One Virgin Too Many mdf-11 Read online

  "Dear gods!" Shocked himself, Aelianus set a hand on the boy's shoulder to steady him. Aelianus had told his father and me that the dead man had a large throat wound. Now we knew why. He shot me a look, then drew breath carefully. "So what happened?"

  "She did something horrible."

  "What?"

  "Other people had seen her. I could hear them coming towards us, and I thought I was safe."

  "But?"

  "Maybe she heard the people coming. She began to weep, crazily. She seemed to start awake from a dream, and she saw me. Then it was strange. At an altar, when they cut the beast's throat and catch the blood, they have a boy to hold the ritual bowl sometimes. She seemed to think I was there for that." The camillus braced himself. "She said, 'Oh, there you are!'-and then she gave the bowl of the dead man's blood to me."

  XV

  We crossed the hall in silence and were making our way from the house. A latecomer rushed up the steps towards us, a senator in full fig and to my surprise a man I recognized. "Rutilius Gallicus!"

  "Falco! What brings you here?"

  "I could ask the same, sir."

  He paused, catching his breath. "Duty."

  "Well, you can't be one of the Arval Brothers, or you would be prettied up with corn tonight-This is Camillus Aelianus, by the way-the brother of Justinus, whom you met with me in Africa."

  Just in time Gallicus remembered not to exclaim, Ah, the one who ought to have married that rich Spanish girl his brother pinched! "I heard a lot about you," he uttered instead. A mistake, as usual. Aelianus looked peeved. Embarrassed, Rutilius Gallicus dashed into his excuses for being here: "I may not have told you, Falco, I am a priest of the Cult of the Deified Emperors. I took over directly after Nero, actually-"

  I whistled. This was a top-flight honor, with close imperial connections, which he would hold for life and then have carved very large on his tombstone. Even Aelianus forced himself to look impressed. "So you are attached to the Arvals after all, sir?"

  "No more than I can help!" Gallicus shuddered, still at heart the straightforward north Italian. "I hold no brief for them, Falco. But in view of their role in praying for the health of the imperial house, I am automatically invited to their festivals."

  "A free meal never comes amiss. I have heard a theory that election to be the new Master actually depends on a kitchen inspection, rather than the man's religious qualities."

  "I can believe that." Rutilius smiled. "Look, are you two going in to the feast? I am sure I can arrange it-"

  "Not tactful, I'm afraid." Taking a chance that he belonged to the inner circle who knew all about the murder in the Grove, I added, "My young friend Camillus had the misfortune to discover a bloody corpse last night. You may have heard the story. We were just here asking some awkward questions. The Brothers are clearly sensitive about the incident; our faces won't fit at the party."

  Rutilius glanced about, as if making sure we were not overheard. "Yes. I just came from the Palace; we were talking about exactly that. It's why I am late. Titus and Domitian Caesar would normally have been here-"

  "Policy decision? It's tricky protocol," I sympathized. "If they stay at home over a tragedy that nobody could help, it looks cold-blooded. But if this murder blows up into a scandal on the lurid page of the Daily Gazette, the princes will not want their names linked… Let me guess: the lads in purple have been struck wth an inexplicable stomach upset, and you are bringing their sincere apologies?"

  "Domitian has a stomach upset," Rutilius agreed. "Titus elected for suddenly remembering the birthday of a very ancient aunt."

  "Ah well, he gets a quiet evening in the arms of the phenomenal Berenice."

  "Wonderful for both of them! Falco, I must dash inside-"

  We bade him good evening and left the marine-style villa. After a while Aelianus asked, "So what did you make of all that?"

  "Intriguing. A woman goes mad and knifes a relative-only she dresses it up as a religious sacrifice." I paused. "It must have taken some doing. The killing would have been difficult, even in a frenzy-but then, after that strenuous effort, she had to maneuver the corpse to drain out the blood…" We both grimaced.

  "Is this murder just an act of sudden madness, Falco, or do you think the victim had upset her particularly?"

  "Well, something probably triggered her action. Not at the Games. A previous incident, because there was quite a lot of planning involved. She had dressed herself up as a priestess, and gone to the Grove equipped with sacrificial implements."

  "Do you think she and the man traveled there together?"

  "Doubt it. He would have wondered about the religious accoutrements. A woman of standing would not normally travel out of Rome alone, though. She got there somehow. She must have had transport, if not a companion."

  "For a woman of standing, discreet transport is no problem. Half the scandals in Rome rely on it. So she took herself to the Games and confronted the man, fully intending to kill him? There can be no mitigating circumstances-yet now what, Falco? The crazed killer is simply returned to her family? Sent home in the same discreet transport, presumably! And allowed to continue her normal life?"

  "Well, the Master said they are going to guard her," I said dryly. "If it was her husband she killed, perhaps all they have to do is ensure she never remarries. Though no doubt if she does, they will issue the new chap with a warning never to turn his back when she's slicing smoked meat."

  "Oh, wonderful! Was that rude old man we passed earlier at the Master's house a relative coming to beg the Arvals to sanction the coverup?"

  "Seems likely."

  "Well, I think it's disgraceful if they get away with it."

  Since he had been born into the top circle where such cover-ups were permissible, I refrained from comment. What was to gain by publicizing this woman's tragedy? A trial and execution would only be an added misery for her relatives. They could afford drugs to calm her and guards to restrain her. Plenty of perfectly ordinary Aventine families have batty old aunts who are kept well away from the kindling axe.

  I walked with Aelianus to the senator's house to make sure that no muggers jumped him, then made my own way over the Aventine. Several times on the dark journey, I thought I heard footsteps following me, but I saw no one. In Rome, at night, all sorts of suspicious noises can make you nervous once you let yourself start hearing them.

  XVI

  The next day was the last in May. I looked it up in my calendar of festivals, an abomination that I now had to consult on a regular basis like a dutiful procurator. Today I could have voted or been a juror in a criminal case-had anybody wanted me. No one did, and so the last day of the month just seemed to slip away quite pleasantly. Anyone can be a responsible citizen when most of the world thinks he is still abroad.

  I watched the day go. I was suffering belated weariness after sailing home. And I was uneasy. Acting as Procurator of Poultry had taken over my life. A major festival of Juno Moneta fell tomorrow (nagged the calendar). My place would be there. Even attending this junket would be a first for me, let alone serving as nursemaid to a set of geese. The geese were to exhibit their annual tasteless triumphalism over a sample of supposedly guilty watchdogs, poor stray curs who would be rounded up and ritually crucified. It was not my idea of a genteel nod to history.

  Today, however, I was loafing at home, left in charge of young Julia while Helena dodged off somewhere. When, like a pompous head of household checking up on his wife's social life, I asked for details, she just looked at me with a guileless expression that meant she was being devious. Whatever it was, she took Nux as a chaperon, plus enough bread rolls for a good lunch, her private note-tablet and stylus, and several sponges; then I spotted her hiding my best hammer under her cloak. I doubted she was visiting a girlfriend to discuss embroidery designs.

  "Helena, is it possible, companion of my heart, that you are hiding something from me?"

  "You do not want to know, darling!" Helena assured me. "Enjoy your day." Her
parting tone was kindly and brave, like that of a farmer who has delivered his favorite horse to the butcher with a full nosebag.

  ***

  I would have spent my time in men's activities-Forum, baths, shops, tracing Petronius to whichever wine bar he had chosen that day for his break. Having Julia with me hampered that. But I did visit Pa's warehouse at the Saepta Julia in order to broach Maia's money problems; he was out. Even Petro had made himself invisible, though his comrades at the patrol house reckoned he was working.

  "Sounds too diligent."

  "Maturity comes to everyone, Falco."

  "If that's happened to Lucius Petronius, he needs a surgeon right away!"

  "No, somebody just happened to mention lettuce in his hearing-not thinking about his wife's lover, of course."

  "Oh no! He went off in a sulk?"

  "Touchy tyke."

  Still carrying the baby, I went to the Forum anyway. Julia loved the crowds. The sleazier they were, the more she gurgled appreciatively. My family would say, at least there were no doubts about her fatherhood.

  At the back of the Temple of Castor was the bathhouse I frequented. I took a risk. Glaucus, the austere proprietor, had a strict entrance policy. His establishment was intended to be a haunt for serious professional men. He banned women. Nor did he tolerate pretty boys or the pederasts who lusted after them. To my knowledge, nobody had ever been mad enough to turn up with a one-year-old baby before. We got past the doorkeeper on the wings of sheer novelty. Brazen daring carried me through the changing room, and I was heading for the gymnasium when I heard the rasp of Glaucus being sarcastic to some unfortunate he was training with weights; I chickened out and decided to keep fit another day.

  I slunk through the baths as fast as I could, then looked in on the masseur, a gigantic bully from Tarsus with legendary manipulative powers. He was slapping about Helena Justina's father. I took Julia in and we sat on the side bench where the next customer was supposed to wait in terror. The masseur glared at the baby, but was too nonplussed to comment.

  I grinned as I inspected Decimus. "Thanks for dinner the other night. You managed to scrub off the ink, I see!"

  "The child developed a lot while you were away. You might have warned me."

  "She learned to stand on the ship. She was beside the rail in brisk weather when she first tried it. I could have saved myself years of trouble by letting her tumble over the side-but I knew she was your favorite grandchild." She was also his only one.

  "So you made a quick grab?" Losing Julia would truly have broken his heart. I made another quick move, as Julia picked up a water scoop and prepared to hurl it at the huge, sweating masseur. The senator chortled, good going since he was already contorted in a hideous grimace under a barrage of slaps between the shoulders. I decided that the masseur believed in tribal individualism rather than senate-led democracy. He was certainly taking out his personal aggression on the Camillus physique.

  Decimus and I were cronies here, exchanging secrets. "Has Helena Justina said anything to you about some venture into property?"

  "Nobody tells me anything," her noble father complained. "They just keep me to lie on one of the eating couches to prevent the dining room looking empty. What's she buying?" he asked nervously.

  "Could be a house."

  "She may allow me to hear about it, once she has a whole row of them." He paused while the man from Tarsus casually attempted to wrench his left arm from its socket. "I told Aulus to see you today."

  "About his corn-ear friends again? I thought he had accepted their story-that the man he found dead was just an unlucky victim of a wife in a bad mood?"

  "Wouldn't you like to know who the couple were-and what drove her to do it?"

  "Yes, I would. Aulus seemed less curious when I left him last night."

  "Well, I told him he ought to find out."

  I grinned through the steam. "I never had you down as a schemer, senator! Is he to acquire the facts in order to show the Brothers he is scrupulously keeping quiet-with the aim of securing votes?"

  "Good gods, that would be blackmail!" exclaimed Decimus in mock shock.

  "I can't wait for your election-night party."

  At that moment, in prowled Glaucus. He swelled with indignation at the sight of little Julia. She waved both her arms at him eagerly.

  "Hey, Glaucus! This one wants a session with the dumbbells."

  "I've told you already about that dog of yours, Falco! Now you try this-"

  I was on my feet. "Just bringing your most excellent client a glimpse of his only grandchild, Glaucus-"

  "No children!" Glaucus stabbed his finger into my chest. It was almost as effective as a spear point in the breastbone. "This is your last warning!"

  I had reached the doorway. "We're going."

  Glaucus glared at Julia, appalled. "Is this a girl baby?"

  "Boy!" Decimus assured him urgently. "Julius, isn't it, Falco?"

  Glaucus moved. He knew us. It looked as if he was intending to check. I grappled Julia to me protectively. She was fighting to break free as strongly as Hercules. "Anybody looks up my son's tunic, I kill him, Glaucus-no argument. It probably goes for a daughter as well, of course, though I may find out if the fellow is wealthy first, for her sake-"

  "Out!" roared Glaucus.

  We left.

  I popped my head back. "By the way, Glaucus, next time you allow in that bastard Anacrites, ask him to tell you how he made use of your Trainer's Cheat move when we were on our holidays!"

  Even when you're fleeing in defeat, remember to place a few stakes in pits to trap your enemy.

  ***

  I went to see Maia.

  Ma was there. They had both been out together to make arrangements for the memorial stone for Famia. For some reason the visit to the mason had entailed wearing heavy veils, which were now pushed back on their necks. They were sitting together in a pair of women's armchairs, with their hands folded over their girdles, looking thoughtful.

  They were not much alike in facial features; Maia took after Pa's side of the family, as I did. Their bolt-upright stance and frowning expressions nonetheless marked them as close relatives. Somebody or something had affected both of them the same way.

  "What's happened? If it's to do with money, I've told you-don't worry."

  "Oh, it's money," Maia snapped briskly. "Famia usually forgot to pay his funeral club dues, I gather."

  "He never forgot!" Ma commented. "He drank it all."

  "That was after I was visited by the landlord, who took it upon himself to warn me-for my own good-of the perils of falling behind with the rent."

  "Watch him!" muttered Ma.

  "Mother and I were just talking about me paying a social call on my sweet friend Caecilia Paeta, to take my mind off it."

  "You need to get out," I replied warily. Both my sister and my mother were watching me with a special glint. It might be friendly, but I doubted it. Ma pinched her mouth. She had a way of saying nothing which was worth three scrolls of rhetoric. "Don't string me along-who's Caecilia and why are you after her?"

  "Caecilia is a crab-faced snoot," said Maia, now dragging her veil from around her neck and flinging it aside. "She is one of the women I met at the Palace the other afternoon. Your little Gaia's mother, specifically."

  I handed the baby to Ma, who was always good at keeping Julia quiet. "So why the planned expedition?"

  "Nosiness," said Ma, laughing.

  Maia looked more prim. "I keep thinking about what you and Helena said, about the girl being scared of her family. Since Gaia and my Cloelia made friends, I did exchange words with the mother at the time. She obviously wanted to avoid contact, but that's enough for me-being brass-necked. I can follow this up for you, Marcus."

  "Well, thanks, but I thought Helena was intending to visit her-"

  "Helena's doing something else."

  "Oh, you know about that?" It was worth a try.

  "Sworn to secrecy," said Maia, with an evil flash of
teeth.

  "I heard," said my mother severely, "that Helena has involved herself with Gloccus and Cotta!" Who in Hades were they? They sounded like cheap erotic poets.

  "Anyway, Marcus, it's lucky you've come," Maia rushed on. "I'll let you share my little adventure. It's not far to go. These folks of Gaia's are living on the Aventine now-it was one thing the snooty mother allowed herself to discuss with me. Because the grandfather used to be Flamen Dialis, hogged the role for years apparently, they had always had possession of the official house called the Flaminia."

  "That's on the Palatine?"

  "Yes. Horribly isolated place to bring up a family. It's all temple compounds and imperial suites up there."

  "Must have driven them mad," was Ma's opinion.

  Maia grinned. "Caecilia Paeta told me that her husband and his sister lived there from childhood; they could remember no other home. Apparently it's a sore subject that everyone had to pick up and move house unexpectedly when the Flaminica died."

  "Was her death recent?"

  "I got that impression. Anyway, they have now taken a house on the Ostia Gate side of the hill. Caecilia was complaining to me that it was run-down and unsatisfactory."

  I pulled a silly face. "And will Caecilia be delighted to see you, Maia darling, if you track her down?"

  Maia smiled at me. "We'll have to ask her, won't we?"

  Ma and I exchanged glances, willing to go along with any plan that made my sister behave like her old self, at least temporarily. My mother took charge of Julia for me. In no time I found myself marching over the Aventine with Maia, and after a few wrong turns while we found the address, we were surveying the house of the family Laelius. I was not impressed. Maia and I immediately agreed that as prospective buyers or tenants, even if we were desperate, we would never even have given it a once-over.

  ***

  Who chose this place? The ex-Flamen himself, grief-stricken for his newly dead wife-or at least for the loss of his position on her death? His son, Gaia's father? His errand-running son-in-law, the Flamen Pomonalis? Accepting that his household might be as liberal as my own, was it his womenfolk? Daughter? Daughter-in-law?