The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection

by Lawrence, Caroline

  ‘I don’t know Rome very well,’ said the young doctor. ‘I was born and raised in Alexandria. Here, let me put some balm on your cheekbone for that bruise.’

  The doctor’s touch was gentle but firm, and the cream soon took away the pain of his bruise. Ben Aruva put the ceramic pot of balm on a table and took a metal pan from the brazier. He poured some steaming liquid from the pan into a ceramic beaker and handed it to Jonathan.

  Jonathan took the cup. It smelled like ephedron but there was another unidentifiable smell. He hesitated.

  ‘Drink the brew,’ said Ben Aruva, as he turned away to roll up the unused bandages. ‘If the emperor had wanted you dead then he would have killed you before your bath, not after.’

  Flavia and Lupus gazed out a window of Domitian’s Alban Citadel. The sun was setting, sinking into the Tyrrhenian sea, bathing the room with cherry-red light.

  ‘Ever since Vesuvius erupted,’ murmured Flavia, ‘every sunset in the world is blood-red.’

  Beside her Lupus nodded, then turned as the door behind them opened.

  ‘Jonathan!’ cried Flavia. She was going to embrace him but Lupus caught her wrist and shook his head, and she remembered that Jonathan’s body was bruised and beaten, and his back raw.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked him. ‘I see they gave you some fresh clothes.’

  He nodded. ‘I had a bath. And a doctor put balm on my back and bandaged my ribs. Is that food?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Flavia, as he went to the table. ‘But we didn’t taste any, in case it’s poisoned.’

  ‘It won’t be poisoned,’ said Jonathan, taking a handful of dark blue grapes. ‘If they wanted us dead, they’d have killed us back in that water channel.’

  ‘Jonathan,’ said Flavia, ‘thank you for what you did back there in the Emissario. Confessing it was you who murdered Titus. I know you did that to protect me.’

  Jonathan was at the table and his back was still towards her.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he said, his mouth full.

  ‘I know you didn’t kill Titus.’

  He turned slowly and looked at her. He had a piece of cheese in his hand.

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘Why do you keep saying that?’

  His eyes flickered around the room, wary and nervous. ‘I keep saying that because it’s true.’

  ‘No, it isn’t. You didn’t even know what the murder weapon was. And I think the murderer would know a thing like that.’

  Jonathan stepped forward and lowered his voice, ‘What are you talking about.’

  ‘The murder weapon was a needle-sharp stylus,’ said Flavia. ‘Like the one Domitian uses.’ She went to the side-table and carefully picked up the stylus. ‘We found this in the latrines of the Inn of Romulus. There was venom on the tip. If you had been the one who killed Titus, you would have known that. But you didn’t know. You guessed a sea-urchin’s quill. Ergo: you didn’t murder Titus.’

  Jonathan was staring at her, his face pale.

  ‘The stylus was my first choice,’ he stammered. ‘But I dropped it, so I had to use the sea-urchin’s quill as a back-up.’

  ‘No,’ said Flavia softly. ‘I know you changed in Ephesus. I saw it in your eyes. You came back to help Titus, not to harm him. Unless you discovered something terrible about him, and I doubt that because we already know the worst of what he did. Or unless . . . Eureka!’

  He stared in dismay.

  ‘You’re protecting someone!’

  ‘Be quiet, Flavia.’ He had begun to wheeze again.

  ‘You know who the real murderer is!’

  ‘Shut up!’ he cried.

  ‘You know who the real murderer is and you’re protecting him and that means . . . Great Juno’s beard! I know who did it!’

  ‘Do you indeed?’ came a voice from the wall. The three friends turned to see a panel in the wall sliding open. The emperor Domitian stood there, along with Ascletario, Vibius Crispus, two guards and a pale young Jew in a turban.

  ‘If you know who really murdered my brother,’ said Domitian, ‘I would be most obliged if you would tell me.’

  Flavia stared at Domitian in dismay. His dark eyes burned with a cold anger.

  ‘I knew it!’ cried Jonathan, rounding on Flavia. ‘I knew this was a trap. That’s why they let me go. That’s why they put us together in the same room.’

  ‘Oh, Jonathan. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘If you do not tell me,’ said Domitian, ‘I will see that your deaths are long and painful and public.’ The red light of the sunset gave the emperor’s face a ghastly sheen. ‘If you do tell me, then I promise to spare the lives of you and your friends.’ He turned to Crispus. ‘Bring in our newlyweds.’

  Without turning, blind Crispus beckoned.

  Nubia and Aristo came into the room, hand in hand. Nubia wore a gold silk shift, Aristo a red-leather loincloth and red boots, but very little else. Both wore eye-make-up.

  Flavia stared in disbelief. ‘Newlyweds?’ she gasped. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I had them join hands in my little theatre an hour ago,’ said Domitian. ‘They exchanged vows. Two hundred men witnessed their marriage, as well as my wife, the empress Domitia. She was so pleased. She cried tears of happiness. You see, Nubia here was Aristo’s prize for vanquishing a fierce beast.’ He giggled and then stopped, his face serious again. ‘The newlyweds will die first,’ he said, ‘without even having shared a kiss, unless you name the person who killed my brother.’

  Flavia looked at Nubia and Aristo, holding hands and gazing back at her anxiously. She looked at Jonathan, his eyes pleading her not to tell. She looked at Lupus, and saw understanding dawn on his face. He looked at her and set his jaw and gave a small nod.

  Flavia turned back to Domitian. ‘If I tell you, will you promise to let us go back to Ostia and live there?’

  Domitian shook his head. ‘No. The most I can promise is twenty-four hours to depart this country and never come back. If you do that, then I swear by Minerva – the goddess I hold most dear – I will not pursue you or take any further action against you. And I have already revoked the decree.’ He looked at Jonathan. ‘Against all of you. My brother and I disagreed on many things,’ he added. ‘But I did not murder him. For justice’s sake, I need to punish the man who did.’

  Flavia nodded and carefully picked up the needle-sharp stylus from the little wood-inlaid table. She held it out. ‘Be careful,’ she said, as Domitian took it.

  ‘Is this a joke?’ he asked.

  ‘No. It’s the murder weapon,’ she replied. ‘We found it in the latrines at the Inn of Romulus, where Titus went to relieve himself. Less than an hour later he was stricken by fever. The stylus had been dipped in a poison made from the spine of a stingray or trygon. That way the prophecy would be fulfilled that Titus would die like Odysseus from the sea . . .’

  ‘You knew of that prophecy?’ said Domitian.

  ‘Lots of people knew about it,’ said Flavia, ‘including the killer. Stingray venom causes fever and paralysis. The killer knew that Titus had a new doctor, one who practiced the use of ice to take down a fever. But with this poison, cooling the body is the worst thing you can do.’

  ‘Caesar!’ cried the young Jew. ‘I didn’t know! I had no idea.’

  Without looking at him, Domitian motioned for silence. ‘I believe you, Ben Aruva,’ he said, and to Flavia. ‘Continue.’

  Flavia glanced at Jonathan. ‘The murderer had to hate Titus. There are many people who hated Titus and wanted him dead. The whole race of Jews, just for a start. The murderer also had to be someone,’ she continued, ‘who knew that Titus’s doctor liked to treat a fever with ice. And someone with enough medical knowledge to know which poison is more deadly if the victim is cooled. And finally,’ she said, ‘the murderer also had to be someone whom Jonathan would die to protect.’

  Behind her Jonathan groaned, and she heard a chair creak as he sat down.

  Flavia took a deep breath: ‘There
is only one person I know who fits all those categories,’ she concluded. ‘Mordecai ben Ezra. Jonathan’s father. I believe he is the one who murdered Titus.’

  This boy’s father was the one who murdered Titus?’ said Domitian.

  Flavia nodded. ‘All the clues point to that fact, Sir. I mean, Caesar.’

  ‘Crispus, I want a proclamation issued on him immediately. No, wait! That will just alert him that we know what he did. No decree, but send out all the agents we have. Find this Jew . . . what is his name?’

  ‘Mordecai ben Ezra,’ said Crispus, referring to his wax tablet.

  Jonathan’s head was down and his shoulders were shaking.

  ‘Find this Ben Ezra and bring him here.’ Domitian stood up and stared coldly at Flavia. ‘You and your friends conspired against me. But I am a man of my promises. You have twenty-four hours to depart Italia. If you are still in the country by dusk tomorrow, I’ll have you all sent to the Sicilian mines.’

  Then he turned and swept out of the room, followed by everyone except Ascletario and two guards.

  Flavia looked at Jonathan. His head was still down and he was muttering to himself.

  ‘Jonathan, I’m sorry—’ began Flavia.

  He raised his battered face and glared at her. ‘Why did you have to interfere?’ he cried. ‘I was ready to die for my father.’

  ‘Because he was the guilty one,’ said Flavia. ‘Not you! It’s not fair that you die for him.’

  ‘That’s my decision, not yours! I tried to save Titus and I failed. I deserve to die!’ He stood up and ran out of the room, shoving Ascletario as he did so. One of the guards strode after him.

  The Egyptian stood hanging his head and rubbing his hands together. ‘It would not be wise of you to linger. You should leave quickly, quickly, quickly. Follow me.’

  Ascletario led Flavia and her friends along the middle terrace and out into the circular piazza. It was dusk and starlings were wheeling in the sky above. ‘I am sorry, sorry, sorry,’ said Ascletario, hanging his head. ‘Domitian is the emperor; I could not disobey him. You must leave now. It would not be wise of you to linger.’

  ‘What about Jonathan?’ asked Flavia.

  ‘If I see him, I will urge him to leave also.’

  ‘Poor Jonathan,’ whispered Nubia, rubbing her upper arms. With the setting of the sun, the air had grown chilly.

  ‘You must go!’ cried Ascletario.

  ‘How?’ said Flavia miserably. ‘It’s almost dark and we don’t have any transportation.’ She nodded at Nubia’s thin gold shift. ‘We’re not really dressed for travel.’

  ‘No, we’re not,’ said Aristo. He looked down sheepishly at his red loincloth and boots.

  ‘Walk,’ said Ascletario. ‘Or run. But go!’

  ‘Come on, then,’ said Flavia to the others. ‘Let’s start walking. That should warm us up. And I want to get out of here,’ she added.

  They left the piazza and went out through the arch.

  ‘Flavia!’ A deep voice from the dusk. ‘Flavia, is that you?’

  Flavia’s heart skipped. ‘Floppy?’

  ‘Over here,’ he said. And she saw him coming out from behind some tall cypress trees, his shape a flat black silhouette against the deep blue sky.

  ‘Oh, Floppy!’ she ran to him and threw her arms around his waist. ‘Praise Juno, I’m so glad you’re here!’

  He hugged her and began to say something but she cried out as his arms pressed the weal on her back.

  ‘What’s wrong? Are you hurt?’ He held her at arm’s length and looked down at her. ‘Your cheek. What happened?’

  Flavia put her hand up to her cheek and winced as it touched the cut from the whip.

  ‘I just got whipped a little,’ she said. ‘Once on the cheek and once on my back. Nothing like as bad as Jonathan. Floppy, how did you find us?’

  ‘I went to the Emissario. I saw the chains, and drops of blood. I feared the worst. Then a swineherd told me the guards had taken three children up to the villa. What happened? Has Domitian pardoned you?’

  ‘Yes, but he’s exiled us, too. But Jonathan ran off and we can’t see him anywhere.’

  ‘Exile?’ said Floppy. He looked sick.

  ‘You must go!’ said Ascletario, who had followed them out through the arch. And to Flaccus: ‘Before Domitian changes his mind.’

  Flaccus ignored the Egyptian. ‘Exile?’ he repeated.

  Flavia nodded. ‘Domitian has given us twenty-four hours to leave Italia.’

  Flaccus shook his head slowly, then caught sight of Aristo, shivering and practically naked.

  ‘You look cold, friend,’ said Flaccus. He unwrapped his toga and handed it to Aristo. ‘Better take this.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Aristo. He pulled Nubia close and swung the toga over both of them.

  Flavia saw Floppy’s eyebrows go up but he only said, ‘I saw your young friend Suetonius Tranquillus driving away around noon.’

  ‘Praise Juno,’ breathed Flavia. ‘I’m glad he’s safe. His scream was very convincing.’

  ‘I presume he won’t be coming to rescue you?’

  ‘No. He’s at his aunt’s house across the lake.’ She turned to Ascletario. ‘Please will you do us one favour?’ she asked. ‘Will you tell Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus what happened? He’s staying at the Villa Dorica, across the lake.’

  ‘I will tell him if you will go, go, GO!’ said Ascletario.

  ‘They’re going,’ said Flaccus. ‘They can come with me.’ He pointed at a two-wheeled plaustrum parked behind the umbrella pines. It was hitched to a pair of patiently waiting oxen.

  ‘An ox-cart!’ cried Flavia. ‘Praise Juno!’

  ‘I traded my gelding for it,’ said Flaccus with a sigh. ‘You’ll have to share with a cargo of grapes, but with the help of the gods you could be in Ostia by dawn.’

  ‘Oh, Floppy,’ said Flavia and she burst into tears.

  Nubia would never forget her wedding night. She spent it wrapped in Aristo’s arms and a woollen toga, lying on clusters of plump black grapes in a plaustrum pulled by two white oxen.

  The Via Appia was so smooth and straight that the stars gave just light enough for them to drive slowly back towards Rome. Flavia and Lupus sat up front, either side of Flaccus. Their backs were turned and the night was dark and the low rumble of the wheels muffled all but the loudest sounds. So the rocking, grape-scented cart under its canopy of stars became their chaste marriage bed, giving them a strange, almost magical privacy. Between kisses they told each other all the thoughts and feelings they had never dared to share before.

  ‘I first knew I loved you the Saturnalia before last,’ whispered Nubia. ‘When you played music and your music described perfectly what was in my soul. It swept me away.’

  ‘You’ve loved me for nearly two years?’ he whispered. His warm breath was grape-scented. ‘Why didn’t you say anything to me?’

  ‘I was shy. Also you loved Miriam.’

  He groaned. ‘That was infatuation. I didn’t even know her. Not like I know you.’ He kissed her. ‘I love your spirit, Nubia. You have the gentlest, loveliest, bravest spirit I have ever known.’ He kissed her again. ‘I love the music you make, too. Your music shows your soul.’

  ‘When did you first know you loved me?’ she asked, dizzy with happiness and the scent of grapes.

  ‘In Halicarnassus,’ he said. ‘I thought Jonathan said you loved Flaccus. I felt as if a rug had been pulled out from under me. I think I must have loved you for a long time. But I didn’t realise it until then.’

  ‘Oh, Aristo.’ They kissed.

  ‘I tried to tell you one night in Ephesus,’ he said. ‘In the palm-tree courtyard. But you ran away.’

  ‘I tried to tell you once,’ she said. ‘In the Cave of the Furies. But then I fainted.’ She giggled from pure happiness and they kissed again.

  They spoke for hours, laughing and crying and kissing, then fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  *

  A drop
of cold water on Nubia’s forehead brought her awake with a start. It was night and dark. Had it all been a dream?

  Then she felt Aristo’s warm strong arms pull her closer and his lips on her forehead, kissing away the wetness.

  ‘Don’t worry, my love,’ said Aristo. ‘It’s only the Capena Gate. We’re back in Rome.’

  Flavia woke with a start, her neck stiff from leaning her head against Floppy’s muscular shoulder. He smiled down at her. ‘You fell asleep,’ he said. ‘Lupus, too.’ He turned his head and she saw Lupus curled up on a bed of grapes in the back of the cart, wrapped in a hemp bag. Nubia and Aristo were still wrapped up in Floppy’s grape-stained toga but they were sitting up now, their backs against the inner wall of the plaustrum.

  The cart had stopped in a quiet, residential street, silver in the light of a crescent moon. After four hours of rumbling wheels, it was the silence that had woken her.

  ‘What time is it?’ said Flavia, yawning.

  ‘It’s about midnight. And this is my house.’

  ‘You live here?’ Flavia blinked at the marble-columned porch and the other wealthy townhouses either side. Somewhere a dog was barking. One of the oxen snuffled and then was quiet again. ‘I know this street.’

  He smiled. ‘Some people call it Pomegranate Street.’

  ‘Didn’t Domitian grow up over there?’ She pointed. ‘In that house with the little wooden columns.’

  ‘That’s right. That’s how I know him. We first met when I was four and he was fifteen. That’s one reason he invited me to his luncheon.’ He gave her a tired smile. ‘Flavia, I want you to wait here for a few moments. I’m going inside to get some money and some cloaks for you. Then I’ll put you on a fresh cart to Ostia.’

  ‘Aren’t you coming with us?’

  ‘I can’t, Flavia.’ In the faint moonlight, his handsome face looked tired and pale.

  ‘But Floppy, I thought you could come to Ephesus with us. I thought we could. . .’

  ‘What?’ His voice was very deep and very soft.

  ‘You proposed to me once. You said you loved me.’

  ‘And I do. You’re the reason I broke off my engagement to Prudentilla. When I discovered you were living, not dead . . .’ He looked down at his feet. Flavia could hear an owl hooting from a garden somewhere. The night air was cool and damp.