She was pouring water into the little bowls and swilling them around to clean the dust from them. ‘Of course the poor thing could not eat with us. She would not have known the proper rituals. So Paulinus took her to the room, and later on she managed to share something with the nurse when they sent up a plate of bread and meat.’ She set the drinking-vessels upside down to dry. ‘And then next day she came to see me off, and that is when it happened.’
I remembered that Priscilla had remarked that Secunda had seemed to move more easily in the morning after she had slept and that up to then she had hardly said a word. ‘But how did you effect the substitution then? There were a lot of people in the court. You must have been observed.’
She shook her head. ‘I got into the raeda as myself, of course, and Paulinus and the nurse came crowding round as well. Muta was in her travelling cape again, but this time she did not have the stola underneath. I was wearing that under my mantle, tucked up in my belt. I got into the seat in front of everyone, ostensibly settling while they brought down the box. I made quite a fuss — sending for extra cushions for my back, and ordering the maidservant to sit up at the front and while everyone was occupied I put the shutters up. Of course the box was already largely shielding me from sight. Muta leaned right in the other side, as if to give me an embrace, and while Paulinus crowded round the back, slipped her cloak and veil off and handed them to me.’
‘Together with her wig?’ I said. ‘Priscilla said she had one.’
She nodded. ‘It assisted the disguise. And it was necessary for me afterwards, of course. My Vestal hairdo might have drawn remark, even underneath a cloak and veil. That left Muta in her tunic, looking like a slave, and that was the most dangerous moment of the whole affair. She does not move quickly and there were people in the court though she tried to choose a moment when they were occupied. The nursemaid tried to draw attention away from her as well, by waving at the window of Lavinia’s room — and it worked to an extent. The inn-slaves and the driver all looked up that way, but in fact Muta did not manage to get out unobserved. Priscilla glimpsed her from another room upstairs. Fortunately she took her for a goggling bystander.’
I nodded. ‘She even told me so. Shouted at her to go away and get outside the gate. That was fortunate!’
That earned a little smile. ‘Muta went, as fast as her poor legs would carry her, hurried into the forum and waited there for us. Meanwhile I slipped her cloak and veil on over mine and — now pretending that there was still someone in the coach — stepped out backwards and loudly said goodbye.’
‘Taking your jewel-case with you?’ I enquired.
‘I had already packed it in a leather bag which Muta gave me as I got into the coach. I stuffed the wig in too, and simply brought it out. It looked like an exchange of gifts if anyone observed. Then I joined Paulinus — remembering to limp — and together with the nurse we waved the raeda off. I’ve never been more thankful to see anything depart. We hurried to an alleyway where I put on the wig and buried my own white cloak inside Paulinus’s sack, then on to the slave-market where we arranged to hire the boy and met up with Muta. That was still a risk, since she had been spotted earlier, but we bought her a new tunic from the old-clothes stall and Priscilla never really looked at her again.’
‘And then Paulinus went and fetched the cart?’ I said.
She nodded. ‘He drove it to the lodging-house and paid the bill, then I waited in the cart with Muta while he went back upstairs for the famous travelling box. The nursemaid had packed it and he carried it downstairs. He did it on his own — it was heavy but he didn’t want the servants looking in, though I’d bought a rug to loosely cover up the child. I think you know the rest… But here he is! And not alone, I see.’
Paulinus indeed was entering the room, carrying a huge pail of something in both hands, while Modesta followed him uncertainly. Her thin face brightened at the sight of me.
‘Citizen, the shadow is long past the paving stone. Fiscus sent to ask if you were coming soon. We are already waiting, but we can’t get past the dog.’
We three citizens exchanged a glance at this, and I said quickly, ‘I will not be long. Paulinus has a message that he hopes to send, expressing his condolences to the Glevum house. When it is written I will join you in the barn.’
‘I’ll tell him, citizen.’ She bobbed her little curtsy and disappeared again.
Paulinus put down his heavy pail and stared at me. ‘You really do not mean to tell Lavinius all this?’
‘I will delay as long as possible,’ I said, ‘to give you a chance to get away to Gaul. But I really think that’s all that I can do for you. After all, Audelia is legally at fault. She broke a contractual vow. That is a serious criminal offence for anyone at all. For a Vestal Virgin, it’s unforgivable.’
Audelia herself was scooping apple-beer into the bowls. She set one in front of me, another one she gave to Paulinus, while the third one she took over to the shrine, and made a small oblation there with practised ease. If I had not known she was a Vestal up to then, that single skilful action would have alerted me.
She turned and signalled me to drink. ‘I broke no vow. Or not deliberately. In fact I kept the only one I made. I promised Paulinus months and months ago, when he and Paulina came to see me at the shrine, that when I retired I would marry him and provide my dowry to help him with the child. Of course I had known the family for many years — I remember him from when I was a child myself, and he and his wife made many sacrifices with me after that, asking for Vesta’s blessing on the home.’
Paulinus nodded. ‘She lent me money once. I had applied to Lavinius for help but had been turned away.’
Audelia sighed. ‘After that my uncle came to see me at the shrine. He was my agent, as I think you know and managed my affairs in Glevum, so I trusted him. I taxed him with his lack of charity, saying that the goddess requires us to be kind to relatives, and telling him what I proposed to do. He deceived me, citizen. He came again and brought a document, which seemed to be agreeing to the match, and persuaded me to sign. It would save me from a hundred importunate suitors, so he said, and he would undertake to fund the wedding feast himself the very day that I returned to Glevum from the shrine. I did it willingly. The trap was in the name.’
I frowned. ‘I do not follow you.’
‘I undertook to marry one P. Atronius Marinus, my widowed kinsman — you know how these things are phrased in legal documents. I believed it was a promise to marry Paulinus — but it was a trick. My uncle had arranged a deal with Publius — a handsome sum if he could secure my hand — and he had no scruples about deceiving me. A single iron-nib stroke was all that it required to change the name to P. Atronius Martinus, which is what he did.’
I gulped. ‘If that could be produced in evidence Lavinius could be arraigned in court — fined or even exiled.’ I remembered my moment of disquiet at the gate when Paulinus came over and introduced himself. I must have registered the similarity of the names — though these things are not surprising within a Roman gens. ‘Tampering with a legal document is a serious offence.’
‘And how could I prove it, citizen? I would not have known till I arrived in Glevum and met Publius at the games. Of course the written contract was signed and sealed by me, and is — by that fact — a legal document. A refusal to honour it could be challenged in the court. With my uncle’s word against me, it would be exile for me, as well as losing everything I owned. Lavinius knew he could oblige me to submit. If I had protested they’d have fed me poppy-juice or even forced me into intercourse. After that my word would be no more than any other female’s and my uncle could have forced me to wed anyone he chose. Cyra heard them plotting.’
I gulped my apple-beer. ‘So that’s how you discovered that you’d promised the wrong man? Cyra wrote and told you?’
Paulinus nodded. ‘It was her gift to us, in return for asking us to help Lavinia. Her husband, of course, had no idea she was in touch with us and he was gloating — so she told me — about his cleverness.’
Audelia sipped her drink with all the elegance with which she did everything. ‘Publius had also promised to return a proportion of my dowry if I died and that, I think, was what alarmed her most. Publius had been married several times before, in Rome, and all of his other wives had died quite young, apparently of illness, but it made her think. It certainly made up my mind for me.’ She reached out and squeezed her husband’s hand. ‘One way or another I was bound to break my word. I chose to honour the contract that I meant to make. Do you really blame me for that, citizen?’
Of course I didn’t, and I told her so. ‘In fact,’ I said, ‘I think it would be wiser to take Publius’s advice, and forget everything I’ve learned about this whole affair. As far as he’s concerned his bride-to-be is dead and decently cremated. Lavinius may try to seek the so-called murderer, but since there’s no such person, he won’t have much success. Better to report Priscilla’s view of things — that it was either sorcery or the revenge of Druids. Or
