The Sacrilege

"I suspected as much," she said rather coolly. Apparently, I was pointing out the obvious again.

"I think it might be time to concentrate on Fausta," I said. "It should not be difficult to get other ladies to gossip about her-she's the center of much gossip as it is. Try to find out if anyone else remembers her doing anything suspicious that night."

Julia smiled again. "I shall do that."

"But carefully, mind you. Someone is killing people without regard to sex or social standing. I would hate for you to be the next victim. Or even the one after, for that matter."

"I shall be discreet. What will you be doing?"

"Dangerous and foolish things," I assured her. "Stalking violent and ambitious men, searching for murderers who employ a singular technique for dispatching their victims, that sort of thing." I was begi

"Then do take care yourself. You are unique, and the Republic can scarcely afford to lose you."

I could not but agree with this, but I modestly forbore to acknowledge the fact. She took her leave and descended the steps of the temple. I waited in the shadow of the portico until she was out of sight. I now realized, belatedly, that it was perilous for her to be seen in my company. I sca

When Julia was gone I left the temple and walked through the city's rapidly darkening streets. I tucked my hands beneath my tunic as if warming them, but actually to grip my weapons. As I walked I pondered, trying to fit the new anomalies into some sort of order.

As I had told Julia, the anomalies are important. So are correspondences, linkages, kinships, anything that ties the facts together in some fashion, however bizarre they might seem at first. My problem was that, when thinking of Clodius, I found it difficult to think of anything else. I decided to concentrate on other things and see if they led back to Clodius, or somewhere else.

Fausta had some odd part to play in this. She was the daughter of the late Dictator, Sulla. What else was she? She was the ward of Lucullus, who had been named Sulla's executor. Her twin brother, Faustus, was Pompey's loyal henchman. That was another scent that could easily distract me. I longed to pull Pompey down almost as much as Clodius. In Pompey's case because he was a prospective tyrant and king of Rome. With Clodius it was personal. So Fausta had that co

This might prove embarrassing. I had already told my friend Milo that I would aid him in his courtship of the woman. He would not take it kindly if she were to be exiled because of me. Between Celer's insistence that I keep Clodia out of the scandal and Milo's infatuation with Fausta, I was placed in something of a quandary. Trouble with women was nothing new in my life, but this was a novel variant of it.

Who else might have been in that house on the night of the rites? And for what purpose? The fact that they had gone to such extremes to keep their doings secret, and were murdering people to cover themselves, meant that whatever it was was very, very bad indeed. And what could Capito have had to do with it?

I reached my house without any attempts being made on my life.

Chapter X

The next morning I found that Hermes was mostly recovered from his malady, pale but upright and rubbing his belly from time to time.

"Can't guess what it might have been," he said. He had a furtively guilty look but he usually looked that way, so I could not tell whether that signified anything. "Maybe an enemy put a curse on me," he said.

"More likely you broke into my wine closet and drained a jug or two," I said. "I'll look into it later."

I greeted my clients, and in the midst of it a man arrived with a note. I recognized the fellow as one of Asklepiodes's slaves.

Please come visit me at your earliest opportunity, it read. Below the message was the whimsical seal the Greek used: a sword and caduceus. This looked promising. Perhaps he had discovered something.

We all trooped to Celer's house, and at the first opportunity I took him aside.

"Have you determined anything?" he asked.

"Just a great deal of confusion," I said. "But I must ask you something. A few days ago I spoke to Caesar in this house. He said that he had come to ask you for a night's lodgings while he was ba

"So he did."

"Was he here all night?" I asked.

"Well, no. About midnight he went out. He said that he had to go take the omens. He was wearing his trabea and carried his crooked staff. Why? Is this significant?"

"It may be," I said. "Did you see him after that?"

"Yes. He came in shortly after I got up. He said he'd been up on the Quirinal, but that the night had been too cloudy for decent omen-taking. Why?"

"Oh," I said, trying to sound casual, "I am just trying to account for everybody's location that night. It all happened at his house."

"Stick to Clodius, my boy. Don't go trifling with Caius Julius."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said. I did not tell him that I suspected more powerful men than Caius Julius were involved.

I dismissed my clients and told Hermes to follow me. We walked back through the Subura and trudged up the Quirinal to the ancient Colline Gate. Like all the gates, it was a holy place and had seen many battles. Ha

Since Rome had no military or police within the walls, the guardianship of the gates was parceled out among various guilds, brotherhoods and temples. The Colline Gate was the responsibility of the collegium of the nearby Temple of Quirinus. These were the Quirinal Salii, who danced each October before all the most important shrines of the city. The young patricians did not pull night guard themselves, of course, but their servants did.

In the temple I went to the wardroom, where the gate guards stayed. Then I requested to be shown the tablet of the night when the rites had been profaned. The slave who kept the wardroom rummaged among the tablets while I looked over the small facility. There was no one else there. The gates were only watched at night.

"Here you are, sir," the slave said. I looked at the scratchings on the wax. Several freight wagons had entered the city during the night. All had left the same way before first light. There was no record of the Pontifex Maximus going out to take the omens. I asked the slave if he knew anything about it.

"The augurs are always supposed to check here at the temple before they go out the gate after dark, sir. The pontifex Spinther came here about ten days ago, with his striped robe and lituus. None since then." I thanked him and left.

"Why are you asking these questions?" Hermes asked me as we descended the hill. "Is it something to do with the patrician who tried to poison you and ended up dead instead?"