The Sacrilege(69)

“Phyllis, sir.” She smiled shyly.

“And you are a musician?”

“Yes, sir, a harpist.”

“And you were employed in that capacity on the night of the rites of Bona Dea? These questions may seem simpleminded, but this is how they would be asked at a trial.”

“I understand, sir. Yes, I was there to play the harp.”

“Good. And just when did you make the discovery that a man had intruded upon the rites?”

“It was when—” She glanced at the older woman, who gave her a sharp look. “Well, it was at a time when we musicians were not playing. I glanced at a hallway entrance and I saw the herb-woman and the one with her. The herb-woman hung back in the hall, but the other came into the atrium. The herb-woman reached out and took his arm, as if to stop him, but he pulled loose and walked into the atrium. That was when I recognized him.”

“I see. I’ve heard from others that he was veiled. Was the light sufficient for you to see that it was a man’s face?”

“No, sir. It was more the way he walked. You see, I have seen Clodius many times in this house, when he has come to visit his sister, my mistress Claudia. I felt sure it was him; then I recognized a ring on his hand and I yelled that a man was in the room. The mother of the Pontifex Maximus rushed over and tore off the veil. There was a great deal of screaming after that.”

“I should imagine. And I understand that they had just arrived?”

She shook her head. “Oh, no, sir. They must have been there for quite some time. I saw them arrive early in the evening, when most of the other ladies were arriving.”

“What? Are you certain?”

“Oh, absolutely, sir. This was the third year that I’ve played my harp at the rites, and I knew the herb-woman from that purple dress she wore.”

I tried to keep a self-condemning curse behind my teeth. This was what came of giving too much credence to secondhand information. Somebody makes a mistaken assumption, and for lack of contradiction it gains the stature of fact. If I had come to question this girl first, I would have got my facts straight and perhaps the herb-woman would be alive. It struck me that the purple dress was her professional trademark, since her name was Purpurea. Then something else struck me.

“You recognized the herb-woman from her dress, not her face?”

“She also wore a veil, Senator.”

“There seem to have been a number of veils that night. Clodius, naturally enough, now Purpurea. I’ve also heard that Fausta was veiled.”

“Then you heard wrong, Senator,” said Licinia. “The lady Fausta”—she gave the little sniff that highborn women perform when they mention their scandalous sisters—”was here in the home of Lucullus that night.”

“I see,” I said. “And you did not attend the rites?”

“I was unwell that night. As for Fausta, she has no respect for religion and did not wish to attend the preliminary ceremonies, as unmarried women should.”

So now the argument as to Fausta’s presence stood at one for, two against. But the vote for was Julia’s, and I was still reluctant to discount her words. I rose.

“Thank you. I think that this will prove useful to my investigation.”

“Good,” said Licinia. “There must be a trial. What will become of Rome if we allow our sacred rituals to be violated? The gods will take a terrible vengeance.”

“We certainly can’t have that,” I said. I no longer had the slightest interest in the sacrilege. I was burning to find out what else had been going on that night. I was about to leave, but I turned back. “Phyllis?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You’ve said that Clodius and the herb-woman were standing in a hallway entrance. Do you know where that hall leads?”

“It’s one of the ones that lead to the rear of the house, Senator.”

“Where the unmarried women retire at a certain stage of the rites?”

The girl thought for a moment. “No, that is on the other side of the house. The hall where I saw the two of them leads back to the living quarters of the Pontifex Maximus. Some years, we slaves were sent to wait there when we were not needed.”

“But not this year,” I said.

“No, Senator.”

I thanked the two women and left the house. I was still thoroughly mystified, but now I was excited as well. I felt sure that I now had the crucial piece of evidence that would resolve the puzzle of what had happened on that very odd evening, if I could just figure out where it fit. There had been too many anomalous women present, and too damned many veils.

Hermes was waiting outside the gate. He had taken the opportunity to return my bath gear to my house. He fell in beside me, and after a few minutes of walking I noticed that he was imitating me, walking along with his head down and his hands clasped behind his back. I stopped.