by Kevin Ashman
‘That is why we must build it in here,’ said Rose, looking around. ‘Right here in this cave. No one needs know except those who are devoted. All we need is enough room to establish a central hearth and space for those called to service to lay their heads. Do you think we can do that, Dragus?’
Dragus stared long and hard at the beautiful ex slave before looking around the gloomy space.
‘I have been told there is a second cavern behind this,’ said Dragus. ‘It has not been used for generations and is filled with rubble but if I can clear that, perhaps there will be enough room.’
Rose took his hands and kissed him gently.
‘Thank you, Dragus,’ she said, ‘Now, I have to leave you for a while. I need to pay my respects to her earthly remains and prepare her body for burial. You go and speak to the chief and see if it is okay that we stay here.’
‘Leave it to me,’ said Dragus and returned the kiss, ‘Henceforth my life will be devoted to you, the child and the Goddess.’
‘What about the memory of Rubria?’ asked Rose, in mild surprise.
‘As far as I am concerned,’ said Dragus, ‘There is no difference. In my eyes, Rubria embodied the very essence of Vesta herself. She was the Goddess.’
Dragus didn’t return to the cave and Rose spent a lonely sleepless night on his furs. Finally she must have fallen asleep for the sound of Dragus’s voice in the distance dragged her back to consciousness.
‘Rose,’ called Dragus’s voice, ‘Wake yourself. There is work to be done.’
Rose stood up, and, wrapping one of the furs around her shivering naked body, walked sleepily to the cave entrance. She squinted against the sunrise before looking down at Dragus on the clearing below.
‘About time,’ called Dragus, ‘The day is almost done.’
‘The day has just started,’ contradicted Rose. ‘Who are these people?’ She indicated the hundred strong crowd behind the ex-Centurion.
‘These,’ said Dragus, ‘Are our workforce, Rose. These are the people to build the shrine to Vesta.’
‘The chief has agreed it?’
‘Absolutely. He has seen the holiness in the eyes of the child and adopted Vesta as one of his own gods. He has given us fifty slaves for labour, Rose, the rest are volunteers. Stone workers for statues, miners to enlarge the cavern and foresters to provide the supports. He has even decreed that every villager will provide tribute of food to the Temple. I know it is not the Temple she craved Rose, but until the time of Nero is over, I will make this cave a tribute to the Goddess and Rubria herself. And, in years to come, when Nero is rotting in Hades, we will build that Temple, Rose. We will clear a hill of trees and build a Temple in the sunshine that Vesta herself would be proud of.’
Rose gasped in astonishment.
‘Is this really true’? she asked.
‘It is,’ said Dragus, ‘And the task will be led by Reynard himself. During all that time with Rubria, he became converted to the worship of Vesta.’
Rose looked down at the crowd, unable to quite take it all in.
‘Well,’ shouted Dragus, ‘Do we start or shall I send them all back to the village.’
Rose wiped the tears from her eyes and her face broke into a wide smile.
‘You send them back, Roman, and you will be doing all the work yourself. What are you waiting for?’
Dragus returned her smile and gave the signal. The huge workforce flowed past him and up the slope. For a few moments the Centurion and the slave stared at each other over the heads of a hundred workers before she had to move to allow them into the cave. The work on Britannia’s first Temple of Vesta had begun.
Chapter 35
England 2010
Brandon opened his eyes slowly wondering where he was. Suddenly he sat up as his memory kicked in and he remembered his predicament. He looked at his watch. Four hours had elapsed since the Nun had locked him in, and for two of those he had been asleep. At first he had heard various people going back and fore outside the room, and he had waited nervously for one of them to open the door, but nobody did. He stood up from the old dusty mattress where he had finally fallen asleep and walked over to the door, listening to see if there was anything happening.
After a few moments, he heard the faint sound of someone coming up the corridor. This wasn’t the sound of confident footsteps of someone who had a right to be there, but considered steps, careful not to be heard. Brandon considered carefully and when he heard a muffled conversation, being carried out in whispers, he took a calculated gamble. Taking his gun from his belt, he stood to one side of the door, and held his gun in both hands, barrel facing upwards in the ready position.
‘Bernice,’ he said hesitantly, ‘Is that you?’
The voices stopped and silence fell.
‘Bernice,’ said Brandon, ‘If that’s you, you have to let me out. There are lives at risk here.’
The steps came closer and stopped outside the door.
‘Open the door, Bernice,’ said Brandon, ‘Please, don’t make this any worse.’
He heard the sound of the bar being slid back and the door swung inwards, creaking on its rusty hinges. Brandon stepped out into the open and levelled his gun at the person in front of him.
‘Bernice!’ said the woman, ‘Who the hell is Bernice?’
‘India!’ gasped Brandon in astonishment, ‘What are you doing here?’
‘She’s with me,’ said a male voice, as Gatilusi came into view, aiming his own gun at Brandon.
‘Gatilusi,’ gasped Brandon, aiming his own gun at the Greek policeman, ‘What on Earth is going on, here?’
‘Long story,’ said Gatilusi, ‘We can catch up later, suffice to say, there is not much time. Now, I didn’t expect to come across you in these circumstances, but there is an advantage to be gained here. I intend to find what I came for. I can leave you both locked in this cell or we can work together. This place has secrets we both need to solve if we are to retrieve our respective items.’
‘The girl is not an item’ snapped India.
‘Whatever,’ said Gatilusi, ‘The point is, both seem to be intrinsically linked. ‘I want the Palladium. Nothing more, nothing less, and I believe, by finding the whereabouts of the artefact, you have a good chance of finding the girl. Together, we stand a greater chance of not only being successful, but also of getting out of here alive. It makes complete sense. Your call.’
Brandon glanced at India before answering.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I will trust you.’ He slowly lowered his gun and reached around his back to place it in the holster on the back of his trouser belt.
‘Good,’ said Gatilusi, and lowered his own gun. ‘Right, let’s see what this is all about.’ He turned and made his way up towards the cavern door, closely followed by India and Brandon.
‘What is going on here?’ asked India as they walked.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Brandon, ‘But Sister Bernice told me about a secret inner order within the convent. I think they have something to do with it.’
‘Sister Bernice?’
‘Yes, a long story but I don’t think she is part of this, whatever this is.’
‘Where is she now?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘What about him?’ asked India, indicating the back of Gatilusi.
‘We have no option but to trust him,’ said Brandon, We are on our own here.’
‘Shouldn’t we just call the police?’ asked India
‘Not possible,’ said Brandon, ‘There are no phone lines here and apparently the only place you can get a signal is at the top of the hill at the end of the valley.’
Gatilusi stopped before the giant door to the cavern.
‘Is this the place?’ he asked
Brandon nodded.
‘Then it’s time find out what this is all about,’ said Gatilusi and, kneeling on the floor to keep a low profile, eased the door inwards, just enough for them to slip through.
Brandon joined Gatilus
i behind the protection of the dwarf wall. They had crawled forwards from the door and now sat behind the wall, invisible to any eyes in the cavern. India followed them and, very slowly, they peered over the wall and into the Temple below. There was no sign of Sister Agnes and the cavern seemed to move eerily in the flickering candle light.
‘Can you see anything?’ whispered India
‘The Palladium doesn’t seem to be on display,’ said Gatilusi, ‘But that was to be expected.’
‘Sod the statue,’ hissed India, Is there any sign of the girl?’
‘No,’ said Brandon, ‘Though she may well be in one of those locked cells. If there’s no one here, we can quickly check and get the hell out.’
‘We can’t do that,’ said Gatilusi.
‘Why not?’
‘Because, I need to wait until someone comes. The chances of finding the Palladium by chance are minimal. I need inside information.’
‘But that increases the risk,’ said Brandon, ‘If the girl is there, we can be away in minutes.’
‘And how does that help me, exactly?’ asked Gatilusi, ‘You forget we have a deal. You help me and I help you, remember?’
‘And why should we help you?’ asked India, ‘You intend to steal an ancient artefact and take it to the other side of the world.’
‘I intend to steal nothing,’ hissed Gatilusi, ‘The Palladium is ours by right and was taken from Samothrace a long time ago. For thousands of years its location has remained a mystery until now. We have spent millions on unsuccessful investigations and though we had made the link between the disappearance of Rubria and the placement of the fake Palladium in the Forum, the trail went cold around the time of the great fire of Rome.’
‘So how come you found your way here now?’ asked India.
‘Mortuus Virgo are one of the most secretive organisations in the world,’ said Gatilusi. ‘They enjoy the patronage of some of the most influential people in power, including politicians, royals and clergy. We believe they are funded from the purse of the Vatican itself, though they have always denied it, and knowledge of this place is restricted to those privileged by right of birth only. Despite our best efforts, we could not find out where they were based, until those fools, the Venezelos brothers got lucky and fell in with a well meaning, yet senile old rogue who showed them a carved plank in return for a thousand dollars.’
‘What carved plank?’ asked India, her interest aroused.
‘Nobody thought much of it at first,’ said Gatilusi, ‘It was a very crude drawing, etched into a plank of a Roman cargo vessel, sunk about two thousand years ago. Carved by a bored sailor more than likely, perhaps to pass away the time.’
‘What was it?’ asked India.
‘A picture of a woman kneeling down and kissing the shore of some unknown land,’ answered Gatilusi, ‘But it was what around her neck that was important, a necklace of Vesta.’
Rubria gasped.
‘Are you sure?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ said Gatilusi, ‘As you know there were only six ever made, and five are spoken for, either in the hands of private collectors or are documented as being buried with various Vestal Virgins.’
‘All except one,’ said India.
‘The necklace of Rubria,’ confirmed Gatilusi.
‘How does that link here?’ asked Brandon.
‘The board was in Rome,’ said Gatilusi, ‘But it was returned there years ago along with many other artefacts. The actual wreck was found in the mud of the river Severn, A river separating England and Wales. It was a very busy route around the time of Rubria as the Romans were busy establishing a fort in a place called Caerleon, further up the river. As soon as that was established we despatched the Venezelos brothers to continue their investigations here in Britain. It didn’t take long before they picked up the trail but after a while they disappeared off the radar.’
‘And that’s where we came,’ in said Brandon.
‘Exactly,’ said Gatilusi, ‘Thanks to you, we managed to find them again and the trail led here.’
‘You know they are both dead?’ asked India.
‘Shame,’ said Gatilusi, ‘But their contribution will be remembered.’ He looked over India’s shoulder.
‘Someone’s coming,’ he whispered urgently, ‘We had better get down’ If I am correct, over the next few minutes you will witness a ceremony of one of the most secretive cults in the world, Mortuus Virgo.’
Six Nuns, each dressed in a grey hooded cape entered the cavern and made their way down to the fire. They walked slowly, in time with a bell that rang gently in the distance, each holding their hands together in prayer. They spaced themselves out around the fire pit and stood awhile in silence before Sister Agnes finally raised her arms and started a litany, her voice echoing around the cavern.
‘Holy mother, hear our prayer,’ she recited.
‘Isis hear our plea’ the others replied.
‘Holy mother guide our will,’ cried Agnes,
‘Isis light our way.’
‘Holy Mother give us strength.’
‘Isis, see our unity.’
Brandon watched the ceremony develop, the chanting raising in volume and intensity.
‘Are they supposed to represent the Virgins of Vesta?’ asked Brandon.
‘I don’t think so,’ said India, ‘It just doesn’t sit right.’
Suddenly the chanting stopped and Sister Agnes climbed up on a small podium and faced the raised pulpit set into the far wall of the cavern.
‘Pontifex Maximus. Come forth and hear our prayers, that they may reach the ears of the Goddess Vesta.’
The room fell silent and all the participants gazed upwards, waiting for something to happen. Slowly, out of the shadows, a male figure emerged onto the pulpit, swathed in a long red cloak, his face covered by a white, featureless face mask, and in his hand he held a wooden mace. He struck the struck the floorboards of the wooden balcony three times ceremoniously.
‘Hail Children of Vesta,’ boomed the male voice.
‘Hail Marcus Vibius,’ they answered in unison.
‘Oh my God,’ whispered India, ‘They have even kept the tradition of the Pontifex Maximus.’
‘Who or what is that?’ asked Brandon.
‘In ancient Rome, the Pontifex Maximus was the high priest of the Temple of Vesta. The only male allowed into the Temple. He was the controlling authority with absolute power over the priestesses. Second only to the Emperor.’
‘So let me get this straight,’ said Brandon, ‘What we have here is a religious cult, mirroring the cult of Vesta from Rome over two thousand years ago.’
‘Exactly that,’ said Gatilusi, ‘Though I fear it is about to get a lot more sinister.’
The Pontifex Maximus had raised his staff and indicated the line of locked doors in the wall of the cavern.
‘Summon those who honour the veil of the Virgin,’ ordered the priest.’
All six Nuns retreated from the fire, each making their way to the cell doors. The Priest struck the floor once more with his staff and each Nun slid back the locking bars and opened their respective doors.What happened next caused Brandon’s jaw to fall open in astonishment and horror.
Out of each door, came a small girl draped in white silk, each no more than ten years old. Each Nun took the hand of a child and led them back to the fire pit, but this time, with the children filling the gaps to complete the whole circle.
‘Holy shit!’ whispered Brandon, as he watched them hold hands again and restart the ceremony.
‘They are using children,’ gasped India, ‘Indoctrinating them in the ways of Vesta.’
‘Just like they did in Rome thousands of years ago,’ said Gatilusi.
‘But how?’ asked India, ‘Who on Earth would allow their daughters to submit to this sort of life in this day and age?’
‘I don’t think any of these are here with parental consent,’ said Brandon, ‘If I am correct, I wouldn’t mind betting these girls have been
taken against their will from the streets of London.’
‘I am not so sure,’ said India, ‘Surely they would be missed.’
‘Think about it,’ said Brandon, These Nuns run soup kitchens in the worst parts of London. They get to meet the destitute and the desperate on a daily basis. Stay out there long enough and eventually an ideal candidate would come along. Perhaps a young mother with a child she doesn’t want.’
‘If that’s true,’ said Brandon, ‘Why kidnap a ten year old girl from the streets of London.’
‘Who knows?’ said Gatilusi, ‘Perhaps the supply of babies dried up, or there was a death. It is very important to these people that the number of acolytes is maintained at six, however drastic the measures needed.’
‘But why?’ asked Brandon, ‘I don’t understand the reasoning behind it. Surely they know it is only a matter of time before they are caught.’
Gatilusi smirked.
‘You think this is new?’ he asked sarcastically, ‘Mortuus Virgo bases its religion around the core of six Vestal Virgins and has done for thousands of years. Like I said earlier, some of the most important people in the world are devotees. You think the Masons are secretive, this lot makes them look like modern day celebrities. They have the power to cover up any indiscretions they need to.’
‘But, that’s awful,’ said India, ‘Are you saying that there have always been young girls used in this way?’
‘Exactly that,’ said Gatilusi, ‘Probably since this place was built a couple of thousand years ago.’
‘But surely someone, somewhere over all that time would have found out. What about when they grow up and realise there is a big wide world out there?’
‘Who said they are allowed to grow up?’ asked Gatilusi.
Brandon and India stared at the Greek in horror as the implications sunk in.
‘I’m not certain,’ continued Gatilusi, ‘But in the past they probably grew up in an age of seclusion and devotion. The world was a much more isolated place then. But as society changed, the people in power became corrupt and the meaning of an innocent Pagan religion became more sinister. Eventually, the people in charge could not afford the risk of being discovered. The longer it went on, the more secretive the order became until it became a self perpetuating monster.’