what’s been happening.’ She turned to me again. ‘Perhaps, citizen, you don’t know what these Druids can be like — unless you’ve heard the tales — but there’s been a lot of trouble with them round here recently. Curse-tablets and spell-casting and Jove knows what. It’s said that sheep and cattle are falling dead from it, and children born with crooked arms and legs, all because the Druid priests are looking for revenge.’
‘Revenge?’ This was a new idea. I was so surprised I swallowed the whole crust and had to wash it down with the last dregs of my sharp-tasting wine. I knew that there were odd bands of western rebels still hiding in the woods and that they often clung to the old religion as part of the protest against Rome. But generally their efforts were not of much account — a futile rearguard action against the conquerors, harrying military convoys or picking off solitary soldiers as they passed. So…? ‘Revenge?’ I said again.
This time Trullius did exert himself. ‘Silence, woman! You have already talked too much. I will tell him, if anybody does! I won’t have you spreading rumours that there’s no foundation for. I am still the master of this house.’
And so he was, of course, and I would need his help as well. I turned towards him with a deferential smile. ‘I’d be glad of any information you can give.’
He was a little mollified. He cleared his throat — so like an orator on the forum steps that I half-expected him to strike a pose before he spoke. ‘Then I will tell you what is certain — not stoop to rumours. The authorities found a nest of Druid rebels in the woods. They had been making their usual bloody sacrifice — several heads of murdered legionaries were hung up on the trees and it was decided that an example must be made. A trap was set against them, and instead of killing them, the military managed to bring a lot of them to trial.’ He paused, to make sure I was following all this. ‘You can imagine the result.’
‘Of course! It is a capital offence simply to be a member of the sect — let alone murdering soldiers,’ I replied.
He nodded. ‘There have been public executions every day, as part of the civic munus — the five days of public games, leading up to and including the Imperial Birthday feast. Most of the prisoners were sentenced to the beasts — though one or two were fortunate enough to purchase poison and escape the worst of it. The last of them was executed only yesterday.’
His wife broke in again, clearly unable to hold her tongue for long. ‘There were some more victims in the ring today, but they weren’t dangerous, they were only followers of that Jewish carpenter — refusing to make a sacrifice to the Emperor, publicly saying that he is not a god, instead of keeping silent and going through the pretence, like anybody else. But of course they’re funny folk. They even claim that they forgive their enemies. The Druids don’t! They’re quite the opposite! So that is why I ask. Do you suppose the Druids killed Audelia in revenge?’
I nodded thoughtfully. It was the likely explanation, given these events. There would be a risk, of course — penalties for laying sacrilegious hands on a Vestal Virgin are even more severe than being fed to beasts. But provided that the rebel perpetrators felt themselves secure… ‘A Vestal Virgin would be a kind of symbol, I suppose,’ I said slowly.
Priscilla looked impatient. ‘More than just a symbol, citizen. Everyone knows the fate of Rome depends upon the sacred flame that they maintain in the Imperial capital. And it is the same with the Vestal temple in Britannia. Audelia was telling us about it yesterday: the altar flame was brought here in braziers as a “daughter fire”, and if that goes out it’s said the Empire will fall.’
I doubted that the Druids believed all this, in fact — they had their own ways of trying to defeat the might of Rome — but I could see how the ritual murder of a Vestal might affect the public mind.
It was clear what the authorities had intended to achieve by the recent executions in the ring: to punish the victims with humiliating death and frighten off other would-be supporters of the sect, and also to undermine the influence of the Druid priests — whose skills at divination are supposed to be their strength. It was equally clear why the rebels might have seized and killed Audelia in revenge. What defeated me was how they’d managed it.
Which did not mean they hadn’t done it: quite the contrary! It was just the kind of coup which would appeal to them, designed to terrify the populace and taunt the conquerors by proving that the sect had secret, magic powers and that its members’ deaths would not go unrevenged.
‘I can understand the impulse to retaliate,’ I said. ‘I have witnessed an execution ad bestias myself, in company with my patron. It is a dreadful death.’
Even now the memory raised bile in my throat. First the snarling and slavering of the wolves and bears (the favoured animals in this northern outpost of the Empire, where more exotic creatures are not easily obtained) as a taunting fragment of raw meat was held in front of them, to demonstrate that they had not been fed for days. Then the convicted criminal dragged screaming to the ring, flogged so that the smell of fresh blood would reach the starving beasts, before he was tied naked to a post on a sort of chariot, and thrust into the snarling cage to be torn apart for the entertainment of the crowd. I pushed my plate away.
Trullius seemed reluctant to accept this train of thought, perhaps because it had been suggested by his wife. ‘What makes you so certain it was Druids, anyway? I’m sure they’ve not confessed. You must have a reason for thinking it was them?’
There was nothing for it. I told them everything, including a description of the mutilated corpse. There was a silence. The woman turned a paler shade of white and I almost feared that she would slump onto the floor again.
Trullius took one look at her and seized the empty jug, hugging it to him as he took the lamp again. ‘I’ll get some more of this. My wife could do with something, by the look of it, and — frankly — so could I, though, not being Roman citizens, we’re unaccustomed to drinking late at night. You, citizen, are welcome to have some if you wish. There won’t be any charge.’ He shambled off into the back part of the house.
I realized that Priscilla was looking desperately around. ‘Searching for something?’ I enquired.
She didn’t answer, merely seized the wooden tray, knocked on it three times and spat onto the floor. I realized that she had been seeking to ‘touch wood’ and keep ill-luck away. A Druid superstition if I recalled aright — though everyone seemed to have adopted it these days.
When she spoke her voice was tremulous. ‘The head chopped off and sprigs of mistletoe enclosed — it certainly sounds like Druid handiwork.’ She rallied as a sudden thought seemed to occur to her. ‘But if that’s true, no blame can fall on us. If they murdered her, it must have been in Glevum, citizen. They did not do it here, and they could not possibly have done it on the way. There would have been a dreadful skirmish: it would have rocked the coach, and someone would have noticed, the raedarius or the maid. To say nothing of the mess it must have made.’
I toyed with the remaining breadcrumbs on the board. ‘There wasn’t any mess. That is one of the most interesting aspects of the whole event. And she was not killed in Glevum, there are witnesses to that. The coach was under observation all the time.’
I saw the look of horror slowly dawning in her eyes. ‘So what are you suggesting? That she was dead and already in the box when she left here? Well, I can tell you certainly that she was not. With my own eyes I saw her get into the coach.’
‘And you could swear to that? Did she not have a veil?’
That took her aback. ‘Well, of course she did. So does any modest Roman matron, come to that. So did all the women, except the slaves, of course. But all the others were standing round while she got in, and they knew her well. They would have recognized her — from her voice, if nothing else — and realized if there was anything amiss. I was upstairs and looking down into the court and I heard her speak myself — and anyway, I would have known the cloak. Only a Vestal Virgin has a snow-white cape like that. In fact it had already attracted attention from the street — later I saw an ancient slave-woman still goggling at the gate. I actually had to wave at her to shoo her off.’
Something that she said had struck a chord with me. ‘So Audelia was not only veiled, she had a hooded cape?’ I frowned. Another mystery. There had been no cloak inside the raeda when we found the corpse.
Priscilla noticed my perplexity. ‘Well you did not expect her to get wringing wet? Not on her wedding day?’
‘Of course, it was raining! Ephibbius told me that!’ I was annoyed, but only with myself. Why had I not seen the significance of that fact before? ‘So not only did Audelia have a cloak and hood, the others had one too?’
Priscilla took my irritation for rebuke. ‘Well naturally, citizen. The women anyway. What else would you suppose?’ She got to her feet and started clearing the table noisily, banging the cup and plate onto the tray. ‘But if
