foot to foot, swinging the knife to left and right. So far, she appeared not to want to harm herself, but I felt that could come at any moment.
I, of course, am a correct Roman. I do not fight women. This was a problem. I would have to disarm Laelia, and then rapidly overpower her. Her grip on the knife was so tight her knuckles shone white.
I leaped across the hall, vaulting the dry pool, to where the workmen had stored their equipment. I snatched up a piece of rough wood that they probably used as scaffolding. Sensing a new situation, Laelia started screaming repeatedly. Other people were shouting. Scaurus suddenly stopped struggling, so Caecilia let go of him.
Scaurus threw open his arms as if to embrace Laelia.
Abruptly she stood still. “Cutting his throat was not enough,” she told Scaurus. Her calm was even more unnerving than her previous violence. She could have been explaining why she had changed the daily bakery delivery. Everyone else froze in horror. “The man’s entrails should have been examined for omens. The liver should have been offered to the gods.”
I started walking towards her. “So it was you who killed Uncle Tiberius?” I asked, trying to distract her. “Why did you do that, Laelia?”
She turned in my direction. “He stopped wanting me. Aunt Terentia made him stay away-he should not have listened to her. I held the bowl!” she exclaimed. Something that had always bothered me began to make sense.
“I realize how hard it must have been.” I was managing to move in closer. “Ventidius had thrashed around trying to escape. He fell outside, through the wall of the tent. He landed on the grass. The rest must have been extremely awkward.” I kept stepping forward gently. I was nearly there.
“You know, don’t you?” Laelia demanded of me. “It’s not like sacrificing an animal, is it? Anyway, the priest has assistants. Tiberius was lying on the ground. It was very difficult to put the bowl under his throat-”
It was impossible for one to manage. At the ritual sacrifice of Ventidius Silanus, two people must have officiated. As realization dawned it must have shown on my face. While Laelia was watching me, Scaurus decided to get to her.
“Keep away,” I warned him urgently. Laelia’s gaze flickered wildly between us; Scaurus hesitated. The people watching had fallen very quiet, and were at last all standing still. “Leave it to me, Scaurus.”
Laelia turned to me and said clearly, “I could not have done it. I was never taught how-but my brother had been trained in what a flamen has to do, so he knew. Scaurus said, if the knife is sharp, it’s easier than you think!”
Scaurus came at her ahead of me. He grabbed her wrist. As everyone kept telling me, the man was an idiot. He had grabbed the wrist nearest to him-not the one holding the knife. Laelia spun, actually pivoting more easily because her other arm was held. She brought around her free hand, trying to carve a stroke across his neck. She was hopeless too. She drew blood from his shoulder, but he leaped back out of harm’s way.
Suddenly I was free to act. Safely at arm’s length, I brought the stave down on Laelia’s knife hand as hard as possible. The weapon jerked from her grasp and skidded away across the hall mosaic. She hardly seemed to feel it. She was going from us now; her mind was visibly wandering.
I got to her. I had turned the stave, as if intending to hold her at bay with it. I managed to extend one end beyond Laelia just as Scaurus bent and retrieved their mother’s sacrificial knife. I was ready for him. I flung an arm around Laelia and dragged her back away from him. Nobody else seemed to have any idea of the danger she was in. She knew least of all; that made it even more dangerous.
Sobbing wildly now, Laelia grabbed at the stave suddenly and hampered my movements. While I shook her off, somebody whipped past me in a blur of gray. Terentia Paulla stepped past her mad niece just as Scaurus, her equally mad nephew, squared up to kill Laelia.
“You!” cried Terentia, in complete exasperation. “It was bad enough thinking that your ridiculous sister killed him-but you helped her!”
“He was an animal,” said Scaurus.
I hurled Laelia as far from me as possible and turned to protect Terentia. There was no need.
The furious ex-Vestal let fly at her nephew with a straight-armed, right-handed punch that came all the way from the shoulder. I heard his jaw crack. His head jerked back. Scaurus looked at the ceiling abruptly. Then he went down.
LV
EVERYONE FELL ON the various victims.
I muttered in an undertone to Terentia, “Dare I ask where you learned the knockout blow? From one of the Vestals’ lictors, preparing you for married life with Ventidius?”
“Instinct!” she snapped. “I can supervise here. Now, Falco-find Gaia!”
She turned to where Anacrites was still standing with my dog in his arms. Unusually for her, Nux had retained her interest in a trophy. Her white teeth firmly gripped the little horsehair mop-surely the one the builder had made for Gaia.
Feeling stupid, Anacrites put the dog down, and she ran to sit in front of me, wagging her unhygienic stump of tail against the floor mosaic.
“What is it, Nux?”
I bent down and took the mop from between her jaws. Being Nux, she clung on for some time, growling happily and shaking her find while I tugged it free. She started to bark.
“Good girl.” When she saw that I was now prepared to notice her, she began running around in wide circles in front of me. I followed. Nux took off and streaked back the way we had come from the garden. Whenever she reached the corner of a corridor, she stopped and barked. It was a harsh, high, piercing noise, meant to hold my attention. Nothing like her normal pointless woof.
I had left everyone behind as I strode after my excited pet. She nosed her way along passageways and through doorways, looking back sometimes to check that I was still with her. “Good girlie! Show me, Nux.”
Out into the kitchen garden went the dog. Past the seat where so little time ago I had been talking to Terentia. Through the newly dug beds, under the despoiled pergolas, into the brambles and tangled creepers that ran back to the high wall.
Yesterday we were supposed to have searched everywhere, even here. Slaves with scythes had hacked at the creepers. I had trodden down parts of the undergrowth myself. I had told some of the helpers to crawl into the thickets.
Not good enough, Falco. There was a place where an angle of the boundary wall turned away. Bushes shielded it from obvious view nowadays, but it had once had a purpose. In fairness to me, I had seen someone else exploring this area yesterday. But it is never safe to rely on other people. In a real emergency, you must double-check every inch of ground yourself. Never mind if your helpers grow fractious because it looks as if you do not trust them. Never mind if you exhaust yourself. Nobody else is truly trustworthy. Not even when, like you, they know a child’s life is at stake.
Nux was going crazy now. She had reached a small clearing, where stonework had defied the encroaching undergrowth. This might be where Nux had found the mop. Gaia had definitely been playing here. Somehow, she had even managed to make herself a fire. Perhaps she spent hours rubbing sticks together to do it; more likely she took some embers from the burning garden rubbish nearer the house. The ashes of her mock Vestal fire, cold now, of course, formed a neat circle. They were quite clearly different from the great mounds of garden clippings, and if anyone had shown me these yesterday, I would have tracked down the child there and then.
I spotted a kitchen pitcher, lying on its side.
Nux ran to the pitcher, sniffed at it, then ran past and lay down with her nose between her paws, whining frantically.
“Well done, Nuxie; I’m coming.”
I could see what had happened. Little hands had pulled back a curtain of weeds to discover an old flight of four or five shallow stone steps. Ferns grew in crevices and green slime lurked on the lower slabs. Anyone familiar with springs would realize that this had once been a source of water, though it must have been an inconvenient
