‘Feels like a bull elephant stamped on it.’
Flavia tried not to giggle. ‘Oh, Uncle Gaius!’ Then she grew serious. ‘Uncle Gaius, why did you run away from Ostia? Was it because you couldn’t bear the grief of losing Miriam?’
He closed his eyes and nodded. ‘Since she died, I’ve felt so empty. And everything in Ostia seemed grey and damp and cold.’
‘Everything in Ostia was grey and damp and cold. It was the most miserable winter ever.’
He smiled weakly. ‘Maybe. But it felt as if the sun would never shine again.’ He opened his eyes and blinked up at the birdcage, as if it held some answer. ‘All my life,’ he said, ‘I’ve done what was right. I’ve acted responsibly. When I fell in love the first time and she chose someone else, I didn’t fight back. I blessed their marriage. I ran my farm diligently. Treated slaves and freedmen with fairness. Paid my taxes without a murmur. And how did the gods repay me? With a volcano that destroyed everything I ever achieved. I had to move somewhere new and I had to take charity from young Pliny. I started to take out loans. Then the interest became too great. Didn’t you ever wonder why I went up to Rome so frequently last year? I owe thousands. Hundreds of thousands.’
‘Why didn’t you ask pater for help? Or Doctor Mordecai. Or me? I have seventy thousand on deposit with Egrilius and Son.’
‘Because I was ashamed. I’m a grown man. How could I ask you for help?’
Above him the bird trilled.
‘I felt like that bird. Trapped in a cage. The week after we buried Miriam, two men came to see me. They threatened me. Do you know what I did? I gave them the deeds to the Lodge. The Lodge paid for by my wife’s faithful friend.’
‘Great Juno’s peacock!’ breathed Flavia. ‘That’s why they came to live at Jonathan’s house.’
He winced as he tried to sit up. ‘Who?’
‘Hephzibah and the babies. And the two wet-nurses. They moved in with Jonathan about a week after you disappeared. Hephzibah didn’t say anything, but I could see she was upset.’
‘That’s because Miriam wanted the boys raised in the country, far from the immorality and decadence of Rome. I couldn’t even grant her that one last wish. I was a failure as a husband. And as a father.’ He shook his head. ‘So I ran away. I left my children and my household and I ran away. To a life of adventure. I wanted to be good at something. I wanted to be brave.’
‘So you pretended to be dead?’
He nodded. ‘In case I still owed money . . . I lost count of my creditors.’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘Very brave of me, wasn’t it?’
‘Oh, Uncle Gaius.’
He turned his head to look at her. ‘I thought I was being brave. Taking the first ship out of Ostia. I hate sailing. I was seasick the whole way. I thought I was being brave by riding out into the desert with a company of beast-fighters. The only beast I caught was a scorpion in my boot. I was trying to be something I never could be.’
‘You know,’ said Flavia thoughtfully. ‘Almost everyone we’ve met on this trip was pretending to be someone they weren’t.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. Narcissus was pretending to be a pantomime dancer when really he wanted to rule the Roman Empire with Cleopatra’s great-great-granddaughter by his side. Casina was pretending to be Cleopatra’s descendant when really she was just a pantomime singer. And you were pretending to be a beast-hunter!’
He nodded. ‘You’re right. I was pretending. And you were right to call me a coward. The brave thing to do is to embrace life. And love. And if you suffer, then you suffer. I thought being a hunter of beasts was the brave thing. It was cowardly.’
Flavia sighed. ‘I wanted to be a hunter, too.’
He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘You did?’
Flavia grinned. ‘For about a day. Nubia and I renounced men and decided to become virgin huntresses of Diana, stalking our prey with bow and arrow. A painted quiver on her back she wore, and at full cry pursued the tusky boar,’ she quoted.
‘What happened?’
‘I shot a poor sailor having his lunch. Got him in the calf. But only a little,’ she added.
Her uncle looked at her and suddenly they burst out laughing.
‘No!’ he cried. ‘Don’t make me laugh. It hurts!’
When they had recovered he lay back on the pillow, his eyes closed.
‘Uncle Gaius,’ said Flavia presently, ‘if the brave thing is to face responsibility, does that mean you’ll go back to Ostia? And be a father to your little boys?’
He opened one eye and looked at her. ‘Do they still cry?’
Flavia nodded. ‘Night and day.’
He groaned.
‘But maybe that’s because they miss their father.’
‘If you do it, I’ll do it.’
‘If I do what?’
‘If you face your responsibilities.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Jonathan told me the most eligible bachelor in the Roman empire proposed marriage to you, but that you turned him down. Is that true?’
Flavia nodded.
He grinned. ‘Coward, yourself!’ Then his expression grew serious again. ‘If you renounce your vow of chastity and face your responsibility, then I will, too.’
‘But Uncle Gaius, I can’t just break a solemn vow! I dedicated a rabbit at the Temple of Diana. And she sent me on the quest to find you.’
‘Then give her a thanksgiving offering and ask her to release you from the first vow.’ He paused and then said, ‘It’s our munus. Our duty.’
‘What is?’
‘To have descendants.’
She suddenly remembered the dream from the desert, of Diana and the woman with the baby. Suddenly she knew who all the people were in the woman’s procession. ‘They were her descendants,’ she murmured. ‘Thousands and thousands of descendants.’
‘What?’ said her uncle wearily. His eyes were closed.
Flavia looked at him fondly and shook her head. ‘Nothing,’ she said.
One of the Ethiopian slaves entered the room on silent bare feet and began to light the lamps. Flavia realised the sun had set and it was almost dark.
‘Very well, Uncle Gaius,’ she said softly.
He opened his eyes. ‘Very well what?’
‘As soon as you’re better,’ said Flavia, ‘we’ll go to the Temple of Castor and Pollux here in Volubilis and make new vows. But rest now. It’s dark and you’re tired.’
‘Good girl. You’re a good girl,’ said Gaius. He squeezed her hand, released it, closed his eyes and smiled. Soon his breathing was deep and steady, and Flavia knew he was asleep.
‘Is your uncle resting comfortably?’ asked Governor Aufidius from his dining couch. Apart from two ebony slaves and three-year old Marcus – asleep on the couch beside him – he was alone in the triclinium.
‘Yes, thank you,’ said Flavia. ‘Thank you for taking him in. You’re very kind.’ Suddenly realization dawned. ‘How did you know he was my uncle?’ she asked.
‘You cried out “Uncle Gaius!” when the big cat batted him.’
‘I did?’
He nodded and gestured for her to recline. ‘Curious that you never mentioned your uncle . . .’
Flavia glanced around nervously. ‘Where is everybody?’
‘Quite a coincidence. Him being here in Volubilis.’
‘Have they finished dinner?’ asked Flavia.
‘I did a bit of digging,’ said Aufidius. ‘You’re a highborn Roman girl, not a pantomime musician. And apparently your uncle arrived last week with a company of beast-hunters. Did you know he was here?’
‘Not at first,’ said Flavia. ‘We’ve been searching for him for over a month. The only way we could get here was with Narcissus. We agreed to perform for him if he paid for our passage.’ That at least wasn’t a lie.
The governor nodded – apparently satisfied – and looked down at his sleeping son. ‘My wife went back to the theatre to hunt for her gem by torchlight. Your three friends generously of
fered to help her search.’ He clicked his fingers. ‘Have some fruit.’
Instantly a slave was extending a plate of fruit. Flavia took a small bunch of red grapes but she did not eat any. ‘Sir, I’m very sorry we lost your wife’s necklace. She obviously loves her jewels.’
‘Wasn’t the stone she loved,’ said Aufidius and looked affectionately at his son. ‘It’s her boys she loves.’
‘What?’
‘They’re both extremely short-sighted,’ he explained. ‘Like my wife. Almost blind, in fact.’ He glanced up at her. ‘You didn’t know that, did you?’
Flavia did not know what to say.
‘She blames herself, I believe,’ said Aufidius. ‘That emerald helped them to see things more than a few feet away: a stork on the roof, the people in the forum, a pantomime on stage.’
Flavia sat up straight. ‘Then she didn’t love the emerald because it was a beautiful bauble worth a fortune?’
He shook his head. ‘The only value it had in her eyes was that it helped our boys see. She wore it round her neck. So it wouldn’t get lost,’ he added.
‘Sir,’ said Flavia, ‘I know of a man on Glassmakers’ Street who can make you dozens of lentil-shaped gems like that, but of almost clear glass: much better than green.’
‘By Jove! Do you?’ He sat up carefully, to avoid waking his son. ‘Do you really?’ He looked at her with such boyish eagerness that Flavia laughed.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Your wife and sons can each have one.’
‘Jason!’ called Aufidius. ‘Fetch Philo at once.’
A moment later the governor’s secretary stood in the wide doorway of the triclinium.
‘Philo,’ said Aufidius. ‘Go with Jason here and tell my wife to come home. Tell her not to waste any more time looking for that green bauble.’ He smiled at Flavia. ‘Tell her we shall soon have something even better.’
‘Domina,’ said Flavia three days later, ‘we have something for you.’
Glycera looked up at them and smiled. She was sitting beside Casina’s sickbed in a cool bedroom with frescoes of gardens on the wall. She had been speaking softly to the Alexandrian girl, who was still weak but recovering well.
Flavia and her friends stood shyly in the bedroom doorway.
Glycera kissed Casina’s forehead, stood and moved gracefully across the marble floor of the bedroom. She pulled the gauzy curtain across its wooden ring then turned to face the four friends, standing in the shady peristyle. Each of them extended a pouch of coloured silk.
Tears filled her green eyes when she opened the first pouch and lifted out a clear glass lentil on a chain. ‘Oh, children!’ She said. ‘Thank you! Are these all . . .?’
They all nodded and Flavia said, ‘Actually it was your husband who paid for them.’
‘There is one for little Marcus and Gaius,’ said Nubia. ‘With one being left over in case of breaking.’
Jonathan said. ‘But if you do break one, you can get a replacement from a man on Glassmakers’ Street. He’s called Vitrarius. He grinds them from chunks of glass.’
Lupus nodded and gave Glycera a thumbs-up.
‘Oh, children!’ Glycera stepped forward and kissed each of them on the cheek. Her skin was smooth and cool and she smelled of roses.
Suddenly she took the signet-ring from her finger. ‘Flavia, I want you to have this,’ she said.
‘Your signet-ring of Octavia!’ breathed Flavia. ‘I couldn’t accept that.’
‘Please do. Nubia said you had to trade your own signet-ring to a bath slave in Sabratha, when your things were stolen. Please? Please accept it?’
Flavia gazed up into Glycera’s liquid eyes, then accepted the ring with a smile. It fit her left forefinger perfectly.
‘Mummy! Mummy!’ Gaius and Marcus ran into the room. They hugged Glycera’s legs and little Marcus reached out a chubby arm to squeeze one of Flavia’s legs, too.
She reached down to touch his silky curls and suddenly had an irrational and almost overpowering impulse to cry.
A week later, on the Kalends of May, the merchant ship Tyche set sail for Rome from the port of Lixus. For two days they beat up along the west coast of Africa, then finally sailed through the Pillars of Hercules into the relative calm of the Mediterranean. Presently Africa became a violet smudge on the horizon and Hispania loomed tawny and clear on the left. It was a bright morning, warm but not hot, and the ship was making good time. Gaius was chatting with the captain at the prow, and Lupus had climbed up into the rigging, so Jonathan went looking for Flavia and Nubia.
‘There you are,’ he said at last. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you.’
‘We like it back here by the altar,’ said Flavia. ‘We feel safe under the swan’s head.’ She was writing on her wax tablet and Nubia was cleaning her flute with a stick and a scrap of rag.
‘It is not so windy here,’ said Nubia.
‘Then I’ll leave you to your protective peace.’
‘No. Come and sit beside us,’ said Flavia. She patted the warm, wooden deck and Nubia moved over so that he could sit between them.
He sat on the silky deck and picked absently at the gummy line of pine pitch between the planks.
‘Jonathan,’ said Flavia, looking up from her wax tablet, ‘do you think that beggar could have been Nero? If Nero hadn’t died he would be about forty years old. Do you think he could have been forty-three?’
‘I don’t know. Living rough for ten years can make someone look old. If you imagine him with brown hair and all his teeth then I think he would look more like forty.’
‘He did have bulging blue eyes like Nero. And a short, thick neck.’
Jonathan fished in his coin purse and brought out a sestertius. ‘I found this in my money pouch,’ he said. ‘Look. It’s got Nero on one side.’ He handed it to Flavia. ‘What do you think?’
She looked at it for a few moments, then nodded. ‘It could be him.’ She handed the coin to Nubia and said, ‘Wouldn’t that be strange? If we’d met Nero without knowing it?’
‘Maybe he is person who takes glass eye of Nero,’ said Nubia. ‘He is always calling it My Seeing Thing.’
‘Great Neptune’s beard!’ breathed Flavia. ‘I hope not. Titus sent us to get the emerald to avoid a pretend Nero challenging his power. What if it turns out we’ve put a replica of that emerald in the hands of the real Nero? What do they call that? Something beginning with “I”?’
‘“I think we made a big mistake”?’ suggested Jonathan.
‘Irony!’ said Flavia. ‘It would be ironic if we’ve done the very thing Titus wanted to prevent.’
‘It’s not as if that hasn’t happened before,’ said Jonathan grimly.
‘And now “Nero” has Narcissus as his manager!’ said Flavia. ‘A man with an insane craving for power. According to Lupus.’ She looked at her two friends. ‘Do you think we should warn Titus?’
‘No,’ said Jonathan. ‘Don’t disturb the hornets, as they say.’
From above them came the cry of a giant seagull. They all turned and looked up. High on the mainmast Lupus was leaning out and flapping his arms like wings.
They waved up at him and Flavia shouted, ‘Don’t fall or you’ll kill one of us.’
Lupus nodded and made the seagull sound again.
They laughed.
‘Are you glad to be going home, Lupus?’ called Flavia.
He nodded and flapped enthusiastically.
Flavia looked at Jonathan. ‘How about you, Jonathan. Are you glad to be going home?’
‘To Ostia?’
She nodded.
‘Yes and no. Mostly yes.’ He flicked a tiny ball of pine pitch over the back rail of the ship. ‘And you?’
‘Yes.’ She gazed out over the blue horizon, and the tawny shoulder of land to her right. ‘There are some things I have to do. People to see. Apologies to make. Many, many apologies . . .’
He glanced at her. ‘And a proposal to accept?’
Flavia and Nubia ju
st looked at each other and giggled.
Jonathan rolled his eyes and grinned. ‘How about you, Nubia?’
‘I am missing Nipur and Tigris and Scuto,’ she said.
‘And Aristo?’
‘Yes. And Aristo.’
For a while they all gazed out towards the fading smudge of land on the horizon.
‘What will you miss most about it?’ Jonathan asked the girls. ‘About Africa, I mean.’
‘Camels,’ said Nubia, without hesitation. ‘And other animals.’
‘The sand sea at dusk,’ said Flavia, ‘with an oasis on the horizon and a crescent moon floating above the palms.’
‘Very poetic,’ said Jonathan. ‘What will you miss least?’
‘The flies,’ said Flavia. ‘And the lack of proper latrines.’
‘Cruel slavery,’ said Nubia.
‘What about you?’ asked Flavia.
Jonathan considered. ‘I will certainly not miss the sight of decapitated heads bouncing in the dust. But I will miss the silence of the desert. And the stars at night. And the comforting swaying rhythm of the camels.’
‘Just think,’ said Flavia. ‘If we hadn’t missed the boat in Sabratha, we’d never have known what it was like to ride a camel in the silence of the desert.’
‘Alas,’ said Nubia softly, pointing with her chin towards the horizon. ‘Africa is now gone.’
‘Don’t be melancholy, Nubia,’ said Flavia. ‘We might go back one day, maybe with Aristo and the dogs.’
Nubia smiled sadly and raised the flute to her lips and began to play. It was a new song. A haunting, exotic farewell to Africa.
Jonathan closed his eyes and let the sun warm his face. Presently he heard the sticky click of Flavia’s stylus on the wax tablet.
‘What are you writing?’ he asked. ‘Your journal?’
‘No,’ said Flavia. ‘I’m writing another pantomime.’
Jonathan opened his eyes. ‘What’s the subject?’
Flavia looked at him and smiled: ‘Octavia, the stepmother of Cleopatra Selene,’ she said. ‘I’m writing about Octavia.’
FINIS
Actaeon (ak-tee-on)
mythical hunter who accidentally came upon the goddess Diana while she was bathing in a forest pool; in anger, the goddess turned him into a deer so that his own hunting dogs would tear him to pieces
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 217