Kevin Ashman - Mortuus Virgo

An hour later an ambulance disappeared into the shiny distance of the wet London road, its blue light reflecting in the shop windows as it went. India sat in the back of a police car watching as teams of white clad technicians carrying their bags and briefcases made their way through the police cordon towards the admin area. Crowds of people had gathered around the end of the street curious as to the cause of the commotion. Brandon stood talking to someone in a long black coat and after a few minutes, shook his hand and joined India in the back of the car. A police constable got in and started the engine.

‘Where are we going?’ asked India.

‘Home,’ said Brandon.

‘But why?’ she asked, ‘Surely they want statements from us.’

‘It’s been sorted,’ he said ‘They’ll have to wait. We need to get to get you home, get a good nights rest and start again in the morning. There’s a serial killer on the loose and we have work to do.’

Though she started to ask questions Brandon was strangely unforthcoming during the ride back to his house, spending most of the time on calls or sending e mails from his mobile. They stopped briefly to pick up a curry on the way, the smell making her mouth water and within forty five minutes she was sat facing Brandon across the wooden farmhouse table, her empty plate testament to how hungry she had been. She pushed a half empty lager can away from her to nestle between the empty foil takeaway containers.

‘I know it's traditional to drink lager with curry,’ she said, ‘But could I have a nice cup of tea?’

‘Aren’t you tired?’ he asked.

‘You have got to be kidding,’ she said, ‘You think I could sleep after the last four hours.’

‘Fair point,’ he said, ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

‘So what happens now?’ she asked.

‘We need to take stock,’ he said ‘And analyse what we know.’

‘We don’t have anything as far as I can see,’ she said, staring in frustration as he opened and closed several cupboard doors, ‘For heaven’s sake what are you looking for?’

‘Teapot.’

‘Teapot, who makes tea in a teapot?’

‘Trust me,’ he said and ten minutes later she was watching with fascination as he poured the tea through a strainer.

‘You’re a strange family,’ she said as he poured the tea, ‘Your mother carries a touch screen phone, yet you make tea with leaves.’

‘Fashion is fleeting,’ he said ‘But class is eternal. Some things just can’t be bettered, now, get your laughing gear around that.’ He passed over the tea and she sipped cautiously. ‘Nice?’

‘Okay, I suppose,’ she acknowledged.

‘Right, I know it’s been a tough day but I’ve gone over and over this and nothing makes sense. The police investigations are getting nowhere and the only thing that all the deaths have in common is this.’ He placed something on the table.

She picked up the necklace and looked at the familiar profile spinning slowly before her.

‘The Macedonian necklace,’ she said, ‘Or at least a copy, where did you get it from?’

‘The girl on the cross,’ he answered

She looked at him in horror.

‘You stole it from a dead body?’

‘It’s the only thing we have to go on,’ he said, ‘It was necessary.’

She stared at the coin, turning it over and over in her hand, searching for anything new.

‘Doesn’t help much,’ she said, ‘It’s exactly the same as the picture we saw earlier,’ and passed the coin over to Brandon.

Brandon held the coin in one hand while sipping his tea. Suddenly he stared closer at the coin, with his cup halfway to his mouth.

‘Hang on,’ he said, ‘Pass me that magnifying glass, there’s writing on the edge of the coin.’

‘Where?’

‘Just get a pen,’ he said ‘And write this down. The first letter is U, then U again, the next letter is worn, I can’t make it out, then there’s a space followed by U again, the next is worn, then R and G. The next one is O. I think the next one is M,’ he continued, ‘Then O and R and the last one is missing.’

India wrote the letters down on the back of an envelope.

‘What have we got?’ he asked.

She held out the envelope for him to see. UU_ _U_RGO_MO_

‘Mean anything?’ he asked.

‘Looks like Latin,’ she mumbled, Possibly an anagram.

‘Let me see,’ he said and took the envelope from her. For the next few minutes they tried the letters in different orders without any success until eventually Brandon sat back and stared at her.

‘Hang on,’ he said, ‘How stupid are we? We are looking to solve a problem that isn’t there. It’s not an anagram, the letters are in the right order; we have just started in the wrong place. Some letters may be missing but others depict spaces, let me see them again. There is a distinct gap between the O and the M but it’s not a missing letter, it’s the end of a word. Move the last three letters to the front.’

India made the changes. Already it made more sense. MOR_ UU_ _U_RGO Brandon pored over the letters trying different letters with no luck.

‘T, S and I,’ said India quietly.

‘What?’ he asked looking up.’

‘The missing letters,’ she repeated, They are T and S and I.’

‘But there are four letters missing, not three.’

‘No, we have assumed the two centre gaps are both missing letters. We were wrong. One of them is a space, there are actually two words.’

He looked at the paper again and filled in the blanks.

‘Mortuus Uirgo,’ he read aloud.

‘The last U is actually a V,’ she said, ‘In Roman lettering the two are often depicted the same.’

‘Mortuus Virgo,’ he suggested.

‘Mortuus Virgo,’ confirmed India.

He turned to look at her, surprised at the look of concern at her face.

‘You know what it means, don’t you?’

She nodded grimly.

‘What is it?’

‘Dead Virgins,’ she said, ‘It means the Dead virgins!’

Rome 64 AD

Over the next few weeks, Rubria was summoned to Nero’s presence more and more, and, as time went on, his trust in her grew. She often left the palace confused at his random outbursts but overall she started to get a feel for the way the Emperor’s mind worked. Every night she sat with the high Priestess, relaying every detail of what had passed between them. Though she knew the Priestess was looking for something specific, she was never told what. Finally Rubria decided to broach the subject.

‘Holy Mother,’ she said, ‘Forgive me but if I knew what concerns you, perhaps my visits would be more fruitful.’

‘Sweet child,’ said the High Priestess holding her hand, ‘Your innocence is your best defence. If I explained my concerns, then I fear your honesty would be your downfall and Nero would see through you. This would put you in danger. All I can say, is our task is given from the Senate themselves and they fear Nero plans some grand gesture that may harm not only the city but the sanctity of our very temple.’

Rubria gasped and held her hand over her mouth.

‘Your role is simply to gain his trust,’ continued the High Priestess, ‘And if you hear of anything that gives you concern, then relay it back to me. In the meantime, if you need to get a message to me, then you can trust the Centurion posted as your guard. He and his family are devotees of the Goddess and can be trusted completely.’

Rubria retired to the Atrium and slept fitfully as she fretted about any harm coming to the Temple of Vesta. First bell hadn’t even rung when she was awoken by the Sister on vigil.

‘Rubria, the Emperor has summoned you,’ she said gently.

She rose immediately and after bathing and praying at her shrine made her way to the courtyard where an escort was waiting. She recognised the Centurion on duty.