The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection

by Lawrence, Caroline

The singer continued her tale. Now the first hound is upon Actaeon, sinking his fangs into the back of the hunter’s neck, then another clamps on with sharp teeth, and another. And now Actaeon is down, and a dozen dogs crowd round their former master, burying their bloody muzzles in his bowels.

  The dancer’s red cloak flowed over him like blood. Beside Lupus, Flavia and Nubia squealed and covered their eyes with their hands. Lupus felt another delicious thrill of horror.

  Now the dancer had writhed out from under the blood-red cloak, and he was Diana, austere and composed, gazing down at the red patch, her outrage quenched by Actaeon’s blood. The goddess shrugged and turned and coldly walked away.

  The music stopped and for a moment the audience was silent. Then the theatre resounded with rapturous applause.

  The pantomime dancer ran back to the centre of the stage and took off his mask and bowed. As he stood again, he revealed a startlingly handsome face, sweat-glazed and smiling. In the rows behind Lupus some women screamed with delight and two seats down a magistrate’s wife fainted.

  Lupus could physically feel the waves of adulation rolling over him towards the stage. He groped for the programme. He wanted to know the name of the man who could inspire such adoration without speaking a word.

  Narcissus.

  The pantomime dancer was called Narcissus.

  ‘The singer,’ said Nubia at dinner that afternoon. ‘She was most skilled.’

  ‘Almost as good as you,’ said Flavia.

  ‘No,’ said Nubia. ‘She was better. She was sublime.’

  ‘Do you sing?’ asked Taurus. They were all sitting around a table in the inner garden of his house, eating a spicy mutton soup.

  Nubia nodded.

  ‘And she plays the flute, too,’ added Flavia.

  ‘Perhaps you’ll play for us after dinner?’ said Taurus.

  ‘I can’t believe I’ve never seen a pantomime before,’ said Flavia. ‘It was wonderful. I still don’t know how one man can play so many parts.

  ‘Where is he from?’ Jonathan asked Taurus. ‘Narcissus, I mean.’

  ‘Alexandria, I believe,’ said Taurus. ‘My cousin Pudens paid him a handsome sum to perform for the festival.’ He tore a piece of bread from a large flat loaf. ‘So you live in Rome and you’ve never seen a pantomime?’

  ‘Actually we live in Ostia,’ said Flavia.

  ‘They must have pantomimes there.’

  ‘Probably,’ agreed Flavia. ‘But my father’s never taken me.’

  ‘Then you’ve never seen Paris?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Paris. They say he’s the greatest pantomime dancer who ever lived. Makes Narcissus look like a galumphing oaf.’

  ‘Nobody could make that man look like an oaf,’ said Flavia. ‘He was wonderful.’

  ‘How about you, Lupus?’ said Jonathan. ‘You’ve been very quiet all evening. Did you like the pantomime?’

  Nubia glanced at Lupus and was surprised to see the passion blazing in his eyes. The mute boy nodded once.

  ‘You could be pantomime dancer, Lupus,’ said Nubia softly. ‘Remember how you delight the sailors on our trip? Acting out the adventures of us?’

  ‘She’s right,’ said Jonathan. ‘You’d be a natural.’

  Lupus kept his head down, staring at a half-eaten piece of flatbread on the table. Nubia noticed that his cheeks were flushing pink and she glanced at Flavia, who understood immediately and changed the subject.

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ Flavia said to Taurus. ‘Are you going to tell us about our mission? All we know so far is that Titus wants us to steal a valuable gem.’

  Taurus nodded. ‘My imperial cousin is too superstitious by far. I’m afraid he’s at the mercy of his soothsayers and astrologers.’ He must have seen their looks of puzzlement for he continued. ‘Have you heard of Nero?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Flavia. ‘He was the evil emperor who murdered his mother. He died the year before I was born,’ she added.

  ‘And yet,’ said Taurus, ‘there have been persistent rumours that Nero didn’t really die.’

  Jonathan raised his eyebrows. ‘Nero didn’t die?’

  ‘Some people claim it was not Nero who died that night, but rather a man who looked like him. According to the theory, his look-alike was given a hasty burial while the real emperor escaped on a ship from Ostia. Over the past twelve years, there have been mutterings, but it was only a few months ago that we had firm reports of sightings of Nero in the east. Parthia, to be exact. This pretender not only looks like Nero, but he plays the lyre and sings like him, too. He already has quite a following.’

  ‘Pretender?’ echoed Flavia. ‘So you don’t think it’s really him?’

  ‘No. I believe Nero died twelve years ago of a self-inflicted stab-wound. I’m certain this impostor just wants power. Despite his crimes, Nero was popular with the plebs. If they thought he was really Nero, he would have massive support.’

  ‘What does this false Nero have to do with the gem?’ asked Jonathan.

  ‘Nero used to have a large emerald,’ said Taurus. ‘Recently, an oracle prophesied that whoever possessed Nero’s emerald would rule the world.’

  ‘So Titus wants the emerald,’ said Flavia, nodding thoughtfully. ‘I can understand that.’

  ‘Mainly to prevent someone challenging his power,’ said Taurus. ‘For example, imagine what would happen if a man pretending to be Nero got his hands on it.’ He put down his spoon and shook his head. ‘The problem is: nobody knows exactly where the emerald is.’

  ‘It’s not here in Sabratha?’

  ‘No, but I believe it may be here in Africa. As I told Titus in my latest letter, there are reports of an emerald among the treasures of Volubilis.’

  ‘Volubilis!’ said Flavia. ‘Isn’t that near the Gardens of the Hesperides?’

  ‘Not quite,’ said Taurus with a chuckle. ‘Volubilis is the capital of the Roman province of Mauretania Tingitana. It’s about a thousand miles west of here, in a valley surrounded by mountains. I think you should go there and see if you can find the emerald. If you can’t find it, then you are free to return to Rome.’

  ‘And if we do find it there?’ said Jonathan.

  ‘Then you must steal it and bring it to Titus. Of course, if you are caught you must not implicate the Emperor. He would disavow all knowledge of your actions.’

  Nubia shyly raised her hand. ‘Is it not wrong to steal?’

  ‘Not in this case. You see, the emerald was the property of SPQR, the senate and people of Rome. So you’re actually just taking back what rightfully belongs to Titus.’

  Flavia frowned. ‘Can’t we just ask whoever has it to give it to us? Tell them the emperor wants it?’

  ‘No. Better you quietly steal it. If people learn of the emperor’s interest they might ask why.’

  ‘How do we get there?’ asked Jonathan. ‘To Volubilis, I mean?’

  ‘Caravans go there; it’s on their trade route. But the easiest and quickest way is to sail west through the Pillars of Hercules and down to a port called Lixus, a Phoenician trading port. From there we will head inland to Volubilis.’

  ‘We?’ said Flavia and Jonathan together.

  ‘Yes, of course. Titus obviously has great faith in your skill and abilities, but he doesn’t expect you four children to make your way to one of the furthest outposts of the Empire unchaperoned and alone. And I can see now that he was not exaggerating when he said you were young.’ Taurus shook his turbaned head. ‘I will certainly come with you. I have already spoken with the captain of a merchant ship called the Aphrodite. He is happy to set sail as soon as we are ready. You are ready, I hope?’

  ‘Not quite,’ said Flavia. ‘We have a quest of our own.’ She nodded to Lupus and he took out his wax tablet, with the picture of Gaius painted on it. ‘Have you seen this man?’

  Flavia and Nubia spent most of the following morning taking the small portrait of Gaius around Sabratha. Taurus let them borrow his big door-slave Pullo as a guide
and bodyguard. First they tried the basilica, but with no luck. Flavia left a written description of Gaius on a message-board in the forum which bore other notices of lost or missing persons. Then they tried the markets. The spice-sellers had not seen him. The snake-charmer had not seen him. The dealers in ivory, copper and ebony had not seen him. Finally, Pullo suggested they visit the harbourmaster.

  ‘Yes, a ship did come in from Ostia last December,’ said the harbourmaster, a tall, dark-skinned man with a gold tooth. ‘It docked two days before the Kalends of January.’

  ‘Yes!’ cried Flavia. ‘That would fit.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know about your man there,’ the harbourmaster nodded towards the portrait of Gaius, ‘but according to my notes, most of the passengers were on their way to the interior to trap wild animals for the amphitheatre.’

  ‘The interior?’

  ‘Inland. Away from the coast.’

  ‘Is the ship still here?’

  He checked a papyrus scroll.

  ‘According to this,’ he said, ‘the ship was going on to Alexandria, then due back here on the Ides of April. That’s just over a month from now. Of course, your friend might have travelled on to Alexandria.’

  ‘He’s not my friend,’ Flavia hung her head. ‘He’s my uncle.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I do not recognise him.’

  The gongs were clanging noon when Flavia and Nubia met Jonathan outside the Seaward Baths.

  ‘Nobody’s seen Uncle Gaius,’ said Flavia. ‘But at least his ship arrived safely. It didn’t sink in a winter storm or get captured by pirates. It docked here and then sailed on to Alexandria. That means Uncle Gaius might be here. Or in Alexandria.’

  Jonathan sighed. ‘Or anywhere in between. We’ll never find him now.’

  ‘Don’t be such a pessimist,’ said Flavia. ‘The goddess Diana brought us here for a reason. And I know we’ll find him, even if we have to go to the ends of the earth!’ She sighed. ‘Speaking of the ends of the earth, Taurus told us to meet him on board the merchant ship Aphrodite at three hours after noon. That’s when the easterly breeze rises.’

  ‘I know,’ said Jonathan. ‘He told us, too.’

  ‘Where is the Lupus?’ asked Nubia.

  ‘He’s at the theatre. Watching the pantomime dancer again. But he promised to get to the ship in good time.’

  The gong of the bath-house had stopped clanging.

  ‘It’s noon now,’ said Flavia. ‘If we don’t sail for three hours, that gives us time for the baths.’

  ‘After five days at sea,’ said Jonathan, ‘I need a good soak.’

  ‘I also.’ Nubia looked at Flavia. ‘Can we go, too?’

  Flavia nodded and pointed at some veiled women going in a side entrance. ‘It looks as if this bathhouse has a women’s section. A long soak in the hot plunge would be sublime. And maybe even a little nap.’ Flavia stifled a yawn. ‘I couldn’t sleep last night. All those people celebrating. I think everybody in this town owns a sistrum.’ She looked at Jonathan. ‘Shall we meet you here or at the docks?’

  ‘Let’s meet right here in two hours,’ said Jonathan. ‘That will give us plenty of time to get to the harbour before the Aphrodite sails.’

  The tickle of a fly on her cheek woke Flavia. She was lying on a couch in a humid, warm room that smelt faintly of sweat and strongly of some unfamiliar spice. Where was she?

  Africa! She was in Africa. In the solarium of the Seaward Baths of Sabratha. The golden light of late afternoon was slanting through the hexagonal holes in the wooden latticework screen. It was at least three hours past noon. And the merchant ship Aphrodite was due to sail at the third hour.

  ‘Oh Pollux!’ She sat up and brushed away the fly. ‘Nubia? Nubia, where are you?’ Nubia had been on the couch next to her. But apart from a few flies, the couch was empty.

  One or two other women were dozing on couches, but most had left. A withered old woman wearing wooden clogs and a long brown tunic clumped around the solarium, stirring up dust with a twig broom.

  Clutching her linen towel around her, Flavia ran barefoot through all the rooms of the bath. No Nubia. At last she went to the apodyterium and hurried to her cubicle. It was one with an octopus painted above it. But it was empty. And so was Nubia’s next to it, the one with the crayfish. A frantic search showed that only two or three cubicles had clothing in them and none of it was hers. ‘Oh, no!’ she wailed. ‘I’ve been robbed! And now I’m going to miss the boat!’

  Half an hour later Flavia arrived at the port, her hair undone and the long-sleeved brown tunic flapping around her ankles. She had tried to use her imperial pass to buy new clothes, but nobody at the baths had ever seen such a thing. In the end, she had traded her gold and glass signet-ring for the bath attendant’s long tunic and clogs.

  ‘Pollux!’ She cursed as one of the wooden clogs fell off.

  She ran back, slipped it on, and lifted her eyes to see a ship sailing out of the harbour. It was already passing beyond the lighthouse.

  ‘Excuse me, sir!’ she cried, tugging the sleeve of a fishmonger packing up his few remaining sprats. ‘Do you know what ship that is?’

  The man squinted in the direction she was pointing. ‘That’s a red sail, isn’t it?’

  ‘I think so.’

  The man sighed. ‘Only sometimes I get red and green confused. My wife can’t understand it. “How can a tree be red?” she says to me. “Or how can blood be green?” Mind you, I can’t understand it either.’

  ‘It’s red!’ cried Flavia. ‘That ship has a red sail!’

  ‘Then that’ll be the Aphrodite. Bound for the Pillars of Hercules.’

  ‘Jonathan! Nubia! Lupus!’ sobbed Flavia Gemina. ‘Come back! Wait for me!’

  She stood on the furthest end of the pier and waved her arms at the red-sailed ship, sailing out through the curved arms of the breakwater. She thought she could see tiny figures in the rigging so she jumped up and down. ‘Come back!’ she cried. ‘Don’t leave me!’

  ‘I don’t think they . . . can hear you,’ wheezed a familiar voice behind her.

  Flavia whirled. ‘Jonathan! Nubia! Oh, praise Juno! But where have you been? And where’s Lupus? Why aren’t you on that ship? Why didn’t you wake me up? Oh, you gave me such a fright!’

  Jonathan’s chest was rising and falling and he was wheezing. Running always made his asthma flare up. ‘Didn’t you get . . . my note? Nubia left a note . . . telling you we’d . . . gone to look for Lupus.’

  ‘I left it in cubicle with octopus above,’ said Nubia.

  ‘No!’ cried Flavia. ‘I didn’t get your note. Someone must have stolen my things: my sandals and my coin purse and my best blue tunic. I had to trade my signet ring for this!’ She looked down in disgust at the shapeless brown tunic and the too-small wooden clogs.

  ‘Oh!’ cried Nubia. ‘Poor Flavia! You were sleeping so deep. When bath-slave comes to tell me Jonathan wants us, I leave you for a moment and Jonathan says you can sleep.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Jonathan, breathing from his herb pouch. ‘I wrote you a note . . . and Nubia put it in your cubicle . . . I didn’t think anyone would steal it.’

  ‘So where’s Lupus?’ asked Flavia, angrily brushing away the tears. ‘This is his fault, isn’t it?’

  ‘We don’t know,’ said Jonathan, whose breathing was almost normal again. ‘He was supposed to meet us on board ship. I started to worry, so I only spent an hour in the baths, then I ran to the docks to see where the Aphrodite was berthed. Taurus was there and he’d brought all our satchels, just as he promised to do. But Lupus wasn’t on board yet, so I came back here and sent for you, so you could help me look, but only Nubia came out. She said you were fast asleep. So I scribbled a note, telling you we would come back for you. We ran all the way to the theatre but there was another troupe doing a comedy and Lupus wasn’t there. So then we went back to the Seaward Baths, but you had gone. We rushed back here just in time to see the ship sailing away.’

 
‘Why do they embark without us?’ asked Nubia.

  ‘I hate to say it,’ said Jonathan. ‘But I think Lupus must be on board the ship. They must all think we’re on board, too. Otherwise,’ added Jonathan, ‘they wouldn’t have sailed away.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ wailed Flavia, ‘I can’t believe it. We’re stuck in Africa and now we don’t know anybody and we have to get to Volubilis. We’ll have to try to get another ship tomorrow. Do we at least have money? Tell me you have some money!’

  ‘Not a lot,’ said Jonathan. ‘Most of my gold is hidden in the bottom of my satchel. And that’s on board the Aphrodite. I only have about twenty sesterces in my coin purse here.’

  ‘What about you, Nubia? How much have you got?’

  Nubia looked in her purse and said, ‘Two silver coins, three brass ones and a tiny quadrans.’

  ‘That’s only about thirty sesterces in all,’ moaned Flavia. ‘And I haven’t even got a copper.’

  ‘We’d better go back to Taurus’s house,’ said Jonathan. ‘And see if he’s there, or if anyone knows what happened.’

  But when they arrived at the house on Oil Press Street it was silent, with all the shutters closed, and although they knocked for a long time, nobody answered.

  The harbourmaster shook his head. ‘Most ships sail east to Alexandria, not west to the Pillars of Hercules,’ he said. ‘This time of year ships have to sail against the prevailing wind, and there are treacherous reefs. I don’t know when the next one’s going. You’ll have to check in with me daily. But sometimes you have to wait a few weeks. A month even.’ He shrugged.

  Flavia looked at Jonathan and Nubia, then turned back to the harbourmaster. ‘Can you recommend somewhere for us to stay?’

  ‘Well, there’s the hospitium near the forum, but it’s expensive. The Sheep’s Head Tavern is cheaper, but that’s a bit rough. So’s the Fountain Tavern. Sailors and slave-dealers and all . . .’

  ‘Slave-dealers?’ said Nubia, her golden eyes wide.

  The harbourmaster shrugged again. ‘It’s one of our main industries. You could also try the caravanserai outside of town.’

  ‘What’s a caravanserai?’ asked Flavia.