The faint chanting of the Vestals from the nearby temple seemed to hover in the still air above us. I sat on a bench, close by the reeds at the edge of the pond, and gazed at the stars that spangled its black surface.
Rufus sat beside me. 'What do you think, Gordianus?'
'I think we are in deep waters.'
'Do you believe Catilina?'
'Do you?'
'Not for a moment! The man is false to the core, all charm and no substance.'
'Ah, you compare him to Cicero, perhaps, and find him wanting.'
'Exactly.'
'And yet it seems true to his character that he would respond to such a reckless letter for the sheer novelty, does it not? That part of the story seems credible; or is he so devious as to devise such a letter himself, to use as a ruse if needed?'
'He's certainly wicked enough!'
'I'm not sure of that. As for his innocence of the murder, I'm impressed by his detail of finding the knife still spinning about in the pool of blood. It seems too striking a detail to be invented on the spot.'
'You underestimate his cleverness, Gordianus.'
'Or perhaps you underestimate his nobleness. What if it was Fabia who murdered the intruder, and Catilina is lying to protect her?'
'Now that is truly absurd, Gordianus! The girl is frail and timid-'
'And very much in love with Catilina. Did you not see that, Rufus? Might she have killed in a frenzy to protect her lover?'
'This is too fantastic, Gordianus.'
'Perhaps you're right. The murmur of distant chanting and the pool full of stars carry me away. I even find myself considering the possibility that it was Licinia who wielded the knife…'
'The Virgo Maxima! But for what purpose?'
'To deflect attention from her own impending trial. To take vengeance on the young lovers-assuming they are lovers- because she is insanely jealous of them. Or to protect them, by killing the man sent to spy on them-because she grows more sentimental as she grows older, like myself. Except that her plan failed when the man cried out and the other Vestals came running…'
'Deep waters,' Rufus agreed. 'Can we ever find the truth?'
'In bits and pieces,' I said, 'and perhaps by looking where we don't expect to find it.' I rubbed my eyes and fought to stifle a yawn. I closed my eyes-for just an instant, I thought…
I awoke with a start at the touch of a hand on my shoulder, and looked up to see Catilina.
'The search…?' I said.
'Fruitless. We looked behind every curtain, under every couch, inside every chamber pot.'
I nodded. 'Then I'll return to my house now, if Licinia will be kind enough to send some litter-bearers to the foot of the stairs. I'll wait on the steps outside.' I began to walk toward the great barred doors. 'I suppose this is the only time I shall ever be inside this place, at such an hour of the night. It has been a memorable experience.'
'Not too unpleasant, I hope,' said Catilina. He lowered his voice. 'You'll do what you can for me, yes? Go snooping on my behalf, locate that messenger boy, uncover what you can about Clodius and his schemes? I don't forget my friends, Gordianus. Sometime in the future I'll repay you.'
'Of course,' I said, and thought: If you have a future, Catilina.
The Vestal who had admitted us came to unbar the door. She kept her eyes averted, especially from Catilina.
As the door swung open, I heard a liquid plop from the pond. I smiled at the Vestal. 'The frogs are restless tonight.'
She shook her head wearily. 'There are no frogs in the pond,' she said.
The door closed behind me. I heard the bar fall. I walked slowly down the steps. A sudden wind blew through the Forum, carrying the smell of rain. I looked up and saw the stars begin to vanish one by one behind a mantle of black clouds coming from the west.
Suddenly I realized the truth.
I ran up the steps and knocked on the door, at first softly. When there was no answer I banged my fist against it.
The door gave a shudder and opened. I slipped inside. The Vestal frowned at me, confused. Catilina and Fabia stood beside the pool, with Licinia and Rufus nearby. I walked to them quickly, feeling the full strangeness of the starlight, the distant chanting, the atmosphere of sanctity and death within the forbidden walls.
'The murderer is still here, within the house,' I said. 'Here in our very presence!'
Suspicious glances passed from eye to eye. Licinia stepped back. Even Fabia and Catilina drew apart.
'Do you still have the knives you carried for your search?'
Licinia produced a kitchen knife from the folds of her stola, as did Fabia.
'And you, Rufus?'
He pulled out a short dagger, as did I. Only Catilina was without a weapon.
I walked to the edge of the pool. 'When I entered the House of the Vestals, I saw reeds growing from the center of the pool-only from the center. Yet these reeds are very near the edge. Something keeps softly splashing, yet there are no frogs in the pond.' I reached for the hollow reeds, jerked them from the water and threw them onto the paving stones.
A moment later a man emerged from the water, sputtering and choking. He bolted and slipped, struggling against the encumbrance of the sodden woolen cloak that hung on him like a coat of mail. The cloak was black and hooded, like the one his confederate had worn. In the darkness he looked like a monster made of blackness, emerging from a pool of nightmare. Then something swung through space, glittering in the starlight. He staggered toward me, wielding his dagger.
It was Catilina, weaponless though he was, who threw himself on the assassin. The two of them tumbled into the water. Rufus and I ran after them into the pool, but amid the foaming chaos it was impossible to strike a blow.
Then the struggle was over, as abruptly as it had begun. Catilina rose onto his hands and knees, water dripping from his beard, his eyes open wide, as if he had surprised even himself with what he had done. The assassin lay writhing in the water, surrounded by an effusion that even in the dark water could not be mistaken for anything but blood; the stars reflected in its murk were fiery red.
'Help me pull him from the water,' I said. 'Quickly, Rufus!'
We dragged the man onto the paving stones. His knife was plunged hilt-deep into his heart. His fingers still gripped the handle. His eyes were open wide. He shuddered and twitched occasionally, but his face-broad-nosed, beetle-browed, shadowed with stubble-was oddly peaceful. The household slaves, alerted by the noise, gathered around. From the Temple of Vesta, the priestesses continued to chant, oblivious.
Like Cicero-like Catilina, I suspect-I am not a particularly religious man. Yet it seems to me that Jupiter himself showed his favor to Catilina at that moment. Would the assassin have confessed before he died, had not a thin filament of Jupiter's own lightning bolted across the sky?
The dying man saw it. His eyes grew wider. Rufus crouched over him and touched the man's hand where it gripped the pommel of his dagger. 'I am an augur,' he said, with a tone of authority that far exceeded his years. Despite his shock of red hair, his freckles and bright brown eyes, he did not look at all like a boy to me in that instant. 'I read the auspices.'
'The lightning…' the man groaned.
'On your right-hand side; the hand that grips the dagger in your heart.'
'A bad omen? Tell me, augur!'
'The gods have come for you-'
'Oh no!'
'Look where they will find you, in the House of the Vestals, with the blood of the man you murdered still warm. They will be angry-'
Another bolt of lightning shattered the sky. The heavens rumbled.
