The House of the Vestals

THE HOUSE OF THE VESTALS

"What do you know about the Vestal Virgins?" said Cicero.

"Only what every Roman knows: that there are six of them; that they watch over the eternal flame in the Temple of Vesta; that they serve for no less than thirty years, during which time they take a vow of chastity. And that once every generation or so a terrible scandal erupts-"

"Yes, yes," said Cicero. The litter gave a small lurch, pitching him forward. It was a moonless night, and the litter-bearers, proceeding over the rough paving stones by torchlight, were giving us a bumpy ride. "I bring up the matter only because one never knows nowadays-we live in such irreligious times-not that I myself set any store by mindless superstition…"

The sharpest mind in Rome was rambling. Cicero was uncommonly agitated.

He had arrived at my door in the middle of the night, called me from my bed, and insisted I accompany him to an unspecified destination.

The bearers trotted along at a quick pace, jostling us about; I would almost have preferred to get out and trot myself. I parted the curtains and peered outside. Within the covered box I had lost my bearings; the darkened street looked like any other. "Where are we going, Cicero?"

He ignored my question. "As you noted, Gordianus, the Vestals are particularly vulnerable to scandal. You have heard, no doubt, of the pending case against Marcus Crassus?"

"It's the talk of every tavern in town-the richest man in Rome is accused of corrupting a Vestal. And not just any Vestal, but Licinia herself."

"Yes, the Virgo Maxima, high priestess of Vesta and a distant cousin of Crassus. The charge is absurd, of course. Crassus is no more likely to involve himself in such an affair than I would be. Like myself, and unlike so many of our contemporaries, Crassus is above the base appetites of the flesh. Even so, there are plenty of witnesses ready to testify that he has been seen in Licinia's company on numerous occasions-at the theater during festivals, in the Forum-hovering about her in an unseemly fashion, appearing almost to badger her. I am told also that circumstantial evidence exists to indicate he has visited her, during daylight hours in the House of the Vestals, without chaperones present. Even so, there is no crime in that, unless poor judgment is a crime. Men hate Crassus only because he's made himself so rich. That, too, is not a crime…"

The great mind had begun to wander again. The hour, after all, was late. I cleared my throat. "Will you be defending Crassus in the courts? Or Licinia?"

"Neither! My political career has entered a very delicate phase. I cannot be seen to have any public connection with a scandal involving the Vestals. Which is why the events of this evening are such a disaster!"

At last, I thought, we shall get down to business. I peered between the curtains again. It seemed that we were approaching the Forum. What possible business could we have among the temples and public squares in the middle of the night?

"As you probably know, Gordianus, one of the younger Vestals happens to be a relative of mine."

"No, I didn't know."

"A relative by marriage, anyway; Fabia is my wife's half sister, and therefore my sister-in-law."

"But the Vestal under investigation is the Virgo Maxima, Licinia."

"Yes, the scandal involved only Licinia… until the events of this evening."

"Cicero, are you being deliberately obscure?"

"Very well. Something occurred earlier tonight in the House of the Vestals. Something quite terrible. Unthinkable! Something which threatens not only to destroy Fabia, but to throw calumny upon the very institution of the Vestals, and to undermine the whole religious establishment of Rome." Cicero lowered his voice, which had begun to rise to orator's pitch. "I have no doubt that the prosecution of Licinia and Crassus is somehow related to this latest disaster; there is an organized conspiracy afoot to spread doubt and chaos in the city, using the Vestals as a starting point. If my years in the Forum have taught me anything, it is that some Roman politicians will stop at nothing!"

He leaned forward and clutched my arm. "You are aware that this year marks the tenth anniversary of the fire which razed the Temple of Jupiter and destroyed the Sibylline oracles? The masses are superstitious, Gordianus; they are quite ready to believe that on the tenth anniversary of such a terrible catastrophe, something equally terrible must occur. Now it has. Whether it was manufactured by gods or by men, that is the question."

The litter gave a final lurch and came to a halt. Cicero released his grip on my arm, sat back and sighed. "We have reached your destination."

I pulled back the curtains and saw the colonnaded facade of the House of the Vestals.

"Cicero, I may not be an expert in religious matters, but I do know that for a man to enter the House of the Vestals after dark is an offense punishable by death. I hope you don't expect me-"

"Tonight is not like other nights, Gordianus."

"Cicero! Back at last!" The voice from the darkness was oddly familiar. A shock of red hair entered the circle of torch-light and I recognized young Marcus Valerius Messalla Rufus- called Rufus on account of his flaming hair-whom I had not seen, close at hand, in the seven years since he had assisted Cicero with the defense of Sextus Roscius. He had been only sixteen then, a boy with red cheeks and a freckled nose; now he was a religious official, one of the youngest men ever elected to the college of augurs, entrusted with interpreting the will of the gods by reading omens in lightning and the flights of birds. He still looked very much like a boy to me. In spite of the obvious gravity of the moment, his eyes shone brightly and he smiled as he stepped toward Cicero and took his hand; it seemed that his love for his mentor had not diminished over the years.

"Rufus will take you from here," said Cicero.

"What?. You've roused me from bed in the middle of the night, carried me halfway across Rome, given me no clear explanation, and now you abandon me?"

"I thought I made it clear that I must not be seen to have any connection whatsoever with tonight's events. Fabia called on the Virgo Maxima for help, who called on Rufus, who is known to her; together they summoned me, knowing my family connection to Fabia; I fetched you, Gordianus-and that is the end of my involvement." He gestured impatiently for me to step from the litter. As soon as my feet touched the paving stones, without even a last farewell, he clapped his hands and the litter lurched into motion. Rufus and I watched it depart in the direction of Cicero's house on the Capitoline Hill.

"There goes an extraordinary man," sighed Rufus. I was thinking something quite different, but bit my tongue. The litter turned a corner and disappeared from sight.

Before us was the entrance to the House of the Vestals. Twin braziers stood at either side; flickering shadows danced across the wide, steep stairway. But the house itself was dark, its high wooden doors thrown shut. Normally they stood open, day and night-for who would dare to enter the abode of the Vestals uninvited or with evil intent? Across the way, the round Temple of Vesta was strangely lit up, and from it came a soft chanting on the still night air.

"Gordianus!" said Rufus. "How strange to see you again, after so many years. I hear of you now and again-"

"As I hear of you, and see you occasionally, presiding at some public or private invocation of the auspices. Nothing important can happen in Rome without an augur present to read the omens. You must stay very busy, Rufus."

He shrugged. "There are fifteen augurs in all, Gordianus. I'm the youngest, and only a beginner. Many of the mysteries are still just that to me-mysteries."

"Lightning on the left, good; lightning on the right, bad. And if the person you're divining for is displeased with the result, you have only to face the opposite direction, reversing right and left. It seems rather simple."

Rufus compressed his lips. "I see that you're as skeptical of religion as Cicero. Yes, a great deal of it is empty formula and politics. But there is another element, the perception of which requires, I suppose, a certain sensibility on the part of the perceiver."

"And do you foresee lightning tonight?" I said, sniffing the air.

He smiled faintly. "Actually, yes, I think it may rain. But we mustn't stand here talking, where anyone could see us. Come along." He started up the steps.

"Into the House of the Vestals? At this hour?"

"The Virgo Maxima herself is awaiting us, Gordianus. Come along!"

Dubiously, I followed him up the stairs. He knocked softly on one of the doors, which swung silently inward. Taking a deep breath, I followed him over the threshold.

We stood in a lofty foyer that opened onto a central courtyard, surrounded all about by a colonnaded walkway. All was dark; not a single torch was lit. The long, shallow pool in the center of the courtyard was black and full of stars, its glassy surface broken only by some reeds that grew from the center.

I felt a sudden superstitious dread. Hackles rose on the back of my neck, a sheen of sweat erupted on my forehead and I was unable to breathe. My heart pounded so hard that I thought the noise must be loud enough to wake a sleeping virgin. I wanted to clutch Rufus's arm and hiss into his ear that we must go back to the Forum, at once-so deep is the fear of the forbidden ingrained from childhood, when one hears tales of men found skulking in sacred precincts and made to suffer unimaginable punishments. Ironically, I thought, it is only through association with the most respectable people in the world-like Cicero and Rufus-that a man can suddenly, unexpectedly find himself in the most forbidden spot in all Rome, at an hour when his mere presence could mean death. One moment, innocently asleep in my own bed, and the next-in the House of the Vestals!

There was a faint noise behind us. I turned to see a vague white shape in the darkness, which by degrees resolved itself into a woman. She must have opened the door for us, but she was not a slave. She was one of the Vestals, as I could tell by her appearance-her hair was cut quite short, and around her forehead she wore a broad white band like a diadem, decorated with ribbons. She was dressed in a plain white stola, and about her shoulders she wore the white linen mantle of the Vestals.

She flicked her fingers, and I felt drops of water on my face. "Be purified," she whispered. "Do you swear by the goddess of the hearth that you enter this house with no evil intent, and at the request of the mistress of this house, who is the Virgo Maxima, the highest priestess of Vesta?"

"I do," said Rufus. I followed his example.

The Vestal led us across the courtyard. As we passed the pool I heard a soft splash. I stiffened at the noise but saw only a gentle ripple traverse the black surface, causing the reflected starlight to glimmer and wink. I leaned close to Rufus's ear and whispered: "A frog?"

"But surely not a male one!" he whispered back, then gestured for me to be quiet.

We stepped beneath the colonnade, into deep shadow, and stopped before a door that was invisible except for the faint bar of light that escaped beneath its bottom edge. The Vestal knocked very gently and whispered something I couldn't hear, then left us and disappeared into the shadows. A moment later the door opened inward. A face appeared-frightened, beautiful, and quite young. She, too, wore the diadem of a Vestal.

She pulled the door open to allow us to enter. The room was dimly lit by a single lamp, beneath which another Vestal sat holding an open scroll. She was older than her companion, of middle age. Her short hair was touched with silver at the ternples. As we approached, she kept her eyes on the scroll and began to read aloud in Greek. Her voice was soft and mellow:

"Evening star, gatherer of all The bright daybreak parted: You gather the sheep, the goat; You gather the child safe to its mother."

She laid the scroll aside and looked up, first at Rufus, then at me. She sighed. "In times of distress, the poetess comforts me. Ate you familiar with Sappho?"

"A little," I said.

She laid the scroll aside. "I am Licinia."

I looked at her more closely. Was this the woman for whom the richest man in Rome had endangered his life? The Virgo Maxima seemed in no way extraordinary, at least not to my eye; on the other hand, what sort of woman could sit calmly and read Sappho in the midst of what even staid Cicero had decreed a catastrophe?

"You are Gordianus, called the Finder?" she said.

I nodded.

"Cicero sent word by Rufus that you would come. Ah, what would we have done tonight without Cicero to help us?"

" 'Like is he to a god immortal,' " said Rufus, quoting another line from Sappho.

There followed an uneasy silence. The girl who had opened the door remained in the shadows.

"Let's get on with it, then," said Licinia. "You must know already that I have been indicted for conduct forbidden to a Vestal; they accuse me of a dalliance with my kinsman Marcus Crassus."

"So I've heard."

"I'm far past my youth, and have no interest in men. The charge is absurd! It is true that Crassus seeks out my company in the Forum and the theater and pesters me constantly-but if our accusers only knew what he talks about when we're alone! Believe me, it has nothing to do with matters of the heart. Crassus is as legendary for his greed as are the Vestals for their chastity-but I will not elaborate. Crassus has his defense and I have mine, and in three days the courts will hear our cases and decide. There are no witnesses and no evidence of any act contrary to my vow; the suit is nothing more than a nuisance intended to embarrass Crassus and to undermine the people's faith in the Vestals. No reasonable panel of judges could possibly find us guilty; and yet, after the events of this evening, things could go very badly for us both."

She looked into the darkness and frowned, and caressed the scroll in her lap, as if the conversation had grown distasteful to her and she longed to escape again into the soothing rhythms of the Lesbian poet. When she spoke again, her voice was languid and dreamy.

"I was consecrated to Vesta at the age of eight; all Vestals are chosen at an early age, between six and ten. We serve for no less than thirty years. For the first ten years, we are novices, students of the mysteries like Fabia here." She gestured to the girl in the shadows. "In the second ten years we perform the sacred duties-purify the shrine and make offerings of salt, watch over the eternal flame, consecrate temples, attend the holy festivals, guard the sacred relics. In the third ten years, we become teachers and instruct the novices, passing on the mysteries. At the end of thirty years we are permitted to leave the consecrated life, but the few who choose to do so almost always end in misery." She sighed. "Within the House of the Vestals a woman acquires certain habits and expectations, falls into rhythms of life incompatible with the world outside. Most Vestals die as they have lived, in chaste service to the goddess and her everlasting hearth.

"Sometimes…" Her voice quavered. "Sometimes, especially in the early years, one can be tempted to stray from the vow of chastity. The consequence of that is death, and not a simple, merciful death, but a fate quite horrible to contemplate.

"The last such scandal occurred forty years ago. The virgin daughter of a good family was struck by lightning and killed. Her clothing was rent and her nakedness exposed; soothsayers interpreted this to mean that the Vestals had violated their vows. Three Vestals were accused of impurity, along with their alleged lovers, and tried before the college of pontiffs. One was found guilty. The others were absolved. But the people were not satisfied. They raged and rioted until a special commission was set up. The case was retired. All three Vestals were condemned."

Licinia's face grew long. Her eyes glinted in the lamplight. "Do you know the punishment, Gordianus? The lover is publicly scourged to death; a gruesome matter, but simple and quick. Not so with the Vestal. She is stripped of her diadem and linen mantle. She is whipped by the Pontifex Maximus. She is dressed like a corpse, laid in a closed litter and carried through the Forum attended by her weeping kindred, forced to live through the misery of her own funeral. She is carried to a place just inside the Colline Gate, where a small vault is prepared underground, containing a couch, a lamp, and a table with a little food. A common executioner guides her down the ladder into the cell, but he does not harm her. You see, her person is still sacred to Vesta; no man may kill her. The ladder is drawn up, the vault sealed, the ground leveled. It is left to the goddess to take the Vestal's life…"

"Buried alive!" Fabia whispered hoarsely. The girl remained in the shadows, her hands now nervously touching her lips.

"Yes, buried alive." Licinia's voice was steady, but cold as death. After a long moment, she glanced down at her lap, where the scroll of Sappho lay crushed in her hand.

"I think it is time now to explain to Gordianus why he was called here." She put aside the scroll and stood. "An intruder entered this house, earlier tonight. More precisely, two intruders, and possibly a third. A man came to visit Fabia after dark, on her invitation, he claims-"

"Never!" said the girl.

Licinia silenced her with a withering look. "He was discovered in her room. But worse than that-you shall see for yourself, Gordianus."

She picked up the lamp and led us through a short passageway to another room. It was a simpler and more private chamber than the one in which she had greeted us. Ornamental curtains draped the walls, their color a rich, dark red that seemed to swallow the light of the brazier in one corner. There were only two pieces of furniture, a backless chair and a sleeping couch. The couch, I noticed, looked freshly made up, its pillows fluffed and straightened, its coverlets neatly spread. The man who sat in the chair looked up as we entered. Contrary to the prevailing fashion, he was not clean-shaven but wore a neat little beard. It seemed to me that he smiled, very faintly.

He appeared to be a few years younger than myself-about thirty-five, I guessed, close to Cicero's age. Unlike Cicero, he was quite remarkably attractive. Which is not to say that he was particularly handsome; if I conjure up his face in my mind's eye, I can only remark that his hair and beard were dark, his eyes a piercing blue, his features regular. But in his actual presence there was something indefinably appealing, and a contagious playfulness in his eyes that seemed to dance like sparkling points of flame.

"Lucius Sergius Catilina," he said, standing and introducing himself.

The patrician clan of the Sergu went back to the days of Aeneas; there was no more respectable name in the Republic.

Catilina himself I knew by his reputation. Some called him a charmer, others a rogue. All agreed that he was clever, but some said too clever.

He gave me an odd half smile that suggested he was inwardly laughing at something-but at what? He cocked his head. "Tell me, Gordianus: what do five of the people in this room have in common?"

Puzzled, I glanced at Rufus, who scowled.

"They are still breathing," said Catalina, "while the sixth… is not!" He stepped toward the curtain hung across the far wall and pulled it back to reveal another passageway. Upon the floor, contorted in a most unnatural way, lay the body of a man who was surely dead.

Rufus and Licinia looked sternly disapproving of Catilina's theatricality, while Fabia was close to tears, but none of them betrayed surprise. I drew in a breath, then knelt and studied the crumpled body for a long moment.

I drew back and sat in the chair, feeling slightly ill. The sight of a man with his throat cut is never pleasant.

"This is why you called me here, Licinia? This is the disaster Cicero spoke of?"

"A murder in the House of the Vestals," she whispered, "Unheard-of sacrilege!"

I fought back my queasiness. Rufus had produced a cup of wine, which he pressed into my hand. I gratefully drank it down.

"I think we had best begin at the beginning," I said. "What in Jupiter's name are you doing here, Catilina?"

He cleared his throat and swallowed; a smile flickered or his lips and vanished, as if it were only a nervous tick. "Fabia summoned me; or at least that's what I thought."

"How so?"

"I received this, earlier tonight." He produced a scrap of folded parchment:

COME AT ONCE TO MY ROOM IN THE HOUSE OF THE VESTALS. IGNORE THE DANGER, I BEG YOU.

MY HONOR IS AT STAKE AND I DARE NOT CONFIDE IN ANYONE ELSE.

ONLY YOU CAN HELP ME. DESTROY THIS NOTE AFTER YOU HAVE READ IT.

FABIA

I pondered it for a while. "Did you send this note, Fabia?"

"Never!"

"How was it delivered to you, Catilina?"

"A messenger came to my house on the Palatine, a hired boy from the streets."

"Are you in the habit of receiving messages from Vestals?"

"Not at all."

"Yet you believed this message to be genuine. Were you not surprised to receive such an intimate communication from a Vestal?"

He smiled indulgently. "The Vestals live a chaste life, Gordianus, not a secluded one. It shouldn't surprise you that I know Fabia. We're both from old families. We've met at the theater, in the Forum, at private dinners. I have even, though rarely, and always in daylight and in the presence of chaperones, visited her here in the House of the Vestals; we share an interest in Greek poets and Arretine vases. Our behavior in public has always been above reproach. Yes, I was surprised to receive her message, but only because it was so alarming."

"Yet you chose to do as it requested-to come here in the middle of the night, to flout the laws of men and gods?"

He laughed softly. The blackness of his beard made his smile all the more dazzling. "Really, Gordianus, what better excuse to break those laws could a man ever hope for, than to come to the rescue of a Vestal in distress? Of course I came!" His face grew sober. "I realize now that I probably did not come alone."

"You were followed?"

"At the time, I wasn't sure; walking alone in Rome at night, one always tends to imagine lurkers in the shadows. But yes, I think I may have been followed."

"By one man, or many?"

He shrugged.

"By this man?" I indicated the corpse.

Catilina shrugged again. "I've never seen him before."

"He's certainly dressed for stalking-a black cloak with a black hood to cover his head. Where is the weapon that killed him."

"Did you not see it?" He pushed back the curtains again and indicated a dagger that lay in a pool of blood farther down the passage. I fetched a lamp and examined it.

"A very nasty-looking blade-as long as a man's hand and half as wide, so sharp that even through the blood the edge glitters. Your knife, Catilina?"

"Of course not! I didn't kill him."

"Then who did?"

"If we knew that, you wouldn't be here!" He rolled his eyes and then smiled, as sweetly as a child. At that moment it was hard to imagine him slitting another man's throat.

"If this dagger doesn't belong to you, Catilina, then where is your knife?"

"I have no knife."

"What? You went walking across Rome on a moonless night and carried no weapon?"

He nodded.

"Catilina, how am I to believe you?"

"Believe me or not. The House of the Vestals is only a short walk from my house, through what is, after all, one of the better neighborhoods in the city. I don't like to carry a knife. I'm always cutting my fingers." The half smile flickered on his lips again.

"Perhaps you should continue with your story of the night's events. A fabricated note summoned you here. You arrived at the entrance-"

"— to find the doors open wide, as usual. I must admit, it took some courage to step across the threshold, but all was quiet and so far as,I could tell no one saw me. I have some knowledge of the layout of this place, from visiting it in daylight; I came directly to this room and found Fabia sitting in her chair, reading. She seemed surprised to see me, I must admit."

"You must believe him," said Fabia, speaking chiefly to Licinia. "I would never have sent such a note. I had no idea he was coming."

"And then what happened?" I said.

Catilina shrugged. "We shared a quiet laugh together."

"You found the situation funny?"

"Why not? I'm always playing jokes on my friends, and they on me. I assumed that one of them had tricked me into coming here, of all places. You must agree it's rich!"

"Except that I see a dead body on the floor."

"Yes, that," he said, wrinkling his nose. "I was preparing to go-oh yes, I lingered for a few moments, savoring the delicious danger of the situation; what man would not? — and then there came a terrible cry from behind that curtain. The sort of sound a man makes, I suppose, when he's having his throat cut. I pulled back the curtain, and there he was, writhing on the floor."

"You saw no sign of the murderer?"

"Only the knife on the floor, still spinning about in that pool of blood."

"You didn't pursue the killer?"

"I confess that I was paralyzed with shock. A few moments later, of course, the Vestals began arriving."

"The cry was heard all over the house," said Licinia. "I arrived first. The others came soon after."

"And what did you see?"

"The body, of course; and Fabia and Catilina huddled together…"

"Can you be more precise?"

"I don't understand."

"Licinia, you force me to be crude. How were they dressed?"

"Why, exactly as they are now! Catilina in his tunic, Fabia in her vestments."

"And the bed-"

"— was just as you see it: unslept-in. If you are insinuating-"

"I insinuate nothing, Licinia; I only wish to see the event exactly as it occurred."

"And quite a sight it was," said Catilina, his eyelids droopy. "A bloody corpse, a dagger, six Vestals swooning all around- what an extraordinary moment, when you think of it! How many men can claim to have been at the center of such an wild and sensual tableau?"

"Catilina, you are absurd!" said Rufus, with disgust.

"No one saw the killer escaping? Neither you, Licinia, nor any of the others?"

"No. To be sure, the courtyard was dark, as it is now. But I lost no time in sending one of the slave girls to close and bar the door."

"Then it's possible that you trapped the villain here in the house?"

"So I hoped. But we've searched the premises already and found no one."

"Then he escaped; unless, of course, Catilina invented him altogether…"

"No!" cried Fabia. "Catilina speaks the truth. It happened just as he says."

Catilina turned up his palms and raised his eyebrows. "There you have it, Gordianus. Would a Vestal lie?"

"Catilina, this is not a joke. You must realize how the circumstances appear. Who else but you had cause to murder this intruder?"

To this he had no reply.

"I'm no expert in religious law," I said, "but it's hard to imagine a more serious offense than committing murder in the House of the Vestals. Even if you can somehow explain away your presence here tonight-and few judges would find a forged note or a practical joke an adequate excuse-the fact of the corpse remains. In an ordinary murder case, a Roman citizen has the option of fleeing to some foreign land rather than face trial and punishment; but when desecration is involved, the authorities have no option for leniency. Unless of course you flee the city tonight…"

He fixed me with a steady gaze. His eyes seemed impossibly blue, as if blue flames danced behind them. "Though I may joke and make riddles, Gordianus, never doubt that I understand the circumstance in which I find myself. No, I will not flee Rome like a frightened cur and leave a young Vestal to face a change of iniquity alone."

Fabia began to weep.

Catilina bit his lip. "If this was more than a practical joke- and the corpse is proof of that-then I think I might know who is behind it."

"That would be a start. Who?"

"The same man who is behind the prosecution against Licinia and Crassus. His name is Publius Clodius. Do you know him?"

"I know of him, certainly. A rabble-rouser, troublemaker-"

"And a personal enemy of mine. A constant schemer. A man of such low moral character that he would have no qualms about involving the Vestal Virgins in a plot to bring down his enemies."

"So you suspect Publius Clodius of luring you here with a forged message, and of having you followed. But why would he send his man in after you? Why not have him raise the alarm from outside the house, trapping you inside? We still have no motive for this man's murder."

Catilina shrugged. "I can tell you no more."

I shook my head. "I'll do what I can. I'll want to question the other Vestals and whatever slaves were in the house tonight; that can wait for morning. I may be able to track down the boy who brought you that message, and thus trace it back to Clodius, or whomever. I may be able to ferret out the man or men who followed you on your way here tonight, if they exist; they might be induced to tell what they know about the dead man and his reason for being here. All this is no more than circumstantial, I fear, but I might uncover something of use for your defense, Catilina. Still, it looks very bad. I see nothing more to be done tonight, except perhaps to make another search of the premises."

"We searched already, and found nothing," Licinia said.

"But we could search again," said Fabia. "Please, Virgo Maxima?"

"Very well," said Licinia sternly. "Summon some of the slave girls, and see that they're armed with knives from the kitchens. We'll look again in every corner and crevice."

"I'll come with you," said Catilina. "To protect you," he added, looking at Fabia. "The man we're looking for is a desperate murderer, after all."

Licinia scowled, but did not protest.

In the moonless courtyard, beneath the colonnade, I paused to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. Rufus bumped against me. I stumbled and kicked a pebble that skittered across the stones. The sound seemed loud in the stillness. From the pool came a tiny splash.

The noise startled me and made my heart race. Only that frog again, I thought. Still, I saw phantoms in the shadows, and shook my head at such imaginings. In just such a way, I thought, Catilina might have imagined being followed by men who were not there. Even so, I felt in some way that Rufus and I were not alone in the courtyard. The faint chanting of the Vestals from the nearby temple seemed to hover in the still air above us. I sat on a bench, close by the reeds at the edge of the pond, and gazed at the stars that spangled its black surface.

Rufus sat beside me. "What do you think, Gordianus?"

"I think we are in deep waters."

"Do you believe Catilina?"

"Do you?"

"Not for a moment! The man is false to the core, all charm and no substance."

"Ah, you compare him to Cicero, perhaps, and find him wanting."

"Exactly."

"And yet it seems true to his character that he would respond to such a reckless letter for the sheer novelty, does it not? That part of the story seems credible; or is he so devious as to devise such a letter himself, to use as a ruse if needed?"

"He's certainly wicked enough!"

"I'm not sure of that. As for his innocence of the murder, I'm impressed by his detail of finding the knife still spinning about in the pool of blood. It seems too striking a detail to be invented on the spot."

"You underestimate his cleverness, Gordianus."

"Or perhaps you underestimate his nobleness. What if it was Fabia who murdered the intruder, and Catilina is lying to protect her?"

"Now that is truly absurd, Gordianus! The girl is frail and timid-"

"And very much in love with Catilina. Did you not see that, Rufus? Might she have killed in a frenzy to protect her lover?"

"This is too fantastic, Gordianus."

"Perhaps you're right. The murmur of distant chanting and the pool full of stars carry me away. I even find myself considering the possibility that it was Licinia who wielded the knife…"

"The Virgo Maxima! But for what purpose?"

"To deflect attention from her own impending trial. To take vengeance on the young lovers-assuming they are lovers- because she is insanely jealous of them. Or to protect them, by killing the man sent to spy on them-because she grows more sentimental as she grows older, like myself. Except that her plan failed when the man cried out and the other Vestals came running…"

"Deep waters," Rufus agreed. "Can we ever find the truth?"

"In bits and pieces," I said, "and perhaps by looking where we don't expect to find it." I rubbed my eyes and fought to stifle a yawn. I closed my eyes-for just an instant, I thought…

I awoke with a start at the touch of a hand on my shoulder, and looked up to see Catilina.

"The search…?" I said.

"Fruitless. We looked behind every curtain, under every couch, inside every chamber pot."

I nodded. "Then I'll return to my house now, if Licinia will be kind enough to send some litter-bearers to the foot of the stairs. I'll wait on the steps outside." I began to walk toward the great barred doors. "I suppose this is the only time I shall ever be inside this place, at such an hour of the night. It has been a memorable experience."

"Not too unpleasant, I hope," said Catilina. He lowered his voice. "You'll do what you can for me, yes? Go snooping on my behalf, locate that messenger boy, uncover what you can about Clodius and his schemes? I don't forget my friends, Gordianus. Sometime in the future I'll repay you."

"Of course," I said, and thought: If you have a future, Catilina.

The Vestal who had admitted us came to unbar the door. She kept her eyes averted, especially from Catilina.

As the door swung open, I heard a liquid plop from the pond. I smiled at the Vestal. "The frogs are restless tonight."

She shook her head wearily. "There are no frogs in the pond," she said.

The door closed behind me. I heard the bar fall. I walked slowly down the steps. A sudden wind blew through the Forum, carrying the smell of rain. I looked up and saw the stars begin to vanish one by one behind a mantle of black clouds coming from the west.

Suddenly I realized the truth.

I ran up the steps and knocked on the door, at first softly. When there was no answer I banged my fist against it.

The door gave a shudder and opened. I slipped inside. The Vestal frowned at me, confused. Catilina and Fabia stood beside the pool, with Licinia and Rufus nearby. I walked to them quickly, feeling the full strangeness of the starlight, the distant chanting, the atmosphere of sanctity and death within the forbidden walls.

"The murderer is still here, within the house," I said. "Here in our very presence!"

Suspicious glances passed from eye to eye. Licinia stepped back. Even Fabia and Catilina drew apart.

"Do you still have the knives you carried for your search?"

Licinia produced a kitchen knife from the folds of her stola, as did Fabia.

"And you, Rufus?"

He pulled out a short dagger, as did I. Only Catilina was without a weapon.

I walked to the edge of the pool. "When I entered the House of the Vestals, I saw reeds growing from the center of the pool-only from the center. Yet these reeds are very near the edge. Something keeps softly splashing, yet there are no frogs in the pond." I reached for the hollow reeds, jerked them from the water and threw them onto the paving stones.

A moment later a man emerged from the water, sputtering and choking. He bolted and slipped, struggling against the encumbrance of the sodden woolen cloak that hung on him like a coat of mail. The cloak was black and hooded, like the one his confederate had worn. In the darkness he looked like a monster made of blackness, emerging from a pool of nightmare. Then something swung through space, glittering in the starlight. He staggered toward me, wielding his dagger.

It was Catilina, weaponless though he was, who threw himself on the assassin. The two of them tumbled into the water. Rufus and I ran after them into the pool, but amid the foaming chaos it was impossible to strike a blow.

Then the struggle was over, as abruptly as it had begun. Catilina rose onto his hands and knees, water dripping from his beard, his eyes open wide, as if he had surprised even himself with what he had done. The assassin lay writhing in the water, surrounded by an effusion that even in the dark water could not be mistaken for anything but blood; the stars reflected in its murk were fiery red.

"Help me pull him from the water," I said. "Quickly, Rufus!"

We dragged the man onto the paving stones. His knife was plunged hilt-deep into his heart. His fingers still gripped the handle. His eyes were open wide. He shuddered and twitched occasionally, but his face-broad-nosed, beetle-browed, shadowed with stubble-was oddly peaceful. The household slaves, alerted by the noise, gathered around. From the Temple of Vesta, the priestesses continued to chant, oblivious.

Like Cicero-like Catilina, I suspect-I am not a particularly religious man. Yet it seems to me that Jupiter himself showed his favor to Catilina at that moment. Would the assassin have confessed before he died, had not a thin filament of Jupiter's own lightning bolted across the sky?

The dying man saw it. His eyes grew wider. Rufus crouched over him and touched the man's hand where it gripped the pommel of his dagger. "I am an augur," he said, with a tone of authority that far exceeded his years. Despite his shock of red hair, his freckles and bright brown eyes, he did not look at all like a boy to me in that instant. "I read the auspices."

"The lightning…" the man groaned.

"On your right-hand side; the hand that grips the dagger in your heart."

"A bad omen? Tell me, augur!"

"The gods have come for you-"

"Oh no!"

"Look where they will find you, in the House of the Vestals, with the blood of the man you murdered still warm. They will be angry-"

Another bolt of lightning shattered the sky. The heavens rumbled.

"I have been an impious man! I have offended the gods terribly!"

"Yes, and you had best appease them while you can. Confess what you have done, here in the presence of the Virgo Maxima."

The man convulsed, so violently that I thought he would die then and there. But after a moment he rallied. "Forgive me…"

"Why did you come here?"

"I followed Catilina."

"On whose orders?"

"Publius Clodius." ("I knew it!" whispered Catilina.)

"What was your purpose?"

"We were to follow him into this house, unseen. We were to spy upon him in the Vestal's room. I was to wait until the most compromising moment-except that they never took their clothes off!" He laughed sharply, and gasped with pain.

"And then?"

"Then I was to kill Gnaeus."

"The man who came with you?"

"Yes."

"But why? Why kill your partner?"

"How better to ruin Catilina beyond hope, than to have him caught naked with a Vestal, along with a corpse and a bloody dagger? Except that they wouldn't… take off… their clothes!" He barked out another laugh. Blood ran from the corner of his mouth. "So… finally… I went ahead and slit Gnaeus's throat. The poor fool never expected it! Then I was to escape in silence, and raise an alarm outside the doors. But I never counted on Gnaeus making so loud a scream! I dropped my knife-as Clodius told me to do, to be sure there was a weapon to incriminate Catilina. Then I took Gnaeus's knife, and ran to the courtyard. Suddenly lamps began to appear from everywhere, blocking my way to the doors. I remembered a trick my old centurion taught me in the army-I slipped into the pool, as quiet as a water snake, and cut a reed to breathe through. When I came up after a while to see how things stood, the doors had been closed and barred, with a Vestal guarding it! I slipped back under the water again and waited. It's like death beneath the water, staring up at the black sky and all those stars…"

Lightning danced all around us, both to the right and the left. There was a great crack of thunder and the sky split open above our heads to release a torrent of rain. The assassin gave a final convulsion, stiffened, and then grew limp.

As all Rome knows, the trials of the Vestals Licinia and Fabia and their alleged paramours ended in acquittals all around.

Licinia and Crassus were tried simultaneously. Crassus's defense was novel but effective. His reason for passionately pursuing Licinia, it turned out, was not lust, but simple greed. It seems that she owned a villa on the outskirts of the city which he was determined to purchase at a bargain. It is a measure of Crassus's reputation for avarice that the judges accepted this excuse without question. Crassus was publicly embarrassed and made the butt of jokes for a season; but I am told that he went on badgering Licinia until he finally acquired the property at the price he wanted.

The separate trials of Fabia and Catilina quickly descended into political name-calling. Cicero remained noticeably absent from the proceedings, but some of the most respected orators in Rome spoke for the defense, including Piso, Catulus and-probably the only man in Rome reputed to be more impervious to sexual temptation than Cicero-Marcus Cato. It was Cato who made such bold insinuations about the machinations of Clodius (unprovable, since the assassins were dead and the murder had been hushed up, but damaging nonetheless) that Clodius found it convenient to flee Rome and spend several months down in Baiae, waiting for the furor to pass. Afterward, Cicero privately thanked Cato for defending his sister-in-law's honor. Cato haughtily replied that he did not do it for Fabia, but for the good of Rome. What a pair of prigs!

Catilina was acquitted as well. The insistence that he and Fabia were discovered fully dressed weighed heavily in his favor. For my own part, I remain undecided about his guilt or innocence in regard to seducing Fabia. It seems strange to me that he should have spent so much time courting a young woman sworn to chastity, unless his intentions were base; and how did Clodius know that Catilina would respond to a forged note from Fabia, unless he had reason to believe that the two were already lovers? The assassin's repeated lament that they would not take off their clothes might seem, on the surface, to vindicate Catilina and Fabia; but there are a great many things that two people can do while still, more or less, fully dressed.

Catilina's intentions and motivations remain a mystery to me. Only time will tell what sort of character he truly is.

Long after the trials were over, I received an unexpected gift from the Virgo Maxima-a scroll containing the collected poems of Sappho. Eco, seventeen now and a student of Greek, declares it his favorite book, though I am not sure he is quite old enough to appreciate its manifold subtleties. I like to take it from the shelf myself sometimes, especially on long, moonless nights, and read from it softly aloud:

"The moon is set, and set are The Pleiades; and midnight Soon; so, and the hour departing: And I, on my bed-alone."

That passage in particular makes me think of Licinia, alone in her room in the House of the Vestals.