‘On the other side of the lip of the crater,’ said Hilario. ‘It’s quite steep.’
Tranquillus added. ‘These mountains used to be volcanoes. Lacus Albanus fills the crater of the biggest one.’
Lupus looked alarmed and scribbled on his wax tablet: DORMANT VOLCANO?
For the first time since he had discovered Flaccus’s love-tablet to Flavia, Tranquillus smiled. ‘I hope it’s dormant! It hasn’t erupted in living memory.’
‘Neither had Vesuvius,’ said Flavia. ‘Until the year before last.’
They all made the sign against evil.
‘Tell us about the lake?’ said Flavia to Tranquillus. She knew he was depressed and she felt sorry for him.
He shrugged. ‘Nothing to tell.’
‘Nothing to tell?’ harrumphed Hilario, his arched eyebrows rising higher. ‘What about the prophecy and the Emissario?’
‘Oh, yes. That.’ Tranquillus sighed.
‘What is the emissario?’ asked Nubia.
‘Yes,’ said Flavia. ‘What is the emissario?’
‘Euge!’ Hilario sat up straight and clapped his hands. ‘My turn to tell a story, a fascinating one recounted by Livy, Cicero and Dionysius of Halicarnassus.’ He unwrapped a papyrus parcel of dates and offered them round.
Flavia hesitated, then took a handful. Their chewy sweetness would console her and a good story might take her mind off Flaccus. The carruca had left Bovillae behind and they were passing through chestnut woods. The bright morning sun made their leaves glow like chrysolite and cast a delicious dappled shade. Flavia popped a date in her mouth and sat back to listen.
‘About five hundred years ago,’ began Hilario, ‘the waters of Lacus Albanus began to rise. It was the end of the summer. There had been no rain and the snows had melted long before. There was no natural explanation. And yet the level of the lake got higher and higher.’ Hilario’s eyes bulged and he gestured dramatically with his arms. ‘The lake threatened to spill over its rim like too much wine poured into a cup. It was a prodigy!’
Flavia sat forward. She had never heard this story. The others were watching Hilario, too, and he seemed pleased by their attention.
‘The senate sent an envoy to Delphi, to see what Apollo might say through the Pythia. In the meantime, on the other side of Rome, soldiers were besieging an Etruscan town called Veii. News of the rising lake reached the besieging army and even the towns people behind the walls. One day an old Etruscan soothsayer called out that he had the answer.’ Here Hilario let his rubbery face go slack and pretended to be an old man. ‘I have the answer!’ quavered Hilario as the soothsayer. ‘The gods have spoken to me!’
Flavia and Nubia giggled, and Lupus guffawed at Hilario’s imitation of a mad Etruscan soothsayer.
Hilario shook his jowls enthusiastically: ‘When water flows out of the Alban Lake but does not mix with the sea, Rome will conquer Veii.’
Even Tranquillus gave a grudging smile.
‘But the old soothsayer was jeered at by the besieging Romans and the besieged Etruscans alike.’ Here Hilario played the role of a scoffer, pointing and laughing. ‘Until the delegation returned from Delphi to report that the Pythia had said exactly the same thing as the old man! And when the Sibylline books were consulted, they confirmed it, too!’
Lupus grunted and wrote on his wax tablet: HOW DID THEY DRAIN THE LAKE?
‘Simple,’ said Hilario. ‘They drilled a tunnel in the mountain just below the rising water level. That is the Emissario. It allowed the water to come out and irrigate the farmlands here,’ he gestured to the fields sloping away to their right. ‘The water level in the lake returned to normal, the crops were watered, and within a year the town of Veii had been captured.’
‘Oh!’ said Nubia. ‘They called it the Emissario, because water goes out of it.’
‘Well done, Nubia,’ said Aristo, and Flavia saw him give her a dazzling smile.
‘What happened to the Emissario?’ asked Flavia. ‘Is is still there?’
‘Of course!’ said Hilario, and looked around at them, pleased. ‘It’s quite overgrown, but it’s there. Tranquillus and I went to investigate its entrance last month. An old goatherd told us that it still runs all the way through. If you wanted,’ he said, ‘you could travel a mile through the mountain, and come out the other side. Just up ahead, on the other side of the Via Appia.’
‘No, thank you,’ said Flavia. ‘I think that’s one experience I can live without.’
Just past the fourteenth milestone, Talpa turned the carruca off the Via Appia onto a road leading steeply up to the left. As the road curved round, Lupus caught tantalising glimpses of a magnificent villa on the hillside ahead. A high stone wall surrounded it, but he could see domes and tiled roofs peeping above the wall, and the dark tips of cypress trees, too.
‘There it is,’ said Tranquillus. ‘Domitian’s Alban Villa.’
‘Great Juno’s peacock!’ murmured Flavia. ‘Now I know why they call it Domitian’s Alban Citadel.’
‘It is so big!’ said Nubia. ‘Like a whole city.’
‘And there’s more outside those walls,’ said Hilario. ‘Two massive grottoes down by the lakeside and an amphitheatre over to the south,’ he said.
Tranquillus nodded and said: ‘Five years ago, when I was eight, I saw two bears fight each other in the amphitheatre.’
‘As for what’s inside the walls,’ said Hilario. ‘I’ve heard there are three terraces, a hippodrome, a big cryptoporticus and a small theatre. There are fountains, gardens and secret tunnels. And the palace, of course.’
‘Where’s the Emissario?’ asked Flavia.
‘It’s right down by the lake,’ said Tranquillus. ‘You can’t see it from here.’
The four mules strained, for they were still climbing. They pulled the buttercup-yellow carruca up an impressive drive, past a wall full of statues in niches. The flesh of the marble statues was subtly tinted and one or two looked so real that Lupus half expected them to turn and wave at them.
‘Behold!’ said Nubia, as they drove through an arch and emerged into a circular piazza. ‘There is a long line of people going to that building.’
To their left was a magnificent porter’s lodge. Soldiers stood either side of open doors and a queue of people stretched out from it across the piazza towards the fountain at its centre. On the other side of the fountain was the gate to the palace itself.
‘Great Juno,’ said Flavia. ‘Look at them all.’
‘I hope we are not too late,’ murmured Nubia.
Talpa reined in the mules and Lupus stood up to get a better look.
‘Is it true?’ Aristo asked a man coming across the piazza towards them. ‘Is Domitian offering free pardons and amnesty?’
The man had a cow on a leash. He stopped and squinted up at them, then his face broke into a brown-toothed smile. ‘Absolutely true,’ he said. ‘Two years ago, my father accidentally borrowed this cow from the imperial flock. Domitian just told me I can keep her and all her offspring. But you’d better hurry,’ said the man. ‘The doors close at noon.’
Hilario turned to Tranquillus. ‘You see?’ he said. ‘It’s obviously legitimate. I suggest you get in the queue.’
Aristo nodded. ‘That’s why we came here, isn’t it?’
‘I’m still afraid we might be walking into the lion’s jaws,’ said Flavia.
Lupus held up his tablet: I’M GOING ON THE PROWL
‘Not a bad idea,’ said Aristo. ‘Find out what people are saying. We’ll save your place in the queue.’
Lupus nodded and slipped over the side of the carruca. He ran to the fountain – glittering in the mid-morning sun – and drank from one of the jets of water. He wiped his mouth, grinned at them and gave them a thumbs-up: they could depend on him.
‘Are you all together?’ asked the man with the tablet. His grizzled hair showed he was in his sixties, but his muscular body was that of a man thirty years younger and his keen dark eyes were full of energy. Alth
ough his short hair was grey his eyebrows were still black.
‘Yes,’ said Flavia, and Aristo added. ‘The six of us are all together.’
The man’s smile did not quite reach his eyes. ‘And are you all seeking amnesty?’
‘Just the three of us.’ Flavia glanced at Lupus, who had come running up only moments before. Still breathless, he gave her a tiny nod and a secret thumbs-up: apparently Domitian really was pardoning people.
‘Just you three boys?’ the man raised a dark eyebrow. ‘You are seeking imperial amnesty?’
‘Yes,’ said Flavia bravely. ‘Just us three.’
‘Then your friends here will have to wait outside. I’m sorry, but it’s policy. You may sit over there.’ He gestured towards a polished marble bench with lion’s feet legs.
‘The lion’s jaws,’ murmured Flavia, as Aristo, Tranquillus and Hilario walked to the bench.
‘Names?’ The man with the wax-tablet was speaking to her. ‘May I ask your names?’
Flavia took a deep breath: ‘Flavia Gemina, Flavia Nubia and Lupus.’
This time the secretary raised both eyebrows. ‘Two of you are girls?’
‘Yes,’ Flavia took off her sunhat and ran her hand through her hair.
‘Please leave your hats here, if you don’t mind,’ said the man, as he wrote down their names. ‘Address him as Caesar, Augustus or even Jupiter. He likes that.’
Flavia’s heart was pounding as she and Nubia tossed their hats to Aristo, who caught them deftly.
‘Is there anyone else in there with Domitian?’ she asked.
‘No,’ said the secretary. ‘Nobody else is in with the emperor.’ He smirked. ‘Not even a fly.’
As Flavia led the way inside, she remembered Tranquillus’s story about Domitian spearing flies with a needle-sharp stylus. She realised the secretary had been making a bitter joke.
And she remembered what Tranquillus had said about Domitian: Spear the fly, trap the rat.
Of course the emperor was not physically alone. Two of his Praetorian guards stood behind his desk. There could be no risk of assassination. Nubia realised this as soon as she stepped into the small, bright room. But Domitian had no secretary with him. He seemed to be dealing with the pardons by himself.
The young emperor was seated behind a marble table. Before him lay a large wax tablet, with at least six leaves. He looked up, and when his gaze locked with Nubia’s it was like the shock she once had from touching a jellyfish.
‘Nubia of the Colosseum!’ he said. ‘I wondered if I would see you again. I commended your courage then, and I commend it now.’
‘Caesar,’ she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
He looked her up and down, then gave a half-smile. ‘Even dressed as a boy you are delectable.’ With some effort he pulled his gaze from her and looked at the others. ‘Flavia Gemina,’ he said. ‘And Vulpus?’
‘Lupus,’ corrected Flavia. ‘His name is Lupus . . . er . . . Caesar. A few months ago we were wrongly named on a decree.’
‘Of course. How could I forget? His name was on the decree. And wasn’t there a fourth name?’
‘Our friend Jonathan ben Mordecai,’ said Flavia. ‘Has he been to ask your pardon yet?’
Domitian glanced down at the wax tablet before him, and tapped his stylus thoughtfully on the marble tabletop. ‘No, I don’t believe he has.’
He flipped through a few leaves of the tablet, then looked up. ‘So,’ he said. ‘Are you begging my forgiveness?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Flavia in a small voice. ‘Even though we don’t really know why the decree was issued.’
‘Because you stole a valuable gem,’ said Domitian. He reached into the neck of his tunic and pulled out the large lentil-shaped emerald that had been hanging from a gold chain. Nubia recognised Nero’s Eye, the emerald they had risked their lives to find. ‘But as you see, it is now safely in my possession and I am feeling magnanimous. You are pardoned.’
Nubia heard Flavia swallow. ‘If our friend Jonathan comes—’
‘If he comes in the next half hour, then I will pardon him.’ Domitian stood up. ‘But pardons must be requested in person. And with suitable humility.’
He stepped out from behind his desk and came to stand before them.
Nubia caught his scent now, the smell of stale sweat overlaid with susinum, a sickly sweet and extremely expensive perfume. He was leering at her again, and licking his lips. Nubia could not take her eyes from his mouth. His lips were plump and red, the upper one protruding more than the lower.
‘Kiss my feet.’
‘What?’ gasped Flavia.
Domitian was still staring at Nubia with his large dark eyes. He smiled. ‘Kiss my feet, if you desire my pardon.’
Nubia could hear the blood pulsing in her ears. She felt hot and then cold, and her stomach churned. Once she had seen a cobra with a desert mouse. The mouse had been transfixed by the cobra’s deadly stare. She felt like that mouse. She did not want to be in his presence a moment longer.
So, with all the strength in her she dropped her gaze and knelt at his feet. His toes – where they peeped out of the gilded sandals – were crooked and the joints knobbed with corns. The big toe of his left foot was the least repulsive, so she took a deep breath, closed her eyes and pressed her lips against it.
Then she stood and turned and ran out of the room.
‘Nubia? What is it?’
She heard Aristo’s voice and felt his strong arms encircle her. She hugged him tightly, and felt his heart pounding against her ear. Gradually her nausea subsided. But now the tears came.
‘Did he molest you?’ Aristo started to pull out of her embrace but Nubia clung to him.
‘Aristo!’ she was sobbing. ‘Don’t go. Stay with me.’
‘Always,’ he said huskily, and she felt him kiss the top of her head. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have let you go in alone . . . Flavia! Lupus!’ He kept an arm around her as he moved towards the others. ‘Are you all right?’
Nubia opened her eyes and blinked away tears to see a very pale Flavia and a grim-faced Lupus emerging from the porter’s lodge. The last few people left in the queue were staring nervously at them.
‘Yes,’ said Flavia, catching Nubia’s hand. ‘I’m all right. We’re just going to the fountain.’
Nubia reluctantly let herself be pulled from Aristo’s embrace. She followed Flavia down the steps and across the plaza to the fountain. Once there, they both let jets of water arc into their open mouths. Lupus joined them a moment later, and dunked his entire head in the water.
‘I hate him!’ gargled Flavia, without taking her mouth from the stream.
‘Why?’ asked Tranquillus, running up to them. ‘What did he make you do?’ he asked breathlessly.
‘Yes, tell us,’ said Aristo. ‘By all the gods, if he—’
Flavia came out from under the jet of water. ‘He made us kiss his feet,’ she gasped. ‘And they’re horrible; he has hammer-toes.’
‘Is that all?’ said Aristo to Nubia, his brown eyes full of concern. She nodded miserably, and wiped her mouth. Aristo slipped his arm around her shoulders again.
‘The filthy—’ began Tranquillus, but Lupus had been writing something and now he showed it to them, grinning.
AT LEAST HE DIDN’T MAKE US KISS HIS BOTTOM
‘Or his big wet mouth,’ said Flavia. Then she began to giggle, and despite herself, so did Nubia.
Flavia and her friends were still at the fountain, trying to wash the taste of imperial foot from their mouths, when Flavia heard an accented voice.
‘Nubia? Nubia, is that you?’
Flavia turned to see an Egyptian with a narrow face and heavy lidded eyes staring open-mouthed at Nubia. He was wearing a long, grass-green caftan.
‘Ascletario!’ she gasped.
‘Flavia Gemina!’ His eyes widened. ‘The voice is yours but you’re taller, and you’re dressed like a boy!’
‘Yes,’ said Flavia ruefully. ‘I kno
w.’
‘And Lupus,’ said Ascletario. ‘My little mute friend.’
Lupus narrowed his eyes at the Egyptian and nodded warily.
‘This is a very good disguise for you,’ said Ascletario to Flavia. He was rubbing his hands nervously together. ‘But not so good for Nubia. Her unique beauty is most difficult to hide.’
‘So true,’ murmured Aristo.
Flavia smiled. ‘It’s good to see you again, Ascletario,’ she said.
‘The Ascletario?’ said Tranquillus. ‘Titus’s astrologer?’
‘I humbly bow,’ said the Egyptian, and did so.
‘Ascletario,’ said Flavia, ‘this is our tutor Aristo, our friend Tranquillus and his tutor, Hilario.’ Her smile faded as a thought occurred. ‘Do you work for him now? For Domitian?’
‘I hope to, hope to, hope to,’ said Ascletario. ‘He is choosing his amici this week.’
‘His amici?’ said Nubia.
‘His inner circle,’ explained Aristo. ‘Advisors and stewards. They’re called his amici, his friends.’
Ascletario bowed and rubbed his hands. ‘And I hope to become one of them. I am his servant, his servant, his servant.’
‘Why?’ said Flavia.
‘Because he is powerful,’ said Ascletario. ‘It is better to be with him than against him.’ The Egyptian glanced around nervously. ‘You are here for Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan?’
‘What?’ gasped Flavia.
‘Jonathan, Jon—’
‘Yes!’ interrupted Flavia. ‘We heard you the first time. But do you know where he is?’
And Nubia whispered: ‘Have you seen him?’
Ascletario glanced towards the soldiers guarding the columned porch. Only a few petitioners still waited outside; it was almost noon.
‘I will tell you,’ he said, rubbing his hands together nervously. ‘But we must walk back to your cart and you must pretend to drive back towards Rome.’
Flavia nodded and as they started towards the yellow carruca, Ascletario spoke in a low voice. ‘A few days ago, some guards caught Jonathan outside Reate shortly after the emperor became ill. Domitian had him arrested and brought here.’
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 264