One Virgin Too Many

XXXIII

While I was in the vicinity, I searched the rest of the bedrooms on that corridor. A slave was sponging a floor, and since my escort had been deliberately chosen by the old man to be useless, this woman left her bucket and told me who used each place; all were members of the family. It is always entertaining to explore other people's closets and sleeping quarters, especially when they have been given little warning that you will be popping along to do it. Burglars must have quite a few laughs. But of course, my lips are sealed. I had promised the ex-Flamen confidentiality, and he was not a man to cross.

Caecilia and the couple had large, decently equipped rooms. Caecilia had set hers out extremely neatly, as if she spent a lot of time alone there. Hiding from the family? Well, maybe she just had a very well-organized lady's maid. The Pomonalis and his wife owned more clutter; judging from the boxes piled along one wall, it looked as if they had still not finished unpacking fully after the family's enforced house move. Ariminius used an unfortunate variety of hair pomade. I spread some on my hand and had great trouble removing the strong stink afterwards. It was crocus, but from its staying power could have been garlic.

I had to send for a crowbar to force open all the sealed boxes, if only to show I had been thorough. Since I had been told by Gaia that her family wanted to kill her, it was a nerve-racking task. I could be about to discover a hidden corpse.

So far, I hated the setup, yet found it hard to believe Gaia's story. This was a family in constant turmoil-yet with no evidence of real malice. I asked the escorting slave to find me the child's nurse. The man went off reluctantly.

"Not one to look for the joys in life." I grinned at the fat woman with the sponge. "Have I finished here?"

"One more room around the corner." Oh? Who could that belong to?

She waddled off ahead of me, willingly pointing out the extra bedroom. It was as large as the others, but subtly improved in decor. There were Egyptian rugs beside the high bed, instead of mere Italian wool. Female garments lay folded in a chest, though nothing was in the cupboards. A comb, with a few long gray hairs caught in its teeth, lay on a shelf beside a green glass alabastron that contained a sweeter perfume than the crocus goo that still accompanied me if I waved my hand about.

I looked at the slave. She looked back at me. She pursed her lips. "We had people who used to stay here," she announced, still meeting my eye rather pointedly.

"That sounds a bit peculiar," I observed frankly. This one was a character. She nodded, admiring her own acting. "Somebody told you to say that."

"They lived out of Rome," she added, as if just remembering her rehearsal. "One of them died, and they do not come anymore."

"These mysterious visitors' names wouldn't have been Terentia and Tiberius?" She gave me a slow nod. "And you are not supposed to talk about them to me?" Another nod. I looked around the room. "You know, I think somebody has been here very recently!" Somebody who left in a hurry, departing the house in a carrying-chair only as I arrived today, I reckoned. So why were the Laelii so concerned to distract me from knowing that Terentia Paulla was a recent guest?

Unfortunately, that was the end of the pantomime. I did hope the slave would privately expand on it, but when I asked, she shook her head. Still, I can be grateful for an anonymous tip (and believe me, clues were so skinnily arrayed here that I was more generous than usual when I dipped into my arm purse). But the trouble with oblique hints like that is you can never work out what they mean.

"Any ideas what happened to the little girl?" I asked conspiratorially.

"I'd tell you if I had, sir."

"Anyone here she is particularly friendly with?"

"No. She never has friends, that I know of. Well," said my new source, sneering, "not many would meet the right standards for the people here, would they?"

The male slave was returning, with a girl who must be Gaia's nurse.

"I'm surprised they let you in!" scoffed the floor-mopper to me, as she toddled back to work.