The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection

by Lawrence, Caroline

  ‘So you were on the road ahead of Titus?’

  ‘Yes. At first just a few minutes ahead of him. I wrote my message on gravestones and on the walls of every public latrine along the way.’

  ‘Then it wasn’t an elaborate code?’

  ‘No. Just the simplest warning I could think of. But I know now it was foolish. I must have been suffering after-effects from the fever because when I saw my father outside the Inn of Romulus I didn’t even stop.’

  ‘You saw your father?’ gasped Susannah.

  ‘Yes. He was wearing a hooded cloak. I thought it was him and almost called out, but then I told myself it couldn’t be him. I told myself it must be the fever. So I carried on up the road, scribbling my pathetic warning on the wall.’

  ‘Mordecai didn’t recognise you?’ asked Flavia.

  ‘I don’t think he even saw me.’

  ‘And the emperor’s litter hadn’t passed by yet.’

  ‘No, but I heard the sound of the Praetorian guard, marching fast. You always hear them before you see them,’ he added. ‘If only I’d stopped. If only I’d said something to him.’

  He rested his bruised face in his hands for a moment, then took a deep breath and looked up. ‘That afternoon, I was writing the warning on the city gate outside Reate when a man grabbed me. He was one of the emperor’s courtiers, I think. He’d been riding ahead with the news that Titus had a dangerous fever. A few minutes later the litter-bearers came running past. I presume Titus was inside. Domitian and some mounted guards were following on horseback. When Domitian saw his courtier holding me there by the side of the road, he commanded the cortege to halt and he rode over to us.’

  ‘This was outside Reate?’ asked Aristo.

  ‘Yes. The man holding me told Domitian that I was obviously part of a plot to murder Titus and maybe even overthrow the government. Domitian thought for a moment, then announced that he was going straight back to Rome to stop any attempt by his enemies to seize power. He sent the litter-bearers on with orders to keep Titus chilled. A group of us rode back to Rome.’

  ‘So you’re the reason he returned to Rome in such a hurry,’ said Aristo.

  ‘And that’s why Domitian tortured you,’ said Flavia. ‘He thought you were part of a conspiracy against him.’

  ‘Yes. He sent me straight on to his Alban Villa in a chariot with two fresh guards.’ Jonathan closed his eyes and leaned back against the cinnabar-red wall. ‘On the way there, I had time to think. I realised the man I saw going into the Inn of Romulus must have been my father and not a hallucination. That was when I realised what the Jewish innkeeper in Transtiberim meant when he said a doctor would take care of Titus. By “doctor” he meant my father. By “take care of” he meant kill.’

  ‘No!’ cried Susannah. ‘No, it cannot be!’

  Jonathan shook his head and looked at Flavia. ‘I didn’t even realise how Titus was killed until you explained it to me, Flavia. That’s how stupid I am.’

  ‘You’re not stupid,’ said Flavia. ‘You just didn’t have as many clues as I did.’

  ‘Why did you say that you killed Titus?’ asked Nubia, even though deep down, she knew the answer.

  ‘Because if they thought I did it they wouldn’t hunt down father,’ Jonathan looked at his mother, who was weeping silently. ‘If I hadn’t gone looking for you two years ago,’ he said to her, ‘I’d never have discovered that you were alive and that Titus loved you. I don’t think father ever forgave Titus for having kept you as his slave for ten years. That’s why he killed him. In a way, it was all my fault.’

  Jonathan’s mother closed her eyes and she began to tug her hair again. This time Jonathan did not try to stop her.

  For a long time they were silent, watching Susannah weep, lost in their own thoughts.

  ‘Great Juno’s peacock!’ said Flavia. ‘I just had a terrible thought. What if Domitian hired Mordecai to kill his brother?’

  Jonathan nodded miserably. ‘I’ve been thinking that too. He knew my father hated Titus. They had that in common.’

  ‘I wonder where your father is now?’ said Flavia.

  ‘Titus died six days ago,’ said Aristo, ‘so Mordecai is probably long gone.’

  ‘Mother,’ said Jonathan softly. ‘Have you seen him?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I have not seen him.’

  ‘Will you come with us to Ephesus?’

  ‘No, my son,’ said Susannah. ‘I will wait here in case he returns. I will stay here to raise my grandson.’ She looked at Hephzibah. ‘I have Hephzibah and Priscilla and Delilah. And our community.’

  The first birds were beginning to twitter sleepily in the garden courtyard and Flavia knew it would soon be dawn. ‘We have to leave Ostia by sunset,’ she said, twelve hours from now.

  ‘Where will you go?’ Hephzibah asked them.

  ‘Ephesus,’ said Nubia and Aristo together, then looked at each other and smiled. Lupus nodded and gave a sad smile, too.

  ‘Yes,’ said Flavia. ‘We have a beautiful villa there.’

  ‘And children who need us,’ said Nubia.

  ‘I can be a teacher,’ said Aristo, he slipped his arm around Nubia’s shoulder. ‘And in time, a father, too, God willing. Nubia and I were married yesterday,’ he explained.

  ‘Oh, I’m so happy for you!’ said Hephzibah.

  ‘I also,’ said Susannah. And to Aristo: ‘She has loved you for many years.’

  ‘I know,’ said Aristo, and kissed the top of Nubia’s head. ‘I have a lot of catching up to do in Ephesus.’

  ‘And there’s a beautiful harbour for the Delphina,’ said Flavia. ‘So pater can come and live with us and go on his travels. Right, Lupus?’

  Lupus nodded.

  ‘But I need to tell pater what’s happened,’ said Flavia. She turned to Susannah. ‘Do you know where he is? We knocked just now but there was no one there.’

  Susannah and Hephzibah exchanged a quick and knowing glance.

  ‘What?’ cried Flavia. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Your father doesn’t live next door any longer,’ said Hephzibah gently. ‘He had to sell the house to pay his debts. He was searching for Popo and not pursuing his business.’

  ‘But pater never told me!’ cried Flavia. ‘When we met him at the family tomb a few days ago. And he gave us all that gold.’

  Hephzibah glanced at Susannah. ‘Probably the last of his money. He didn’t want you to worry.’

  ‘Then where is he?’ cried Flavia.

  Susannah glanced at Hephzibah. ‘He’s with his wife,’ she said.

  Flavia’s jaw dropped. ‘His wife?’

  ‘His wife?’ echoed Aristo and Nubia together and Lupus gave his bug-eyed stare.

  Jonathan opened his eyes. ‘Flavia’s father is married?’

  Hephzibah and Susannah looked at each other and for the first time all evening they smiled. ‘Yes,’ said Hephzibah. ‘Yesterday Flavia’s father married someone you all know, and of whom I think you’ll approve. They’re living aboard the Delphina.’ She looked out the open doorway to the inner garden. ‘It will be light soon,’ she said. ‘I’ll make you some breakfast and then you can go see him.’

  ‘But not you,’ said Susannah to Jonathan. ‘You must rest.’

  An hour later, Lupus and his friends left Jonathan sleeping in his old bedroom, and made their way through the streets of Ostia. As they passed beneath the arch of the Marina Gate – on the lookout for Captain Geminus – early-morning fog swirled around their ankles. The fishmarket ahead was already busy and seagulls circled overhead, alert for scraps or tidbits. On the docks, men were loading and unloading crates, barrels and amphoras.

  Suddenly Lupus found himself surrounded by half a dozen boys.

  ‘Are you Lupus?’ said one of them, and pointed to a boy with tawny hair. ‘He says you’re Lupus.’

  Lupus stopped and stared and the circle of eager faces. He nodded warily.

  The tawny-haired boy stepped forward and held out his hand. His tun
ic was a hemp bag with a hole for the head and a belt made of twine. ‘I’m Threptus,’ he said. ‘Thank you for not being dead.’

  Lupus shook the boy’s hand and gave a little bow. The boys laughed.

  ‘You used to be one of us,’ said Threptus, his eyes shining. ‘Is it true you own a ship?’

  Lupus nodded.

  ‘You’re our hero.’

  Lupus stared at them. Flavia and Nubia giggled. Aristo put his hand on Lupus’s shoulder and said, ‘I’m afraid your hero has to leave Ostia this evening. We all do. You should say goodbye to him now.’

  ‘Eheu!’ cried the boys, and looked at each other in dismay.

  Lupus took out his wax tablet, wrote something on it and showed it to Threptus.

  ‘I can’t read,’ said Threptus, hanging his head. ‘None of us can.’

  Aristo looked at it. ‘He says: CARRY ON MY GOOD WORK.’

  ‘We’ll try,’ said Threptus.

  Lupus added something and held it up for all the boys to see.

  ‘AND LEARN TO READ AND WRITE!’ said Aristo.

  On impulse, Lupus gave Threptus his wooden wax tablet and the bronze stylus.

  Threptus took the objects as if they were pure gold and looked questioningly at Aristo.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Flavia. ‘Lupus has at least half a dozen wax tablets.’

  Lupus pointed at her and nodded.

  ‘Thank you!’ said Threptus. He and his friends ran off.

  As Lupus followed his friends out of the fish market, he saw the masts and sails of the ships in the Marina Harbour.

  And there was his ship, the Delphina. The sight filled him with a mixture of sadness and joy. Her sail was grey and patched, and the painted dolphin hung limply. She carried many memories – both good and bad – along with her cargo of salt and wine.

  ‘Salvete, shipmates!’ cried someone from the rigging. ‘Where have you been?’

  It was Atticus, the woolly-haired Greek who had driven them into Rome. He was sitting on the yardarm doing something with a rope.

  Lupus grinned and waved. The others waved, too.

  ‘Is pater on board?’ called Flavia.

  Atticus grinned and shook his head. ‘He and his new bride have gone shopping. You’ll find them in the fish market, I’d wager.’ He pointed for good measure, then called down to Lupus. ‘I know she looks battered and old,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry: I intend to give her a new coat of paint after the festival.’

  Lupus frowned and Aristo grinned. ‘I think he’s talking about the ship, Lupus, not Flavia’s new stepmother.’

  Flavia saw them first. Her father, tall and fair-haired, was standing at the oyster-stall, haggling for a barrel.

  The woman standing next to him was slim and of medium height. She wore a long, nutmeg-coloured tunic and a sage green palla around her head and shoulders. She turned her head and Flavia saw her profile: grave, intelligent, beautiful.

  ‘Cartilia?’ she whispered. ‘Cartilia Poplicola? It can’t be . . .’

  Then Aristo groaned and covered his face with his hand.

  Flavia turned and looked up at him. ‘How can it be Cartilia? She died two years ago of the fever!’

  ‘Ah!’ breathed Nubia and she gave Aristo a laughing glance. ‘It is not Cartilia. I think it is her younger sister, Diana.’

  ‘Diana?’ gasped Flavia. ‘Pater married Diana? The girl with the short hair and even shorter tunics? The girl who used to run around the woods pretending to be a huntress? The girl who was madly in love with—’

  Flavia clapped her hand over her mouth and stared bug-eyed at Aristo, who was blushing furiously.

  Nubia was giggling behind her hand. ‘It does not matter,’ she said to Aristo. ‘The past was yesterday. Today we are husband and wife.’

  ‘And you’re a wonderful wife,’ he said. He bent to kiss her on the lips and Lupus made a protracted smacking sound.

  ‘Stop it, Lupus!’ Nubia giggled and gave him a playful slap on the arm.

  ‘Pater!’ called Flavia, waving. ‘Pater! We’re here!’

  ‘Flavia!’ Her father turned and pushed through the crowd and embraced her. ‘Where have you been?’ he cried. ‘When we heard of Titus’s death we thought you would come straight back here. I rode up to Rome to see Senator Cornix and he told me he hadn’t seen you in months. I’ve been sick with worry. And then the bailiffs came for the house. Are you all right?’

  Flavia nodded. ‘Domitian revoked Titus’s decree against us.’

  ‘Praise Jupiter!’

  ‘But we have to leave Italia by nightfall. We’ve been sent into exile. Oh, pater!’ She burst into tears and he gave her another hug. ‘Pater, did you really have to sell our house?’ Her face was pressed against his cloak and her voice was muffled.

  ‘I’m afraid so, my little owl. It was the only way.’

  ‘But what about Alma and Caudex and the dogs?’

  ‘On board the Delphina,’ he said. ‘For the time being.’

  ‘Oh, pater, will you take us?’ She pulled back and looked up at him. ‘Will you take us to Ephesus and live there with us? The villa is huge.’

  He smiled and gave her his handkerchief. ‘Of course I’ll take you to Ephesus,’ he said. ‘But I’m not sure yet if we’ll . . . I mean if I—’

  He paused and then turned to Diana, who stood anxiously beside him. ‘Flavia, I have something to tell you. Diana Poplicola and I were married yesterday in a very quiet ceremony. I hope you will love her as you loved her sister.’

  Flavia looked at Diana and swallowed hard. How could her father be so callous? How could he marry someone without telling her? For all he knew his only daughter could have been languishing in Domitian’s dungeon.

  Diana caught her hand. ‘Flavia,’ she said. ‘Don’t be hurt. My mother died and a relative inherited everything. I had nowhere to live and Marcus . . . Your father invited me to stay aboard Delphina. We didn’t think there was any point in us waiting . . . We’re not getting younger,’ she said.

  ‘I’m not hurt,’ said Flavia bravely, and tried to smile. ‘I’m glad there will be someone to look after pater. Will you come and live with us in Ephesus?’

  Diana looked up at Flavia’s father. ‘Marcus has promised to show me the world,’ she said. ‘I can’t wait to see Ephesus.’ She looked back at Flavia. ‘But I also want to see Corinth, Alexandria and Rhodes.’

  Flavia glanced at Nubia and Lupus, and then smiled. ‘Well, I hope you have a less exciting time than we did in all those places.’

  Diana nodded. ‘I can’t wait to hear all about it.’

  ‘And about how you gained a pardon and exile,’ said her father.

  ‘You’ll never believe it,’ said Flavia.

  Her father clapped his hands and rubbed them briskly together. ‘Well, if we have to leave Italia by this afternoon there’s a lot I must do to get the Delphina ready. Pack what you most want to bring. Your things are at Jonathan’s house,’ he said to Flavia and Nubia. ‘I’ll send Caudex to bring your luggage around noon and we’ll set sail at the sixth hour after noon. Go to the baths, if you have time. It may be your last chance for a week or two.’

  Jonathan woke to the sound of his mother singing a Hebrew lullaby.

  He opened his eyes. He was at home in Ostia, in his old bedroom. He looked at the familiar walls with their mustard-yellow panels and the wood beams in the ceiling. The light slanting through the latticework window showed him it was late: perhaps the third hour after noon.

  He knew he would never see this room again and so he lay quietly, listening to his mother’s song and savouring the bittersweet moment.

  Presently he sat up, then winced at the pain from the throbbing weals across his back and his aching, cracked ribs. It would be several weeks before he would be totally healed. And he would always have the scars. Carefully he got up and went to Lupus’s empty bed and picked up the tunic laid out there. It was woven of the finest wool and dyed a soft cinnamon colour. He could not see the stitch
ing and he realised it was woven in one piece, so that there were no seams. He had heard of such tunics, but never seen one, much less owned one. He carefully stripped off the tunic they had given him at Domitian’s Alban Citadel and he put on the new one. As it slipped over his face he caught the faint scent of lemon oil. He belted it and went out of the room, in the direction of his mother’s singing.

  She was in Miriam’s old room, sitting in a wicker rocking chair, holding Soso in her arms and crooning a lullaby. When she saw him, she stopped singing and smiled. ‘Do you like your new tunic?’ She spoke in Hebrew rather than Aramaic, and it reminded him that his father had always insisted they speak Hebrew around the house, so that they would remain fluent.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied in the same language. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘I wove it myself,’ she said.

  ‘You wove this?’

  ‘Yes. Over the past six months. And with every sweep of the shuttle I offered up a prayer for you.’ Jonathan could tell she had been weeping, but she was smiling now as she stood up. ‘Happy Birthday, my son.’

  ‘What?’ He stared at her.

  ‘It was your birthday three days ago. You are thirteen now, and a man in the eyes of God.’ She kissed his bruised cheek and gestured to the chair. ‘Sit. Hold Soso for a moment.’

  Dazed, he sat in the wicker rocking chair she had just vacated and received his baby nephew. Three days ago he had been tied to the sluice of the Emissario, beaten and half starved. That had been his thirteenth birthday. Soso gazed up at Jonathan with solemn grey eyes. Jonathan tried to smile but his lip hurt too much.

  Susannah went to a table and opened a small box. She came back to him and handed him a gold signet ring with ruddy-brown sardonyx. There was a dove carved into it. ‘I had this made for you,’ she said. ‘The dove is to remind you that your grandfather was a priest named Jonah.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jonathan. He was about to slip it on when Soso reached up and grasped the ring in his tiny fist.

  ‘Oh!’ cried his mother, ‘Do you think it’s a sign?’

  ‘What kind of sign?’

  ‘That he will be a great priest, too, when the Temple is restored to us?’