‘She has gone to be a Vestal?’ I was genuinely surprised. Modesta had spoken as if the child was young, but a Vestal novice must be six years old at least and cannot be more than ten. I did a calculation in my head. If Cyra was five years older than her niece, who had just completed thirty years of service at the Vestal House, then – even if Audelia had joined the Vestals young, and Cyra’s daughter was joining very late – Cyra must have been all of thirty when the child was born. No wonder the babe had seemed a present from the gods. ‘Another provision of your father’s will?’
She shook her head. ‘This was my husband’s doing. It was the one way a daughter could bring esteem to him, he said, without the necessity of giving half our land as dowry payment to someone else’s son. Of course my father had given him the idea.’
‘So you sent her to the shrine,’ I said.
‘Not I, citizen!’ The voice was icy cold. ‘It was a shock to me. I begged Lavinius not to let her go. But he formally offered her to the pontifex, who came and ritually dragged her from my knee, and it is the priest who is accompanying her on her way, not us. So my daughter is not legally even a member of this family any more. My only living child, after years of barrenness. All my other children died in infancy – perhaps it is a family failing in some way. But she is on her way to the temple as we speak.’
‘I see. But surely her place is not yet a certainty? Did you not say something about a lottery?’
She gave a bitter laugh. ‘If a well-born citizen offers his daughter to the shrine, and she meets the criteria of perfect form and two living parents of sufficient degree, she is usually accepted without the need for drawing straws – especially if a dowry is provided with the girl. As of course it was. Lavinius saw to that. My daughter will take the same sum with her thirty years from now, when she retires, but until that time the Vestal House will have the use of it.’
‘Just as her husband would have done if she had wed,’ I murmured.
Cyra cast a furious glance at me. ‘And now she never will!’ She gestured to Modesta to fill the empty cup which was still lying used on the tray, and when it was brimming she picked it up herself. That was astonishing enough: it is not customary for a well-bred Roman matron to drink wine at all, except at a banquet – and especially not before a male guest in the mid-afternoon – but Cyra raised the cup and, far from sipping, drained it at a gulp. ‘So I’ll not see her again. I won’t survive another thirty years and my husband will never take me to the Vestal shrine. If I had borne a son, it would be a different thing.’
I could not like this woman – she was bitter and resentful – but I couldn’t help feeling some sympathy for her. I tried to turn the subject to more cheerful things while, of course, continuing to probe. ‘But when she returns she will be provided for. Not only will she have her dowry sum to spend, and of course the famous pension which the state provides for retired Vestals, but I believe that there will also be a house for her. You are building on that piece of land, I think?’
She brightened, just a little. ‘We are. It is a much finer villa than this one, too. You must have seen it, as you travelled here?’
I hadn’t. I had ridden in the litter with the curtains drawn. But I did not tell her that. All I said was, ‘It must be close to finished.’
She almost smiled. ‘There are a few rooms to plaster and a bathhouse to complete, but we could move in tomorrow if my husband chose. Indeed we might have done so earlier, except that Audelia wished to hold the wedding here. I believe that Publius intends to take her off to Rome, to meet what family he has, as soon as they are wed – and we will certainly have moved by the time that they return. Supposing that you find her. Where will you begin?’
I could not confess that I had no idea, but that was how I felt. If I had harboured any notion that there might have been a motive for this family to want Audelia gone – or even dead – it seemed that I was wrong. However, there was still one avenue that I might explore. ‘I understand that you have the carriage-driver in the house? The one who was driving when she disappeared? Perhaps it would be possible for me to speak to him?’
The violence of her answer startled me. ‘Publius sent him back here – though why I cannot think. The fellow is clearly a liar and a thief. I told my husband before we hired him that the man was dangerous – I did not like the look of him at all – but of course Lavinius took no notice of my fears.’
‘You knew the fellow, then?’ I was thinking so hard about the problem that I plucked off another grape.
‘Well, not exactly knew, but he had been here to the house. He took Lavinia to Corinium, of course.’
I could make no sense of this. ‘But I thought—’
Cyra cut me off. ‘My daughter was most anxious to see the bride before she wed, but the pontifex insisted that today – as soon as the birthday feast was over – he must take her to the shrine. So we found a compromise. She couldn’t travel in the same carriage with the pontifex anyway, of course, for the sake of decency, and Audelia was due to spend last night in Corinium. So it was arranged that Lavinia should leave here yesterday and spend Audelia’s wedding-eve with her and learn a little about Vestal life.’
‘At the official mansio, I suppose?’ I asked. A Vestal Virgin would surely merit preferential lodgings at the official inn. I knew the mansio at Corinium. I determined to call there and ask questions if I could.
‘A Vestal Virgin at a military inn? Of course not, citizen.’ Her tone of voice dismissed the fine official inns as though they might be dens of vice. ‘We chose a respectable private household known to my husband from his visits there. They let out rooms sometimes. They did have other guests last night, they said, but the wife gave up her own room and thus they managed to accommodate Lavinia – who drove there in a hired raeda yesterday.’
‘And the same driver was to bring Audelia back here? Rather than use the temple coach to bring her all the way?’
She gave a wry smile. ‘Lavinius suggested the arrangement himself. He found a driver with a raeda for hire, who was to take Lavinia to Corinium, to the lodging-house. The pontifex was to join her in the temple there today, and tomorrow my daughter was to travel on towards the shrine, using the Vestal pilentum which Audelia had used, while the raeda brought the bride the last few miles to us. It saved a double journey for both conveyances and – as my husband pointed out – the cost of hiring the raeda any further than he must.’
I nodded. ‘So your raedarius was to bring the bride back here? Or rather to Glevum to meet up with Publius?’
She nodded. ‘That was the disadvantage of the scheme. Being a hired raeda, and not the Vestal coach, it could not enter the town in daylight hours. But Audelia consented very willingly – this was all arranged before she left the shrine – and she arranged to meet Publius at the games. My husband thought it would create a pretty little spectacle to crown the day. She would make a public entrance there – they always have a symbolic seat for Vestals anyway – and Publius would announce the nuptials to the crowd. Then the raeda could bring them both back here to solemnize the wedding before our banquet guests, and we would pay the raedarius his dues.’
‘A handsome fee?’ I queried. I was a little doubtful of this raedarius.
Cyra clearly shared my thoughts. ‘We would have paid him well. It was not a very complicated task we asked of him, but he seems to have failed to look after my niece or her possessions either. Worse that that. My chief slave believes the fellow had been plotting for this all along – hoping to receive a portion of the ransom, he suggests. I’m bound to say he’s half-persuaded me. Who else would know the value of his passenger? This can’t be an accident. The deepest dungeon in the jail is too good for men like that. I don’t know why Publius did not send for the town-guard and have the fellow arrested and locked up in the town.’
‘I gather this happened at the public gate, where there would be dozens of people looking on. Possibly Publius hoped to be discreet.’ I wondered suddenly whose suggestion that had been.
I bit the grape I’d selected. It was particularly sour and I began to wish I had a little wine to gulp. ‘So how did the raedarius get here from the town? I presume he did not drive?’ I managed to say through teeth that had been set on edge.
She shook her head. ‘He came here in our gig. It was waiting at the gates to bring Lavinius home – he is too old to walk from Glevum now – and apparently Publius saw it and recognized the slave-boy who was driving it. He had already travelled in the gig the other evening when he came here to dine, and of course the gig-slave knew Publius by sight. So, when the patrician told him to tie the raedarius up and bring him here, the boy obeyed at once.’
‘Tie him up? With what?’
‘With his own tunic-belt, I understand. He had to gag the captive and bind his feet, he said, otherwise the fellow would have jumped out of the gig. But talk to the raedarius yourself. Modesta will take you when you have finished those.’ She gestured to the grapes.
I needed no encouragement to desist from eating more. I put down the remainder of the bunch and got quickly to my feet. ‘Madam, I will go to him at once, and not detain you further. You have been most helpful. Thank you for your patience – if you still intend to have a banquet here tonight you must have much to see to in the house.’
Cyra extended her ringed hand to me again. ‘Then I will leave you to your questioning, and see if there’s a message from my husband yet. I sent him a letter asking what I am to do about the preparations for the feast. I hope I get some sort of answer very soon. I’d better send the gig back to wait for him, I suppose.’ And still frowning, she stalked out of the room, with her personal attendant trailing after her. Fiscus, who was still positioned at the door, peered in to see if he was wanted now.
‘Come with me, citizen.’ Modesta beamed at me. She seemed to regard me as her personal charge. ‘I will attend you. Your servant can wait here. I’ll come back for the tray.’
I had no trouble in accepting that, and motioned to Fiscus to stay where he was, to his evident dismay. Meanwhile the slave-girl led the way across the atrium again; it was looking very handsome, now the garlands were in place and all the lamps were lit, though slaves were still burnishing the bronze statues as we passed. Watched by a dozen curious pairs of eyes, we went out to the courtyard, round the colonnaded walk and out through the back gate into the stable-yard.
When we were safely out of sight and sound of everyone, Modesta turned to me and whispered, confidentially, ‘I hope that fruit was not too horrible, I’m sure it tasted sharp, but the chief slave said the best was wanted for the feast.’
I was emboldened by the little confidence. I answered with a smile. ‘It is of no account. But there is one thing that slightly troubles me. If your master has a private gig to use, why did he hire a raeda to take his daughter yesterday? Would it not have been far safer to have used his own?’
She giggled, clapping a skinny hand across her mouth. ‘Oh, citizen, you haven’t seen the private gig. No more than an open carriage, with a single wooden seat – apart from the driver – and it has no roof. They could never have sent Lavinia all the way in that, much less expect a Vestal Virgin to ride home in it! Supposing it had rained? It would have made a public spectacle of her. In any case, there was too much luggage to get into the gig and – of course – there was Lavinia’s nursemaid travelling with her too.’
‘She did not have a manservant to guard her on her way?’
She grinned at me. ‘She will have one from tomorrow, when the pontifex arrives. As to yesterday, my master chose this carriage driver most especially, because he was particularly young and strong and could protect them if he needed to. Fierce-looking too – or so the mistress said. She didn’t like him from the start. She’s had him shut in there.’
She crossed to a long low building which was clearly the sleeping-quarters of the slaves. I half-expected her to go inside, but she passed the door and made for a smaller outbuilding nearby, with a row of stout doors along the length of it.
Outside the last door she stopped and looked at me. ‘He’s in here, citizen. I’ll undo the bolt.’
SIX
The room revealed was a sort of storage area, with not even a window-space of any kind – nothing but bare walls, rows of heaped-up bulging sacks, and a floor of trodden earth from where a youngish man was blinking up at me, clearly blinded by the sudden light. He was lying rather awkwardly on his left-hand side, on a narrow strip of floor between the nearest piles of sacks. His hands were tied behind him and his feet were fettered to a stout iron loop that was set into the wall.
I took a step towards him and he tried to lift his head, but fell back with a groan. I saw that the rope which bound his arms was also tethered to the ankle-chain, so that he could not move or ease a single limb without experiencing agony. The shoulders of his tunic were stained with stripes of blood. Someone had whipped him savagely, by the look of it.
‘What do you want? And what are you doing here? You’re not Lavinius.’ His voice was weak with pain, but he was sullen too. ‘Have you come to torment me a bit more?’
I was aware of Modesta, behind me, craning to look in. I gestured her to stand a little further off and moved to squat down on a lumpy sack where he could see my face. Inside, the room was dank and smelt strongly of something old and vegetal: overripe turnips or damp nuts, perhaps.
‘I’ve come to ask about your missing passenger. She was a Vestal Virgin, as of course you know, and a most important person. Far more important than either you or me – you cannot expect her relatives to simply let it pass.’
With a painful effort he turned his head away (almost the only part of his body that he could move at all) and maintained a stubborn silence. It was a foolish gesture, in the circumstance – anyone from the household would have had him flogged for it – but I could not fault his spirit or his bravery.
I tried again, though I was talking to his averted cheek. ‘You were responsible for delivering her safely to her bridegroom, and in that you failed. You can hardly be surprised if they have locked you up.’
In fact I felt some sympathy with the prisoner. This was a miserable place to be chained up but, judging by the hoop to which the ankle-chains were fixed and the expert way that his bonds had been arranged, he was not the first to be incarcerated here. This was clearly where errant household slaves were held while they were awaiting serious punishment. Most large establishments have some provision of the kind – though in general offenders do not have to share their prison with stores of vegetables.
The captive muttered sullenly, ‘I’ve already told them everything I know. I saw the wretched woman get into the seat and put the shutters up – that was the last I saw of her.’
‘And you drove straight to Glevum after that?’
No answer.
A sudden inspiration came to me. This man was almost certainly a Celt – as I was myself – but here was I approaching him in formal Roman dress. I could not tell for certain what his clan might be, because he wore the now-ubiquitous short brown Roman tunic instead of traditional Celtic breeches made of tribal plaid, but he was fairish and I guessed that he came from the local Dubunni. I, of course, had been captured further south and dragged to Glevum by a slave trader, so our respective dialects were no doubt different, but I was fairly sure that he would understand me if I used my native tongue and I hoped he might be more inclined to answer if I did.
But first I had to win his confidence. ‘Modesta,’ I said, rising to my feet. ‘Fetch the chief slave and tell him to come here, and bring a knife to free these bonds a bit. I cannot usefully question a man who is in too much pain to speak.’
The girl looked startled but she scuttled off.
I squatted on the sack beside the man ag
ain and said softly, in Celtic, ‘Raedarius, I too have been given an unwelcome task. The bridegroom and my patron – who are hugely rich, important men – have charged me with finding out what happened to the bride. If she didn’t come to Glevum, she must be somewhere else, and if I can find her (which I am very doubtful of) it might be possible to get you out of here.’
A moment’s silence, before he answered in the same tongue. ‘You would do that, citizen?’
‘For a fellow Celt. Especially if we prove you had no part in it. But I can’t do anything if you will not assist. So I ask a second time – did you come straight to Glevum, when she’d got into the coach?’
He made a huge effort and turned his face to me again. When he spoke, his voice was tight with pain. ‘I’d like to say so, citizen, but it is not quite true. I’ve thought about it half a dozen times. She was sitting in the raeda, I assisted her myself, but then I had to go upstairs and get her other box. It was a large one, very heavy – full of gifts she had been given, I believe – and she wanted it to ride inside the coach with her. She already had her jewel box in there for security.’
I nodded. Carrying valuable goods inside was not unusual – most travellers did it if they could as it helped discourage thieves. ‘So you went up for the box?’
‘Exactly, citizen. And that was the last time I can absolutely swear to seeing her, because the box was so heavy that I could not manage it. I had to send for two of the house-slaves to bring it down for me. Her handmaiden watched them put it in the coach while I saw to the horse.’
I interrupted him. ‘Ah, the maidservant, who disappeared as well? So she was with Audelia in Corinium? You can vouch for that?’
‘Of course she had a maid there,’ he said, reluctantly. ‘An important lady like that would not travel far alone. Indeed, for several days – apparently – she had a mounted guard as well.’
‘So what became of him?’
‘He left this morning – going the other way, I understand. She had left some things behind the day before and the rider was sent back to recover them.’
The Vestal Vanishes Page 6
