Fish Tales: The Guppy Anthology Page 3

  “He just said that to frighten away a couple of little kids.” Gaius dismissed my news with an irritatingly superior look. “He read the story about the man who supposedly fed his slaves to the lampreys and thought he’d get a good laugh out of us.” He shook his head disdainfully, dark curls bobbing.

  “I’ve read the story, too,” I said impatiently. “That doesn’t mean somebody couldn’t really do it.”

  “You’d do better to worry about pirates,” my brother said. “I overheard Father talking last night. There have been raids all along the coast in Campania.”

  “Oh no! That’s not going to keep us from staying there, is it?”

  “He said we’d take some extra men for protection, so I think they’re still planning to go.”

  “I hope so, I’ve been looking forward to it so much! We always have such a good time there.”

  “You won’t if the pirates kidnap you!” my brother taunted.

  “And you won’t if Gabinus feeds you to his fish!” I stuck out my tongue.

  Gaius turned over the amulet in his hands, looking thoughtful despite his scornful words. He walked away without deigning to answer, still holding my prize.

  I snatched the amulet back. “You think you’re Apollo on Mount Olympus, just because you’ve turned fifteen!”

  * * * *

  Once we settled in our summer home, with no boys of his own age for company, Gaius dropped his snotty air, and we slipped back into our old roles as fellow explorers and conspirators. The excitement of being back in the country overshadowed the affair of the mysterious amulet. I had almost forgotten its existence when Priscilla brought it up again.

  “Marcellina.” My nurse stepped into the courtyard where Gaius and I were lounging after a morning spent along the shore picking up shells and stones and threatening to push each other into the sea. She dangled a thin strip of leather in front of me. “For that charm. I thought you could wear it around your neck. Be safer that way.”

  “Thank you.” I took out the amulet and threaded the leather through the loop at its top. Priscilla waited expectantly, but I said nothing else and took up the scroll I’d been reading. My nurse scowled and stomped back inside.

  As soon as she left the courtyard, I turned to Gaius. “The moon’s almost full; it’d be a perfect evening to do some exploring on our own. We know the amulet came from Gabinus’s fish ponds.” My brother, so stodgy in Rome, could never resist an adventure in Campania, and we arranged to meet outside as soon as the household retired for bed.

  The moon was rising behind us when we slipped out of the courtyard. The sky was a deep, dark blue, mirroring the water in the bay below. Above us rose the wooded ridge connecting the two villas, a dark mounded mass punctuated by the crowns of ancient umbrella pines poking above the rest of the foliage like the heads of beneficent, shaggy-haired giants. A small dark shadow flitted into the trees before us. A bat.

  Entering the woods was strangely peaceful. At first. Moonlight illuminated the well-known, well-beloved forms of the venerable holly oaks beneath whose branches Gaius and I had played since I could remember. The trees were dappled with lacework of light and shadow, dressed up in evening finery rather than the everyday wear of sunlight. My brother and I stared in silence, awed by the magic of the night. The only sounds the low cicada hum, the occasional hoot of a small owl. Beneath these, a deep hush that seemed to come from the floor of the forest, the depths of the trees, the darkening sky, the glowing moon. I forgot the purpose of our journey and gave myself up to the wonder of it all. The moon rode our backs in friendly silence as we threaded the familiar path through the wood. By the time we saw the row of cypress that marked the clearing where Gabinus’s villa stood, she had risen clear above the treetops. We were nearing the end of our journey.

  Angry voices shattered the silence, like a slap in the face. Beneath the sheltering limbs of a great holly oak, Gaius and I stopped as if we’d been turned to stone. We held our breath, listening.

  “The master’s going to be angry, Hermes. You agreed to go along.”

  “I didn’t know anyone was going to get hurt!” Hermes’ voice was high-pitched and shrill with fear.

  “Who said anything about getting hurt?”

  “It’s for the pirates! Of course he’s going to get hurt!”

  A sharp slap rang through the trees. Someone started to sob.

  “Shut your mouth, Hermes! No loose talk! Master’s going to be angry when he hears about this.”

  “Please, don’t tell him,” Hermes sobbed.

  “You were all ready for your share of the gold,” the first man sneered. “Where’d you think it’d come from?”

  “I thought we were just goin’ to steal something,” Hermes mumbled.

  “Leave the thinking to someone else. It’s not—”

  A gust of wind blew dust in our faces and Gaius sneezed. Loudly.

  Hermes shrieked. Footsteps pounded close, closer. A ghostly figure appeared in the swatch of moonlight next to our tree. White face, haloed in reddish wisps, mouth open in a silent scream. We could hear his gasping breaths as he raced past, and his hand brushed against my hair. I swallowed a shriek myself and Gaius grabbed me by the shoulders, pulling me further beneath the tree. I clutched my brother round the waist and buried my head against his chest. My mouth was dry and my heart thudded into my throat. Gaius’s heart was thudding, too.

  The remaining man cursed. I opened my eyes and peered through the leaves. A long, silver blade flashed in the moonlight. Twigs crunched underfoot, grew softer, gradually died away.

  I released my strangle-hold on Gaius and drew a deep shuddering breath as we left the shelter of the holly oak. My brother’s face shone ghostly pale in the moonlight. We turned back for home without a word.

  * * * *

  The next day our family paid the obligatory social call on our other neighbor, who owned the villa to the east. A funny old man named Censorinus, who loved nothing as much as the bearded mullet fish he kept as pets.

  Sure enough, we found him by his fish pond, feeding the mullets out of his hands. One of them even had a miniature jeweled tiara tied on top of its head. Gaius and I exchanged a grin. Visiting Censorinus was always fun.

  Plump, good-humored, he creaked to his feet and greeted us affectionately. We joined him at the pond’s edge, feeding the fish and dabbling our hands in the water to stroke their scales. Censorinus claimed they knew their own names and would come when he called—except they didn’t feel like it at the moment. Too excited by our company, he explained.

  When we tired of the fish, the grownups sat around the pond exchanging neighborhood gossip while Gaius and I wandered into the gardens, basking in the sunlight and breathing deep breaths of the clean, salty air. Last night’s scary adventure seemed worlds away.

  “Hermes!” A man’s voice. The same voice we’d heard last night. Coming from the other side of the boxwood hedge. Gaius and I sank to the ground and peered through the foliage.

  The man speaking was big and muscled like a gladiator. His companion, Hermes, pale, red-haired, and thin, cowered under the other’s glare.

  “We’re goin’ back tonight,” the big man said.

  “But he’s got guards!” Hermes protested. “We almost got caught last night! Why can’t we wait till the moon’s dark?”

  “There’s no time. They gotta leave tomorrow. Come on.” The two men crept away.

  “They must be planning to do something to Censorinus,” I whispered. “You know what Gabinus is like. I bet that amulet belonged to someone like Hermes, some slave who wouldn’t go along with one of his wicked schemes, someone who got thrown in a fish pond and drowned.”

  Gaius frowned. “But why would they be over here in broad daylight?”

  Thoughtfully we made our way out of the garden, back toward the fish pond where the others sat chatting.

  The talk was putting me to sleep when a maidservant appeared at my elbow to ask if I’d like a honey cake. Behind her stood a m
an holding a platter of food. I almost fell off my couch. It was Hermes!

  “I didn’t mean to wake you, Lady,” the maidservant apologized, fortunately taking my open mouth and clumsy moves for remnants of sleep.

  “Of course I’d like a cake. Thank you,” I said, recovering my poise and tearing my stare away from the red-headed slave. I threw a glance at Gaius, who was masking his own amazement with a tremendous yawn. Talk would have to wait.

  * * * *

  “What does it mean?” I burst out once we were home. “I thought Hermes belonged to Gabinus.”

  “Maybe Gabinus sent his man around to bribe the servants of Censorinus,” Gaius said. “That would explain why Hermes didn’t want to hurt him.”

  “Or maybe Censorinus is up to something,” Priscilla’s voice came from the door.

  Gaius and I started. My old nurse smiled, smug at having caught us out.

  “I’ve got some interesting news,” she said. “But you go first.”

  I cut in quickly, before Gaius could open his mouth. “We were walking over towards Gabinus’s villa yesterday and heard two men talking. It sounded as if they were planning something bad. And one of them was that red-headed slave we saw today at Censorinus’s place.”

  Priscilla didn’t have to know we’d seen them at night.

  “Hmm.” She knit her brows thoughtfully. “Well, the gossip at Censorinus’s place isn’t as free as it used to be. Things are different this year. They all act as if they’re afraid of something, but nobody will talk.”

  “What about the servants of Gabinus?” I asked.

  “Gabinus? They’re all devoted to him. It’s a good place to work. He’s like your father, treats everyone fair. But there’s not much interesting news from Gabinus’s household. Except that his young grandson’s visiting. A boy much younger than either of you.”

  “But I thought Gabinus was mean!” I said. “I’ve been frightened of him every since he threatened to feed us to his fish all those years ago!”

  Priscilla laughed until the tears streamed down her plump cheeks. “He likes his fun, from what I hear. He must’ve enjoyed giving you two a scare.”

  Gaius and I exchanged a look. Something strange was going on. The big slave had said they had to do it tonight—whatever “it” was.

  Priscilla’s next words echoed my thoughts. “There’s something going on with Censorinus. Some fishy business, if you ask me.”

  * * * *

  The full moon followed us through the trees as Gaius and I retraced our steps of the previous evening, heading through the woods to the villa of Gabinus, where something wicked was afoot.

  We crept to the edge of the clearing where the villa stood. White-marbled columns stretched into the distance, a long line of porticos overlooking the sea. The pillars glowed in the moonlight against a dark backdrop of trees and night sky. The wind moaned like a creature in pain. At the seaward side of Gabinus’s land, a thicket of oleander masked the abrupt drop off a jagged cliff, whose steep, rocky slope ended at the water’s edge. The surf below growled in the darkness, a dragon in its lair, lying in wait.

  Two figures slipped out of the villa, carrying a long bundle wrapped in cloth. What was it? Hermes had been reluctant because he didn’t want to hurt someone. The bundle must be a person. Suddenly everything became clear.

  I screamed as loud as I could. Several times. Gaius stared at me in shock.

  One of the men screamed too and dropped his end of the bundle, fleeing into the woods. Hermes.

  The remaining man shook his fist, then picked up the bundle once more. He headed straight for us. A thin line of silver gleamed in the moonlight. His dagger. I screamed again.

  He was so close I could see every hair on his chin. Then he stumbled and fell to the ground, tripped by my brother’s long leg. The bundle he’d been carrying rolled into the trunk of an oak. A small child’s head popped out of the cloth, his mouth opened wide in a bewildered wail.

  “Grab the dagger!” Gaius said. “I’ll take the boy.”

  I obeyed without thinking, hurtling over the kidnapper’s prostrate body to seize the thin gleam of silver that had fallen from his clasp. Gaius clutched the bundle of cloth to his chest. A thin whimper came from its folds. We ran to the villa as fast as the wind. Already Gabinus’s men were pouring out.

  “He’s over there.” Gaius pointed. “In the trees.”

  * * * *

  “I can’t thank you enough.” Gabinus held his little grandson in his arms, tears raining down on the boy’s dark brown hair. We were sitting in one of the reception rooms that looked out over the sea. “What were you two doing here, anyway? I can’t imagine your parents let you roam around in the middle of the night. Not that I’m unhappy about the result.” He grinned.

  So I told him the tale from the beginning, when Sagitta had eaten the fish.

  “May I see the amulet?” he asked.

  I pulled the leather strap off my neck and handed it to him. Gabinus threw back his head and roared with laughter. “The Goddess of Fortune has a strange sense of humor. Val!” he said to the boy, who had fallen asleep. “Look!”

  The little boy opened his eyes and yawned sleepily. But when he saw the amulet, he sat up, wide awake.

  “My charm!” he said. “My charm! I thought it was lost.”

  Gaius and I stared in amazement. Gabinus grinned again. “Valerius lost this on his last visit, a few months ago. It fell into one of the mullet ponds. The servants dived in and dug up the entire bottom, but it never turned up. A fish must have swallowed it.” And he repeated the story for his grandson’s benefit. The little boy smiled and slipped the leather thong over his head. He pressed his face against Gabinus’s chest and fell asleep again, the amulet clutched fast in a chubby little fist.

  “Did your servants catch the kidnapper?” Gaius asked.

  “Ah, he met with rather an unpleasant fate.” Gabinus barked out a grim laugh.

  “Did you feed him to your fish?” I was horrified.

  “No, little mistress, I did not feed him to my fish. Whatever made you think that?”

  I explained. Gabinus roared with laughter again, and then sobered enough to relate the kidnapper’s end.

  “He was running from my men and he ran right off the cliff into the sea. May he rot there forever, the venomous snake! Kidnapping a little child to sell to the pirates! Can’t think of a crime worse than that. And if I find out that Censorinus had anything to do with this—well, little mistress, maybe I’ll feed him to my fish after all.” He hugged his grandson tight.

  * * * *

  We left Gabinus’s villa escorted by an army of servants, for who knew whether any of the kidnapper’s pirate friends were lurking nearby. The moon was high above our heads; the waves below gleamed with phosphorescence and moonlight. The scene was magical, yet full of foreboding. The dragon of the sea on the rocky shore below growled with subdued menace, appeased for the night at least, by the libation of the kidnapper’s blood.

  __________

  Nancy Adams is a theological librarian with a Ph.D. in music history from the University of Pennsylvania. She lives in the Philadelphia area with her husband, Patrick, and is working on a series of historical novels that feature older versions of Marcellina and Gaius. Research help was provided by Michael Markowitz, Carolyn Snively, Catherine Collins, and Matej Zupancic via the Late-Antique listserve. Many thanks.

  ACCIDENTS HAPPEN, by James Montgomery Jackson

  On my drive through the woods I passed two gutted deer hanging in hunters’ camps and one more posed rack forward strapped to the top of a car. November 15th—first day of deer season in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula—was proving successful for the hunters, less so for the deer. Every camp I passed had a smear of smoke drifting from its chimney and a half dozen trucks parked in the yard. Opening day is almost a national holiday hereabouts and many businesses shut down for the first week of deer season. Only the mine was open; it ran 24/7. Since I don’t hunt, it seemed like a goo
d day for the fool’s errand I was on.

  I was on my way to meet Glen at the mine’s security gate. Glen and I owned neighboring camps deep in the woods, fifteen miles from the nearest place you can buy anything. Toward the end of his annual Halloween party, his wife, Margie, cornered me and Jon Nyland, Glen’s boss. She convinced Jon to bring me onsite to look into the mine’s mysterious deaths. “A serial killer is on the loose,” she said. “Glen could be next.”

  I asked myself again what a forensic accountant, city born and raised, was doing investigating mine accidents. Sure, Margie knew that, working for Criminal Investigations Group, I had solved a couple of murders. Fortunately, my financial sleuthing uncovered the killers before they claimed me as their next victim. Once Margie laid her hand on my arm and asked, “Seamus McCree, are you going to help me?” my desire to be useful trumped my common sense.

  At the guard’s booth, Glen handed me a visitor’s pass and I followed him to Jon’s office, a closet so small we both had to stand.

  Jon cleared his throat. “I looked at the accident files again,” he said. “The three electricians worked here a combined eighty-seven years. Before their fatal accidents, the worst thing that happened to any of them was one guy slammed a car door on his pinkie.”

  “You know this is a waste of everyone’s time,” Glen said. “Margie’s just paranoid.”

  “Look, Seamus,” Jon said. “I know Margie caught us after we’d had a few. I got no budget to pay you and I don’t even know what you can do, but I do have a bad feeling about these accidents.”

  “I’m not a licensed investigator,” I said. “But if you want, I can look around, ask some questions. Best hope is to kick up something to get the cops interested again.”

  “Can’t ask for more,” Jon said, “but I can’t pay you.”

  I dismissed his concern with a wave. “After the party I talked to Margie again. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. She’s so worried she promised to take me to Glen’s secret spot for brook trout next spring.”