John Roberts - The Sacrilege

"I am Licinia," said the older woman, "eldest sister of General Lucullus. My brother has instructed that you are to receive all the aid we can give, but I must attend this interrogation to ensure that this girl does not reveal anything forbidden."

"I fully understand, my lady," I said. What a way to conduct an investigation, I thought. I sat in one of the chairs and the two women sat on a bench facing me. The Greek girl looked nervous, as slaves usually do when then are being questioned by someone in authority.

"Now, my dear, I want you to have no apprehension whatsoever. I merely wish to establish the exact sequence of events as they occurred that night. No one suspects you of any sort of wrongdoing. Now, first, your name?"

"Phyllis, sir." She smiled shyly.

"And you are a musician?"

"Yes, sir, a harpist."

"And you were employed in that capacity on the night of the rites of Bona Dea? These questions may seem simple-minded, but this is how they would be asked at a trial."

"I understand, sir. Yes, I was there to play the harp."

"Good. And just when did you make the discovery that a man had intruded upon the rites?"

"It was when-" She glanced at the older woman, who gave her a sharp look. "Well, it was at a time when we musicians were not playing. I glanced at a hallway entrance and I saw the herb-woman and the one with her. The herb-woman hung back in the hall, but the other came into the atrium. The herb-woman reached out and took his arm, as if to stop him, but he pulled loose and walked into the atrium. That was when I recognized him."

"I see. I've heard from others that he was veiled. Was the light sufficient for you to see that it was a man's face?"

"No, sir. It was more the way he walked. You see, I have seen Clodius many times in this house, when he has come to visit his sister, my mistress Claudia. I felt sure it was him; then I recognized a ring on his hand and I yelled that a man was in the room. The mother of the Pontifex Maximus rushed over and tore off the veil. There was a great deal of screaming after that."

"I should imagine. And I understand that they had just arrived?"

She shook her head. "Oh, no, sir. They must have been there for quite some time. I saw them arrive early in the evening, when most of the other ladies were arriving."

"What? Are you certain?"

"Oh, absolutely, sir. This was the third year that I've played my harp at the rites, and I knew the herb-woman from that purple dress she wore."

I tried to keep a self-condemning curse behind my teeth. This was what came of giving too much credence to secondhand information. Somebody makes a mistaken assumption, and for lack of contradiction it gains the stature of fact. If I had come to question this girl first, I would have got my facts straight and perhaps the herb-woman would be alive. It struck me that the purple dress was her professional trademark, since her name was Purpurea. Then something else struck me.

"You recognized the herb-woman from her dress, not her face?"

"She also wore a veil, Senator."

"There seem to have been a number of veils that night. Clodius, naturally enough, now Purpurea. I've also heard that Fausta was veiled."

"Then you heard wrong, Senator," said Licinia. "The lady Fausta"-she gave the little sniff that highborn women perform when they mention their scandalous sis-ters-"was here in the home of Lucullus that night."

"I see," I said. "And you did not attend the rites?"

"I was unwell that night. As for Fausta, she has no respect for religion and did not wish to attend the preliminary ceremonies, as unmarried women should."

So now the argument as to Fausta's presence stood at one for, two against. But the vote for was Julia's, and I was still reluctant to discount her words. I rose.

"Thank you. I think that this will prove useful to my investigation."

"Good," said Licinia. "There must be a trial. What will become of Rome if we allow our sacred rituals to be violated? The gods will take a terrible vengeance."

"We certainly can't have that," I said. I no longer had the slightest interest in the sacrilege. I was burning to find out what else had been going on that night. I was about to leave, but I turned back. "Phyllis?"

"Yes, sir?"

"You've said that Clodius and the herb-woman were standing in a hallway entrance. Do you know where that hall leads?"

"It's one of the ones that lead to the rear of the house, Senator."

"Where the unmarried women retire at a certain stage of the rites?"

The girl thought for a moment. "No, that is on the other side of the house. The hall where I saw the two of them leads back to the living quarters of the Pontifex Maximus. Some years, we slaves were sent to wait there when we were not needed."

"But not this year," I said.

"No, Senator."

I thanked the two women and left the house. I was still thoroughly mystified, but now I was excited as well. I felt sure that I now had the crucial piece of evidence that would resolve the puzzle of what had happened on that very odd evening, if I could just figure out where it fit. There had been too many anomalous women present, and too damned many veils.

Hermes was waiting outside the gate. He had taken the opportunity to return my bath gear to my house. He fell in beside me, and after a few minutes of walking I noticed that he was imitating me, walking along with his head down and his hands clasped behind his back. I stopped.

"Are you mocking me?" I demanded.

"Who, me?" His eyes went wide with innocence. "They say that slaves always come to look like their masters, sir. That must be what it is."

"That had better be the case," I warned him. "I will not be treated with disrespect."

"Certainly not, sir!" he cried. We resumed walking. "But I was wondering, sir. All this questioning and people trying to kill you and all-what's it all about?"

"That is exactly the sort of thing that I am famed for detecting," I said.

"And have you figured it out?"

"No, but I expect to have everything sorted out soon. A little time for peaceful reflection is all it takes."

"I don't know about you, sir," he said with heavy insinuation, "but I never think my best on an empty stomach."

"Now that you mention it, it's been a while since breakfast. Let's see what the district offers." Luckily, you never have to go far in Rome to find someone selling food. Before long, we had acquired bread, sausages, pickled fish, olives and a jug of wine and retired to a public garden to restore the mental faculties. We sat on a bench and watched the passing show for a while as we attacked the food and drained the jug. The streets were unusually crowded and many vendors were setting up, although it was an odd hour for it.

"Jupiter!" I said. "Tomorrow is Pompey's triumph! I'd all but forgotten. They're setting up now to have good spots in the morning."

"I hear it's going to be a great show," Hermes said, munching and nodding eagerly.

"It ought to be," I said. "He's robbed half the world to finance it."

"That's what the world's for, isn't it? To make things good for Romans?" He did not say this bitterly, as a foreign-born slave might. Like most native domestics, he expected to be manumitted and made a citizen someday. We are far more easygoing about such things than most nations.

"I'm not sure that was the original intention of the gods, but that is how things turned out," I said.

"Then it ought to be a good show," he maintained. "I mean, who cares about a bunch of barbarians?"

"Spoken like a true Roman," I said. "You have real citizen material in you, Hermes, even if you were given a Greek name."

Men in blue tunics were running down the streets with paint pots and brushes in their hands, posting the schedule of events, writing with incredible speed upon walls already thick with such writings. Other graffitists had been through earlier in the day, whitewashing patches on the walls to carry the glorious news. I called a painter over and tossed him a coin.