Lindsey Davis - The Ides of April

I felt hard-hearted about Laia. At least her harasser had not invaded her apartment, and she did not live alone. People would always be around her, and in addition to her large household, Tiberius said she and her brother were to be provided with a day-and-night protection squad from those fine squaddies in the Urban Cohorts.

Well, jolly good for the cult of Ceres! Andronicus was probably unaware that Laia's brother even existed. I did point out that all I was assigned were a couple of near-useless vigiles. Tiberius annoyed me by saying that was because I was thought more capable.

Then I learned that the "problem" was more complex and risky than safeguarding a couple of target homes until the killer was caught. Tonight there was a serious risk that Andronicus could strike again. Despite having been stalked-presumably because Andronicus was enraged she had put Venusia out of his reach-Laia was insisting on joining in an after-dark ritual that was a high spot of the Cerialia: the cult women would be roaming the Aventine, dressed in white and carrying torches, as they re-enacted the goddess Ceres' search for her missing daughter. I groaned with disbelief, as I imagined the scene: women who had no street-sense at the best of times, running about in all directions as they called for Proserpina at all the crossroads. There were many of those on the Aventine, most of them in seedy areas, overlooked and underlit.

"Tiberius, we cannot allow this! Surely for just one year, Laia Gratiana can sit it out and weave at her loom at home?"

"She absolutely refuses." Well, who likes weaving?

"Get her brother to lock her in the house."

"No, he thinks she is wonderfully brave and spirited." The runner looked at the floor. "Of course, this has to do with Faustus."

"She sets herself up as a target, in revenge for his unfaithfulness? If anything happens to her, all the blame lands on him?"

"She won't think of it like that, not consciously. But you are right: as organisers, the aediles are responsible for the cult women's security. Normally all it entails is keeping drunks away from them." Tiberius dropped his face into his hands for a moment. When he looked up, he was unusually satirical. "And keeping them away from the drunks sometimes… Albia, this will be a nightmare. You must have seen it. You have a bunch of women who are not safe handling fiery torches, and who in my opinion have secretly tucked into wine fortified with very dubious substances. They run amuck like bacchantes, shouting their heads off and threatening to burn down the whole bloody region."

This was a deliciously intimate revelation about a ritual most people suppose to be sedate. I giggled, partly at his despair. "If it's that kind of wild party, I may join in myself."

Tiberius sat up. He said that was the best idea anyone had had so far. He would be one of the group patrolling the area, and I could go with him. Then he could personally look out for my safety while I could lend my eyes to assist him.

It would go wrong, almost certainly. Set up a woman as bait for a man who had already sent too many bodies prematurely to the pyre? An invitation to disaster.

I spent the rest of the day at home, supposedly resting. I had been taken back to Fountain Court by my vigiles escort, after the fool finally caught up with me. Later he delivered me to Prisca's baths. I enjoyed the amenities, but my real purpose was to proposition two people I thought could be helpful.

Zoe and Chloe, the women who wanted to be gladiators, were bemused by my story. I told them the truth about Andronicus and the danger he posed, because I wanted to be fair. I explained that he was out to get me, and also one of the cult members who would be cavorting on the Aventine that night. I knew from Tiberius that to give Laia courage, she would be with her friend, Marcia Balbilla; I wanted them to have bodyguards.

"The women will be in the chariot, because the chief priestess is too old. So we will always know where these two are, even if all the others are weaving about like escaped sheep. It's a women-only night, supposedly-well, participants-so we can't line the streets with soldiery; that would be out of place. But no one will object if the targets have two armed Amazons."

"This chariot-" Chloe was the facetious one. "I've seen it other years. It's towed by big serpents, isn't it? Can't we dress up as the snakes?"

"No. We shall have powerful men hidden inside the monster costumes. Strong enough to drag the chariot-or to help if the murderer is stupid enough to approach. If he does, we need you to be light on your feet. Keep him at arms' length, remember; don't let him strike you with a poisoned needle. Or the cult members while they are cuddling up together in the chariot," I felt obliged to add, having nothing against Marcia Balbilla.

Zoe looked deeply suspicious of the whole affair. "Are these women lesbians?"

"Of course not! One is married. The other had a husband once."

"Could be a cover."

"I really don't think so, Zoe. Marcia Balbilla has children, I believe." I could not believe I was having this conversation with two well-built girls who dressed up in breastplates and swords. "Look, the sisterhood is no big caboodlum anyway-what about you and Chloe?"

Zoe was shocked. "We are just close friends." Very close, I reckoned.

"So are Laia and Marcia. And if I'm wrong, they won't jump you, they are faithful to each other."

"We don't want to be seen with Sapphists. We have to think of our reputations."

"That never bothered you when you took up gladiating!"

I dragged these coy Amazons to Marcia's house, where the cult women were preparing. They were dressing up in their folded-over white Greek gowns and fake wheat crowns, twittering like a wedding party. As had been insinuated by the runner, the devotional dames were well supplied with great silver bowls of some warm liquid that exuded a powerful aromatic smell. Not, believe me, thyme and rosemary.

There, to my further amazement, I had a similar conversation with the two respectable matrons as I had had with Zoe and Chloe earlier.

"Just don't show each other too much affection," I warned wickedly. "You don't want the Amazons to get the wrong idea about you.

Myself, I really don't care what people get up to, but they are narrow-minded. No fondling!"

Balbilla and Gratiana looked put out, yet as I left I overheard them in fits of nervous giggles.

I went in a hired chair to the temple, my agreed rendezvous with Tiberius.

The Temple of Ceres was thick with people tonight, but as I arrived, he peeled off from a group of men and came up. He had been barbered again and was in white, though carrying a dark cloak. To comply with the law, he had to be unarmed. If I had been him, I would have broken the law, but as the aediles man, I suppose he was stuck with compliance.

I was in white myself. I only owned one proper white gown, which happened to be in delicate opaque material. Luckily it was long enough to cover my sturdy ankle boots, inappropriate accessories with silk-weave gauzes, but excellent for kicking. Not possessing a wheat crown, I had threaded a gold necklace through my hair; that had been put up professionally at Prisca's bathhouse where, since I had had time to spare, a girl had also given me an eyebrow tidy and face-paint job.

This groomed effect made Tiberius gulp. "I see you are intending to stand out!"

"Give me a torch and I'll look like one of the others."

"None of them find it necessary to be in see-through."

I had a perfectly thick undertunic (though a little short because I had run out of long ones) making the filmy dress decent. "Oh shut up. I'm not fourteen and you are not my mother."

I let the prude stare. We had discussed the white dress plan; it meant I could blend in with the cult women.