The Vestal Vanishes

by Rosemary Rowe

  ‘Together with her wig?’ I said. ‘Priscilla said she had one.’

  She nodded. ‘It assisted the disguise. And it was necessary for me afterwards, of course. My Vestal hairdo might have drawn remark, even underneath a cloak and veil. That left Muta in her tunic, looking like a slave, and that was the most dangerous moment of the whole affair. She does not move quickly and there were people in the court though she tried to choose a moment when they were occupied. The nursemaid tried to draw attention away from her as well, by waving at the window of Lavinia’s room – and it worked to an extent. The inn-slaves and the driver all looked up that way, but in fact Muta did not manage to get out unobserved. Priscilla glimpsed her from another room upstairs. Fortunately she took her for a goggling bystander.’

  I nodded. ‘She even told me so. Shouted at her to go away and get outside the gate. That was fortunate!’

  That earned a little smile. ‘Muta went, as fast as her poor legs would carry her, hurried into the forum and waited there for us. Meanwhile I slipped her cloak and veil on over mine and – now pretending that there was still someone in the coach – stepped out backwards and loudly said goodbye.’

  ‘Taking your jewel-case with you?’ I enquired.

  ‘I had already packed it in a leather bag which Muta gave me as I got into the coach. I stuffed the wig in too, and simply brought it out. It looked like an exchange of gifts if anyone observed. Then I joined Paulinus – remembering to limp – and together with the nurse we waved the raeda off. I’ve never been more thankful to see anything depart. We hurried to an alleyway where I put on the wig and buried my own white cloak inside Paulinus’s sack, then on to the slave-market where we arranged to hire the boy and met up with Muta. That was still a risk, since she had been spotted earlier, but we bought her a new tunic from the old-clothes stall and Priscilla never really looked at her again.’

  ‘And then Paulinus went and fetched the cart?’ I said.

  She nodded. ‘He drove it to the lodging-house and paid the bill, then I waited in the cart with Muta while he went back upstairs for the famous travelling box. The nursemaid had packed it and he carried it downstairs. He did it on his own – it was heavy but he didn’t want the servants looking in, though I’d bought a rug to loosely cover up the child. I think you know the rest . . . But here he is! And not alone, I see.’

  Paulinus indeed was entering the room, carrying a huge pail of something in both hands, while Modesta followed him uncertainly. Her thin face brightened at the sight of me.

  ‘Citizen, the shadow is long past the paving stone. Fiscus sent to ask if you were coming soon. We are already waiting, but we can’t get past the dog.’

  We three citizens exchanged a glance at this, and I said quickly, ‘I will not be long. Paulinus has a message that he hopes to send, expressing his condolences to the Glevum house. When it is written I will join you in the barn.’

  ‘I’ll tell him, citizen.’ She bobbed her little curtsy and disappeared again.

  Paulinus put down his heavy pail and stared at me. ‘You really do not mean to tell Lavinius all this?’

  ‘I will delay as long as possible,’ I said, ‘to give you a chance to get away to Gaul. But I really think that’s all that I can do for you. After all, Audelia is legally at fault. She broke a contractual vow. That is a serious criminal offence for anyone at all. For a Vestal Virgin, it’s unforgivable.’

  Audelia herself was scooping apple-beer into the bowls. She set one in front of me, another one she gave to Paulinus, while the third one she took over to the shrine, and made a small oblation there with practised ease. If I had not known she was a Vestal up to then, that single skilful action would have alerted me.

  She turned and signalled me to drink. ‘I broke no vow. Or not deliberately. In fact I kept the only one I made. I promised Paulinus months and months ago, when he and Paulina came to see me at the shrine, that when I retired I would marry him and provide my dowry to help him with the child. Of course I had known the family for many years – I remember him from when I was a child myself, and he and his wife made many sacrifices with me after that, asking for Vesta’s blessing on the home.’

  Paulinus nodded. ‘She lent me money once. I had applied to Lavinius for help but had been turned away.’

  Audelia sighed. ‘After that my uncle came to see me at the shrine. He was my agent, as I think you know and managed my affairs in Glevum, so I trusted him. I taxed him with his lack of charity, saying that the goddess requires us to be kind to relatives, and telling him what I proposed to do. He deceived me, citizen. He came again and brought a document, which seemed to be agreeing to the match, and persuaded me to sign. It would save me from a hundred importunate suitors, so he said, and he would undertake to fund the wedding feast himself the very day that I returned to Glevum from the shrine. I did it willingly. The trap was in the name.’

  I frowned. ‘I do not follow you.’

  ‘I undertook to marry one P. Atronius Marinus, my widowed kinsman – you know how these things are phrased in legal documents. I believed it was a promise to marry Paulinus – but it was a trick. My uncle had arranged a deal with Publius – a handsome sum if he could secure my hand – and he had no scruples about deceiving me. A single iron-nib stroke was all that it required to change the name to P. Atronius Martinus, which is what he did.’

  I gulped. ‘If that could be produced in evidence Lavinius could be arraigned in court – fined or even exiled.’ I remembered my moment of disquiet at the gate when Paulinus came over and introduced himself. I must have registered the similarity of the names – though these things are not surprising within a Roman gens. ‘Tampering with a legal document is a serious offence.’

  ‘And how could I prove it, citizen? I would not have known till I arrived in Glevum and met Publius at the games. Of course the written contract was signed and sealed by me, and is – by that fact – a legal document. A refusal to honour it could be challenged in the court. With my uncle’s word against me, it would be exile for me, as well as losing everything I owned. Lavinius knew he could oblige me to submit. If I had protested they’d have fed me poppy-juice or even forced me into intercourse. After that my word would be no more than any other female’s and my uncle could have forced me to wed anyone he chose. Cyra heard them plotting.’

  I gulped my apple-beer. ‘So that’s how you discovered that you’d promised the wrong man? Cyra wrote and told you?’

  Paulinus nodded. ‘It was her gift to us, in return for asking us to help Lavinia. Her husband, of course, had no idea she was in touch with us and he was gloating – so she told me – about his cleverness.’

  Audelia sipped her drink with all the elegance with which she did everything. ‘Publius had also promised to return a proportion of my dowry if I died and that, I think, was what alarmed her most. Publius had been married several times before, in Rome, and all of his other wives had died quite young, apparently of illness, but it made her think. It certainly made up my mind for me.’ She reached out and squeezed her husband’s hand. ‘One way or another I was bound to break my word. I chose to honour the contract that I meant to make. Do you really blame me for that, citizen?’

  Of course I didn’t, and I told her so. ‘In fact,’ I said, ‘I think it would be wiser to take Publius’s advice, and forget everything I’ve learned about this whole affair. As far as he’s concerned his bride-to-be is dead and decently cremated. Lavinius may try to seek the so-called murderer, but since there’s no such person, he won’t have much success. Better to report Priscilla’s view of things – that it was either sorcery or the revenge of Druids. Or both.’

  Paulinus looked at me as though he dared not trust his ears. ‘You mean that, citizen?’

  ‘I do.’ I’d drained the drinking bowl by now and I replaced it on the board. ‘Though there are two questions which remain unanswered in my mind. What happened to the contents of Audelia’s travelling box? You cannot simply have exchanged them with your own, because you had
to put Lavinia into that.’

  Paulinus laughed. ‘That was very simple, citizen. We put most of it into the sack that I took to town with me. It was mostly jewels and gold in any case, of course, and later it had the Vestal cloak in it. When we picked the cart up, we put the sack on it. The lighter items of the dowry – such as lengths of silk – I rolled up in the rug and put on top of Lavinia in the box before we left.’

  ‘Oh, and of course I had my jewel-box with me from the coach, having loudly announced that I was giving Secunda several rings,’ his wife put in.

  I nodded. Priscilla had already hinted this. ‘And when you arrived here you dyed the Vestal clothes – I presume that is what is hanging on the bushes now?’

  ‘Exactly, citizen.’ That was Audelia. ‘We are not so wealthy that we can afford to waste good clothing of that quality. And the other question?’

  ‘Was it not against your vows to tell the other lie – that you were going into the forum to buy a pair of slaves. Yet, Priscilla tells me that is what you said.’

  Secunda’s lovely lips curled in a gentle smile. ‘Citizen, I took a vow that I would never lie. I did not swear that I would not choose words which might disguise the truth. We worked out very carefully what we were going to say – that we were going to the forum to collect two slaves. And that, of course, is exactly what we did.’

  I put my bowl down. ‘Then I think that’s all. If you would care to write that letter.’ I fished into my belt. ‘I actually have a writing-tablet here that you can use. It’s a letter from Publius under seal promising to pay my expenses in the town.’

  ‘Then you must certainly keep that, citizen.’ Secunda put her own bowl on the board as well. ‘Otherwise you might find it hard to hold him to his word. We have bark-paper here, and lamp-black ink, as I think you are aware. Paulinus will write something and you can take it back – saying that he’s saddened to have heard the news and that he’s about to leave for Gaul and take Paulina to the healing shrine.’ She smiled. ‘And there’s no lie in that, either, citizen. When we heard the news about the nursemaid we were very sad indeed.’

  Her husband nodded and went out towards the porch. I heard him moving in another room.

  ‘Lavinius will not guess that you have married Paulinus instead?’ I ventured.

  ‘He could hardly say so, citizen, even if he did. Especially when there is supposed to be a corpse. That would be admitting to his own perfidy. And he can scarcely follow us to Gaul. Besides, he’ll hear from the lodging-house that Paulinus had a wife before I disappeared. I think we’re safe enough.’

  I fought down an unexpected wave of jealousy. ‘Then I hope you will be happy. I am glad to be of use.’

  She gave me the most brilliant smile that I have ever seen. ‘And there is another thing that you can do for me. I promised the horseman that he should have a ring, in recompense for all his extra work on my behalf. If I go and get it, will you see it reaches him? I was there – you can tell him – and I heard the promise made and I wished it honoured. Will you do that for me?’

  ‘I would be delighted,’ I said, truthfully, and she went away to get it. That left me quite alone, and that was how Modesta found me a moment afterwards.

  ‘I didn’t know if I should come in the house or not. Nobody seemed to answer when I tapped the door? Are you coming, citizen? Fiscus is alarmed. He thinks that we are going to get to Glevum very late.’

  I was about to answer when the householders appeared and thrust a bark-letter and a small parcel in my hands. ‘That concludes our business, I believe. The citizen is ready to accompany you now.’ Paulinus gave the smile that transformed his face. ‘I myself will come and see you past the dog.’ He led the way outside.

  As he tethered the still snarling animal I glanced back at the house. I could not restrain a tiny sense of loss. As I watched I saw a figure scuttle from the byre and make towards the side-window of the house. I looked the other way. Everyone else was still looking at the hound, making certain they were out of range of teeth.

  I permitted Fiscus to help me on the gig and sat down on the seat. He sat down beside me, leaving Modesta to kneel in what little space remained. The gig-driver, who was scowling at me as though I were the cause of all his many woes, raised his whip and we were ready to depart.

  ‘Wait a moment, citizen. I have a gift for you.’ Secunda herself had come running down the path. She came across and handed me a piece of slate. ‘A present from Paulina. I’m sure that’s what she wants.’

  I looked back at the door. The deaf-mute girl was standing there, grasping Muta’s skirts and as I watched she smiled and raised a hand as if to wave.

  The driver brought the whip down and we were on our way.

  EPILOGUE

  Marcus was sympathetic, but amused. That was a mild relief. I had half-expected that he’d be furious.

  ‘Well, Libertus, it’s not like you to fail. But you brought it on yourself. No one asked you to go rushing off, asking questions in Corinium like that. I’m not surprised that Publius was quibbling at the bill. You’re lucky that he paid it.’

  I muttered something to the effect that I was glad he had.

  ‘He’s fallen out severely with Lavinius, of course – says that the fellow struck a deal with him and has failed to deliver what he promised. He’s threatening to sue. I think he finally agreed to meet your costs mostly because Lavinius did not approve of you.’

  It was after dinner in his villa, and Marcus was drinking wine, reclining on his dining couch and eating little pastry-cakes left over from the meal. He had dismissed the other diners and the slaves, so we were all alone, but he hadn’t asked me to partake of anything. It was part of my penance. He had sent for me as soon as he knew that I was home, and I had not had time to eat, but he hadn’t finished with his diatribe.

  ‘Once it was obvious that Audelia was dead, I don’t know why you didn’t let the matter rest. Even you can hardly expect to solve a case of Druid sorcery – I suppose I should be glad that you escaped unscathed. So I forgive you. I can’t answer for your wife.’

  It was true that she was angry, but I knew she would relent. It was mostly worry because I’d not been home for days. And she sensed that I was hiding something that I wouldn’t share. Not yet. I would confide in Gwellia as I always did, and tell her everything – even show her the poison-phial which had duly turned up in Priscilla’s midden-pile – but not until that little family were far away in Gaul.

  In the meantime, I would have to live with her rebukes. I had not even earned a quadrans for my time. My toga was crumpled and in need of laundering and couldn’t I have let her know a little sooner where I was?

  But I knew for certain that when I got home again there would be my favourite hot stew awaiting me, and that oatcakes for my breakfast were standing by to bake. Like Paulinus, I was a lucky man.

  Marcus scooped up the remaining pastry-cakes, put them on a serving plate and handed them to me. ‘Take these home to her. It might win you a smile.’ He gave his languid grin. ‘In the meantime, I’ve had enough tonight. I’ll see you in the morning. I’ve got a job for you. A little mystery I’d like you to sort out. If you haven’t entirely lost the gift, that is.’ He chuckled and waved me out of the triclinium.

  I walked home in the darkness, clutching the plate of cakes and trying not to spill them on the uneven lane. It was cold and drizzling and the wind was getting up, but I was thankful for my lot. I had a cheerful home and a wife who cared for me, a healthy grandson by my adopted son, good slaves to serve me and enough to eat. Who could ask for more? I thought of a gentle couple who had been forced to dreadful lengths by family treachery, of terrible diseases that carried off male heirs, and of a child, not many miles away, whose whole world was silence.

  I fingered the piece of slate that I carried in my pouch and went in to see my wife. She was no ethereal goddess, she was short and stoutish and her face was lined, but I loved her dearly and I always had.

  When she had finis
hed chiding me and I’d enjoyed the stew, I would show her the chalk portrait and tell her it was me – not a tree with fingers. I knew that she would laugh.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Previous Titles in this series by Rosemary Rowe

  The Vestal Vanishes

  Copyright

  Foreword

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue