He nodded and sat forward again.
Flavia looked up at Jonathan, who shrugged his shoulders and lifted his palms skywards.
‘What does he mean?’ asked Nubia.
‘I think he means we have nothing to lose by looking.’
*
Flavia brought her attention back to the floor just in time to hear Poplicola conclude his case against Hephzibah.
‘Esteemed Chairman and Judges,’ he was saying. ‘I trust you will take into account the evidence we have presented and that you will condemn this girl.’
The crowd gasped as Poplicola pointed at Hephzibah not with his right hand, but with his insulting left.
‘What is it?’ asked Nubia, as Poplicola resumed his seat. ‘Why do people gasp?’
‘He used his entire left arm to point at her,’ said Flavia. She had to speak into Nubia’s ear because the hired applauders had begun to cheer loudly. ‘It’s a grave insult to point with your left hand.’
‘I know,’ said Nubia. ‘In my country also, because the left hand is for wiping the bottom. But Hephzibah is not upset.’
‘I know,’ said Flavia. ‘She seems very calm this morning.’
‘I think what happens yesterday is good for her,’ said Nubia quietly.
Flavia looked at Nubia. ‘You mean when she broke down and wailed?’
Nubia nodded but did not turn her head. ‘Sometimes,’ she said, ‘it is good to let go of pain inside.’
Flavia stared at Nubia’s solemn profile, then gave her friend’s shoulders a quick squeeze. ‘You’re so wise, Nubia,’ she said. ‘I always – Great Juno’s peacock! That’s it!’
Nubia turned her amber eyes on Flavia. ‘What?’
‘We don’t need the will. I know how to prove who killed those men! Gaius!’ She reached forward and tugged his toga.
Flaccus leaned back again, one eyebrow raised.
‘Gaius,’ she said, her heart pounding hard. ‘I think I’ve got the proof you need.’
From his vantage point in the upper gallery of Ostia’s basilica Jonathan could see everything. He saw Hephzibah and Miriam sitting side by side. He saw the lawyers for the prosecution conferring and nodding. He even saw one of the judges picking his ear with the nail of his little finger.
Then he saw something he could hardly believe.
Gaius Valerius Flaccus, counsel for the defence, had stood up, turned around, taken Flavia by her shoulders and brought his mouth to her ear, as if to whisper something. But from his vantage point directly above them Jonathan could see he had not told her anything. Flaccus had kissed Flavia on the cheek.
Flavia’s cheeks were hot and her heart pounding as Flaccus stood to address the Chairman and Judges.
‘GAIUS VALERIUS FLACCUS TO SPEAK FOR THE DEFENCE,’ announced Praeco, but he might as well have cried, ‘GAIUS VALERIUS FLACCUS JUST KISSED FLAVIA GEMINA!’
She felt a wide grin spread across her face and tried to suppress it. She must appear suitably serious.
‘Gentlemen,’ began Flaccus his deep voice ringing with confidence, ‘I know I have undertaken a burden in excess of my capacities, but I have done so trusting in your integrity, and in this woman’s innocence.’ He made a subtle gesture towards Hephzibah.
‘The reason I accepted this case is as follows: I was approached by people whose friendship I value greatly.’ He looked at Flavia, who was trying not to grin like an idiot. ‘That young woman, Flavia Gemina, has been instrumental in restoring over a dozen kidnapped children to their parents here in Ostia. You yourself, Artorius Bato, can attest the truth of that.’ Flaccus turned to Bato, who gave a half smile and inclined his head in assent.
‘Flavia Gemina was helped in this good deed – and in many others – by most of those sitting on the bench behind me. My esteemed colleague has called them humiliores. Some of them may be humiliores in status, but in personal integrity, honour and bravery, they are all honestiores.’
This got a cheer from the upper gallery. Flavia looked up and saw Jonathan give her the rhetor’s gesture for amazement. Then he wiggled his eyebrows and made a kissing shape with his mouth.
Flavia tried to scowl at him but her happiness would not allow it. He grinned back and jerked his head towards a hooded man standing on his left.
Flavia shook her head and frowned as if to say ‘What?’
Jonathan hid his right hand with his left and pointed again at the hooded man.
Again, Flavia looked at the man. Then she gasped as she caught a glimpse of his eyes beneath the hood: they were as blue and sharp as icicles. The hooded man watching from the gallery was the great orator Quintilian.
‘Nubia, look!’ whispered Flavia. ‘It’s Quintilian, incognito!’
‘In cog neat toe?’
‘He doesn’t want anyone to know it’s him!’
‘I believe,’ continued Flaccus in his deep voice, ‘that the opposition’s case is a beggar’s cloak of deceit, patched together with lies and scraps of innuendo, designed to hide the facts.’
‘Nice metaphor,’ murmured Aristo. ‘And I believe it’s original.’
On the bench in front of them, Lynceus turned his head and nodded. His eyes were twinkling. Flavia pointed up towards Quintilian. Lynceus nodded again, tapped the side of his nose, then put his forefinger to his lips, as if to say: Yes, I know; but don’t say a word, understood?
Flavia nodded and turned back to watch.
‘This morning,’ Flaccus was saying, ‘I intend to set the torch of truth to that cloak of lies, and burn the deceit away. All I ask of you, Esteemed Gentlemen, is that you resist the evil deeds of immoral men, and help me defend the innocent from distress.’
‘What is he saying?’ asked Nubia.
Flavia shrugged happily. ‘I have no idea. But it sounds wonderful!’
Lupus reached the Temple of Hercules in no time. It was barely a stone’s throw from the basilica. Could Dives have left his will here? Could it really be this easy?
At the bottom of the steps, Lupus closed his eyes and offered up a quick prayer.
Then he stared up the marble steps, making his way carefully between offerings of honeycakes, fruit and candles.
As he reached the top, he recoiled. A dead pigeon lay there.
Was it an offering to the god? Or just a dead pigeon?
He glanced round to make sure nobody was watching, then picked up the bird’s light corpse and hid it in a fold of his toga.
You never knew when a dead pigeon might come in handy.
Flavia watched Flaccus with pounding heart and open mouth. He was magnificent. He had forgotten his Ciceronian quotes and his rhetorical flourishes. His gestures were almost as fluid and expressive as Quintilian’s had been the day before. All eyes were on the handsome young orator as he launched a velvet-voiced attack.
‘Someone wanted Dives dead, Esteemed Gentlemen. But it was not my client.’ Here Flaccus indicated Hephzibah, who looked tragic and beautiful. ‘Someone else stood to benefit not only from his death, but from hers as well. If we can find that person, Esteemed Colleagues, then we have found the culprit.’
Flaccus turned in a fluid motion and pointed dramatically at Nonius. ‘You, Nonius, are that culprit, aren’t you? You are the one who killed Dives, Papillio and Mercator!’
Gaius Valerius Flaccus pointed an accusing finger at Nonius. ‘You, Lucius Nonius Celer, called this girl to trial, but in fact you are the guilty one, aren’t you? You suspected that Dives was going to marry Hephzibah. A wife does not automatically share in her husband’s property, we all know that. But once married, the husband can name his wife as a beneficiary after his death. And of course there is also the question of children, that is, of proper heirs. When you discovered that your patron had secretly set Hephzibah free, you panicked. Why? Because you knew that a master often sets a slave-girl free before he marries her. And you suspected Dives was about to marry Hephzibah. The fact that he freed her secretly made you all the more sure of his intentions. The only point in his
keeping her manumission a secret would be to keep the news from you and the other legacy-hunters.’ Flaccus took a step closer to Nonius, who was glowering on his bench with his eyes averted.
‘But you found out, didn’t you? Perhaps you overheard it. Or perhaps one of the slaves told you, no doubt for a price. You knew you had to act fast. And so you killed Dives before any marriage could take place. Then, lest anyone suspect Dives’s intentions and your motive, you claimed that Hephzibah was deluded and that she had never been freed. Perhaps you also wanted her under your control. And greed may also have been involved. Perhaps even lust. She is desirable, is she not?’ Flaccus gestured towards Hephzibah and Flavia saw all the men in the basilica gaze at her open-mouthed. A slanting beam of late morning sunlight illuminated her cloud of copper-coloured hair and made it blaze like fire around her.
‘You fool! If you had let the poor girl go free, you might have got away with your crime. But you reasoned that Hephzibah had not been at the estate long, and therefore had few friends or allies in Ostia. You assumed she would meekly accept your will. You didn’t count on the determination of a young woman who has faced so many hardships in her life. You didn’t count on Miriam bat Mordecai, a girlhood friend who decided to become her protector. You didn’t count on four brave children and their tutor, all committed to solving the mystery.’ Flaccus’s dark hair fell over his eyes and he impatiently tossed it back with a flick of his head.
‘But you did allow these four young truth-seekers to lead you to the witness, didn’t you? Until that morning in the forum, you had no idea who Hephzibah’s witness was. But then, when the town crier announced Papillio’s name, you pretended to need the latrines.
‘Instead you hurried to the Garden Apartments and there confronted Papillio. That was when you had your worst fears confirmed: Dives had not only freed this girl but he had secretly made a new will, which you feared would leave Hephzibah everything and you nothing. Papillio’s dying words were: I didn’t tell. Quick. Find the other six. By Hercules. What was it that Papillio didn’t tell you? Who the other witnesses were? Where the will was kept? Whether he had left you anything at all?
‘You didn’t have time to beat the truth out of him because you had to be at the forum, to keep your appointment. But you had to get rid of him, first because he was the only person who could prove Hephzibah had been set free; second, because he knew you knew there was a new will. I imagine you used Papillio’s own sword – he was an ex-soldier – then hurried back to the forum, leaving him to die a slow and agonising death.
‘You wasted no time in trying to hunt down the other possible witnesses to the new will. An obvious candidate was Mercator, whom you knew to be a friend and freedman of Dives. You summoned him to your estate and took him to a secluded storeroom where you could speak uninterrupted. Did he tell you where the new will was? Or was he loyal to the memory of Dives? Perhaps we shall never know. What we do know is that you fought. I doubt a girl as frail and delicate as that one could have given you such a spectacular black eye. You and Mercator struggled, didn’t you? And in the struggle he died. Did you intend to kill him, too?
‘Whether you meant to or not, it was at this point that the solution came with terrible clarity. Kill Mercator and implicate Hephzibah in his murder. With her dead, even if the new will did come to light, the estate would revert to the heir of the previous will – you. You would then have nothing to fear from the other five witnesses. If you could just get rid of the girl.’ Flaccus turned and gestured eloquently towards Hephzibah, whose flame-coloured hair was still dramatically illuminated by a beam of winter sunlight. She was visibly trembling and as she gazed at Nonius with huge brown eyes, she reminded Flavia of a beautiful doe facing the cruel hunter.
‘You villain! You dragged the merchant’s body to Hephzibah’s cubicle, didn’t you? Then you summoned her from the house of Gaius Caecilius Plinius Secundus, her protector. The innocent creature fell neatly into your trap.’ Flaccus’s toga slipped from his left shoulder and he impatiently pulled it up.
‘It was a cold-blooded and brilliant plan. But you made one mistake. You underestimated the determination of this young woman and her friends.’
‘There is no way you can prove any of that,’ said Nonius. His good eye was blinking rapidly and his face seemed darker than usual.
A murmur ran through the basilica, now packed to overflowing.
‘He’s got it,’ cried someone.
‘It’s the will!’ cried a woman. ‘He’s found the will.’
‘Ah,’ said Lynceus, his eyes bright, ‘Lupus in fabula! Speak of the wolf!’
The spectators grew quiet and in the hush, Flavia heard the slap of sandaled feet on marble. The crowd parted and her heart leapt as Lupus ran into the open space. His cheeks were pink and he was out of breath. But his eyes blazed with triumph. Behind him stalked a man in a long white robe and toga: a priest.
In his hand the priest held a wax tablet, bound with a scarlet cord and secured with a leaf-shaped brass seal-box.
‘Please identify yourself,’ said Flaccus to the priest.
‘I am Gaius Fulvius Salvius, chief priest and haruspex at the Temple of Hercules Invictus, here in Ostia.’
‘Do you store wills in your temple?’
‘Yes. We do.’
‘And is that the will of Gaius Artorius Dives?’
‘It is. According to our records it was lodged with us last week.’
On his bench opposite, Nonius made a curious choking noise.
‘Did you know that Gaius Artorius Dives died shortly after the will was deposited with you?’
The priest’s jaw dropped. ‘By Hercules!’ he exclaimed. ‘Did he? Is he . . . is Dives dead?’ He licked his lips and looked around. ‘I’ve been in the country celebrating the Faunalia and my wretched assistant . . .’ He stopped then looked at the chairman and said in a clear voice, ‘I’m sorry this happened, sir. Usually if one of our testators dies, a witness comes to collect the will and it is officially opened and read in the Forum.’
‘May I?’ Flaccus held out his hand.
The priest gave a little bow. ‘Of course.’
Flaccus took the tablet and turned to the chairman. ‘With your permission, sir, I will open the tablet.’ He glanced down and added, ‘I confirm that it bears the seal of Dives, which I have seen before: Hercules with his club.’
On his podium, Gratus nodded. ‘I think we are all eager to hear the contents of his will.’ The chairman turned to the priest. ‘Thank you. You may sit.’
As the priest sat on the witness’s bench, Lupus came to sit beside Flavia. Jonathan and his father arrived at the same time, having made their way down from the gallery.
The herald’s bronze staff clanged, and Praeco’s voice cracked with excitement as he announced: ‘THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF GAIUS ARTORIUS DIVES!’
Flaccus broke the seal with a trembling hand. He handed the cord and seal box to a courtroom attendant and opened the wooden tablet. Flavia could see three separate leaves, each with black wax coating on both sides. A soft murmur of excitement spread through the crowd.
Flaccus quickly scanned the leaves and Flavia saw his eyebrows go up.
‘This is indeed the will of Gaius Artorius Dives,’ announced Flaccus in his deep voice. ‘It is dated just over a week ago: the day before the Kalends of December, and it is signed and sealed by seven witnesses. He paused for a moment and Flavia saw that his hand was trembling.
‘I name as my sole heir,’ began Flaccus, ‘Gaius Artorius Staphylus, my bailiff and freedman.’
‘What?’ cried Aristo.
‘Who?’ said Flavia, and the basilica buzzed with excitement as others echoed their questions.
There was a hoarse cheer from the gallery and they all looked up to see a short bearded man in a white skullcap doing a little jig.
‘Great Juno’s peacock!’ Jonathan had to shout to make himself heard above the crowd. ‘It’s Dives’s Jewish bailiff. I met him at the funeral
.’
Flavia gasped. ‘That means Dives didn’t make Hephzibah his heir after all!’
‘ORDER!’ bellowed Praeco. ‘ORDER AND SILENCE!’
The basilica grew quiet and Flaccus’s deep voice trembled as he read:
‘To Staphylus I give and bequeath my estate in its entirety. He will also receive the usufruct to the amount of one half.’
‘What is oozy fruit?’ asked Nubia.
‘He gets the proceeds from half the harvest every year,’ said Aristo, and added. ‘In this case, a great deal of money.’
‘One quarter of the usufruct,’ continued Flaccus, ‘I give and bequeath to the synagogue of the Jews, for whatever purpose they see fit, for as long as that synagogue exists.’
The crowd gasped and Mordecai exclaimed, ‘Master of the Universe! Dives really was a righteous Gentile.’
‘The final quarter of the usufruct,’ read Flaccus, ‘I give and bequeath to my freedwoman, Artoria Hephzibah.’
An enthusiastic applause filled the basilica, Flavia saw Hephzibah and Miriam look at each other for a long moment. Then they hugged, and Miriam whispered something into her friend’s ear. Flavia saw she was smiling but also weeping.
On the bench opposite, all the colour had drained from Nonius’s face, making his swollen black eye look grotesque.
‘Of course!’ cried Aristo suddenly. ‘That’s why Dives didn’t name Hephzibah as his heir.’
They all looked at him and Aristo explained. ‘If Dives had made Hephzibah his heir, the will might have been contested. She’s a Junian Latin like you, Nubia, and her right to own property might have been challenged. But this way, she’ll be rich for the rest of her life.’
‘Let all others for me be disinherited,’ read Flaccus and then looked up at the man leaning over the balustrade. ‘You, Gaius Artorius Staphylus, must accept this estate within the hundred days after my death.’
‘You can bet I will!’ cried the man, and the crowd laughed.
Flaccus pressed on, ‘But if you do not accept my estate, you will be disinherited, and my entire estate will be given as a legacy sub modo to the synagogue of the Jews.’
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 196