John Roberts - The Sacrilege

"You're early," she said. "The sun isn't quite down."

"I was anxious to see you again." I looked around the portico, which seemed to be deserted. "No grandmothers lurking in the shadows?"

"We're safe," she said. "I'm supposed to be visiting an aunt in the House of the Vestals."

"I have an aunt there myself," I said inanely.

"Actually, I went there," she said. "I wouldn't lie about it. I just didn't stay as long as I hinted I might."

"That's nothing to anger the gods," I assured her. "Before I forget-when you said that Fulvia was at Caesar's house on the night of the Mysteries, did you mean the younger one, the one who is betrothed to Clodius?"

"Yes, that's the one. The elder Fulvia left the city in disgrace last year. I met Fulvia that night, before the unmarried women had to withdraw. She's a beautiful creature. I've heard rumors about her, but I would not believe them. Nobody that young can be that bad."

"Oh, yes, they can," I affirmed. "Some people are bad from birth. Age merely confers experience and discretion upon their youthful promise. I met her yesterday, and I couldn't have picked a better match for Clodius. With luck, they'll kill each other, but I tremble for the fate of Rome, should they produce children who live."

She laughed merrily. "I love the way you exaggerate, Decius." Poor, simple girl. She thought I exaggerated.

"Just what is it that you unmarried women did that night? Or is that another of those forbidden subjects?"

"Oh, no. There is a preliminary ceremony, an invocation of the goddess. After that the Mysteries began, and we had to leave. Mostly, we sat around gossiping in the back of the house, and we would have been there all night, but things broke up in the uproar over Clodius being there."

"I see."

"Well, don't you want to hear what I've found out?" she said impatiently.

"Certainly. Whatever makes you think otherwise?"

"Because you're acting just like a man!" As if that were some sort of condemnation.

"I should hope so. Now, what is it you've discovered?"

"I found out how Clodius got in!"

"Splendid. We already know he was dressed as a woman."

"Yes, yes, but he didn't arrive with the others. It was later, when the Mysteries were already well under way. He arrived with the woman who brought the laurel leaves."

"Laurel leaves?" I said. "You mean wreaths?"

"No, leaves steeped in something or other according to some ancient formula. The women chew them during the later phase of the rites. Things get rather: abandoned, I understand."

"Imagine that," I said. "Respectable Roman matrons carrying on like a pack of maenads." Then the implication struck me. "This woman Clodius arrived with-you wouldn't have got her name, would you?"

Julia shrugged. "Just a peasant herb-woman. Is it important?"

I leaned against one of the fluted columns and rubbed my eyes. My head was beginning to throb.

"I could take you across the Forum and show you her corpse."

Julia's eyes widened and she gasped. She had led a sheltered life. "She was murdered?"

"The carnage is getting warlike," I said. "Four dead so far, slave, peasant and patrician. What next? A eunuch?"

"Then my information was of no use to you?" She looked so crestfallen that I was swift to reassure her.

"By no means. What you've told me is sure to be of the utmost importance. The murders tie in somehow with the sacrilege."

"Certainly it was scandalous," she said, "but worthy of multiple murder?"

"No. The profanation of the rites has been a real laugh-raiser. Romans aren't as pious as they used to be. Clodius was up to something else that night, and that is what he doesn't want discovered."

"Then you think Clodius has done all this?"

I shook my head. "He is involved, but I can't believe that he originated anything so devious. Direct action is his style. No, what we need to find out is who else was there that night."

"Who else? You mean you think Clodius was not the only man to profane the rites?"

"If not the rites themselves, then in another part of the house. Where better to meet for nefarious reasons than in a house where men are supposed to be banned for the night?"

"Conspiracy! This gets better all the time!" I could tell that her delight in winkling out plots matched my own.

"I suspect that Clodius attended whatever conference he and his co-conspirators had arranged, and then almost ruined everything because he couldn't resist sneaking back in to spy on the rituals. Serves them all right, whoever they are. Anyone who would trust Clodius deserves whatever happens to them." I glanced into the temple, where the priests were placing fires before the statues of the Twins. The moment the word "twins" entered my mind, the question that had plagued me was shaken loose.

"Julia, you said that Fausta was there that night. Yet she is not married. Was she with you unmarried ladies?"

Julia frowned in thought. "No, she wasn't. She arrived with Claudia the wife of Lucullus. She wore a veil, but it was almost transparent and I knew her by sight. I didn't notice if she withdrew when the rest of us did. Are you sure she isn't widowed?"

"She has never married. So what was she up to? All sorts of anomalies keep cropping up in that night's doings. You will find that it is the anomalies that are truly important, when investigating the deeds of infamous men."

"I suspected as much," she said rather coolly. Apparently, I was pointing out the obvious again.

"I think it might be time to concentrate on Fausta," I said. "It should not be difficult to get other ladies to gossip about her-she's the center of much gossip as it is. Try to find out if anyone else remembers her doing anything suspicious that night."

Julia smiled again. "I shall do that."

"But carefully, mind you. Someone is killing people without regard to sex or social standing. I would hate for you to be the next victim. Or even the one after, for that matter."

"I shall be discreet. What will you be doing?"

"Dangerous and foolish things," I assured her. "Stalking violent and ambitious men, searching for murderers who employ a singular technique for dispatching their victims, that sort of thing." I was beginning to feel quite heroic.

"Then do take care yourself. You are unique, and the Republic can scarcely afford to lose you."

I could not but agree with this, but I modestly forbore to acknowledge the fact. She took her leave and descended the steps of the temple. I waited in the shadow of the portico until she was out of sight. I now realized, belatedly, that it was perilous for her to be seen in my company. I scanned the surrounding area for surreptitious watchers, but that was futile. Rome provides from every prospect more alleys, windows, warrens, rooftops and other lurking spots than the human eye can readily discern.

When Julia was gone I left the temple and walked through the city's rapidly darkening streets. I tucked my hands beneath my tunic as if warming them, but actually to grip my weapons. As I walked I pondered, trying to fit the new anomalies into some sort of order.

As I had told Julia, the anomalies are important. So are correspondences, linkages, kinships, anything that ties the facts together in some fashion, however bizarre they might seem at first. My problem was that, when thinking of Clodius, I found it difficult to think of anything else. I decided to concentrate on other things and see if they led back to Clodius, or somewhere else.

Fausta had some odd part to play in this. She was the daughter of the late Dictator, Sulla. What else was she? She was the ward of Lucullus, who had been named Sulla's executor. Her twin brother, Faustus, was Pompey's loyal henchman. That was another scent that could easily distract me. I longed to pull Pompey down almost as much as Clodius. In Pompey's case because he was a prospective tyrant and king of Rome. With Clodius it was personal. So Fausta had that connection with Pompey. She lived in the household of Lucullus, who hated Pompey, but she would be more likely to side with her beloved twin than with her protector. She had arrived at the house of Caesar on the night of the rites in company with the wife of Lucullus. And his wife was Claudia, elder sister of Clodius and Clodia. The other Claudian brother, Appius, was out there in Pompey's camp someplace, but he did not concern me. To the best of my knowledge, he had found legionary life to his taste and settled on a military career, taking little interest in politics.