Lindsey Davis - The Ides of April

Once, according to legend, a boy found a fox stealing chickens. When he tried to burn the fox alive, it escaped; as it ran away ablaze, its burning tail fired the fields and destroyed the precious cereal crops. Forever after, foxes had been punished in the name of Ceres…

The incense-scented hall became deserted but for us. A few hanging lamps burned, keeping the gods company. Andronicus winked at me, yet refrained from disrespect for the deities. He led me back outside; we sneaked through the columns and down off the podium, now with our hearts bumping. He was undoubtedly the leader, as we made our way from the main street, keeping in the shadows along one side of the temple, to a discreet doorway. Most temples have these, generally the entrances to underground vaults where treasure can be banked. Here, the Senate archive for which Andronicus was responsible had its location, a store of decrees kept at the heart of plebeian Rome, tended by commoners as if snubbing the aristocracy. He took me inside and showed me the array of columbaria, the endless banks of dovecote-style holders for scrolls, that formed his domain.

He snatched a kiss. He was highly excited, and I could tell he wanted more and would have taken it, defying propriety there among the banks of scrolls, had I not been single-minded about our mission. "Later!" I hissed, letting him know I wished we did not have to wait.

Further along the street, still beneath the temple, was a store. Untidy but functional, it was like any hiding place for equipment. Here they kept cleaning materials and lamps, cult items, and a pile of unlit torches ready for the festival. Andronicus showed me a phallic herm, an attribute of Liber, dumped here to gather dust. According to him, the priestesses of the cult were a sanctimonious collection of matrons who had thrown out the huge erect member in one of their many spring-cleans. He fingered it suggestively; we both giggled.

Unlike the archive, to which Andronicus had a special key, we had found this store unlocked. Andronicus told me two public slaves were supposed to guard it, the same sad lags who used the brooms to sweep the temple steps and the buckets to fetch water from fountains for washing the shrine daily. Every evening they went out to supper, and since they served at a temple housing a wine-god, they were known to take the attitude that Liber would want them to enhance their meal with the joys of fermented grape juice. It would be some time before the pair rolled back, stupefied.

They had left a lantern to stop themselves stumbling into things on their return-and to give some light to their current charges: four stricken and mange-ridden country foxes.

We acted fast.

The animals were all housed in one big cage. They had water, but no food that I could see. They were snarling, unhappy creatures whose stink had filled the storeroom. I could not imagine how it was intended to catch them and control them enough to fix burning torches to their tails. The thought was hideous. Andronicus said men would come from the imperial menagerie.

"I know what foxes do," I admitted. "My husband was born on a farm. He always hated foxes because they slaughter poultry. Tearing off chickens' heads, regardless of their actual need for food. Every year, while I hid at home, deploring the ritual, he would go out and join in, whooping down to the Circus with the crowd."

"So you and he had nothing in common?"

"Love is when you stick with someone despite disagreements."

"I don't see it," said Andronicus.

"Then just shut up and help me do this."

We had to be careful. Loose foxes in this store would cause havoc and be pointless. We needed the creatures to go straight out into the street and run away. To make sure they did, we manoeuvred that big cage to the doorway before we opened it. The foxes cowered, afraid we intended to harm them. At first they just stared at the open door, assessing the new situation. We shooed, trying not to make much noise in case we attracted attention. At last one edged forwards and put his nose out, then made a crouching run for safety; the rest followed. The third waited for the fourth as if they were mates or siblings. Once in the street, they all slunk into shadow and were quickly lost from sight. I heard a harsh bark, then nothing.

We moved the cage to make space for us to leave. I wanted to get away from there as fast as possible; Andronicus now decided to cause even more disruption to the rites. He carried out the pile of torches and dumped them in the roadway. He poured a bucket of tar over them. While I watched admiringly, scarcely able to believe his rashness, he lit a piece of matchwood at the lantern. Cupping the flame, eyes bright, he brought his taper outside and dropped it onto the pile of brands. They flared alight, bringing a sudden warm glow to our rapt faces. He kicked a loose torch onto this bonfire, causing a stream of sparks. I ran indoors for more torches to add to the pile, until the whole side street filled with light and fire.

The smell of the smoke must have travelled. As a vigiles whistle sounded close by, Andronicus grasped my hand and, both laughing out loud, we finally turned the other way and made a run for it. So we vanished from the Temple area, shooting away into the night, just like the foxes.

We had scampered north because the shouts told us the vigiles were coming from the street on the temple's entrance side. Heading away from them took us down off the hill near the corn dole station, after which our footsteps naturally led us to the Tiber Embankment. We walked, hand tightly in hand, through the long Porticus of the Trigeminal Gate. Its stalls had been closed up for the night, some of them actually towed away; although we passed the family stall of Lupus, the murdered oyster-shucker, no one was there and we did not mention it.

We had calmed down, though were still prone to bumping our heads together, my dark crown against his ginger sideburns, and bursting into giggles. We were like naughty children, though what we had done made us far worse than scallywags. The consequences could have been dire, and not only for us. We might have wreaked terrible destruction; the hundred-year-old timbers on the temple's roof would have gone up in an instant if a loose spark had flown to pediment height. Then who knows how far the flames would have spread? It was barely ten years since a huge fire had destroyed half of Rome; rebuilding still continued.

We looked at the river. We sauntered along the Embankment by the old salt stores and moored boats, listening to the water lapping close, hearing noises from warehouse and tavern on both waterfronts. It was dark now, though only just. Rome was a mass of mysterious shapes and hidden buildings all around, with most of the remaining light suffusing the sky above us, where only a few shreds of cloud scudded slowly and as yet there were no stars. In mid-April, the weather was cool but bearable, an impetuous breeze carrying a faint hint of summer heat to come. Tiny lights had begun appearing, mere pinpoints. Where humans gathered for entertainment, occasional strings hung like beads in a goddess's necklace in the heavens. Isolated spots high in buildings marked a scholar's vigil or the restless sick.

Andronicus and I were silent now. It grew colder close to the water; we had cloaks; we stopped holding hands and each gathered our outerwear around us, standing separate. At that moment the spot could have been romantic; later tonight it would become a disreputable haunt, favoured by prostitutes of all sexes and their clients, not to mention the purse-snatchers who preyed on them, generally in league with the whores. So far, sidewalks and roadways had been virtually clear. But now the daylight ban on wheeled vehicles lifted, so carts began to rattle up from the port into Rome. Pretty soon the streets would be hectic. With one accord we moved, turning back to home in again on the Aventine.