‘Jews, are you?’ came another voice.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘The boy, too?’
‘Yes, sir; he’s the youngest of us.’
‘No Romans aboard?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘We’ve been told to look out for three Roman children, two boys and a girl.’
In her dark hiding place, Flavia’s stomach writhed. They were still wanted! Even here in Hermopolis, hundreds of miles from Alexandria.
‘No,’ came Nathan’s voice. ‘There are no Roman children on board.’
Suddenly Flavia felt her nose tickling again. She took a deep breath and pinched her nostrils.
‘Any other goods you want to declare? Gold, linen, wine or honey?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Then you won’t mind if we have a little look, will you?’
‘Praise Juno!’ breathed Flavia an hour later, as Nathan helped her out of her dark cubbyhole. ‘I thought I was going to sneeze when the soldiers were on board.’
‘Just as well you didn’t,’ said Nathan grimly. ‘They were looking for you.’
‘I know,’ said Flavia. ‘I could hear.’
Seth and Jonathan were helping Lupus out of the corresponding compartment on the port side of the Scarab. He brushed the dust off his tunic and gave Flavia a thumbs-up.
‘There had better be a very big treasure at the end of this quest,’ grumbled Nathan. ‘I’ve used up almost all my emergency funds and have put my livelihood at risk for you three.’
‘We’re very grateful to you, sir,’ said Flavia. ‘And you can have half of my share of the treasure when we find it.
Jonathan took a deep breath. ‘You can have half of my share, too,’ he said.
Lupus pointed at himself and gave a thumbs-up.
Nathan gave a curt nod. ‘There had better be a treasure at the end of this,’ he muttered. ‘That’s all I’m saying.’
They sailed on, and a few days later, they watched the sun rise on the wrong side of the boat. Nathan explained this was because the river curved like a snake, and sometimes doubled back on itself. For three days they had to punt against the double opponent of wind and current.
At Lycopolis, City of Jackals, they found a cryptic phrase on an obelisk: PAVO PARIDIS SOL.
‘The peacock of Paris is the sun?’ said Flavia, with a frown. ‘That’s nonsense.’
‘It’s an anagram for Diospolis Parva!’ cried Jonathan. ‘A town a few days upriver from here.’
That night was their third Sabbath since they had begun their quest, the end of two weeks sailing. The very next day they saw their first crocodile pit.
They had stopped at Diospolis Parva on the west bank of the Nile, in order to look for clues and buy provisions. On the riverbank near the docking place was an enclosure with a limestone balustrade. Three veiled women stood looking over this low wall.
‘Crocodile pit,’ said Nathan. ‘I’ve seen that once before. Why don’t you children have a look while I go into town? Seth can stay on board.’
Seth nodded. ‘Remember,’ he said. ‘If anyone speaks to you, don’t say anything. Act dumb. Oh. Sorry, Lupus.’ He grinned and patted Lupus’s turquoise turban.
Flavia, Jonathan, Lupus and Nathan went across the gangplank and along the wooden dock. They pushed through the usual crowd of pleading beggars and as Nathan went towards the town walls, they hurried to the balustrade around the crocodile pit. Flavia shuddered as half a dozen crocodiles came into view below, basking on a kind of limestone stage which slanted so that it went into the water; some of the crocodiles were half in and half out.
‘Ugh,’ said Flavia. ‘They’re so horrible. Those cold yellow eyes with the evil black slit.’ She made the sign against evil.
‘And their bumpy green mud-coloured skin,’ added Jonathan. ‘Like armour.’
Lupus bared his teeth and snapped his jaws.
‘Yes,’ agreed Flavia. ‘Horrible.’ She quoted the riddle left by Chryses. ‘Evil on four legs am I. As deadly on the river bank as in the Nile. Which land animal lacks a tongue? It is I! Is it true the crocodile has no tongue?’
‘I don’t suppose they need one,’ said Jonathan. ‘You saw that crocodile eat the antelope. He practically swallowed him whole.’
Flavia shuddered. ‘Juno’s peacock! That one must be twelve feet long.’
‘What about that one?’ said Jonathan, pointing.
‘Where? Oh!’ squealed Flavia, as the glassy surface of the water bulged and then parted to reveal a massive crocodile.
Lupus nodded and flashed the fingers of both hands twice, as if to say: twenty feet long.
‘It’s bigger than our atrium at home!’ gasped Flavia. A pang of homesickness mingled with her horror at the creatures below them.
An excited buzzing made them turn and they saw a crowd following half a dozen men coming towards them.
‘Those must be the crocodile fighters Nathan was telling us about,’ whispered Jonathan.
The men wore leather loincloths and body oil, and their only weapons were nets and daggers. As they passed by, Flavia caught the sweet scent of jasmine oil, with pungent undertones of sweat and fear. Now other people jostled up beside them at the balustrade. A couple shoved roughly in beside Flavia. She gave them a glare, then turned hastily away: it was a very Roman-looking man and his wife. He wore the tunic of a patrician and she was dressed in a pink stola with a matching parasol.
‘Look, Cornelia!’ said the man in Latin. ‘They’re like the ones I saw in Rome last year, at the games. They’re called Tentyrites, I believe.’
As the men vaulted the wall and landed lightly on the highest part of the basking-place, most of the crocodiles retreated; all but the twenty-footer.
‘All Egyptians fear crocodiles, of course,’ said the man in his loud patrician accent, ‘but whereas most worship them, the men of this region despise them.’
Down on the limestone basking-place, the crocodile-hunters suddenly moved forward, three on each side, and each tossed his net. As quick as lightning the colossal crocodile writhed towards one of the men, his terrible jaws snapping shut.
The crowd screamed, but the man had moved away just in time. Then the crocodile tried to catch a man on the other side. Again he failed. For a time the men danced round it, taunting it and tiring it. Finally one of them looped a leather strap around the crocodile’s jaws.
‘That’s the way!’ said the patrician beside Flavia. ‘I once saw a young girl disable a crocodile with nothing more than a garland of flowers,’ he added. ‘That was during the opening games of Titus’s new amphitheatre.’
Flavia gave Lupus and Jonathan a wide-eyed look: she had been the girl with the garland! They nodded back, and Jonathan put his finger to his lips.
Flavia turned her head away from the couple. Had the man recognised her? But how? She was wearing a turban and long tunic, like all the boys of this region. Only her pale skin and grey eyes might give her away.
‘She disabled a crocodile with a garland?’ said the woman, also in Latin. ‘I don’t believe it!’
‘It’s true,’ said the man, ‘their jaws are so long that it requires much more strength to open them than it does to close them. Of course it was just a small crocodile, nothing like that brute. My dear Cornelia,’ he added. ‘If you should ever find yourself gripped in the jaws of a crocodile, simply gouge his eyes and he will let you go at once.’
Flavia shuddered, then gasped along with the rest of the crowd as the crocodile hunters took knives from their belts and began to stab the thrashing, netted creature to death.
‘Excuse me, kyria,’ said Flavia in Greek. ‘Are you Roman?’
The crocodile slaughter was over and the crowd was dispersing.
‘Oh!’ cried Cornelia, covering her face with her pink linen parasol. ‘The impertinence! Marcus, tell these wretched beggar boys to leave me alone.’
The man turned and swore at Flavia in Greek.
‘Please, sir!’ cried Flavia i
n Latin. ‘We’re not beggars. We’re Romans! And we need your help.’
‘Oh, Marcus!’ gasped Cornelia. ‘He speaks perfect Latin.’ The woman lifted her parasol and looked closer. ‘And he looks Roman, with those lovely grey eyes. What do you want, boy? Money?’
‘We need to tell our parents that we’re alive and well,’ said Flavia. ‘We’ve written some letters but we need someone to take them back to Ostia.’
‘Oh, poor lads!’ She turned to Jonathan. ‘Are you Roman, too? Are you lost? Were you kidnapped?’
‘We’re fine,’ said Jonathan. ‘But we need to get word to our parents.’
‘Oh, Marcus!’ cried Cornelia, ‘can’t we help them?’
‘I suppose we could ask Paniscus,’ said her husband. ‘He’s going down to Alexandria next week.’
‘Aren’t you Roman?’ asked Flavia, disappointed.
‘Yes, but we’re not going back until the inundation. And even if I give it to our friend, I can’t afford to send a letter all the way to Rome.’
‘Two letters,’ said Flavia, and pointed at Lupus, who was running back from the Scarab with two papyrus letters in his hand. ‘But our houses are on the same street – next door to each other – and here . . .’ She pulled the gold and carnelian signet ring from her finger. She had lost weight in the past few weeks and it slipped off easily. ‘This is worth something, isn’t it?’
‘It’s lovely.’ Cornelia took the ring. ‘But it’s a girl’s ring!’ she said, looking up sharply.
‘It was my mother’s,’ lied Flavia. ‘It’s all I have to remember her by.’
‘Oh, you poor thing!’ Cornelia slipped the ring on her smallest finger. ‘Marcus, can’t we help these poor boys?’
‘The courier will be well-rewarded at the other end, too,’ said Flavia. ‘Our families will be very grateful when they find out we’re alive and well.’
The man examined the letters.
‘My father is Marcus Flavius Geminus, sea captain,’ said Flavia. ‘He lives in Green Fountain Street in Ostia. See? I’ve written it on the outside.’
‘Very well. I’ll try to get these letters to Rome. But tell me, what are you three boys doing here in Upper Egypt?’
‘We’re searching for our friend.’
‘Your friend must be very dear to you,’ said Cornelia, looking up from admiring the ring on her finger.
‘She is.’
*
Two days later, on the Kalends of June, Flavia was woken by a strange rhythmic splashing and the sound of a man shouting.
‘Hello there!’ came the man’s voice in authoritative Greek. ‘Hello! Who are you?’
Flavia opened her eyes but did not move. She had kept watch during the night and had been fast asleep. Disoriented, she blinked up at Seth, who stood at the tiller with the blue sky behind him.
Nathan was curled up on a mattress, fast asleep and snoring gently; he had been up all night, too. Flavia nudged him with her foot as the man’s voice came again: ‘Hey there!’
Flavia slowly raised her head and peeped through the reed awning. Lupus’s head rose up beside hers. Then they both ducked down again. Less than ten feet away and sailing beside them was a magnificent red and yellow boat with twenty oarsmen and a soldier at the stern.
‘I say: who are you?’ cried the soldier for a third time. ‘Where are you going?’
‘My name Pthammeticuth!’ Seth yelled back in the lisping accent of middle Egypt. ‘Fitherman, come from visiting my thick thithter in Diothpolith Parva.’
Flavia stared at Seth in amazement. In the past three weeks the chubby scribe’s sunburn had deepened to a tan. He had lost weight and grown lean. Wearing his turban, he looked just like a native. And he sounded like one, too.
Nathan was awake now, and also looking at his cousin in open-mouthed astonishment.
‘Where are you going?’ called the soldier.
‘Home. Theebth.’
‘Thebes?’
‘Yeth! Who you?’
‘We’re officials from the governor’s office in Alexandria. We seek three Roman children! Two boys and a girl, aged from nine to fourteen. Have you seen them?’
Flavia’s grin faded. She and Lupus looked at each other in alarm.
‘No. I have theen no Roman children.’
‘What about you, boy?’ the soldier called to Jonathan.
Jonathan stared blankly at the man and stayed quiet as Nathan had instructed them.
‘You get no thenth out of that one,’ said Seth. ‘A thcorpion thtung his ear and now he deaf and addled.’
There was a pause. Finally the soldier called out: ‘Well, if you do see these children, tell any village magistrate or temple priest and you will be rewarded. They are enemies of Caesar. Farewell.’
‘Seth!’ cried Flavia. ‘You were wonderful! Who taught you to do that accent?’
The scribe smiled shyly. ‘I’ve always been quite good at accents. It just came to me.’
‘Are those the people you were fleeing in Alexandria?’ asked Nathan. ‘They looked like the governor’s guard.’
‘Yes,’ said Flavia. ‘I thought we were safe by now.’
‘I can’t believe they’ve come all this way to find us,’ said Jonathan.
‘Me neither,’ said Seth. ‘They must have searched Alexandria for weeks before they realised we’d gone upriver.’
‘Master of the Universe!’ said Nathan. ‘You didn’t tell me it was the governor’s guard after you. And what did he mean, saying you were enemies of Caesar? You’ve been telling us Titus is your friend!’
‘He is.’
‘Then why did he order your arrest?’
‘I don’t know!’ cried Flavia.
‘I can’t believe they’ve followed us all this way,’ repeated Jonathan. ‘We should try to find out why.’
‘I agree,’ said Nathan. ‘And I have an idea of how to do it. We’re coming to Tentyra.’ He turned to Lupus. ‘Flavia’s told us many times how good you are at spying. Do you want to prove it now?’
Lupus’s eyes were shining and he nodded eagerly.
‘Good,’ said Nathan and added: ‘The governor’s galley is pulling into the port. That means they’ll be in town for at least a few hours. Go and see if you can find out why they’re after you.’
Lupus ran quickly past the other boats on the wooden jetty and started for the town walls. Although he was wearing neither pack nor bag, a clutch of beggars had surrounded him and were stretching out their hands and calling for alms. Several of them were blind or lame. Lupus kept his head down and moved on quickly. It seemed the further south they went, the poorer the towns and the more numerous the beggars.
Suddenly a boy about his own age darted forward and stood directly in front of Lupus. ‘Ungh!’ said the boy, blocking Lupus. ‘Ungh!’
Lupus felt a flash of anger: the boy was mocking him. Then his anger died. There was no way the boy could know Lupus was tongueless.
‘Ungh!’ said the boy again, his eyes pleading and Lupus realised that the boy was also mute. Lupus felt a strange pang: the boy reminded him of what he had been two years ago, a beggar at the town gates. Lupus longed to help him. But he had nothing.
Lupus held out his hands – palms up – and shrugged, to show he had no money. The boy nodded his understanding, then touched Lupus’s turquoise turban longingly; his own was a greasy grey rag. Lupus saw that the boy’s brown tunic was in tatters and that the soles of his bare feet were thick and cracked.
Lupus sighed and gave the boy a rueful smile. He knew what he had to do.
Lupus kept to the shady side of the street and then moved cautiously forward to look at the notice board.
The newest notice still looked wet. Painted in Greek and Egyptian on a whitewashed board, the red letters made his blood run cold.
REWARD OFFERED FOR THREE
ROMAN CHILDREN:
IOANATAN SON OF
MARDOKHAIOS, AGED ABOUT
FOURTEEN YEARS, OF MEDIUM
&nbs
p; HEIGHT, OLIVE SKIN, CURLY-
HAIRED, STRAIGHT-NOSED, NO
VISIBLE BLEMISHES.
LYKOS SON OF MARDOKHAIOS
AGED ABOUT NINE YEARS, SHORT
HEIGHT, FAIR-SKINNED,
STRAIGHT-NOSED, MUTE.
FLAVIA DAUGHTER OF GEMINOS,
AGED ABOUT TWELVE YEARS, OF
MEDIUM HEIGHT, FAIR-SKINNED,
ROUND-FACED, STRAIGHT-NOSED,
BLUE-EYED WITH NO VISIBLE
BLEMISHES.
INFORMATION LEADING TO
CAPTURE, 1000 DRACHMAE PER
CHILD. APPLY TO HOR, THE PRIEST
OF HATHOR OR ANY ROMAN
OFFICER.
INFORMATION ALSO REQUIRED
ABOUT A NUBIAN GIRL
TRAVELLING WITH A EUNUCH. 500
DRACHMAE.
(POSTED THE 7TH DAY OF PAUNI,
THE KALENDS OF JUNE, IN THE
SECOND YEAR OF TITUS)
Lupus swallowed hard and glanced around. For people this poor, one thousand drachmae was a fabulous price. He had to warn the others. And quickly.
‘Where is Lupus?’ muttered Flavia, looking up from mending a tunic. ‘It’s been nearly an hour.’
‘Nathan’s gone to look for him,’ said Jonathan. ‘I’m sure he’ll find him.’
‘Maybe I should go and look, too,’ offered Seth.
‘No!’ cried Flavia. ‘If you go, then Jonathan and I will be all alone. Our Greek may be good enough, but neither of us speaks Egyptian. What if someone questions us?’
‘What’s happening over there?’ said Jonathan suddenly. ‘That looks just like the crocodile pit at that last town.’
Flavia put down the needle and thread and stood up.
A crowd had gathered by a painted limestone balustrade at the water’s edge. As they watched, the crowd parted and she saw a soldier holding a struggling boy in his arms. The boy wore a turquoise turban.
‘Oh no!’ whispered Flavia, her stomach plunging. ‘It’s Lupus!’
Suddenly the soldier dropped the boy into the pit, and she heard the crowd gasp. For a terrible moment there was silence, then women started screaming and boys and men shouting.
Flavia took the gangplank in one jump and ran as fast as she could towards the crocodile pit. She heard Jonathan and Seth close behind her. She pushed her way through the crowd, her heart pounding like a drum. But when she reached the balustrade and looked down into the pit, there was nothing left among the crocodiles but blood and a ribbon of turquoise cloth.
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 232