“The child was rather quiet. After I seemed to win her confidence, she suddenly exclaimed, ‘Please let me stay here. There is a mad person at home who is going to kill me!’ I was alarmed. I thought the child herself must be crazy. Attendants came forward immediately and took her away.”
To her credit, the Queen looked disturbed by remembering the incident.
“Did anyone investigate her claims?” I asked.
“For heaven’s sake, Falco,” snapped Titus. “Who could believe it? She comes from a very good family!”
“Oh, that’s all right, then,” I retorted caustically.
“We made a mistake,” he admitted.
I had to accept it, since so had I. “Gaia also talked at some length, that day and I believe on a subsequent occasion, to the Vestal Constantia,” I told him. “Would it be possible for you to arrange officially for me to interview Constantia?”
He pursed his lips. “It is thought preferable not to allow that, in case it should give the wrong impression. There must be no suggestion of any specific link between one particular child and the Vestals. We would not want to compromise the lottery.”
That clinched it for me. I had no doubts now: the lottery was not just compromised, it was a cold-blooded fix.
“With Gaia Laelia mysteriously missing, the reception has had unforeseen and rather unfortunate consequences,” Titus said. The food was starting to revive me, but I was still so tired I must have been slow. “It has been seized on by scandalmongers.”
Belatedly, I caught up. “Surely the Queen is not being linked to the disappearance of a child she had only met once, and then formally?”
As soon as I said it, I could see the predicament. Slander need not be believable. Gossip is always more enjoyable if it looks likely to be untrue.
Berenice was Judaean. It was believed that Titus had promised her marriage. He may indeed have done so, though his father was unlikely ever to allow it. Ever since Cleopatra, Romans have had a horror of exotic foreign women stealing the hearts of their generals and subverting the peace and prosperity of Rome.
Titus spoke harshly. “Madness!” Maybe. But an accusation that Berenice was a child-killer-or a Vestal Virgin abductor-was just the kind of ridiculous rumor that fools would want to believe. “Falco, I want this girl found.”
For a moment, I did feel sorry for them. The woman had to go home again-but it ought to be for the proper reasons, not because of some sleaze dreamed up by political opponents. Instead, the Flavians would have to show that they understood what Rome required and that, if he were to become emperor one day, Titus was man enough to face his responsibilities.
To lighten the atmosphere, I said gently, “If I do find Gaia safe and alive, and if it is too late for the lottery, I have just one request-can somebody else have the task of explaining to the weeping child that she will not be a Vestal Virgin after all?”
Titus relaxed and laughed.
Helena, who had been quietly munching the tidbits while I talked, now jumped to her feet and pulled me after her. Visitors were supposed to wait until they were dismissed by royalty, but that did not bother her. Until I was made middle-class, it would not have bothered me either-so I reached back shamelessly for another lobster knickknack. “ He needs to rest,” my beloved told Titus.
Titus Caesar rose, then came and clasped my hand. He had the good fortune to choose the nonfishy one. “I am extremely grateful, Falco.” The one benefit of my new rank was that all my clients were perfectly polite to me. That did not mean the fees would arrive any quicker (or at all).
After his farewell to me, Titus had lifted Helena’s hand. “I am glad to see you here tonight.” He was speaking in a low voice. Helena looked nervous, though not as nervous as I was. “I want you to explain something discreetly to your brother.”
“Aelianus?”
“He applied to join the Arval Brethren. Look; do let him know, they have nothing against him personally. He is well qualified. But there will have to be a period of readjustment after your uncle’s unfortunate escapade.”
“Oh, I see,” replied Helena in an odd tone of voice. “This is a reference to unhappy Uncle Publius?” She meant the senator’s brother, who some time before had unwisely plotted to destabilize the Empire and dethrone Vespasian. Misguided Uncle Publius was no threat now. He was out of it, his corpse rotting in the Great Sewer. I knew; I shoved him down there myself.
“You see what I mean?” asked Titus, eager for her acquiescence.
“Oh, I do,” Helena answered. With a cool turn of her head, she offered her cheek for Titus Caesar to kiss, which he stalwartly did. Before I could stop her, she then leaned in like some old childhood friend who was about to kiss him back. Instead she added very, very gently, “It was four years ago; my uncle is dead; the conspiracy was completely unraveled; and no question marks ever hung over my father’s or my brothers’ loyalty. Sir, what I see is just a feeble excuse!”
Titus had turned back to his lustrous lady love, pretending to make a joke of it. “This is an exceptional couple!” Berenice looked as if she thought so too, though not for the same reasons. “I love them both dearly,” Titus Caesar proclaimed.
I grabbed Helena’s hand and tucked it firmly in my arm, pulling her back and keeping her close to me. Then I thanked Titus for his confidence in us, and took my defiant girl away.
She was extremely upset. I had seen it even before she answered. Titus, of course, had no idea. She would talk to me about it, although probably not for days. When she did speak, she would be raging. I could wait. I just kept my arm tightly around her while she controlled her immediate anger.
We walked together in silence for some distance. Since Helena was wrapped in her own thoughts, I could sink into mine. The pressure I felt upon me now was the same old dead weight. In addition to the domestic tragedy that I was trying to avert from the Laelii, my task had acquired much wider significance. This new burden, of saving Berenice from grief for Titus, was a tricky one.
So that was the ravishing Queen Berenice! If this had happened to my brother Festus, a scented notelet would have followed before he reached the street door.
Mind you, when Didius Festus visited fabulously beautiful women, he made sure that he went by himself.
XXXIX
IN NERO’S DAY the entire ground floor of the Esquiline Wing of the Golden House had been given over to dining rooms. There were matched pairs, one half looking into a spacious courtyard, the complementary mirrored groups facing out over the Forum, where Nero installed a wildlife park but where Vespasian was now building his Amphitheatre. With his rather different lifestyle, Nero had needed not one elegant hall for feeding flatterers-his best being the famous Octagonal Roombut complex suites in threes or fives that would contain the wild parties he loved. It was among the labyrinth of these that we had seen Titus.
The Flavians were another breed from Nero. They conducted most official imperial business in the old Palace of the Caesars, high on the Palatine. It was said they intended to dismantle the Golden House soon. It represented not just hated luxury, but Nero’s contempt for the people he had deliberately burned out and displaced in order to build it. The Flavians respected the people. At any rate, they would do, so long as the people respected them. But they were also frugal. While their predecessor’s mad, gloriously ornate dwelling still existed, it did seem proper to them that Rome-in the person of the frugal Flavians-should make use of it. It had cost a great deal and Vespasian was hot on the value-for-money principle.
I had been here for private meetings before, and for one formal conference held in the Octagon. Titus often
