Aelianus leaped up the steps athletically, his cloak brushed very slightly against this old man, who flinched as if he had been touched by a leprous beggar. Sensing a patrician who might own a senate election vote, Aelianus apologized briefly. The only answer was an impatient humph.
The man seemed vaguely familiar. Perhaps he held some position of honor, or I might have seen him lounging in the good seats at the theater. Jove knew who he was.
We marched boldly inside the main porch. I found a chamberlain. Our manner had warned him we were trouble, but we proved quiet enough to win him over. “I apologize; this is very urgent. Before the fun begins this evening, we need to see the Master on a confidential matter. Didius Falco and Camillus Aelianus. It concerns an unfortunate occurrence yesterday.”
The chamberlain was suave, expressionless-and without doubt apprised of the scandal in the Grove. To the disbelief of my companion, we got straight in.
That was bad. The Master must be playing this the clever way.
At first it was not the Master himself we met, but his vice-a flustered barnacle covered with warts from whom, had he been a commoner instead of a pedigreed noble, I would not have bought a fresh fish in case it gave me bellyache. He was accompanied by the college’s vice-flamen-a pallid cheese with a drip on his nose who must be the main source of this month’s summer cold in Rome. These two stand-ins greeted us nervously, explained who they were, and mumbled a lot about having to officiate at that day’s rites in the temple because the real Master and flamen had been called away. They were spared embarrassment when their principals turned up in traveling clothes.
I stood to attention deferentially. So, at this cue, did Helena’s brother.
“Camillus Aelianus!” Washing his hands in a bowl held by a slave, the Master nodded congenially to show that he recognized him. “And you are-?”
“Didius Falco.” It was probably convention in such company to name your own association with religion, but I was not prepared to admit being the guardian of the geese. “I have worked for the Emperor.” They could guess how. “I am here as a friend to this young man. Aelianus had a rather unpleasant experience in the late hours of yesterday. We do feel that he should report it formally, should you be unaware of what occurred.”
“I am so sorry to keep you waiting; we had extra business at the Sacred Grove.” The Master was a huge- bellied man whose size must have been enormous long before he took office in a post with compulsory feasting. Dogging him, the cult’s sacrificing flamen had neither girth nor height, but made his presence felt by a harsh laugh at inappropriate moments.
“A purification rite?” I asked quietly.
The efficient chamberlain must have warned his head of household what we had said we wanted. “Exactly. The Grove has been polluted by an iron blade, but due solemnities have now been offered-a suovetaurilia.”
Major expiation by swine, ram, and bull. Sorted. Three perfect animals rounded up and their throats cut, the very next day.
Would a bloody corpse be dealt with just as briskly? In this cult, yes.
The three subsidiary officers had found seats. The ears of grain in their headdresses nodded gently in the light from a bank of suspended oil lamps; shadows passed across their faces. They were used to the effect. Aelianus, who had hoped to join them, must have trained himself to accept the sight. I managed to contain a smirk. Just.
“So, young man! Tell me what happened to you,” offered the Master, so graciously that my teeth set. He was now changing into a flowing white dinner gown, like those the others already wore. Over one shoulder was placed a folded vestment. The feast must have been delayed; still assisted by the discreet slave, he dressed hurriedly. The pressure on us rose. Well, nobody wanted the Arval cook to start bewailing a burned roast.
Aelianus exhibited his least attractive scowl and said bluntly, “I fell over a corpse at the back of your pavilion, sir.”
“Ah.” The big man revealed no surprise, only delicate concern. Garbed for the feast now, he gestured to the slave to leave us. “That must have been a terrible experience.”
“You saw the body?” I slipped in.
“I did.” He was making no attempt at subterfuge. Normally in my job you meet head-on resistance, but this was a familiar scenario too; I knew it was far worse. To deal with complete openness is like falling into a grain storage pit. It can very quickly suffocate.
“The body subsequently disappeared.” Still upset, Aelianus spoke too harshly. If I let him continue in this style, we would lose any grip on the conversation that we still possessed.
The Master looked from one to the other of us. It was a fine display of gentle reproach. “Oh dear. You are suspecting dark deeds!” I felt my cheek twitch. We could have been discussing a few missing denarii from their petty cash, instead of a man who had been honoring the old religion, hacked to death in a tent.
“You tidied up?” I posed the question without exaggerated disapproval. These people were intelligent. They knew that I knew they wished that their secret had remained within the cult.
The Master immediately increased his air of deep apology. “I am afraid we did. It was, after all, the main night of our annual festival and we hoped to avoid panic among the attendant staff and members of the public who were visiting the Games. The Sacred Grove of the Dea Dia had been polluted too, so there were considerations of how to reconsecrate it as swiftly as possible… Well, this is a most dreadful business, but there is no untoward secrecy. I am grateful that you have come to me with your concerns. Let me explain what has happened, as far as we know it-”
“The dead man was one of the Brethren?” I asked.
“Unhappily, yes.” I noticed he made no attempt to give a name. “A sad domestic incident. The woman responsible was found wandering in the Grove immediately afterwards, covered with blood and weeping hysterically, totally deranged.”
“You call it a ‘domestic incident’; do you mean she is a relative of her victim?”
“Sadly, yes. Is it not true, Falco, that people are most likely to be murdered by members of their families?”
I acknowledged it. “Men get killed by their wives, usually. You saw the woman yourself?”
For the first time he did appear to be overcome by the grim story. “Yes. Yes, I did.” He was silent for a second, then went on. “She became calmer, seeming bemused. I spoke to her gently, and she admitted what had happened.”
“Was she capable of giving any rational explanation?”
“No.”
“Difficult!” I said dryly.
“These things happen. It was quite unexpected, or the ghastly consequences might have been averted. Our member, it now transpires, had been troubled by the woman’s bouts of mental stress but was attempting to protect her by concealing them. People do that, you know.” I made a face that said I knew. “I have made further enquiries, and I am satisfied that this is the truth. Her mind went. Whether it was under some great burden that cannot now be discovered or some unfortunate natural illness, we may never know.”
“Official action?”
“No, Falco. I have consulted the Emperor today, but there is nothing to gain by a court case. It would only add to the immense distress of those involved. Nothing remained for us to do but arrange for the body to be given reverently into the care of his relatives for burial. The poor woman has been assigned to her own close family, on the promise she will be nursed and constantly guarded.”
At this, the two deputy officials we had first met seemed to shift slightly in their seats. Glances passed between them and the Master, then the vice-Master told him, “We were just discussing the arrangements before you returned.”
“Good, good!”
I thought that exchange contained more meaning than the mere words implied. Was some sort of warning being given?
The Master was gazing at me, as if waiting to see if I pressed the issue. I decided to oblige. “Of course there
