John Roberts - Oracle of the Dead

“All right, I grant your point. What difference does it make that this poor child was pregnant?”

“We can’t know, but it’s something we didn’t know before. As you’ve so often intoned to me in such portentous tones, my love, ‘every fact, however innocuous it may seem at the moment, may have a crucial bearing upon the case.’ ”

“Yes, I did say that, didn’t I? I think it was that lecture I delivered in the Basilica Julia just after that business with the flood and Scaurus’s death.”

“Maybe you just practiced on me,” she said, with that tired patience she sometimes showed when she judged me an especial idiot. “But we have here a temple whose staff are expected to be renowned for chastity. This girl’s condition coincides with the mass murder of its priesthood. Might there not be some connection?”

“Well, I suppose so,” I said, still having trouble dealing with the fact that Julia had just handled a corpse with her bare hands. “But what might that connection be?”

“That’s your field, dear,” she said, turning away. “As for me, I will concentrate upon the staff of the Oracle, and the women of the district.” She left a warning unspoken: I had better be circumspect about the women of the district. I had learned to heed Julia’s warnings in such matters.

So I summoned young Sextus Vespillo. He appeared with commendable dispatch, and turned pale when he saw the girl’s corpse. He was old enough not to be dismayed by the occasional corpse, but he clearly had been fond of the girl. I gave him a moment to regain his composure.

“I heard there had been another killing,” he said, when his color returned. “I didn’t know who it was.”

“It’s time you told me how you encountered this girl and how she came to reveal the hidden tunnel to you.” We walked from the stables and turned our steps toward the temple. I had no urgent business there but it was more pleasant than the crime scene.

“We’d been combing the district for the priests and using the temple as our base of operations, as you instructed. Hermes often left me behind here because he says I’m a wretched horseman and would just slow the rest down. Actually, I’m quite good at-”

I raised a hand to silence him. “That is of no account. Let it suffice that you remained behind here at the temple instead of riding off with the rest. What then?” We had come to the space before the temple where I had set up my headquarters.

“I, ah, that is, I was-sitting over there-” he gestured idly toward the low dais, hoping that I would not grasp the implication. Not much chance of that.

“Were you sitting in my curule chair?” I shouted, drawing many curious stares from the idlers all about. I have not mentioned that the impromptu market had by now swollen to the size of a modest town, so we were well supplied with such persons.

“Forgive me, Praetor, but it seemed harmless enough, with you and your lictors absent-”

“And just the thing to impress pretty serving girls with your importance as the close associate of a Roman magistrate, eh? I will remind you that that chair is a part of the regalia of imperium, and no one who has not had imperium bestowed by the Senate is permitted to use it.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, gaze downcast. “I am sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

“If it does, I’ll have you before me on charges of sacrilege or maiestas or some other charge that carries gruesome penalties, which I will proceed to inflict.”

“But you only try cases that involve foreigners!” he protested.

“A petty legal quibble. I can have you executed and when I step down from office your relatives can try to prosecute me. They won’t be successful because my family is more important than yours. It won’t do you any good anyway, because you’ll be dead.”

“But-”

“All right, so there you were, lounging feloniously in my curule chair. What happened next? Did you order wine from my private stock?”

“Nothing of the sort. A few people approached me, mostly with questions about your investigation-”

“What sort of questions?” I kept interrupting him because it is an excellent trial lawyer’s tactic. It keeps people off-balance and in such a state they frequently say things they would not if given time to think and frame their statements.

“What you would expect. Had you made any progress, were the missing priests found, and so forth. Some wanted to accuse their neighbors or enemies.”

“Were any of those credible?”

He shook his head. “Clearly deranged or just petty troublemakers.”

“Did anyone have political questions, questions not concerning the case?” This concerned me because, with the countryside so full of Pompey’s adherents, some of them surely would be sounding me out. My family had not yet picked a side in the upcoming showdown between Pompey and Caesar. I was of two minds myself. No, I was of three or four minds, and none of them had a satisfactory answer for me.

“That lady from Stabiae, Sabinilla, she came by. Asked the usual questions and then wanted to know if you were in the confidence of your wife’s uncle, Caesar. She acted as if that made you fascinating.”

“It would, to some people. Anyone else?”

“A man called Drusianus badgered me, acting rather drunk. He hinted that he’s the spokesman for Pompey’s veterans in the area. He said you’d better settle this matter quickly or there will be trouble.”

“He said that, eh? I had the impression that Pompey’s men aren’t very numerous in the region, but there may be more than I thought.”

“Or he may be some local bully trying to pretend he’s a power in the district.”

“Most likely,” I concurred. Still, the prospect of trouble from that quarter made me uneasy. “Now, at what point did you go after the girl?’

“I didn’t go after her!” he said indignantly.

“Yes, far beneath your dignity, I’m sure. How, then, did the two of you happen to occupy the same space at the same time?”

“It was just past noon. The girl came from the temple and asked if I would like some refreshment-”

“Refreshment,” I said tonelessly.

“Well, I thought she meant some lunch or wine, something like that. I followed her into the temple.”

“A temple being, of course, the sort of place where an impromptu luncheon is always likely to be laid out.”

“All right, I wasn’t really all that eager to ask questions.”

“That’s more like it. So you followed that shapely backside into the interior of a dark and deserted temple. A very promising prospect, I admit. After all, the word ‘refreshment’ is subject to generous interpretation. What next, if I may make so indelicate an inquiry?”

“Nothing that’s very indelicate to tell about, I’m afraid.” He looked downcast like any other unsuccessful would-be swain. “She got-ah-very friendly and pulled me behind a pillar and while I was preparing to-”

“Do something indelicate?” I prodded.

“Very indelicate,” he said, perking up at the thought of his intention. “But then she pulled back and stared at the statue of the god, as if she feared his disapproval.”

“I don’t see why,” I said. “Old Apollo was as randy as the rest of the male gods, always chasing mortal women and getting them turned into plants, like Daphne.”

“My very thought. In fact, I was making exactly that objection, only using the example of Castalia, the girl of Delphi, who got turned into a fountain.”

“Yes, and some yielded to his advances,” I said. “Back in the days when a mortal woman had a chance to bed a truly exalted lover, he sowed the world with little bastard demigods. So, how did the girl respond to this eloquent line of reasoning?”