The Spook Who Spoke Again: A Flavia Albia Short Story by Lindsey Davis Read Free Book Online

I found myself thinking about Ferret. That saddened me. I wished I had him down my tunic now. He would have enjoyed looking out at the performances, twitching his whiskers. I could have talked to him about it.
    When there was a pause while equipment was wheeled in for a balancing act, Faustus asked me quietly why I was feeling unhappy. He may have thought it was being with Thalia instead of at home. I hoped he would not tell my parents since I had no wish to cause trouble in their minds. So that he would understand, I decided to tell him what had happened to Ferret. He listened in the same way he had watched the acts, still not speaking. He seemed a thoughtful person. This is very unusual.
    The next time we were waiting for something to happen, I asked whether, being a magistrate, Faustus could help me investigate. He replied rather regretfully that his remit didn’t really cover that, because apart from organising public festivals it was more about patrolling markets and bath houses. Rome has a lot of those. Some are disreputable. And brothels, I suggested, since I had heard my two younger sisters giggling over it when they were discussing our Albia’s new friend.
    ‘Unfortunately, yes; brothels,’ agreed Faustus in a solemn tone. Clearly he was a man of duty. I knew these were rare so I was pleased to have met one.
    The next thing that happened was that a new group of people arrived. Thalia loudly greeted them. They were actors. Their leader was called Davos. Thalia had only announced the names of the other performers when it was their turn, but she brought Davos right over and introduced him. His troupe was here to show Faustus their acting in the hope he would accept them for a play at the Roman Games.
    ‘I’ve known this fellow for years,’ Thalia said in a glowing voice. ‘You will find him the best – and I’m not just saying that because he happens to be my husband!’
    That made me jump. Davos was a solid man with straight grey hair. If he and Thalia were married, surely that made him my father? Another? This was rather complicated. I took a good look at him, finding him preferable to the animal-seller, Soterichus. But when he noticed me staring he gave me a strange look, not friendly.
    In other respects, Davos seemed at ease. He tossed the golden crown at someone standing on the track, then sat himself down right alongside Faustus. He began explaining their play, a comedy which he said he had just dug out of their chest of scrolls in honour of my father, Falco that is, who once wrote it. He writes things but we try to avoid having them read out to us because we think they are terrible.
    Faustus said that he was a new friend of Falco’s daughter, Flavia Albia, so he (Faustus) hoped he (Falco) would be pleased if his play was accepted for performance. ‘I’m being judged – Don’t get me into trouble here!’
    ‘He’s a mad bugger,’ answered Davos, as if this was a compliment. ‘Don’t worry. He’ll be thrilled we haven’t dumped his piece of nonsense on a midden-heap.’ That sounded as if disposing of the play might have been a possibility.
    ‘Make your pitch then.’ I noticed Faustus gave such orders in an easy way; he was comfortable with his importance and people seemed to take it well. I would like to be like that. He listened patiently while Davos confessed that the scrolls had become rather jumbled up since the last performance; in fact, he said with a chortle, to be honest
The Spook Who Spoke
(which was the play’s strange title) had always seemed jumbled even in performance. Mind you, that was in the Palmyra desert, which explained a lot. The night had ended in a riot, though he assured Faustus that had nothing to do with Falco’s play’s noble lines or vibrant theatricality. If Faustus liked the sound of it, the actors could unscramble the scrolls in a twinkle. Something could be made of it.
    I wondered if we would see a riot here in Rome?
    Davos began describing the play. He had