The Vestal Vanishes (3 page)

Just in time, in fact. The great dishes of cooked meat were being brought into the court, and the sevir muttered an incantation over them before they were taken and shared among the crowd. There is not much decorum at such a public ‘feast’. The attendant priest moved down one side of the table, offering the bowl and a muttered blessing to each man in turn. People seized a portion and gnawed it where they stood, followed by a quick swig from the communal cup, while people on the fringes queued to get a share. I ate mine and retired, being careful to keep my toga clean – the temple slaves would bring the bowls of rinsing-water for fingers afterwards, when the final prayer of dismissal had been said.

The trader, who had followed at my heels, licked the last scrap of cooked beef from his fingertips. ‘Well, that was very good. I suppose we must thank your Publius Martinus. Though no doubt he’ll have more than a taste of it himself – he and your patron will have the better bits. Along with all the rest of the councillors, I suppose. Just as they’ll have the best seats at the games this afternoon.’ He nodded towards Marcus and the official guests, who were on the dais at the front and had a proper place to sit.

I was about to murmur – diplomatically – that, since they were the ones who had provided all the beasts, of course the choicest portion would be reserved for them, but I was interrupted by Junio tugging at my sleeve.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘That visitor from Rome. It seems as if he’s leaving. And the final prayer’s not said.’

The trader goggled. ‘There’s been a message for him, by the look of it. It must have been important, to disturb him here.’ He pointed out the crimson-faced young courier who had fought his way unnoticed to the central dais, and was now escorting the Roman towards the outer gate. The crowd stood back to make way for them.

‘It’s no doubt to tell him that his Vestal Bride’s arrived,’ I said. ‘I understand he plans to present her to the crowd.’

Junio looked stunned. ‘You think he’d bring her here? A woman?’

‘Why not?’ I made a knowing face. ‘As a Vestal she’s entitled to attend.’

‘And claim her as his bride in front of everyone?’ The trader’s eyes were wide. ‘So we would legally all be witnesses?’

I shook my head. ‘I gather the formal nuptials will follow afterwards. The bride’s uncle is arranging another banquet at his home – no doubt an old-fashioned wedding with vows at the family altar. There’ll be witnesses enough. Everyone important is likely to be there.’ I was aware of people listening as I spoke, but I was not concerned about discretion now. If Publius had gone to fetch the Vestal, as it looked as if he had, the whole of Glevum would know it very soon and I was rather proud to be the first to break the news.

But it seemed that I was wrong. Though we waited an interminable time Publius Martinus did not come back again. The official party looked at first bemused, and then increasingly impatient, until – after a little whispering among the priests – the sevir rose and spoke the words that showed the feast was at an end. The musicians struck up again, the important guests filed out, and the rest of us were free – at last – to drift away.

As I walked out of the enclosure with Junio at my heels a hand fell on my shoulder. I turned around, to find the trader looking quizzically at me. ‘So it seems that you were misinformed? There is no Vestal Virgin after all.’

A palm-frond trader was packing up his stall and must have overheard. He sidled up to us. ‘You haven’t heard then, citizens? Well, I’m not surprised. The runner said that he’d been told not to give the message till the man came out here, away from public ears. It would have been a dreadful scandal wouldn’t it, if they’d announced that the bull of sacrifice had proved to be ill-omened after all, just at the moment when you’d all eaten it?’

I rounded on him. ‘What do you mean, ill-omened? What has happened now? Did that messenger bring news about a problem of some kind?’

‘There was a proper fuss. Boy had come running with a message all the way.’ He bared his snaggled teeth into a yellow grin. ‘That Publius’s servant was waiting by my stall and when the man came out, I heard every word they said.’

I saw where this was leading, and I reached into my purse. ‘A sestertius if you tell us, and it proves to be the truth.’

The stallholder took the coin I offered him, and tried it in his teeth. When he was satisfied he grinned at me again. ‘Well then, I’ll tell you, citizen. You’re right in one respect. There was a Vestal Virgin – but she has disappeared. That fat Roman has gone to look for her.’

TWO

I
boggled at him. ‘How could she disappear?’

He shrugged. ‘You tell me, citizen. Magic powers, perhaps. I’m just a simple freeman with a market stall. Vestal Virgins are a mystery to me.’ He turned his back and returned to his fronds. Now that he had his coin, the palm vendor had lost interest in the dialogue – or perhaps he had really told me all he knew.

My trader friend from the temple had been listening to all this. He cocked an eyebrow at me. ‘So there is nothing to wait here for. Should we set off to the games? Or do you think they will be cancelled after this? I presume that Publius will be funding them – and if his sacrifice was not acceptable to the gods . . .’ He trailed off.

I knew why he was anxious to hurry to the games, which were another annual component of the birthday celebrations. The amphitheatre was a little way outside of town, beyond the Eastern Gate, and people were already pushing past us to hasten over there, hoping to get the best seats with a view. All seating in the public area was free, and the event was paid for by
decurions
and other providers of the festal animals – so naturally the performance was very popular. But I was not proposing to attend.

I shook my head. ‘Watching armed combat is not my favourite sport, especially on an occasion like today when few of the losers are likely to survive.’

He grinned. ‘Oh come on, citizen, it makes for better sport. Much more so than the usual tame affairs we see. I know that gladiators are expensive things, and I suppose if I owned a team I wouldn’t want them killed, but most of the conflicts that we are treated to round here are designed to be thrilling entertainment, rather a proper battle to the death.’

He was right about the usual local shows. There are always wounds, of course, but – normally – unless the loser shows actual cowardice, most of the vanquished live to fight another day.

I shook my head again. ‘It won’t be tame today. These games are in honour of the Emperor, and if they are indeed paid for by this newcomer from Rome he will have the final verdict on the fights. I expect that at the end of every bout this afternoon, when the victor looks up to the official box, he’ll get the “thumbs-down” signal which seals the victim’s fate. No doubt Publius intends to tell the Emperor all about it afterwards.’ I did not add the obvious, that Commodus was noted for his sadistic streak, and was known to like a gory finish to a fight.

My trader friend, however, was nodding eagerly. ‘So you think the games will happen? Despite what we’ve just heard?’

‘I imagine so. Publius was going to finance them, of course – no doubt in part as celebration of his wedding plans – but even if that fails, Marcus and the other councillors will meet the bill, I’m sure. They wouldn’t want to lose favour with the populace. But I doubt that he’ll withdraw – most of the money will be already spent. Besides, if the games were to be cancelled, we would have heard by now.’

The man looked doubtful. ‘I suppose you’re right. Though I’m surprised that the authorities have not made some announcement to the crowd.’

‘What? Make an announcement in the marketplace that Publius’s sacrifice appears to be ill-starred – and that people had been given ill-omened flesh to eat? The priests could not do that. There would very likely be riots in the street. And what would the Emperor say when he found out that a feast in his honour had been declared bad luck?’ I shook my head. ‘The sacrifice is over. The bull was accepted by the hirospex and it is too late now. Besides, Publius did not come back into the temple after he was called away so it’s possible that the authorities do not even know the news. It’s only chance we heard this from the fern-seller.’

My companion considered this a moment, then answered thoughtfully, ‘We only have his word for it, in fact. And there has been no announcement . . .’

I nodded. ‘Exactly. So, if you hope to get a good view from the public stands, I should hurry there at once.’

‘You genuinely do not mean to come?’ He sounded quite amazed. He motioned towards Junio, who had been listening to all this. ‘Would your son not welcome a visit to the games?’

I laughed. ‘We have already done our duty to the Emperor by coming to Glevum for the temple rite. That is no small thing. Remember that my roundhouse is several miles from town, and my son’s is next to it. We have already walked a long way to get here, and – since there is no chance of a carrying-litter on a day like this, far less a hiring-carriage – we’ll be walking back again. And we’ll have to go the long way, by the military road: we can hardly scrabble down muddy country lanes in these expensive clothes.’ It was an exaggeration – I had done such things before – but there was some truth in what I said. A toga is an awkward thing to hurry in, even on the most well-laid of roads, and very expensive to have cleaned, besides. I saw the fellow wavering and I urged again. ‘If we stop to see the games we’ll be lucky to get home before it’s dark – and it isn’t safe to walk the forest paths at night. So if you want to see the gladiator, I suggest you hurry on.’

‘Well, if you say so, citizen.’ And he scurried off.

I turned to Junio, smiling. ‘I thought he’d never go.’

Junio watched him out of sight, then turned to walk across with me towards the fountain where we had left our slaves to wait. ‘You realize he was hoping to go into the games with you? He thinks your influence with Marcus might have won us better seats.’

The idea made me laugh. ‘Then he doesn’t know my patron! Marcus is in his most public role today, the senior man in half Britannia. He’s very conscious of his dignity. If he deigned to notice me at all on such a day, it would only be because he wanted some service out of me.’

Junio made a semi-sympathetic face. ‘And you really do not wish to see the games yourself, father?’

‘If I want to see butchery I’ll frequent the marketplace,’ I joked, then saw the look of disappointment on his face. It was obvious that my son would have liked to go to see the birthday games – of course these things were still a novel treat for him – and for a moment I felt a twinge of guilt. I touched him on the arm.

‘The next time there are public games in Glevum, I will take you there,’ I promised. ‘You won’t have long to wait. Some aging wealthy citizen is almost sure to die, leaving money in his will for a gladiatorial show in memory of himself, and even failing that there’ll be elections very soon.’

He brightened. ‘I suppose so. There are always contests then.’

‘Usually sponsored by the candidates,’ I said, and added teasingly, ‘specially to impress young citizens like you.’

‘You mean that it’s an attempt to sway the vote?’

‘Well, not entirely. Most citizens would claim it isn’t just a bribe. It’s a demonstration that the candidate concerned has a lot of money which he’s prepared to spend for the benefit of the populace.’

‘But you do not sound as if you very much approve.’

‘I’d prefer to see the money spent on public works like drains,’ I said. ‘But I don’t suppose that’s very glamorous.’ I grinned at him. ‘It would disappoint you of an entertainment, too, since I’ve said that I would take you. And I’ll keep my word.’

‘Although you don’t much care for gladiatorial games?’

‘In the ordinary way, I quite enjoy the spectacle. I always like watching a
retinarius
– they show such skill with just a trident and a net – sometimes against a swordsman with full armour and a shield. But not on an occasion like today, when half the combatants are likely to be killed. Still, enough of that. For now let’s find the servants and get home to our wives. I want to take my toga and these new sandals off – the soles are killing me.’

It took us a few moments to locate the slaves, in fact, though usually they were not hard to pick out in a crowd: two little red-haired lads – who had been trained in Marcus’s household but who had passed to me as a reward for various ‘services’ that I had done for him. I spotted them at last, with their backs towards me, at the rear of a throng of other household slaves, who – along with assorted beggars and poor freemen from the town – were huddled in the entrance to a nearby lane, craning to watch something in the alleyway. The boys were standing on tiptoe to see between the crowd and they did not notice the two of us as we approached.

I gestured Junio to silence, then – as he held back – I went up behind the nearer slave and said loudly in his ear, ‘Minimus! What is the meaning of all this? Didn’t I tell you to wait beside the fountain over there?’

Minimus, who was – despite his name – the taller of the boys, (they had been purchased a matching pair, but he had grown the most) spun around at once and a look of startled horror crossed his face. ‘Master! You didn’t go to watch the games?’ He nudged his companion, and I heard him whispering, ‘Maximus! The master’s here. And the young master too. Look what you have done! You were supposed to be on watch and warn me when they came.’

The smaller slave whirled instantly round, scarlet with embarrassment and shame. ‘I am very sorry, master—’ he began.

I cut him off with a gesture. ‘I expect obedience, not apologies!’ I said, with an attempt to be severe. My wife is always telling me I am too lax with them, and this would be a flogging matter in many households. But I could not altogether blame them for their escapade. On feast-days such as this the town is always thronging with alluring sights, quite apart from the official marches and parades: exotic street performers, jugglers and acrobats, and enticing stalls selling honey-cakes and oatcakes and small crispy rinds of pig. It was all a lot more interesting than standing at a fountain watching water flow, and after all the boys had scarcely moved a dozen yards. I said more gently, ‘What is so exciting that it makes you leave your post?’