Oracle of the Dead(84)

“But Manius Pedarius thought it unfit that he should accept more than a fraction of the required money from his patron. Apparently, the priest of the sanctuary of Hecate knew of the proposed restoration and realized that this would put Pedarius in a very difficult situation. This was probably the priest Agathon, but I cannot be certain. He offered to cover the cost, but with a proviso: Pedarius was never again to visit the sanctuary, to take no interest in its doings. Naturally the man was suspicious, but he needed the money badly to save his honor. He stayed away, but he kept track of certain things, such as how the priests came and, more importantly, went. He had to be suspicious that the sanctuary had to have come by this wealth in some less than holy fashion.”

“Praetor,” Iola said, “this is pure speculation.”

“Then call me a philosopher,” I advised her. “My school of philosophy consists of collecting facts, even tiny facts that seem irrelevant, and building them into a picture of what has happened. With these facts and pictures, I can form a model, or to use the Greek word, a paradigm, of events as they are most likely to have occurred.” I could see that nobody had the slightest idea what I was talking about. Well, I shouldn’t have strayed into a field that I couldn’t explain very well.

Pompey whispered behind me so only those on the dais could hear, “How far would this sophistry get you in a Roman court?” Even Cato chuckled.

“Thus,” I said, getting back to business, “we can see that the illicit practices of the sanctuary of Hecate go back a number of years, probably before this woman Iola even came here. Perhaps they go back centuries, but we can do nothing about that. What is clear is that Iola brought a new scope to the proceedings—and I do not believe that she came up with the plan alone. Porcia was its creator.”

“Prove that, Praetor,” said the woman.

“In due time, Porcia. Be patient. We now come to the murder of Eugaeon and the rest of the priests of this venerable temple.” Another grand sweep of the arm, toward the temple that stood above and behind me. A finely draped toga makes this gesture especially graceful and impressive. When the toga has a purple border, it can scarcely be matched.

“In earlier days, before the advent of the resourceful Iola and the devious Porcia, the practice at the sanctuary of Hecate had been to find petitioners who were from places far from here and who had no local friends who would notice their disappearance. They were taken into the chamber of the Styx and the Oracle”—I pronounced these heavily loaded words in my most solemn tones—“and there, instead of receiving a prophecy, they were murdered and their bodies thrust down into the river, where its powerful current swept them down beneath the earth, never to be seen again, their shades destined to wander forever because they never received the customary rites.” My audience shuddered, their faces betraying horror.

“But Porcia,” I pointed at her, “knew something that the clergy of the temple did not, or had long forgotten. You see, the tunnel and its grotto were here long before the Greeks or the Oscans came. It was already ancient even before they arrived. The cult of Hecate moved in and claimed it not knowing that the tunnel had a ventilation tunnel above it, and that the ventilation tunnel debouched at the supposed mundus on the estate of Porcia. At least, they didn’t know until Porcia came and told them. But you didn’t tell the whole staff, did you, Porcia? You told Iola first, and between you was hatched a long-range plan. The priests, Agathon or Cronion or whichever it was, would of course have leapt at a plan that promised such abundant booty with such safety. Nevertheless, you wanted to narrow the field. You would do away with the superiors until you had maneuvered Iola into the position of high priestess.”

“I won’t even protest this,” Porcia said. “You have no power to condemn me. There is no jury here. Do as you like, I will take this all the way to the Senate at Rome.”

Then Iola turned on her. “Of course he can do nothing to you. You are a woman of citizen status. I am a foreigner and have no rights here!”

Porcia glared at her. “Be still!”

Yes, they were definitely falling out. Time to work on Iola again. “It was a cozy arrangement. Porcia provided the false Oracle. You picked the victims and committed the murders, except for those that had to be carried out at a distance by confederates, whom you will name for us later. Elagabal and probably others fenced the goods for you, and Manius Pedarius kept his mouth shut and stayed away. There was only one factor you did not have under control: those pesky priests of Apollo upstairs. They have been living side by side with you, only in a vertical fashion, for centuries. They just had to have noticed that there were odd doings going on down below.”