One Virgin Too Many

XLIV

I folded my arms and stretched out my boots, crossing my ankles. I was now feeling desperately tired.

What would this have meant to Gaia? Yet more explosions in the family, that was certain. I now understood all too clearly what had been meant when I was told that "Uncle Tiberius" had been an "old friend" of the family.

I knew that Terentia Paulla had retired as a Vestal about eighteen months ago. She had been married for just under a year. This was June. Her sister, the ex-Flamen had said, had died in July last year. "The Vestal's wedding and the Flaminica's death must have virtually coincided."

"Probably so." I sensed that Constantia now wanted to close up. Her bright eyes were watching me. I could live with that, if she liked the novelty of gazing at a handsome dog with tousled curls and an endearing grin-not to mention, of course, the faintly etched brow crease that hinted at my thoughtful, sensitive side.

She made a decent picture herself. She might look severe when she was attired in her religious robes, but she had regular features lit with obvious intelligence; off duty, she was a very pretty girl. As a centurion's daughter or a tribune's wife, she would have been the toast of any legion, and an inevitable source of problems among the men.

Thankfully, pretty girls present no problem to me.

"The Flaminica-Statilia Paulla, wasn't that her name?-died very suddenly, I heard. Do you happen to know what caused it?"

"Apart from fury at her sister's announcement of her marriage?" Constantia bit her lip. "I do know, actually. She had a tumor. She had confided in the Chief Vestal-probably not just to share the tragedy, but to annoy her sister, who was not being made a confidante."

"Had everyone in the family known about the Flaminica's long affair?"

"I should think so. Not little Gaia."

"Does that mean even the Flamen knew?"

"It had always been accepted tacitly. Theirs was a marriage in form only."

"He must have had feelings on the subject. When he talked about his wife was the only time I saw any signs of animation."

"That," said Constantia coldly, "is simply because he blames his wife for dying and robbing him of his position."

"You are very hard." She made no reply. "Was Gaia fond of her grandmother?"

"You mean, did the Flaminica's death upset her? I think the child was closer to Terentia. Terentia has made a big pet of Gaia. I gather she has even talked of making Gaia her heir."

"What about Laelius Scaurus? I thought he was Terentia's favorite?"

"Yes," said Constantia, playing with one of her ringlets. "But he remains in his father's paternal control, so he cannot hold property."

"What's the difference?"

"None, as things are. Gaia is also in the guardianship of her grandfather. But if Gaia were to become a Vestal Virgin, once she came to the House of the Vestals she-unlike her other relations-would be entitled to her own property. She could also make a will."

This was intriguing. "So then if Terentia died, and Gaia inherited, the loot would belong to her immediately and might eventually be left by her outside the family-whereas if Gaia fails to become a Vestal, anything Terentia leaves either to Gaia or her father will be controlled by Laelius Numentinus from the moment of probate."

"While he lives. Then the position of head of household moves down to Laelius Scaurus."

"Whom even his loving aunt may regard as a rather unworldly fellow to be put in control… But if he upsets his father too much, Numentinus could disinherit him."

"You seem very excited by this, Falco."

I gave Constantia my best grin. "Well, it might explain many things. In their huge mansion stuffed full of slaves on the Aventine, the Laelii consider themselves to be living in genteel poverty."

Constantia, a girl with a nature that I could take to, raised her eyebrows. "Poor them!" she said scathingly.

"I am wondering now," I pondered, "whether somebody in her family has hidden Gaia away deliberately, to ensure she should not be selected in the lottery and made financially independent."

"Drastic."

"Money makes people lose their sense of reality."

"Other things can do that."

"Like what?" I asked-and this time when I gave her a grin, it was rather nicely returned.

"Love," suggested Constantia. "Or what passes for it in bed."

Who knows what line of questioning might have developed next? Instead, just at that moment we heard steps tramping the corridor outside.

I leaped up and jumped over to the window on light feet. Constantia laid a finger on her lips. The footsteps went by, apparently only one person; Constantia, who seemed unfazed, may have recognized the heavy tread of one of her fellow inmates. Vestals tend to be solid women; to compensate for their lonely lives, they must be well fed.

The experience reminded me I should not linger. On her feet too, Constantia herself now whispered conspiratorially. "I have enjoyed talking to you, but you ought to go. There is always a chance one of the others will come along for a hot toddy, or to borrow a novel and share a session of girl talk."

"Very nice! Thanks for your help, anyway. I'll be off down my ladder."

She was scornful. "Don't be ridiculous. Nasty splintery things-" However did she know that? "Men should not go clambering around at high level after drinking wine. Come with me, and I can let you out properly through the gate."

When she opened her door onto the corridor, there was nobody about, and it did seem sensible to walk softly in the shadows rather than climbing about like a thief. Rolling on the balls of my feet for quietness, I let myself be led through dimly lit corridors to ground level. There I went back to the ladder that was still at Constantia's window, and tidied it away on its side under the colonnade as if the workmen had just lazily left it there.

We crept down the dark cloister towards the exit gate. Suddenly there was a noise, and a door opened. I never saw who came out. Constantia grabbed my hand. Then, with great presence of mind, she dragged me to a litter that was standing unattended in the vestibule; we both piled inside, pulling the curtains down.

I do realize that crude people will now be speculating wildly about what a keen Roman male might get up to while squashed very tightly in a litter with a Vestal Virgin. Just calm down. She had a religious calling; I was faithfully devoted to my girlfriend; and anyway, the need for silence overrode everything else.