The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection

by Lawrence, Caroline

  He led them up a cobbled street, then turned right down a narrow sunlit back street, this one hung with washing. They stopped for a moment at the sound of footsteps, but it was only four blond slaves carrying a pink-curtained litter down the hill.

  They passed some temples and walled gardens, and presently they emerged into a quiet tree-lined street, so quiet that Flavia could hear her heart beating hard. ‘I’ve never been here before,’ she said. ‘Is this the Quirinal?’

  ‘Yes. We’re almost at Pear Street. This is Pomegranate Street,’ he added, and tipped his head sideways. ‘In case you’re interested, that’s the house where Domitian was born.’

  ‘The one with the little wooden columns in the porch?’ said Flavia. ‘It’s so small.’

  ‘It’s nice enough inside,’ said Tranquillus, ‘but it’s not a palace. Domitian always resented not growing up in court like Titus.’

  ‘Titus grew up in court?’

  ‘The Emperor Claudius took him in, didn’t he?’ said Aristo; he was walking behind them, between Nubia and Lupus.

  Tranquillus nodded. ‘That’s right. When Titus was a boy, he was best friends with Claudius’s son Britannicus, until Nero had him poisoned.’

  ‘Do you think Titus was poisoned, too?’ asked Flavia.

  Lupus clutched his throat and gave a choking noise.

  Tranquillus glanced around. ‘We’d better not discuss that until we get to my house,’ he said. ‘It’s just around the corner.’

  Then he caught Flavia’s hand again, and squeezed it. And even though they were no longer in danger, he kept holding it.

  Half an hour later they were safe in the Suetonius townhouse, munching almond-stuffed dates washed down with posca. It was still only mid-morning, but hot, so they sat on a cool marble bench in the shady peristyle which surrounded a garden courtyard.

  ‘Where are your parents?’ asked Flavia, looking around the deserted garden. She could smell thyme and hear bees buzzing.

  ‘Pater’s down in the forum,’ said Tranquillus. ‘I was with him and my paedagogus when I saw you.’

  Flavia flushed. ‘But he doesn’t approve of me, remember?’

  ‘I didn’t tell him I saw you. And I don’t intend to. I’ll tell him I got separated from them in the crowd.’

  ‘Why does your father not approve of Flavia?’ Aristo asked Tranquillus.

  Flavia felt her cheeks grow even warmer. ‘Nothing, really. We held hands last summer on the beach at Surrentum.’

  ‘In front of everyone,’ said Tranquillus, looking pleased with himself.

  Lupus made a loud smacking noise as he kissed the back of his hand.

  ‘You kissed him?’ Aristo raised his eyebrows at Flavia.

  Nubia giggled behind her hand. ‘And Flavia emerges from shrubbery with unpinned hair,’ she said.

  Flavia shot a glare at her friends. ‘We did not kiss! At least not in public.’

  Aristo glanced at Tranquillus, who was looking smug. ‘Anything you want to tell me, Flavia?’ he asked, taking a stuffed date from the platter.

  ‘Of course not!’ said Flavia hotly. ‘Nothing happened between me and Tranquillus.’

  Aristo casually examined the date. ‘Besides, I thought you girls were both in love with Flaccus.’

  Nubia and Flavia looked at each other in astonishment and Lupus choked on his posca, so that they all had to pat him on the back.

  Tranquillus’s smile faded. ‘Flaccus? Which Flaccus?’

  When Lupus’s coughs had subsided, Flavia folded her arms. ‘Nubia doesn’t love Floppy,’ she said. ‘And neither do I! Besides,’ she muttered under her breath, ‘he’s probably married by now.’

  Aristo looked at Nubia. ‘So you’re not in love with him?’

  Nubia shook her head and regarded him with puzzled eyes.

  Aristo frowned. ‘But last month Jonathan said you girls were both in love with Flaccus.’

  ‘Last month?’ said Flavia. ‘When he was being tormented by evil voices in his head?’

  Aristo frowned into his goblet, then gave his head a shake, as if to clear it. ‘Don’t you have a tutor?’ he asked Tranquillus.

  ‘Not really,’ said Tranquillus. ‘I’m studying rhetoric with Quintilian now.’

  ‘Oh!’ cried Flavia. ‘So is Floppy! I mean, so is Gaius Valerius Flaccus. Do you have lessons with him?’

  Tranquillus looked sheepish. ‘When I say “with Quintilian” I mean in his school of rhetoric. I probably won’t have classes with the master himself until I’m a little older.’

  ‘What about the tutor who was beating you?’ asked Nubia.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Flavia. ‘The one who came and dragged you away from the Villa Limona last summer?’

  ‘He retired. I have a new paedagogus now. And ever since I caught him kissing one of mater’s slave girls I can make him do whatever I like.’

  ‘You have a mother?’ asked Nubia.

  Tranquillus nodded. ‘Mater’s staying with her sister at Alba Longa. My aunt’s expecting her second child soon.’ He looked at Flavia. ‘But tell me about you,’ he said. ‘Why did Titus issue an imperial decree against you?’

  ‘It wasn’t Titus,’ said Flavia. ‘At least that’s our theory. We think it was actually Domitian. We were on a secret mission for Titus.’

  ‘You were?’ said Tranquillus. He looked at Aristo. ‘They were?’

  Aristo shrugged and nodded. ‘Apparently.’

  ‘He asked us to steal Nero’s Eye—’

  ‘You stole Nero’s Eye?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Because of the Pythia’s prophecy that whoever possessed it would rule Rome for a long time?’

  ‘Yes. Titus wanted to make sure nobody else got it.’

  ‘Then how did Domitian get it?’

  ‘After we stole it,’ said Flavia ‘we gave it to Titus’s agent, a man called Taurus.’

  Lupus shook his head and made a thumbs-down sign.

  ‘But Taurus was secretly working for Domitian. And because we were the only ones who knew about it—’

  ‘Domitian tried to get rid of you, by issuing a decree in his brother’s name!’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Tranquillus nodded slowly. ‘And now, at the most critical moment, Domitian has produced Nero’s Eye. Great Jupiter’s eyebrows!’ he cried, as if struck by a sudden thought.

  ‘What?’ they all cried.

  ‘That’s probably why the senate conferred power on him so quickly. None of them would dare oppose the Delphic oracle, not publicly, at least. Domitian probably walked into the Curia this morning, held up the Eye and asked which of them wanted to call the Pythia a liar.’

  ‘You think that’s what convinced the senate to make him emperor?’ asked Aristo.

  ‘It must be,’ Tranquillus glanced around, and although they were in the secluded privacy of an inner garden he lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Most of the senators dislike Domitian. They prefer Titus’s cousin, Sabinus.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Aristo. ‘That’s what our friend Sisyphus said.’

  Suddenly Flavia had an idea and she gripped Tranquillus’s arm. ‘Is it too late for the senate to change their minds? If we could somehow prove that Domitian stole Nero’s Eye and killed his own brother, is there a chance they could appoint Sabinus instead?’

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ said Tranquillus. ‘Everyone knows Sabinus would be a better emperor than Domitian. Sabinus is honest and wise, and he’s also related to the two previous emperors by birth and marriage.’

  ‘And if he’s honest and wise,’ said Flavia, ‘he might revoke the decree against us!’

  ‘Be careful,’ said Aristo. ‘Times are usually turbulent in the early days of a new emperor. In the year following Nero’s death, there were four different rulers.’

  ‘He’s right,’ said Tranquillus.

  ‘That’s why we must act quickly!’ cried Flavia, ‘Before anything gets inscribed in stone.’

  ‘Flavia might have a point,
’ said Tranquillus. ‘Domitian will want a proper coronation, with sacrifices and vows and pomp. But it will take a few days to get that ready.’

  ‘And,’ said Flavia, ‘if we can find proof of his crimes before the official ceremony—’

  ‘—we might have a chance!’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Aristo. ‘It’s a very big undertaking.’

  ‘But I know exactly where to start,’ said Tranquillus.

  Flavia looked at him and he looked back, his brown eyes bright. After a dramatic pause he said: ‘The place to start our quest for the Truth is the first stopping place on the Via Salaria: Eretum, the town where Titus fell ill!’

  Most wheeled traffic was forbidden in the city of Rome during the day, so every gate had its stables with horses and mule-carts waiting for hire. Some of the richer families kept private carrucas in special vehicle parks outside the city wall.

  ‘Can you just take your father’s carruca and driver like this?’ said Flavia to Tranquillus, as they left the Porta Collina and rode north on the Via Salaria. ‘Won’t he be angry?’

  Tranquillus shrugged. ‘I’m still on holiday for the next few days. I left pater a note saying I was going to do some research for a project. And as long as I’ve got him with me,’ Tranquillus used his chin to point at his paedagogus, ‘pater doesn’t really mind what I do.’

  Flavia glanced over at Tranquillus’ paedagogus. Hilario was a rubber-faced man in his mid-forties with goggle-eyes and dark eyebrows arched in an expression of permanent surprise. His dark hair was slicked down with strongly scented oil.

  Flavia sat back and looked around. ‘Your carruca is lovely,’ she said to Tranquillus. The buttercup-yellow carriage had two padded benches, one along each side. Flavia, Nubia and Aristo sat on one bench; facing them were Tranquillus, Lupus and Hilario. A blue linen awning was open on all four sides, to let the breeze in, but it shaded them from the noonday sun.

  As the carruca drove north along the Via Salaria, flanked by the tombs of the rich, Flavia leaned forward. ‘Tell us everything,’ she said to Tranquillus, who sat opposite her. ‘Tell us everything you know about Titus and Domitian.’

  ‘Everything?’ said Tranquillus with a grin.

  Flavia opened her wax tablet and held her stylus poised. ‘Everything.’

  ‘But not the gossip!’ At the other end of Tranquillus’s bench Hilario waggled his finger prissily. ‘Stick to facts, not gossip.’

  ‘Yes, Hilario.’ Tranquillus sighed and rolled his eyes, then said to Flavia: ‘You know about Titus’s headaches, don’t you? That his advisors and courtiers have been running the empire these past six months.’

  ‘They have?’ said Flavia.

  ‘Yes,’ said Tranquillus. ‘Domitian in particular. They say Titus spent days on end in a darkened room. Sometimes he would get a blacksmith in to bang an anvil. Can you imagine? But it was the only thing that seemed to bring him any relief.’

  Flavia nodded. She remembered the emperor suffering from headaches two years before.

  ‘Then, four or five days ago,’ said Tranquillus, ‘Titus went to sacrifice at the Ludi Romani.’

  Nubia sat up straight. ‘The chariot races at Circus Maximus!’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Tranquillus. ‘They’re on at the moment. Anyway, Titus was down on the track with his soothsayer, haruspex and assistant priests – a hundred thousand Romans all watching him intently – about to cut a bull’s throat, when there was thunder from a clear sky .’

  Lupus gave Tranquillus his bug-eyed look.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Tranquillus dramatically, ‘thunder from a clear sky. Everybody heard it, including Titus. He was so startled that he looked around and the bull escaped.’

  ‘Euge!’ said Nubia, clapping her hands. ‘Hooray!’

  ‘It’s not euge, Nubia,’ cried Flavia. ‘It’s eheu! When a sacrificial victim runs away it’s a terrible omen. What did Titus do?’ she asked Tranquillus.

  ‘He burst into tears.’

  They all stared at him.

  Tranquillus looked round at them and nodded. ‘Sobbed and sobbed. Big fat tears running down his face, like he’d lost his best friend. Or a child. His soothsayer led him away and the next day they set out for Sabina, a week before the end of the games!’

  ‘And that was three days ago?’ Flavia was writing on her tablet. ‘Two days before the Ides?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘So,’ Flavia looked down at her notes: ‘Two days before the Ides, Titus botches a sacrifice and then weeps inconsolably. The next day he sets out for his Sabine Villa. At the first stopping place he suddenly takes ill, but he reaches his ancestral home, where he dies on the Ides.’

  ‘Where is the first stopping place?’ asked Aristo.

  ‘A town called Eretum,’ said Tranquillus. ‘We should be there in about an hour.’

  Flavia glanced out of the carriage. They had left the tombs behind and were now driving past potteries and tile factories.

  ‘Anything else you can tell us?’ asked Flavia. ‘Anything at all?’

  Tranquillus grinned and glanced over Lupus’s head at Hilario. ‘Only gossip,’ he said.

  ‘No gossip!’ warned the paedagogus.

  ‘Some of it might be relevant, you know,’ said Aristo. ‘There’s usually a kernel of truth in every piece of gossip.’

  Hilario looked down his nose at Aristo. ‘It could also be dangerous,’ he said, ‘if anyone hears us repeating it.’

  ‘Who could hear us out here on the road?’ said Flavia.

  Lupus glanced up at the driver, whose back was to them, and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  Tranquillus laughed. ‘Don’t mind him. Talpa is as deaf as a mole. Pater often uses him as a driver, to ensure he won’t be overheard. So, shall I tell you what people are saying?’

  ‘Yes!’ said Flavia, her stylus poised.

  Hilario puffed his disapproval. ‘Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus,’ he said, ‘you are the biggest gossip in Rome, and no good can come of it.’

  Tranquillus sighed and turned his head to gaze straight ahead. ‘There they are,’ he said, pointing with his chin. ‘The blue Sabine hills. That’s where we’re going. Have you ever been there before?’

  ‘Tell us the gossip,’ pleaded Flavia. ‘It might be important.’

  ‘It rained last week,’ remarked Tranquillus. ‘First rain we’ve had in four months. It really cleared the air.’

  ‘Tranquillus, please?’

  ‘It’s going to be a good olive crop this year.’

  ‘Tell us!’

  Tranquillus turned back to them and grinned. ‘If you insist.’

  Hilario tutted, but said nothing.

  Tranquillus leaned forward on his bench. ‘There’s a very popular pantomime dancer in Rome at the moment.’

  Lupus sat up straight and looked interested. He loved pantomime.

  ‘Narcissus?’ asked Flavia and Nubia together. ‘Was it Narcissus?’

  Tranquillus looked surprised. ‘No, his name is Paris.’

  ‘I’ve heard of him,’ said Aristo. ‘He’s supposed to be very good.’

  Tranquillus grinned. ‘I don’t know how good he is, but he’s young and very handsome. All the women in Rome swoon for him. They say that Domitian’s wife Domitia is madly in love with him.’

  ‘Domitia?’ said Flavia. ‘I met her once at the games and she seemed so stiff and formal. She had a wig this high.’ Flavia held her hand a foot above her straw sunhat.

  Tranquillus laughed. ‘Well, she may be stiff in public, but apparently not in private. There is another rumour, even more scandalous than the first.’

  ‘Tranquillus!’ chided Hilario. ‘I forbid you to repeat that scurrilous report.’

  Tranquillus ignored his paedagogus. He leaned towards them, and even though they were driving in a noisy carruca with a deaf driver, he lowered his voice. ‘They also say,’ he breathed, ‘that Domitia was in love with Titus!’

  Nubia was doubly dist
racted.

  Everyone in the carruca was discussing Domitian’s wife and her possible love affairs. It was fascinating, but Nubia couldn’t concentrate. Aristo was sitting on the bench beside her, his muscular arm next to hers. Every time the carruca swayed his arm brushed against hers, and even such an innocent touch thrilled her. A moment ago he had shifted and now his arm was pressing against her, and she almost swooned from the feel of his warm skin.

  Also, she needed the latrines.

  ‘If Domitia had an affair with Titus,’ Flavia was saying, ‘that would give Domitian even more motive to kill his brother: jealousy and revenge!’

  ‘As if Domitian didn’t have enough motive already,’ murmured Aristo. He shifted away from Nubia and she was able to concentrate again.

  ‘Some people think it wasn’t Domitia whom Titus loved,’ said Tranquillus, ‘but a Hebrew woman. They say she was a slave from Jerusalem. He set her free and realised too late that she was the love of his life.’

  Nubia glanced at Flavia. She knew her friend was wondering the same thing: could the Hebrew woman have been Jonathan’s mother, Susannah? She had been Titus’s slave for ten years.

  ‘And I haven’t even told you about the prophecy,’ said Tranquillus.

  ‘What prophecy?’ asked Flavia.

  The carruca went over a bump and Nubia winced as it jolted her full bladder. Why was she the only one who ever needed to use the latrine? Didn’t other people ever need to go?

  ‘When Titus was on his way back to Rome from Jerusalem,’ said Tranquillus, ‘he visited Tyana, in Asia.’

  ‘Oh!’ cried Flavia. ‘We’ve just come from Asia. But I’ve never heard of Tyana.’

  ‘Tyana,’ said rubber-faced Hilario, ‘is nearly four hundred miles east of Ephesus. My grandmother comes from there,’ he added proudly.

  ‘That far!’ murmured Flavia.

  ‘Asia’s a big province,’ said Aristo. He shifted, so that he was pressing against Nubia again. Once again she felt the exciting warmth of his arm against hers. She could smell his musky lavender body oil, too. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  ‘Titus made a special detour to get there,’ explained Tranquillus. ‘He wanted to visit a famous philosopher named Apollonius. After conversing with him for a while, Titus was greatly impressed with the man’s wisdom and insight. He asked if he had a special message for him. Apollonius looked up at the sun and said, I swore by the sun I would tell you, even if you hadn’t asked me. The gods have told me to warn you. As long as your father lives, beware his enemies, but once he is dead, beware those closest to you.’