One Virgin Too Many mdf-11 Page 8

  It was at this point that her control gave way and she started to cry. Helena went and held her while Petro and I distracted the children. I glared at him; he shrugged unrepentantly. Perhaps he was right. It was good for her to let go. Perhaps I was just annoyed with him for achieving it with crass remarks today where I had earlier failed.

  Eventually Maia stopped weeping into Helena's girdle and dried her face on her own stole. She reached for Cloelia and Ancus and held one in each arm. Over their heads, she looked at me. The strain was showing now. "That's better. Marcus, I have a confession. When you first told me what had happened I had an angry turn and poured every drop of wine we had in the house down the drain outside…" She forced a wan smile "Big brother, if you have any that's fit to offer, I would like a drink with my lunch."

  XII

  Once everyone had eaten, I waited to broach the subject of Maia's visit to the Palace to meet the fabulous Queen Berenice. I suggested that the children should take Nux for a walk in Fountain Court. Obediently they let themselves be shooed off, though since they were Maia's outspoken brood, they all knew what was happening. "The grown-ups want to talk about things we are not to overhear."

  I had attached a rope to Nux's collar. When I gave the end of it to Marius, the nine-year-old eldest, he asked me anxiously, "Is your dog likely to run away and get lost?"

  "No, Marius. Nux won't ever get lost. We spoil her and overfeed her and pet her far too much. The rope is so that if you get lost, Nux will drag you safely back."

  We were on the streetside landing, out of earshot of his mother. Encouraged by this shared joke, Marius suddenly tugged my arm and confided what must have been bothering him: "Uncle Marcus, if there is no money now, do you think I shall have to stop going to school?"

  He wanted to be a rhetoric teacher, or so he had decided a couple of years ago. It might happen, or he might end up ranching cows. I knelt down and gave him a strong hug. "Marius, I promise you that when the next term's fees are due they will be found."

  He accepted the reassurance though he still looked anxious. "I hope you didn't mind me asking."

  "No. I realize your mother has probably said 'Don't go bothering Uncle Marcus.' "

  The boy grinned shyly. "Oh, we don't always do what Mama says. Today her orders were 'Make sure you keep telling them how lovely their baby is-and don't complain if Uncle Marcus insists that we all have some out of his awful old amphora of Spanish fish pickle.'"

  "So Ancus and you pulled faces and refused even a taste?"

  "Yes, but we do think your baby is nicer than the one Aunt Junia has."

  I could tell Marius believed he had to be the man of their household now. I would have to stop that. It could cripple his childhood. At the very least, Maia needed her money worries ended, even if it meant dragging assistance out of Pa.

  I returned thoughtfully to the others. Helena had been making enquiries without waiting for me. "Marcus, listen to this: Cloelia's name has been entered in the Vestal Virgins' lottery."

  I swore, more out of surprise than rudeness. Petronius added a lewd comment.

  "Don't blame me," answered Maia, with a heavy sigh. "Famia put her forward before he left for Africa."

  "Well, he never told me, or I'd have said he was an idiot. How old is she?"

  "Eight. He never told me either," Maia returned wearily. "Not until it was too late and Cloelia had convinced herself it's a wonderful idea."

  "She's barred," Petronius told us, shaking his head. "I went through this business with my girls; they were all crazy to be entered until I had to insist that as a father of three I could exempt them from the lottery. It's wicked," he complained. "Six Vestals; they serve for thirty years and replacements are called for, on average, every five years. That fills Rome with dreamy little lasses, all desperately wanting to be the chosen one."

  "I wonder why?" retorted Helena dryly. "Can they really all think how wonderful it would be to ride in a carriage, to have even consuls give way to them, to sit in the best seats in the theaters, to be revered throughout the Empire? All in return for a few light duties carrying waterpots and blowing up the Sacred Fire…"

  Petro turned to Maia. "Famia had the three children let out-"

  "I know, I know," Maia groaned. "He only did this because he was such an awkward cuss. Even if Cloelia were chosen, it would be impossible anyway, now her father has been killed. A new Virgin must have both parents living. It's just one more upsetting consequence that I have to explain to my children-"

  "Don't," said Helena. Her tone was crisp. "Tell the College of Pontiffs, so they can withdraw her. Just let Cloelia think somebody else has won the lottery by chance."

  "And believe me, there was never any doubt that somebody else will!" Maia muttered, now sounding annoyed.

  She settled down and told us the story.

  "My wonderful husband decided that if plebeians really are eligible, the honor of becoming a Vestal was just right for our eldest daughter. He did not consult me-probably because he knew what I would say." It was supposed to be an honor, one that brought enormous respect to the girl during the thirty years she held the office, but Maia was not the kind of mother who would hand over a young, unformed child into the control of an institution. Her family was taught to respect Rome and its traditions-but to avoid daft schemes like devoting their lives to the state. "So I am stuck with pretending it's a grand idea. I have Cloelia constantly overexcited, the others secretly jealous of her receiving so much attention, Ma furious, Famia not even in the country to help me cope wth it…"

  She fell silent. Petronius mused wickedly, "I know we can assume the little darlings are virgins when the Pontifex first accepts them, but how can anyone tell that the pretty things stay chaste? Do they have to submit to ritual testing once a week?"

  "Lucius Petronius," Helena suggested, "don't you have work to return to this afternoon?"

  Petro leaned his elbow on the table with a grin. "Helena Justina, talking about virgins is much more interesting."

  "You surprise me. But we are talking about would-be Virgins-which is not the same thing."

  "One virgin too many, in the case of Maia's Cloelia!" He was determined to cause trouble today. I would not have minded, but I foresaw that Helena would blame me.

  I intervened. "So tell us about the luscious Berenice. She's no virgin, and that's a certainty."

  "Ah well," said Maia. "She's definitely very beautiful-if you like that style." She did not say what style it was, and this time both Petronius and I kept mum. "If I had an exotic face and a small legion of hairdressers, I wouldn't care if my reputation was slightly soiled."

  "It would not be," I assured her. "Berenice is carrying the slur that she married her own uncle. You would never do that with Uncles Fabius or Junius!"

  My mother's two brothers were farm clods with notoriously odd habits, and, like me, Maia had no patience with their eccentricities. "I suppose if the Queen's uncle was as mad as ours are, we should feel some sympathy," she said. "Anyway, the reason I had to go to the Palace was that all the little charmers whose names are in the urn to become Vestals, and all of us suffering mothers, were invited to a reception for Titus Caesar's lady friend. This was set up as an occasion where the female population of Rome would welcome the lovely one into our midst. But I imagine something formal is always arranged by those in charge of the lottery, so the little girls can be inspected and unsuitable ones weeded out."

  "Of course it is blasphemous to say this." Helena smiled.

  "Wash my mouth out!" Maia breathed. "One of the Vestals was very obviously present anyway."

  "Austerely observing?"

  "Not too austere; it was one of the younger ones. Constantia." Maia paused, but if she had been thinking up an insult she refrained. "Anyway, if anyone wants to place bets, I soon had the form book sorted-it's so bloody obvious what the result will be, the rest of us could just have gone home straightaway. We all trooped up at the appointed time, and natural groups formed at once, accord
ing to our class. All the mothers were introduced to the ravishing royalty-yes, Marcus and Petro, you would call her ravishing, though I thought her a bit cold-"

  "Nervous." Helena pretended to defend the Queen. "Probably afraid she may be shouldered out."

  "I wonder why! As if by chance," Maia said, sneering, "she ended up surrounded on her dais by the mothers of patrician rank, while the rest of us talked among ourselves. And at the same time, one little girl had been selected to present the Queen with a chaplet of roses, which meant that little brat was cuddled on the silken lap of Berenice for half the afternoon, while Constantia-the Vestal Virgin-sat alongside. Those of us from less fortunate areas of life were struck by a sudden mysterious intuition as to which name will surface when the Pontifex dunks in the lottery urn."

  "This name would not be Gaia Laelia?" asked Helena.

  Maia rolled her eyes. "Dear gods, sweetheart! I never cease to be amazed at how you and my brother are at the forefront of the gossip! You have only been back in the city three days, and you know everything!"

  "Just a knack."

  "Actually, we know charming, self-confident, dear little patrician Gaia," I said.

  "Through your family?" Maia asked Helena.

  "One of my clients," I returned smoothly. Maia and Petro guffawed. "She looks ideal for the Vestal's job. All her relatives specialize in holding priestly posts. She has grown up in the house of a Flamen Dialis."

  "Well, dear me, I heard all about that. The child is perfect for the role!" quipped Maia sourly. "So I don't want to be rude, Marcus, but what does she need you for?"

  "That, I admit, is a puzzle. Did she talk at all to Cloelia?"

  "Afraid so. I may lack social climbing skills, but my strange ambitious baby goes straight to make friends with the people who matter."

  "Cloelia cannot be yours," said Helena. "Famia must have found her under an arch. Tell us about Gaia Laelia; did she look happy being favored by Berenice and the Vestal?"

  Maia paused. "Mostly. She was one of the youngest, and after a long time in the royal embrace I thought she probably got bored-anyway, there was a little flurry. It was handled very smoothly, and most people never noticed."

  "What kind of flurry?" I asked.

  "How should I know? It seemed as if she said something embarrassing, the way children do. Berenice looked startled. Gaia was whisked off the Queen's lap, her mother grabbed her, looking as if she wanted to be swallowed by a chasm opening up, and you could see everyone nearby laughing and pretending nothing had happened. Next time I saw Gaia, she was playing with my Cloelia, and they both gave me a glare that said nobody should interrupt."

  "Playing?" Helena demanded.

  "Yes, they spent over an hour carrying imaginary water vessels from one of the fountains."

  "What did you think of Gaia?"

  "Too good mannered. Too nice natured. Too pretty and well favored. Don't say it: I know I'm just a rude grouse."

  "We love you for it," I assured my sister affectionately. I now explained how Gaia had come to see me, and what she had said about her family. "I don't know what it's all about, but she was asking me for help. So what did you think of Gaia's mother? If someone in the family has it in for the child, could it be her?"

  "Doubt it," said Maia. "She was far too proud of her little mite."

  "We only met an uncle," Helena contributed. "Is the mother downtrodden?"

  "Not noticeably, at least not when she is out in female company."

  "But at home, who knows?… Did Cloelia tell Gaia she has an uncle who is an informer?"

  "No idea. She could well have done."

  "And on the other side, I suppose you don't know if Gaia told Cloelia anything about her family?"

  "Helena, when Julia is older you will learn about this: I," said Maia, "was merely the chaperon who enabled my daughter to mingle with elevated people and dream that she herself was ludicrously important. I hired the litter that took us to the Palatine. I caused embarrassment by wearing too bright a gown and by making jokes about the occasion in a rather loud undertone. Other than that, I was superfluous. I was not allowed to know anything that Cloelia got up to when the girls were let loose together. My only other role was later at home, mopping her brow and holding the bowl when the excitement made her throw up all night."

  "You are a wonderful mother," Helena assured her.

  "Do mention it to my children sometime."

  "They know," I said.

  "Well, Cloelia won't think so when I have to break the news that she won't be chosen."

  "Mothers all over Rome will have the same problem," Petro reminded her.

  "All except the self-satisfied piece with the squint who produced Gaia Laelia." The child's mother had really offended Maia. But I reckoned it was merely by existing.

  "It may not be so simple. Something is definitely amiss there. The child came to ask for help for a reason."

  "She came to see you because she had a wild imagination and no sense of judgment," said Maia. "Not to mention a family who allow her to steal the litter and to traipse around town without her nurse."

  "I feel there may be more to it," Helena demurred. "It's no use. We cannot just forget it-Marcus, one of us will have to look into this further."

  However, we had to stop there because of a commotion at the street door when the children returned. The little ones were whimpering, and even Marius looked white.

  "Oh, Uncle Marcus, a big dog jumped on Nux and would not get off again." He was curling up with embarrassment, knowing what the beast had been up to, yet not wanting to say.

  "Well, that's wonderful." I beamed, as Nux shot under the table with a sheepish and disheveled appearance. "If we end up having dear little scruffy puppies, Marius, you can have first pick!"

  As my sister shuddered with horror, Petronius murmured in a hollow aside, "It's very appropriate, Maia. Their father was a horse vet; you have to allow your dear children to develop their inherited affinity with animals."

  But Maia had decided she had to save them from the bad influence of Petro and me, so she jumped up and bustled them all off home.

  XIII

  "Well, that was a waste of time!"

  I had allowed myself to forget temporarily that Camillus Aelianus had somehow lost a corpse. He pounded up our steps and burst into the apartment, scowling with annoyance. I hid a smile. The aristocratic young hero would normally despise everything connected with the role of an informer, yet he had fallen straight into the old trap: faced with an enigma, he felt compelled to pursue it. He would carry on even after he made himself exhausted and furious.

  He was both. "Oh Hades, Falco! You packed me off on a wild errand. Everyone I questioned responded with suspicion, most were rude, some tried to bully me, and one even ran away."

  I would have given him a drink, the traditional restorative, but we had consumed my whole stock that day at lunch. As Helena nudged him to a bench, his mid-brown eyes wandered vaguely as if he were looking for a jug and beaker. All the right instincts were working, though he lacked the sheer cheek to ask for a goblet openly.

  "Did you chase him?"

  "Who? "

  "The one who ran away. This was, almost certainly, the person you needed to speak to."

  He thought about it. Then he saw what I meant. He banged a clenched fist on his forehead. "Oh rats, Falco!"

  "Would you know him again?"

  "A lad. The Brothers have youngsters assigned to them as attendants at their feasts-called camilli, coincidentally. There are only four. I could pick him out."

  "You'll have to get into a feast first," I pointed out, perhaps unnecessarily.

  He dropped his head onto the table and covered his face, groaning. "Another day. I cannot face any more. I'm whacked."

  "Pity." I grinned, dragging him upright. The crass, snooty article had behaved abominably in the past over Helena and me; I loved paying him back. "Because if you really want to get anywhere, you and I have to make ourselves presentable and
take a stroll to the house of the Master of the Arval Brothers-now, Aulus!"

  It was the final day of the festival. This would be his last chance. My youthful apprentice had to accept that his mission was governed by a time constraint. Like me, he was astute enough to see that if we were to tackle the slippery intendant of a cult that was hiding something, we would need all our wits and energy-and we had to act fast. His day's work had hardly begun.

  "Men's games," I apologized to Helena.

  "Boys!" she commented. "Be careful, both."

  I kissed her. After a momentary hesitation, her brother showed he was learning, and forced himself to do the same.

  ***

  Aelianus knew how to find the Master's house; he had been invited to the feasting as an observer on the first day of the festival. It was a substantial mock-seaside villa on its own property island, somewhere off the Via Tusculana. A profusion of stone dolphins provided salty character and looked cheerful and unpretentious, though in the urban center of Rome the rows of open-sided balconies on every wing gave a twee effect. On the Bay of Neapolis the owners could have gone fishing off their boarded verandas, but here their nostalgia for long-gone August holidays was way out of place. Nobody fishes in the gutters in Rome. Well, not if they know what I do about things that float in the city water supply.

  As we arrived, it was clear from the disgorging palanquins that the elite members of the college were just assembling for that night's feast. There was a special buzz. I wondered if these men in corn-ear wreaths were greeting each other with extra excitement, knowing of the death the night before.

  One man was leaving, however. Tall, gaunt, elderly, haughty as Hades. Eyes that were careful never to alight on anyone. Flyaway white hair around a bald pate.

  He had paused at the top of the entrance steps, as if waiting for some flunky to clear a free path. When Aelianus leaped up the steps athletically, his cloak brushed very slightly against this old man, who flinched as if he had been touched by a leprous beggar. Sensing a patrician who might own a senate election vote, Aelianus apologized briefly. The only answer was an impatient humph.