'The doorstep advises visitors to beware the dog,' I said skeptically.
'As indeed they should-especially unwelcome visitors of the four-footed variety.'
'You expect this dog to keep cats away?'
'I do! Never again shall my peace be violated by those accursed creatures, not with little Momo here to protect me. Is that not right, Momo? Are you not the fiercest cat chaser who ever lived? Brave, bold little Momo-'
I rolled my eyes, and caught a glimpse of something black and sleek on the roof. It was almost certainly the very cat who had terrified Lucius on my last visit.
An instant later the terrier was out of her master's lap, performing a frantic circular dance on the floor, yapping frantically and baring her teeth. Up on the roof, the black cat arched its back, hissed, and disappeared.
'There, you see, Gordianus! Beware this dog, all you cats of Rome!' Lucius scooped the terrier up in his arms and kissed her nose. 'There, there, Momo! And disbelieving Gordianus doubted you…'
I thought of a truism I had learned from Bethesda: there are those in this world who love cats, and those who love dogs, and never shall the two close ranks. But we could at least share a cup of wine, Lucius Claudius and I, and exchange the latest gossip from the Forum.
THE HOUSE OF THE VESTALS
'What do you know about the Vestal Virgins?' said Cicero.
'Only what every Roman knows: that there are six of them; that they watch over the eternal flame in the Temple of Vesta; that they serve for no less than thirty years, during which time they take a vow of chastity. And that once every generation or so a terrible scandal erupts-'
'Yes, yes,' said Cicero. The litter gave a small lurch, pitching him forward. It was a moonless night, and the litter-bearers, proceeding over the rough paving stones by torchlight, were giving us a bumpy ride. 'I bring up the matter only because one never knows nowadays-we live in such irreligious times-not that I myself set any store by mindless superstition…'
The sharpest mind in Rome was rambling. Cicero was uncommonly agitated.
He had arrived at my door in the middle of the night, called me from my bed, and insisted I accompany him to an unspecified destination.
The bearers trotted along at a quick pace, jostling us about; I would almost have preferred to get out and trot myself. I parted the curtains and peered outside. Within the covered box I had lost my bearings; the darkened street looked like any other. 'Where are we going, Cicero?'
He ignored my question. 'As you noted, Gordianus, the Vestals are particularly vulnerable to scandal. You have heard, no doubt, of the pending case against Marcus Crassus?'
'It's the talk of every tavern in town-the richest man in Rome is accused of corrupting a Vestal. And not just any Vestal, but Licinia herself.'
'Yes, the Virgo Maxima, high priestess of Vesta and a distant cousin of Crassus. The charge is absurd, of course. Crassus is no more likely to involve himself in such an affair than I would be. Like myself, and unlike so many of our contemporaries, Crassus is above the base appetites of the flesh. Even so, there are plenty of witnesses ready to testify that he has been seen in Licinia's company on numerous occasions-at the theater during festivals, in the Forum-hovering about her in an unseemly fashion, appearing almost to badger her. I am told also that circumstantial evidence exists to indicate he has visited her, during daylight hours in the House of the Vestals, without chaperones present. Even so, there is no crime in that, unless poor judgment is a crime. Men hate Crassus only because he's made himself so rich. That, too, is not a crime…'
The great mind had begun to wander again. The hour, after all, was late. I cleared my throat. 'Will you be defending Crassus in the courts? Or Licinia?'
'Neither! My political career has entered a very delicate phase. I cannot be seen to have any public connection with a scandal involving the Vestals. Which is why the events of this evening are such a disaster!'
At last, I thought, we shall get down to business. I peered between the curtains again. It seemed that we were approaching the Forum. What possible business could we have among the temples and public squares in the middle of the night?
'As you probably know, Gordianus, one of the younger Vestals happens to be a relative of mine.'
'No, I didn't know.'
'A relative by marriage, anyway; Fabia is my wife's half sister, and therefore my sister-in-law.'
'But the Vestal under investigation is the Virgo Maxima, Licinia.'
'Yes, the scandal involved only Licinia… until the events of this evening.'
'Cicero, are you being deliberately obscure?'
'Very well. Something occurred earlier tonight in the House of the Vestals. Something quite terrible. Unthinkable! Something which threatens not only to destroy Fabia, but to throw calumny upon the very institution of the Vestals, and to undermine the whole religious establishment of Rome.' Cicero lowered his voice, which had begun to rise to orator's pitch. 'I have no doubt that the prosecution of Licinia and Crassus is somehow related to this latest disaster; there is an organized conspiracy afoot to spread doubt and chaos in the city, using the Vestals as a starting point. If my years in the Forum have taught me anything, it is that some Roman politicians will stop at nothing!'
He leaned forward and clutched my arm. 'You are aware that this year marks the tenth anniversary of the fire which razed the Temple of Jupiter and destroyed the Sibylline oracles? The masses are superstitious, Gordianus; they are quite ready to believe that on the tenth anniversary of such a terrible catastrophe, something equally terrible must occur. Now it has. Whether it was manufactured by gods or by men, that is the question.'
The litter gave a final lurch and came to a halt. Cicero released his grip on my arm, sat back and sighed. 'We have reached your destination.'
I pulled back the curtains and saw the colonnaded facade of the House of the Vestals.
'Cicero, I may not be an expert in religious matters, but I do know that for a man to enter the House of the Vestals after dark is an offense punishable by death. I hope you don't expect me-'
'Tonight is not like other nights, Gordianus.'
'Cicero! Back at last!' The voice from the darkness was oddly familiar. A shock of red hair entered the circle of torch-light and I recognized young Marcus Valerius Messalla Rufus- called Rufus on account of his flaming hair- whom I had not seen, close at hand, in the seven years since he had assisted Cicero with the defense of Sextus Roscius. He had been only sixteen then, a boy with red cheeks and a freckled nose; now he was a religious official, one of the youngest men ever elected to the college of augurs, entrusted with interpreting the will of the gods by reading omens in lightning and the flights of birds. He still looked very much like a boy to me. In spite of the obvious gravity of the moment, his eyes shone brightly and he smiled as he stepped toward Cicero and took his hand; it seemed that his love for his mentor had not diminished over the years.
'Rufus will take you from here,' said Cicero.
'What?. You've roused me from bed in the middle of the night, carried me halfway across Rome, given me no clear explanation, and now you abandon me?'
'I thought I made it clear that I must not be seen to have any connection whatsoever with tonight's events. Fabia called on the Virgo Maxima for help, who called on Rufus, who is known to her; together they summoned me, knowing my family connection to Fabia; I fetched you, Gordianus-and that is the end of my involvement.' He gestured impatiently for me to step from the litter. As soon as my feet touched the paving stones, without even a last farewell, he clapped his hands and the litter lurched into motion. Rufus and I watched it depart in the direction of Cicero's house on the Capitoline Hill.
'There goes an extraordinary man,' sighed Rufus. I was thinking something quite different, but bit my tongue. The litter turned a corner and disappeared from sight.
Before us was the entrance to the House of the Vestals. Twin braziers stood at either side; flickering shadows danced across the wide, steep stairway. But the house itself was dark, its high wooden doors thrown shut. Normally they stood open, day and night-for who would dare to enter the abode of the Vestals uninvited or with evil intent? Across the way, the round Temple of Vesta was strangely lit up, and from it came a soft chanting on the still
