decided I could hardly do so in this public place. In any case, I reassured myself, such an examination of this body was not appropriate. This had been a Vestal Virgin after all, and intimate inspections were likely to be cursed if carried out by any man at all who did not happen to be a pontifex. I sucked my hand again, hoping that there had not been poison on the pin.
‘Citizen?’ an urgent voice said in my ear.
I turned. Most of the crowd had drifted back a little way — frightened off by the discovery of the mistletoe, no doubt — but I found the florid trader still hovering nearby with a curious companion not very far behind.
I was about to demand a little more respect for what was clearly the body of a woman of some rank and tell them to go away, but the man forestalled me. The pock-marked face came very close to mine. ‘I formally withdraw the offer, citizen. If Druids are involved, I want no part in it.’
‘You quite sure?’ his companion enquired. ‘Your customer won’t know.’
‘You can’t take chances. There might be a curse. How do you think I got these marks?’ He was still murmuring. He turned to me and pointed to his nose. ‘Once bought a blanket that was cheap because it had been wrapped around a sickly cow. More than likely the animal was hexed. Next thing I know, I had caught a pox myself — and lucky to survive it, everybody said. So — as this man is my witness — I formally withdraw my offer for the veil.’
I shook my head at him. ‘I did not agree to sell it,’ I said, impatiently. ‘And I would not have done, whatever price you offered. This is the body of a Vestal, as you see — and hence clearly a woman of very wealthy birth. We have come to take her back to her family for proper burial — and her vestments with her. So move away. That’s all there is to see.’
Neither of them budged. Indeed, the larger crowd, becoming curious, was edging close again. Ascus picked up the hapless corpse and put it in the box, draped the veil around it where the head should be, then turned to face the gogglers, fingers in his belt.
‘Have you no fear of omens, any of you fools?’ he demanded in a roar. ‘It is a sacred feast-day — and what have we here? A murdered woman — and a Vestal too — hacked about and with Druid symbols tucked into her clothes. And for double measure, she was to be a bride. What kind of luck do you suppose that sight will bring? And yet you idiots want to stand and stare at it?’
Even the florid trader turned bloodless at the words and there was a general murmur in the crowd.
‘I saw a donkey carrying hipposelinum yesterday,’ I heard someone remark, ‘I should have known there would be trouble.’ He spat on a finger and rubbed behind his ear, in the age-old gesture to keep evil thoughts and influence at bay. ‘I’m going to go and make a sacrifice at once, to ward the evil off.’
People were already starting to disperse, though mostly in the direction of the wine-shop, I observed. I grinned at Ascus. ‘That was well expressed. Shall we move the corpse into the gig?’
The raedarius however, motioned us to wait. He was staring at the box. ‘They can’t have done this when the raeda stopped to let the troops go by,’ he mused. ‘Someone would have noticed, and it would have taken far too long. And I saw Audelia get in the coach, myself. It must have happened since it’s been standing here.’
Ascus shook his head. ‘I don’t see how it could have. The box was under guard. I saw the man myself when we arrived. I told him that he was relieved and sent him on his way. A servant from the temple.’ He turned to the gig-slave. ‘You must have seen him too? I suppose it was the same one that Publius set on watch?’
The boy was still whiter than a piece of fullered cloth, but he nodded shakily. ‘It was the same slave, I am quite sure of that.’
‘Though, I suppose he might have moved in the meanwhile,’ I said. ‘You recognize the man. You go inside the gate and tell him to come here, so I can question him.’
The gig-slave was only too anxious to obey — anything to distance himself from Druid signs and corpses, obviously — but the pock-marked trader had overheard our talk.
‘I can save you the trouble. I’ve been here all day — that’s my stall over there. I had the raeda in my sight since it first came. I watched this raedarius draw up at the gates and saw him send a messenger inside — obviously to tell somebody that he had arrived.’
I had a sudden memory. ‘There was a slave-girl sitting on the seat with him,’ I said. ‘Did you see her depart?’
He frowned. ‘I think I might have done,’ he said. ‘But I was far too busy watching him.’ He gestured at the raedarius as he spoke. ‘It was obvious that something was amiss — the way he kept on looking in the carriage as if he could not believe his eyes. And then a moment afterwards, a citizen came out and this fellow was carried off in bonds — everyone was naturally staring by that time. So I noticed when the temple slave was put on guard. It isn’t a normal thing for them to do. I wondered why, but he wouldn’t tell me, though I came across and asked. But I did discover that there was a box — I managed to get a look inside the coach.’
‘And since he’d placed a temple guard on it, you reasoned that there was something very valuable inside? Which is why you made your offer for the veil?’ I suggested. I had been surprised by the amount of money offered, at the time.
Colour came flooding back into his cheeks and he gave me a wry nod. ‘It did occur to me. A man must take what chances he can get. Of course I didn’t know about the body at that time — but neither did the patrician, obviously enough — so I reasoned that if it merited a temple slave as guard, there must be something very special in the box.’ He essayed a little grin. ‘That’s why afterwards I kept an eye on it. Well, naturally I did! And I can tell you this: whoever put that body in the box there must have done it somewhere else. Nobody else came near the raeda all the afternoon. And the guard did not leave it. I’d stake my life on that. If that slave had gone anywhere I’d have had a better look myself, but he didn’t give me a moment’s opportunity. But here’s the slave in question, just coming through the gate. You can go and ask him, but he’ll tell you just the same.’
TWELVE
I glanced in the direction that he was indicating and saw the pudgy slave in temple livery hurrying back out through the gate. I stepped towards him.
‘Excuse me,’ I said politely. ‘I believe you are the slave who was asked by Publius to keep watch on the-’
He brushed my words aside as though I were a slave myself. ‘Indeed I am, and I sincerely wish that I were not. I might have been excused this irksome duty otherwise. I am off to the household where he is staying now, so please excuse me, I have work to do. It’s miles to the villa, and I don’t know where it is.’
It was impolite of course. From any other servant such rudeness to a citizen would be a flogging crime, but temple slaves are prone to see themselves as servants of the gods and therefore not subject to merely mortal rules. Besides, I wanted to gain his confidence.
‘You are going to the household of Lavinius?’ I gestured to my companions who were by this time loading the box into the gig. ‘In that case, friend, we may be of help to you. We have his gig-man with us, and he is driving back. He has that large box to carry, so there won’t be room for you, but he could travel slowly to guide you to the house.’
I did not point out that it was effectively a funeral-carriage now. It would make no difference to Audelia, I thought, whether she travelled swiftly home or not — and personally I would prefer that the journey took as long as possible. It would give me time to set off for Corinium, before Publius could change his mind and call me back. After all, I had been commissioned to bring back his bride for him, and once that was achieved I had no formal contract with him any more. In fact, once he discovered her mutilated body in the box and found out that Druids were apparently involved, I was sure that he would fear a curse and want to distance himself from the whole family as soon as possible. But I’m a stubborn man and the presence of the mistletoe intrigued me very much; I was more anxious than ever to discover the truth.
And this self-important pudgy slave might help me. ‘Let me take you to the gig-boy,’ I suggested, with a smile.
My attempts to woo his friendship were ineffectual. He made an impatient noise. ‘There is no time for that. I have a message from the pontifex which must get there as soon as possible. I have been told to find a hiring- carriage which will take me there, my master is using the temple coach himself. He still intends to go to Corinium
