‘That was the longest night I have ever known. But at last it began to grow light and we heard faint cockcrow. Not long after that came the distant shouts of the Roman commander, and the faint crash of the wall being destroyed. We braced ourselves for the sounds of men yelling and swords clashing and walls tumbling down. But there was nothing. Utter silence. For one hour, two, three, six. Presently we could tell by the bright blue light that it must be noon. The youngest of the children was very hungry. I remember his name was Zechariah. He began to cry and we could not comfort him.
‘Then we heard footsteps, the distinctive crunch of the metal studs on the soles of their boots. We hugged each other and whimpered. At last they appeared in the blue-lit doorway. Two Roman soldiers. One had a limp. The other was very young and handsome and I will never forget what happened next.’
‘What happened next?’ whispered Flavia.
‘Those two Roman soldiers began to weep and praise the gods and the young one took each one of us in his arms and kissed the top of our heads. Even mother. Even old Anna.’
Lupus was frowning and he made his ‘Why?’ grunt.
‘He was so happy to see us alive,’ said Hephzibah. ‘You see, all the other Jews in Masada were dead.’
Flavia and Lupus stared at her in horror. Jonathan’s head was down.
‘How?’ said Flavia.
‘They had committed mass suicide,’ said Hephzibah. ‘Each husband had gently cut the throats of his wife and children, then a man chosen by lot had killed each of them.’
‘What?’ gasped Flavia. ‘All of them?’
Hephzibah nodded. ‘Of nearly one thousand people, we seven were the only ones still alive.’
Between the stables and the vineyard of the Laurentum Lodge was an ancient wine press. It was a rectangular stone tank, with three lions’ head spouts low on one side. All over Italia – in the months of September and October – half-naked slaves would tread grapes in tanks like this one, their bare legs stained purple to mid-thigh and the juice gushing out of the lions’ mouths into wide clay bowls. From there it would be strained into wooden barrels and allowed to ferment.
The previous day, Gaius and Dromo had constructed a false bottom to the press by hammering a few planks together and resting it on bricks. Then they had spread this false bottom with sticky grey birdlime and covered it with a layer of grapes. When it was in place, it made the wine press appear to be half-full of grapes ready for the treading.
Now, with shaking hands, Nubia lifted the false bottom and climbed into the press and let the low table slip back in place above her. She hoped none of the grapes would roll away from the sticky birdlime to expose the wood underneath.
She pressed her cheek against the rough stone floor of the press and inhaled the faint scent of mouldy grapeskins. The lions’ head spouts allowed a little light to filter in so that it was not pitch black. Nubia wriggled forward and pressed her eye to one of the spouts. She could just see the olive tree at the corner of the Lodge and the path at the end of the vine rows. Even as she looked, the four-toothed slave Dromo shuffled into sight, carrying a basket full of grapes. He came so close that for a moment his leg blocked the light from her spout. Then he stepped to one side and the light streamed in and a hundred little thuds rained down above her as he emptied the basket of grapes into the press.
Then she heard another sound, one that chilled her blood: it was the clink of armour.
‘Search the stables, Decimus!’ she heard a man call. ‘I’ll have a look over here. What are you up to, grandpa?’
Nubia’s heart thudded. It was the vigiles! They were searching for her! For a moment she closed her eyes, not daring to look, then she allowed herself a peep. And gasped. She could see part of the soldiers’ hairy, muscular calf. He was standing right beside the press.
‘Where’s your master, old man?’
‘Rome,’ quavered Dromo. ‘Master’s up in Rome.’
‘Bit late in the year to be treading grapes, isn’t it?’ said the soldier, and she heard Dromo mumble an apology.
Then the lion’s head spout peephole showed her something which made her heart stutter.
Her dog Nipur had appeared from the direction of the Lodge and was trotting up the path, straight towards her. He was panting happily and wagging his tail.
Horrified, Nubia watched him coming closer and closer until his sniffing black nose blocked out the light.
‘No, Nipur!’ she cried out in her mind. ‘Flee! You’ll give away my hiding place!’
‘After the soldiers found us,’ said Hephzibah, ‘they led us up out of the aqueduct. The only way back was through a courtyard. When we entered they warned us not to look, but to keep our eyes downcast. But I peeked. I wish I had listened to them.’
‘Why?’ breathed Flavia. ‘What did you see?’
Hephzibah hung her head. ‘I saw some of the bodies. In their dying moments the mothers wrapped their arms around their children. And the fathers had embraced their wives. And their blood had mingled on the tiles of the courtyard.’
They were all quiet for a moment. Presently Hephzibah said, in little more than a whisper, ‘That sight will haunt me for the rest of my life.’
‘Yes,’ said Jonathan, his voice barely audible. ‘I know.’
‘What happened then?’ asked Flavia. ‘After the Romans captured you?’
‘We were brought here to Italia, for the triumph,’ said Hephzibah. ‘I don’t remember it very well. I was so ill on the boat that they thought I might die. But I didn’t die. And in the end they didn’t bother to execute us. We were only two women and five little children. Eventually we were bought by one of the Emperor’s freedmen, a man called Titus Flavius Josephus.’
‘Josephus!’ said Flavia. ‘A Jew with a bushy black beard? The man writing the history of the Jewish Rebellion?’
‘Yes,’ said Hephzibah. ‘He wanted to talk to us, to listen to our accounts of the sieges of Jerusalem and Masada. He spent many hours with my mother and old Anna. And three times he interviewed me, too. I was only eight or perhaps nine by then, but I remembered everything. Whenever he finished questioning me, he would reward me with a honey cake or an almond-stuffed date. I suppose Josephus finally got what he wanted from us, because a month or two after he bought us, he sold me and my mother to a Syrian carpet-maker with a workshop on the Esquiline Hill. We worked there for over five years, but the master’s health failed and eventually his business, too. He sold us at auction last winter. And that,’ she concluded, ‘is when Dives bought me and my mother.’
Final will of Nubia Shepenwepet daughter of Nastasen of the leopard clan.
Even though I belong to Marcus Flavius Geminus sea captain and all my possessions are his I wish to give to people I love. If Captain Geminus permits I make his daughter Flavia Gemina to be my heir. To her I leave my portion of gold for finding racehorse Sagitta. I also leave my tiger-eye earrings as memory of me.
To Aristo I give flute my most precious possession. Dear Aristo whenever you play it to imagine I kiss you and remember I love you always for ever.
To friend Jonathan who makes me to laugh I give Nipur brother to Tigris. Take care of him. He was precious to me.
To friend Lupus who makes me also to laugh, I give jade bracelet or arm-guard. It is Green reward for helping them.
To Alma who shows love by food I give my hairpins, oils and unguents.
To Caudex who shows love by protecting I give my lionskin cloak to use it for soft blanket.
My life was full of love and loss also, but at the last was love and for this I rejoice. Please promise my ashes to be placed in Geminus family tomb with the ashes of Flavia one day close beside me.
Witnessed by Nipur – see pawprint in wax – who almost betrays me today the Nones of December. He does not mean to betray but makes me realise life to be short and that one day I die perhaps by surprise and that I should therefore write this.
‘We have to solve this mystery,’ said Flavia later that after
noon, ‘so that we can help Hephzibah. The poor thing has suffered so much.’
They had been to the baths, and now the three of them were sitting in Flavia’s bedroom, watching Scuto and Tigris wrestle good-naturedly on the floor.
‘I’ve been thinking about this case—’ began Flavia, then paused as Lupus grunted and held his right finger before his lips. They all listened and Flavia could faintly hear a man’s shouting voice.
‘It’s the town crier,’ said Jonathan. ‘He only goes through the streets when the news is important.’
‘Shhh!’ said Flavia. ‘Quiet, Scuto! Quiet, Tigris!’
Praeco was at least three streets away, but if they were quiet they could hear his words perfectly: ‘TWO BLOODY MURDERS COMMITTED!’ came his distant cry. ‘ONE IN OSTIA, ONE IN LAURENTUM. IF ANYONE HAS INFORMATION ABOUT THESE KILLINGS, PLEASE REPORT TO THE BASILICA.’ His voice grew fainter, he must have turned a corner. ‘A REWARD OF ONE THOUSAND SESTERCES IS OFFERED BY THE ILLUSTRIOUS AND GENEROUS LUCIUS NONIUS CELER FOR ANY INFORMATION ABOUT THE PROFANE MURDERS OF GNAEUS HELVIUS PAPILLIO AND GAIUS ARTORIUS MERCATOR. TWO BLOODY MURDERS . . .’
Now his voice had faded, so Flavia turned to Jonathan and Lupus. ‘I’ve been thinking about this case,’ she said again, ‘and I’ve been mentally listing everything we know. Here’s what I’ve come up with. Let me know if I’ve missed anything.’
On Nubia’s bed, the boys nodded and Lupus took out his wax tablet. The dogs resumed their tussle.
‘Fifteen years ago in Jerusalem,’ began Flavia, ‘Hephzibah is born into a highborn Jewish family. Her father is a priest and her mother’s father a Zealot, maybe even a sicarius. Hephzibah survives the destruction of Jerusalem and the terrible mass-suicide of Masada and at the age of eight is sold into slavery with her mother. For six years they serve in Rome. Then they are put up for auction and bought by a rich man called Dives, who once served as a soldier in Judaea. Hephzibah and her mother come to his Laurentum estate just before the Saturnalia. Almost exactly one year ago.’
Scuto yelped as Tigris’s playful nipping got too rough. Jonathan pulled his dog away from Flavia’s, and began searching his fur for ticks. ‘I hope Aristo finds out more about Dives,’ he said.
‘Me, too,’ said Flavia and absently stroked Scuto. ‘At Dives’s estate, Hephzibah works as a seamstress and her mother as a laundress. But less than two months after they go to live there, Hephzibah’s mother dies of the fever.’
‘The one that nearly killed all of us,’ said Jonathan, without looking up from Tigris’s fur.
Flavia nodded. ‘Ten months later, Dives suddenly decides to set Hephzibah free. He does so in great secrecy, in the presence of a magistrate called Papillio. Hephzibah remembers that a wax tablet was duly signed and sealed, but no trace of this tablet has yet been found.
‘Three days after Dives frees Hephzibah, he dies. This is not unexpected. He has been an invalid for many years and is very fat.’
‘But,’ continued Jonathan, ‘according to a Jewish freedwoman named Restituta, there’s a rumour among the slaves that he was murdered.’
‘That could be crucial,’ said Flavia. ‘Lupus, can you make a note of that? It’s another thing we must investigate. Especially as Nonius has now accused Hephzibah of murdering Dives.’
Lupus nodded and bent his head over his tablet.
‘After Dives’s death,’ continued Flavia, ‘his heir comes to take over the estate. Nonius is about twenty-five years old. Hephzibah tells Nonius she is free, and therefore not his property, but she cannot remember the name of the man who witnessed her manumission, and there seems to be no record of it. She asks her friend Miriam to find the witness. Miriam asks us. We find out the witness is Papillio. Pliny sends him a summons to appear before the magistrate to testify that Hephzibah is free. But then Papillio is found dying from a stab wound, and he utters the cryptic last words: I didn’t tell. Quick. Find the other six. By Hercules.’
‘The question is what other six?’ said Jonathan.
Lupus nodded his agreement.
‘I don’t have a clue,’ said Flavia, and continued: ‘Later that day Nonius tells Hephzibah to come and collect her possessions, or he will give them away. She arrives a short time later, clutching a bag of gold from Miriam. She later tells us that she wanted to buy her freedom.’
‘And yet the first thing she does,’ said Jonathan with a frown, ‘is to visit a friend . . . what was her name?’
‘Priscilla,’ said Flavia: ‘a pregnant kitchen slave. Hephzibah claims she looked for Nonius, but couldn’t find him. Then she goes to collect her things, and that is when she finds a dead body in her cubicle: one of Dives’s freedmen, a merchant named Mercator. Hephzibah knows him by sight, but claims never to have spoken to him or had any dealings with him. Furthermore, there are no traces of blood or a struggle in her cubicle, whereas drops of blood were noted in a storeroom nearby.’
Lupus gave a little bow.
‘Therefore,’ concluded Flavia, ‘it seems that someone is trying to implicate her in the murders. But who?’ she murmured. ‘And why?’
‘I think we need to find out more about the pregnant slave-girl Priscilla,’ said Jonathan. ‘And—’
‘Flavia?’ interrupted a voice from the doorway. Alma stood there, wiping her hands on her apron.
Flavia and the others looked up at her, surprised.
‘There’s a young man downstairs,’ said Alma. ‘A very handsome young man. And judging by the crescent buckles on his boots and the broad stripes on his tunic, he’s of the senatorial class. Is there something you want to tell your old nursemaid?’
Flavia looked at Alma blankly. Then her face lit up and she clapped her hands. ‘Euge!’ she cried. ‘It’s him! Praise Juno!’
‘Who?’ said Jonathan, and exchanged a puzzled glance with Lupus.
‘Our saviour!’
He was waiting for them in the atrium: tall, dark and patrician. An old man stood behind him, carrying a scroll case in one hand and a leather travelling bag in the other.
The young man was leaning forward to examine a fresco on the wall – a scene of Castor and Pollux – and he was chewing his usual mastic gum. When he heard their footsteps he turned and squinted and then gave Flavia a heart-stopping smile.
‘Floppy!’ squealed Flavia, and almost rushed to hug him. Then she remembered herself and flushed, ‘I mean: welcome, Gaius Valerius Flaccus,’ she said in a more dignified tone. ‘Thank you so much for coming.’
‘Hello, Flavia. Jonathan. Lupus,’ said Flaccus, his voice deep and cultured. ‘How are you all?’
Lupus gave Flaccus a thumbs-up and pointed back with raised eyebrows.
‘I’m well, too, thank you.’ Flaccus took off a dusty blue travelling cloak and handed it to the old man, apparently his slave. ‘I’ve only just returned from Halicarnassus.’
At the mention of ‘Halicarnassus’ Flavia exchanged a glance with Lupus and Jonathan. They had met Flaccus the previous spring on a voyage to Rhodes and he had helped them rescue kidnapped children. They suspected a criminal mastermind who was based in Halicarnassus.
‘No sailing this late in the year,’ Flaccus was saying in his velvety voice, ‘so we had to come overland from Brundisium. It took us nearly a month. I only arrived in Rome yesterday and I hadn’t even started to go through all the letters waiting for me when your uncle arrived.’ Flaccus laughed, showing even white teeth. ‘At first I was very confused. I took him for your father.’
‘They’re twins,’ said Flavia with a laugh, aware that her heart was pounding.
‘So I discovered. Anyway, Gaius told me your problem and he begged me to help.’
‘Oh, Flaccus!’ cried Flavia, ‘We’re begging, too. The trial is the day after tomorrow and we have nobody to help us. You can sleep in our guestroom and use pater’s tablinum to prepare your case. We’ll feed you and do research for you and Aristo can be your assistant in court. Just please say you’ll defend Hephzibah. You’re our only hope!’
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br /> Gaius Valerius Flaccus smiled. ‘Of course I’ll defend her,’ he said. ‘That’s why I’m here.’
‘Amicus certus in re incerta cernitur,’ said a voice and they all turned to look at the old man standing behind Flaccus. ‘A friend in need is a friend indeed,’ said the old man with a wink.
Flaccus grinned. ‘Flavia, Jonathan, Lupus: this is Lynceus. He was pater’s scribe and secretary, and now he’s mine. He’s slightly deaf, but makes up for it with his keen vision. And you’ll find he has a motto for almost every occasion.’
‘Cicero, quoting Ennius,’ said Lynceus, and gave them another wink. He was short and balding with an intelligent twinkle in his eye. Flavia liked him.
‘Welcome to you both,’ she said. ‘Shall I ask Alma to make you some spiced wine? Or would you rather I show you to the guest room?’
Flaccus shook his head and grinned. ‘First things first,’ he said. ‘Please will you point us in the right direction of Ostia’s best bath-house?’
‘Jonathan!’ said Flavia, coming into the small guest room. ‘This is Flaccus’s room now. And he’ll be back from the baths any minute.’
Jonathan was sitting on the freshly made-up bed and laughing. He held a papyrus scroll in his hand. ‘Flavia, you have to see this. It’s Lupus the rhetor.’ He pointed with his chin. Flavia turned to see Lupus standing in a corner of the room. He had draped a red-bordered toga around himself and was staring nobly into the middle distance with his right arm upraised in the classic gesture of an orator asking for silence.
‘Lupus! That’s one of Floppy’s togas! Take it off immediately!’
Lupus merely raised one eyebrow and looked down his nose at her, cross-eyed.
Jonathan giggled. ‘Watch this,’ he said, and read from the scroll. ‘One of the commonest of all the gestures consists in placing the middle finger against the thumb and extending the remaining three: it is suitable to the exordium. Move the hand forward with an easy motion both to right and left, while the head and shoulders gradually follow the direction of the gesture.’
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 189