before Nubia found him, someone came to see him. They talked and I presume they argued. The killer probably took the sword from the wall, stabbed Papillio once, then dropped the weapon and ran. But it was a clumsy blow. Or perhaps a hasty one. Instead of killing him instantly . . . I reckon it took him nearly half an hour to die.’
‘Oh!’ cried Flavia. ‘The poor man!’
From the northwest came a low growl of thunder. In the garden, the shrubs trembled under the beating rain.
Mordecai accepted a beaker of steaming mint tea from Delilah and sipped it thoughtfully. ‘I’m afraid there is something much more sinister here than the case of a Jewish slave-girl being set free.’
Another crash of thunder seemed to emphasise his statement.
Flavia took out a handkerchief and blew her nose. ‘You’re right, Doctor Mordecai,’ she said. ‘We’ve got to find out more about Hephzibah. She’s the key.’
Lupus nodded and pointed at Flavia, as if to say: She’s right.
Mordecai shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying you should leave this case alone.’
‘I agree with Doctor Mordecai,’ said Aristo, and added gently. ‘I know you think of yourself as a truth-seeker, Flavia, but this is an ugly case. A man has been murdered. Let it go.’
‘I can’t let it go. We’re all involved. Miriam, too.’ Here Flavia looked pointedly at Aristo. ‘Whoever did it must be stopped. We owe it to Miriam, and to her friend Hephzibah, and to the murdered man. And to poor Nubia. We must solve this mystery,’ she said fiercely. ‘Or at least try.’
‘Very well,’ said Mordecai at last. ‘But only with our help and close supervision. Agreed?’ He looked at Aristo.
Aristo gave a nod. ‘Our close supervision,’ he said.
‘Thank you, Aristo. Thank you, Doctor Mordecai.’ Flavia wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. ‘Now, where shall we start?’
‘Why don’t we find out more about the key to this case,’ suggested Jonathan.
‘Hephzibah?’ said Flavia.
Jonathan nodded. ‘Hephzibah.’
It was still raining hard, so they hired a covered carruca for the drive to Laurentum.
It had been decided that Aristo would stay at Jonathan’s house to help Caudex repair the front door and that Mordecai would go with them to the Laurentum Lodge. As they left the Laurentum Gate and headed for the coastal road, Flavia sat in the back of the carruca, looking out and calling Nubia’s name over and over. There was no reply from the dripping woods and Flavia’s voice was hoarse by the time they reached the Lodge.
Miriam waved from the porch as the carruca crunched up the gravel drive. She came carefully down the rain-slicked steps holding her palla over her head to keep off the rain. Gaius’s huge mastiff Ferox followed her to the gate.
‘Hephzibah’s not here,’ she said, when her father explained their mission. ‘She’s up the road at Pliny’s estate. He dropped me here and then drove her straight there. He’s offered his protection until this matter is settled.’
‘Thank you, my daughter,’ said Mordecai. ‘We will go straight there.’ He twitched the reins to turn the carruca, then clicked the mules into motion.
‘Stop and have some lunch with me on your way back,’ Miriam called after them. ‘Gaius has gone to Rome and he won’t be back until later.’
The rain stopped as they pulled up the circular drive of the magnificent Laurentine villa. Pliny himself came to meet them.
‘Hephzibah is at Dives’ old estate,’ he said. ‘She went to collect her things just before the rain started. Phrixus took the carruca back to Ostia to do some shopping, and I asked him to drop her off. She said she’d return here on foot, and she should be back by now . . . I’ve been debating whether or not to send a slave with a mule for her.’
‘We’ll go,’ said Mordecai. ‘And we’ll bring her back here. Which estate is it?’
‘Back the way you came,’ said Pliny, pointing north. ‘The turning is just past the Lodge. It’s not far at all. I’ll have the slaves warm some wine for you.’
But they never had warm wine at Pliny’s or lunch at the Laurentum Lodge. When they arrived at the coastal estate of Lucius Nonius Celer, they found the opulent villa in turmoil.
‘What’s happening?’ Mordecai called down to a running slave.
‘Murder!’ said the slave eagerly. ‘She’s murdered one of his freedmen! I’m just going to tell the field-workers.’
‘Who?’ Flavia pulled back the canvas flaps of the carruca so they could all see the slave. ‘Who’s been murdered?’
‘Mercator. They found him in her cubicle with his head bashed in. And the girl crouched over him.’
‘Girl?’ repeated Flavia. ‘Which girl?’
‘That Jewish girl who claims she’s free. Hephzibah.’
‘Who are you?’ cried Nonius, as Mordecai shouldered his way to the front of an excited crowd in the atrium. Nonius had been watching two slaves tie Hephzibah to a column. One of them must have pulled the hairnet from her head because her copper-coloured hair was falling loose around her shoulders.
‘I am Mordecai ben Ezra.’ The doctor gave a very un-Roman bow. ‘Are you Lucius Nonius Celer?’
‘I am.’ Nonius’s left eye was bruised and his chest was rising and falling. In his left hand he held a whipping reed and Flavia saw it was stained brown with old blood. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘We are friends of that young woman,’ said Mordecai. ‘Please release her.’
‘Are you mad?’ Nonius’s left hand clenched and unclenched on the handle of the long reed. ‘She murdered a man and when I tried to stop her from running away she fought like a harpy. Look what she did to me!’ He pointed to his swollen eye.
‘No!’ sobbed Hephzibah, twisting to look over her shoulder. ‘I didn’t do that! And I didn’t kill that man.’
‘Please release her,’ repeated Mordecai, quietly but firmly.
‘Not until I’ve whipped the truth out of her,’ said Nonius. He held up a small leather pouch in his right hand. ‘Where did you get all this gold?’ he snarled at Hephzibah. ‘You stole it from Mercator, didn’t you?’
‘No!’ said Hephzibah. ‘It’s mine! I told you: a friend gave it me, so that I could buy my freedom from you and—’
‘Wool fluff!’ cried Nonius. ‘If you wanted to buy your freedom why didn’t you come straight to me?’ He nodded at the biggest slave, who tore the back of Hephzibah’s tunic from the neck, exposing her naked back.
‘It’s my gold!’ sobbed Hephzibah. ‘Jonathan! Your sister gave it to me.’
‘Liar!’ Nonius raised the rod.
‘I will ask you not to do that, sir,’ said Mordecai, stepping between Nonius and Hephzibah. ‘That girl is currently under the protection of Gaius Plinius Secundus, your neighbour and a friend of the Emperor Titus.’
At the mention of Titus’s name a change came over Nonius. His breathing slowed. His eyes lost their feverish gleam. Finally he tossed the bloodstained reed onto the floor.
‘May I see the gold?’ asked Mordecai.
Nonius paused for a moment, then thrust the coin purse angrily into the doctor’s open hand.
Mordecai opened the bag and looked in. ‘I recognise these coins. They are part of my daughter’s dowry. This girl did not steal from the dead man. My daughter gave her these coins.’
‘You’ll have to prove that,’ said Nonius. ‘And she’s not going back to Pliny’s villa. I’ve summoned the vigiles from Ostia. She’ll stay locked up in prison until I bring her to trial and find the truth.’
‘We can take her into our custody, if you wish,’ said Mordecai calmly.
‘I do not wish.’ Nonius’s swollen eye gave him an unpleasant leer. ‘You’re a Jew like her, aren’t you?’
‘I am a Jew and a Roman citizen,’ said Mordecai. ‘I am also a doctor and I would like to see the body of the murdered man.’
Nonius’s good eye narrowed. ‘What can you do for Mercator? He’s dead.’
‘Nonetheless, I would like to see the body.’ Doctor Mordecai countered Nonius’s menacing stare with a heavy-lidded gaze.
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 185