‘The slaves have heated the hot plunge,’ said Tranquillus, licking honey from his fingers. ‘Why don’t you girls have a quick soak and then we men will use it.’ He clapped twice, and a pretty dark-haired slave-girl appeared at the doorway. ‘Eurydice here will assist you in the baths and then show you to your room. You girls don’t mind sharing a large double bed? It’s my mother’s and very comfortable. A slave will wake you an hour before dawn.’
‘Thank you, Tranquillus,’ said Flavia. ‘I don’t know what we would have done without your help.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ he said, with a wave of his hand. ‘It’s in times like these that you discover who your real friends are.’
The slave-girl called Eurydice led them through the torchlit garden and down a flickering corridor to a small, lamplit bath-house. Nubia and Flavia sat on a wooden bench to unstrap their sandals. Next they put their belts and belt-pouches on the bench. Finally they stood and stripped off their coarse brown tunics and undergarments.
‘I will brush these and have them ready by morning,’ said the girl in a pleasantly-accented voice. ‘There are clogs under the bench and linen sleeping tunics there on the shelf, folded on top of your towels. Your travelling hats are in the vestibule,’ she added, ‘where you left them this evening.’
‘Thank you,’ said Nubia and Flavia together. They slipped on the wooden clogs and moved carefully into the steamy room next door. The little caldarium had a plaster dome above a small circular pool of hot water. Four torches burned in brackets on the wall, making globes of flickering orange in the steamy atmosphere.
Nubia removed her clogs and carefully descended into the deep bath. The film of oil on top smelled of myrtle. The soft slap of water echoed in the cylindrical room and when the steam parted she could see the stars through a circular hole in the top of the dome.
‘Our second night-time bath,’ said Nubia happily. ‘This is a delicious luxury.’
Flavia gave her a half-hearted smile as she came down the steps. Nubia could see she was still upset about Flaccus.
‘We are needing it after that dusty journey,’ said Nubia.
‘Yes,’ said Flavia. ‘It was a terrible journey.’
‘When we have had our bath and are in bed,’ said Nubia, ‘I have something to give you.’
‘You have something for me?’ Flavia was neck deep in the bath, her eyes closed.
‘Yes,’ said Nubia. ‘Flaccus gave it to me. He told me it was for you.’
Flavia’s eyes opened. ‘Something from Floppy?’ she said. ‘Where is it?’
‘In my belt pouch,’ said Nubia. ‘But he told me to give it to you last thing before bed.’
‘Forget that!’ cried Flavia. The water slapped the sides of the pool as she moved quickly towards the steps and up them.
‘Flavia, no!’ protested Nubia. ‘He said last thing before bed.’
Naked and glistening, Flavia slipped on her clogs and disappeared into the apodyterium. A moment later she was back, clutching the little ivory tablet that Flaccus had given Nubia in the carruca.
‘Oh look!’ Flavia kicked off her clogs and sat on the steps of the bath, waist deep in the warm water. ‘It’s bound with a sweet little red ribbon and there’s tiny writing inside. What is it?’
‘I do not know,’ said Nubia. ‘I have not opened it.’
‘Pollux!’ exclaimed Flavia. ‘It’s hard to read in this – Oh!’
There was a plop as the little ivory booklet fell from her slippery fingers into the pool.
‘Oh no!’ cried Flavia, and dived for the tablet. Warm myrtle-scented water splashed onto the walls and walkway of the caldarium, and a moment later Flavia held up the tablet triumphantly.
‘Got it!’ she cried, and then: ‘But the ink is running and the message is all blurred! Now I’ll never know what it said! Oh, Nubia!’ she wailed. ‘How could you let me be so foolish?’
Lupus snuggled into the soft blankets on a narrow but comfortable bed in Tranquillus’s bedroom. His muscles felt relaxed and warm after the myrtle-scented bath in the villa’s small caldarium. Glowing coals in a bronze tripod cast a dim ruby light on the frescoed walls and took the autumn chill from the room.
‘Is the bed soft enough for you, Lupus?’ came Tranquillus’s voice from the reddish-brown gloom.
Lupus grunted yes.
‘Since my old tutor left, I have this room all to myself.’ Tranquillus sounded pleased with himself.
Lupus gave another sleepy grunt; his eyelids were heavy.
‘Lupus?’ came Tranquillus’s voice. ‘Are you afraid? I mean, about going to Domitian’s villa. Aren’t you a little afraid?’
Lupus shrugged, then grunted yes.
‘Me, too. Even though there’s no edict out against me like there is against you. Have you heard the story about Domitian and the Triclinium of Death?’
Lupus grunted no.
‘Last month he gave a banquet in a black-walled triclinium. All the guests had place-tags like grave-markers and Domitian served them the sort of food you usually offer to the dead: black beans, blood sausage, pomegranates. The guests all thought they were going to be murdered at any moment. They were quaking on the couches. Even on their way home they expected assassins to leap from the shadows and slit their throats. But when they got home each one found an expensive present from Domitian. He likes to play practical jokes like that.’
Lupus chuckled and rolled over to face Tranquillus. In the dim light he could only see the boy’s shape on the other bed.
‘It’s ironic,’ continued Tranquillus, ‘because everyone knows Domitian is terrified of dying a violent death.’
Lupus grunted ‘Why?’
‘Apparently the auspices of his birth were terrible. He’s obsessed with horoscopes and signs. Takes an astrologer with him everywhere. He was born when Saturn and Mars were dangerously close to the Sun and the Moon.’
Lupus gave his ‘so what?’ grunt.
‘It’s a terrible chart. It points to a sudden and violent death. Once, when he was a boy, his father Vespasian teased him for refusing to eat some mushrooms at a dinner party. He said: Why fear poisoned mushrooms when the stars say you’ll die by the sword? Or something like that.’
Lupus grunted softly, to show he was still listening.
There was a pause, and then Tranquillus’s voice came hesitantly out of the darkness: ‘Lupus, do you think Flavia likes me? Or is she in love with Flaccus? I saw the way she was watching him today, when he was sleeping. I was an idiot to tell her that he broke off his engagement. Do you think I have a chance with her? Lupus?’
This time Lupus did not grunt or chuckle. He made his breathing soft and steady. He was not asleep, but he thought it best to pretend he was.
*
The next morning, an hour before dawn, Nubia and the others crept out of the sleeping villa into the chilly street. Nubia caught the scent of pine-pitch and smoke from the flaming torch held by Hilario. She was still looking around for Aristo when the paedagogus set off down the cobbled street with Tranquillus and Lupus and Flavia following behind.
‘Wait,’ cried Nubia. ‘Aristo is not here yet.’
‘You’re right,’ said Flavia, stopping and turning. ‘Where is he?’
Hilario turned, too. ‘He went to the forum, to investigate Titus’s body for signs of prick-marks. He’s going to meet us at the Capena Gate.’
‘It was my idea,’ said Tranquillus. ‘The body is five days old now and soon it will be too swollen to spot something as tiny as the mark of a stylus.’
‘Good thinking,’ said Flavia, and Nubia noticed she was clutching the ivory tablet.
Tranquillus fell into step beside Flavia, ‘I’m pleased that we got away without pater questioning me.’
Flavia nodded, distracted, and Nubia saw the look of hurt on Tranquillus’s face.
‘Will your father not worry when he finds you are gone?’ Nubia asked him.
‘No. I’ve left him a note telling him I’m takin
g some friends to see my mother at Alba Longa. That’s almost the truth,’ he added.
‘Which gate are we going to now?’ asked Nubia, as they turned left onto a street full of shops. Some were just beginning to open and she could smell bread from the baker’s.
‘To the Porta Capena,’ said Tranquillus. ‘The Appian Way leads from there straight to the Alban Lake. The journey usually takes us three or four hours, so we should be there well before noon. I told Talpa to have a carruca ready by the first hour.’
Sure enough, Talpa the driver was waiting for them on the other side of the arched gate. Torchlight showed the buttercup-yellow carruca and she could see from here he had a fresh quartet of mules. The others went forward but Nubia hesitated beneath the arch, looking around anxiously for Aristo.
A few drops of water plopped onto her straw hat. She held out her hand and looked up. How could it be raining underneath a massive stone arch?
‘They don’t call it the watery gate for nothing,’ said Aristo’s voice. She turned and saw him emerging from the pre-dawn gloom. He pointed up. ‘Three of Rome’s biggest aqueducts pass over this gate. So I don’t advise lingering underneath.’ He took her elbow and looked down at her. For a heart-stopping moment she thought he was going to kiss her, but he merely directed her through the arch to the waiting carruca. ‘I went to the forum to see the emperor’s body,’ he said. ‘And you’ll never guess.’
‘It was gone?’
He nodded. ‘Apparently it’s now on its way to Alba Longa. Just like us.’
Dawn found them clipping along the Appian Way and presently the rising sun threw the shadow of one of the great arched aqueducts across their path, so that the carruca was in warm sunlight one moment and cold shadow the next.
Tranquillus was sitting next to Flavia, pointing out monuments along the Via Appia. At the third milestone they stopped at a roadside-stand and bought hot sausages wrapped in cool grape leaves.
Flavia had been clutching the little ivory tablet, waiting for the light to be bright enough for her to decipher any traces of writing. Now she put it in her lap so that she could peel back the grape leaf from her sausage.
‘Who gave you the love-tablet?’ asked Tranquillus.
‘What?’
‘That.’ He pointed at the ivory booklet in her lap.
‘Why do you call it a love-tablet?’ she asked, aware that all the others were watching her, too.
‘Because it’s a love-tablet!’ he said.
‘How can you tell?’
‘He’s right, Flavia,’ said Aristo gently. ‘It’s a love-tablet.’
‘Stop calling it that—’ she spluttered. ‘How can you possibly know—’
‘He knows because it’s small and dainty and made of ivory,’ said Tranquillus. ‘Did it come wrapped with a ribbon?’
Flavia nodded.
‘It’s the latest fashion,’ said Aristo. ‘For a man to give a woman he loves an ivory tablet with a poetic declaration of his feelings inside. May I see it?’
‘No!’ Flavia put down her sausage and closed both hands around the ivory tablet.
‘Flaccus!’ cried Tranquillus. ‘Gaius Valerius Flaccus!’
‘Where?’ cried Flavia, looking around eagerly.
‘He’s the one who gave it to her. Great Juno’s beard!’ Tranquillus slowly turned his head to stare at Flavia. ‘That’s why he called off his engagement. He loves you, not her!’
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Flavia, but her heart thudded at the idea.
‘Let me see it,’ said Tranquillus.
‘No!’
‘I won’t open it. I just want to examine it.’
‘Go ahead then!’ she cried. ‘Look at it. You won’t be able to read it even if you tried. I dropped it in the bath last night.’
Tranquillus took the tablet and opened it and frowned. Then his eyes grew wide as he read: ‘Give me a thousand kisses, Flavia, then another hundred, then a thousand, then a second hundred, then a thousand more—’
‘It does not say that!’ Flavia snatched the tablet back. ‘You’re just quoting Catullus.’ She eagerly examined the two inner leaves of the tablet, but they were perfectly blank.
‘You’re disappointed!’ cried Tranquillus triumphantly. ‘You actually thought he wrote that.’ Then his smile faded. ‘You love him, don’t you, Flavia? You love Flaccus?’
‘No I don’t!’
Tranquillus looked at her friends. ‘She loves Flaccus, doesn’t she?’
Aristo and Lupus both shrugged their shoulders and Nubia looked down at her lap.
‘No, I don’t,’ repeated Flavia, biting her lower lip. ‘Of course I don’t!’
‘If you say so,’ said Tranquillus. He looked away.
Flavia turned her head too, and looked out the back of the carruca at the passing tombs. And for some reason the Greek epitaph came to mind: Eat, drink, be merry and make love; all below here is darkness.
For over an hour Hilario had been giving them a running commentary on the passing landmarks. Nubia knew he was doing it to fill the awkward lack of conversation, but something was bothering her.
So when the rubbery-faced tutor paused for breath, she raised her hand.
‘Yes, Nubia?’ said Aristo.
‘I was thinking,’ said Nubia. ‘We are going to receive pardon from Domitian and then prove he killed his brother, so he will not be able to rule?’
‘That’s right,’ said Flavia.
Nubia frowned. ‘Are we doing what is right?’
‘Of course we are,’ said Flavia. ‘We’re seeking the Truth. And Justice.’
‘But we are not being truthful. We are plotting against him.’
‘She makes a very good point,’ said Hilario. ‘Is what we’re doing ethical?’
‘Of course it’s ethical!’ said Flavia. ‘It’s our duty to prevent an evil man from becoming emperor. And Domitian is evil.’
Tranquillus sighed. ‘I agree with Flavia,’ he said. ‘Domitian is a sadist. They say he has a habit of spearing flies with his stylus while he’s writing. He aims his needle-sharp stylus and spears them right through.’
‘You Romans pierce people,’ said Nubia. ‘On crosses.’
‘They’re usually runaway slaves who deserve it,’ said Tranquillus. ‘The poor flies don’t.’
Nubia shuddered, but Lupus chuckled.
‘Domitian probably pulls the flies’ wings off after he spears them,’ said Tranquillus, and added, ‘And he loves cruel practical jokes.’
Beside Nubia, Flavia stiffened. ‘What if this is a practical joke?’ she asked. ‘Or worse, a trap?’
‘I had that thought,’ muttered Tranquillus. ‘Last night.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Nubia.
‘What if Domitian is only pretending to forgive his enemies,’ said Flavia, ‘in order to get them to reveal themselves?’
‘That’s right,’ said Tranquillus grimly. ‘If you want to trap a rat, you put out a piece of cheese. What if amnesty is the cheese he’s using to catch his rats? Spear the fly, trap the rat.’
Hilario harrumphed. ‘Shame on you two! Why can’t you give our new emperor the benefit of the doubt, like this wise girl here?’ He gestured at Nubia. ‘If you believe a man to be honest, will he not rise to your expectations?’
Lupus grunted no, and Tranquillus snorted. ‘You’re a pessimist, Lupus.’
Lupus wrote on his wax tablet: I’M NOT A PESSIMIST. I’M A REALIST.
Nubia and Flavia exchanged a knowing smile. ‘That’s what Jonathan always used to say,’ explained Flavia.
‘We have no proof of Domitian’s evil intentions,’ said Hilario, ‘only rumour. And Rumour is a dreadful looming monster; under every feather of her body is a watchful eye, a tongue, a shouting mouth and pricked up ears.’
Nubia knew Hilario was quoting Virgil; Flavia and Jonathan had taught her Latin by reading the Aeneid to her, and this was a passage she had once memorized for Aristo. Without thinking she continued the quote: ‘At nig
ht she wheels in the dark and screeching sky, by day she perches on rooftops and towers, throwing whole cities into panic.’
Flavia clapped her hands. ‘Nubia, you quoted Virgil! Euge!’
Aristo gave her an approving nod and a look of such pride that her spirit soared.
‘Ah,’ said Hilario, raising his arched eyebrows at Aristo. ‘I see you have taught your pupils something. Well done.’ Then he turned back to Flavia, ‘Isn’t it possible that Titus really did catch a fever and die? And that Domitian is just trying to do the right thing by wiping the tablet clean?’
‘Maybe,’ said Flavia grudgingly. ‘And I hope you’re right about him wiping the tablet clean.’
‘Well,’ said Tranquillus, ‘there’s Mount Albanus now. We’ll be at the lake in an hour. We’ll soon know if Domitian is really pardoning his brother’s enemies, or throwing them to the lions.’
Nubia closed her eyes and prayed silently. ‘Dear Lord, I am not afraid to die. But please help us do the right thing. Amen.’
For the past few miles the mules had been straining, for the Appian Way was skirting the lower slopes of the Alban hills. The carruca parted a flock of goats clogging the road, and Flavia also saw cattle grazing on the grassy slopes. Just past the twelfth milestone and a large octagonal mausoleum, they passed through a pretty town with red-tile roofs and walls the colour of clotted cream. On the slopes to their left, Flavia saw some temples.
‘Bovillae,’ said Hilario. ‘Ox Town. When Alba Longa was destroyed this colony took over the cultic duties.’
‘Alba Longa was destroyed?’ said Flavia.
‘Yes,’ said Aristo. ‘Nobody knows exactly where it was.’
‘They say it’s under the Villa of Clodius Pulcher,’ said Hilario. ‘Up on the crest of the ridge. Domitian’s palace is further south.’
‘Where is the lake?’ asked Nubia, frowning.
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 263