One Virgin Too Many Part 17

"Will I be allowed to ask them?"

"Only if it is very obviously relevant. They may not answer, of course," Rutilius warned. "Please remember, you are not interrogating Census frauds today."

I would have preferred that. Give me an honest cheat. Infinitely preferable to a devious and hypocritical so-called pillar of public life. "One more thing, sir: time is of the essence. I need support. I would like to bring in my friend and ex-partner, Petronius Longus."

"I thought you would say that too," Rutilius confessed. "Sorry; it is impossible. The Emperor decided that we should not involve the vigiles in direct contact with the family. The troops are to be ordered to search the city for the child, but the old Flamen is adamant that he does not want the big boys invading his home. Remember, Falco, for most of his life, Numentinus was bound never to look on armed men or to witness fetters. Even his ring had to be made from a broken band of metal. He cannot change. The paraphernalia of law and order still affronts him. This is the situation: he refuses to let in the vigiles; you have been put forward as the acceptable alternative."

"He may not accept me."

"He will."

Worst luck.

x.x.x.

FIRST, THE HOUSE.

It looked as dreary as when I came here first with Maia. I felt today's errand was likely to be just as abortive. Visiting for the second time, now that I knew more about the family, I viewed their unappealing home with an even more gloomy sense of mistrust.

Somebody was leaving, just as I arrived. A litter emerged, ebony colored, with heavily drawn gray curtains. It was not the one with the Medusa boss that the Laelii themselves used. A well-wisher, perhaps. Whoever it was, they appeared to be accompanied by their laundry: a short train of slaves followed, one with a bulging clothes hamper and others with smaller baggage items. I refrained from asking the escort who this was; off-putting lads with pug noses walked alongside the litter. They paid as much attention to checking that the half doors were closed and the dark curtains kept tight as they did to surveying the street for menaces. Some husband who did not want his wife leaping out to buy too much from jewelry kiosks, I joked to myself.

After they left, I walked up to the house, thoughtfully. The porter's peephole was shuttered so I stood with my back to the front door as if waiting. Pa.s.sersby would suppose I had knocked and was waiting. Instead, I listened. This was a house where a young girl had gone missing. There should be panic inside. Every footfall on the front doorstep should make somebody rush to investigate.

Nothing.

I rang a bell which hung on its bracket so stiffly I had to wrench at it with a strength that seemed discourteous. Well, I am a delicate fellow. After an age of extra silence a thin, pale porter answered--a different man from the one who had dismissed Maia and me. I recommended a light application of low-grade olive oil to the bell.

"Don't use fish oil. It stinks. You'll be plagued with cats." He stared at me. "My name is Didius Falco. Your master is expecting me."

He was the kind of slave who only needed firm orders. Any burglar could have effected an entry just by speaking with bravado and a sweet accent. He had no idea what I wanted. I could have been any cheap confidence trickster about to offer the patrician householder a fake set of cheap Greek vases, stolen turnips, or this week's special in curses, guaranteed to rot your enemy's liver within five days or your money back.

I was wearing my toga again. It must have helped. The porter had no sartorial discernment or he would have seen that this garment had once belonged to the army's most disreputable centurion, and that the crumpled moths' delight now spent its idle time on a crude hook which had left a large poke in the wool, just where the swathe was so elegantly flung over my left shoulder.

Whoever he supposed I was, he set off to lead me straight to the old man. Now I was inside at last, I could sense the presence of a large staff. There had to be a steward or chamberlain, yet the porter never thought of consulting a superior about me. It argued a lack of regular dealings with visitors. Still, this saved time.

As I followed my guide, I made rapid observations. After a standard curtained nook where the duty porter sat, we crossed a small hallway tiled in black and gray, then traversed a dark corridor. I could now hear the normal morning noises of a large house: brooms, voices giving domestic instructions. The voices were low, though not exactly hushed. I heard no laughter. No bantering old cooks or larking youths. No dog, no cat, no caged finches. The house was clean, though perhaps not spotless. No bad smells. No particularly pleasant ones either. Neither sandalwood boxes, potted white lilies, nor warm rose balsam bath oil. Either the kitchen was in another part of the house, or today's lunch must be cold.

We had first traversed the atrium. It was old-fas.h.i.+oned and open-roofed, with a small rectangular pool, dry at present. That was because--their first sign of humanity--the Laelii had builders in. Perhaps this was where Gloccus and Cotta bunked off to whenever Helena needed them. If so, here too they were conspicuously absent today, though they could have been sent away because of the trouble over Gaia.

The atrium surrounds had had their walls stripped for repainting, and on one side a small shrine was under construction, the kind of niche where families with well-tended pedigrees keep not just their Lares but ugly busts of their most elevated forebears.

I was taken to a side room. There the porter unceremoniously left me. I began to smell incense: unusual in a private house. The porter had forgotten my name so I had to introduce myself. Luckily, I can do that. I could even name the person I was addressing. It had to be old man Laelius. He might be retired, but he found it impossible to let go. Even now, he wore the robes of his past office: the thick woollen toga praetexta, purple bordered and, according to ritual, woven by the hands of his late wife; and his apex, the conical cap with its earflaps and surmounting olive twig intertwined with white wool.

I took him in quickly. Late sixties, thin-fleshed, wrinkled neck, slightly shaky hands, chin up, a haughty beaked nose to look down and a sneer that went back through five centuries of arrogant ancestors. I had seen him before somewhere; presumably I recognized him from his role in past festivals. It surprised me that I remembered. Until I was landed with the Sacred Geese, I normally stayed in bed during such occurrences.

"Marcus Didius Falco, sir. You must be Publius Laelius Numentinus." He gave me a hard stare, as if he had been the Flamen Dialis for so long it seemed an insult to be addressed by name. But whatever indulgence others granted him, I intended to stick to form. He had retired. The real Flamen Dialis was another man now. He could not complain. I had used his full three names. I used mine too, of course. At one level, we were equal: a democratic joke.

He was enthroned on an ivory stool with arms, like a magistrate. He had been sitting alone in that posture before I entered. Other people might have been reading or writing, but he preferred the brooding stillness of a stone G.o.d.

The room was furnished with side tables and lamps, and a small rug lay at his feet, which occupied a footstool. It could have been comfortable, but for the frosty atmosphere.

Helena Justina had brought me up to scratch on flamens when she and I had first talked about Gaia. Jove's priest lived a life so hedged around with restrictive duties he had no time to stray; that was the idea, no doubt. Representing the G.o.d, he was untouchable in the strictest sense. When he went out, adding a double cloak to his woolly uniform, he carried a sacrificial knife in one hand (which must have deterred unwelcome contacts) and in the other a long wand with which he kept the populace at a distance. He was preceded by a lictor, but also by criers at whose approach everyone had to lay aside their tasks, for not only was every day a holiday for the Flamen himself (nice life!), but he must never see others working.

There was more. He could not mount, or even touch, a horse. He might not leave the city (except in recent enlightened times, for a maximum of two nights, to carry out unavoidable family duties, if directly sanctioned by the Pontifex Maximus). He could wear no knots (his clothes were fixed with clasps); his rings were split; he was forbidden to name ivy because of its binding properties, or to walk under any pergola that was canopied with vines. If someone in bonds was brought to his house, the fetters were at once struck off and hurled down from the roof; if he encountered a criminal, that person could neither be scourged nor executed. Only a free man could barber a Flamen's beard; it must be cut with a bronze knife; the clippings and his nail tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs were collected and buried beneath a sacred tree. The Flamen could not remove his tunic or headdress during daylight, lest Jove glimpse his person.

He must avoid dogs (which explained why they had no guard dogs here), she-goats, beans, raw flesh, or fermented dough.

There was probably more, but Helena had seen my eyes glaze over and had spared me. The restrictions seemed outrageous; they were designed to ensure the Flamen never let his mind wander, though he looked to me as if he had retained full control of his thoughts--and his rigid opinions too.

For all that, by virtue of his priesthood, this oddity would have sat in the senate. Still, he probably fitted in among the other eccentrics and crazy men.

Here in his house, everything was arranged to suit his wishes. That did not include me. He looked at me as though I had scuttled out of a drain.

"I understand, sir, that the Emperor has cleared my path with you. Your granddaughter is missing, and I possess experience that may help find her. It is particularly important that you work with me, since you have expressed a wish not to have contact with the vigiles. I regret that. They could have helped save time--and time is vital in a case like this."

"You were recommended as a specialist. Are you saying you are not up to the job?" His voice was thin, his tone edged with malice. I knew what I had here: a wicked old b.a.s.t.a.r.d. In families like mine, they wield no power and so can do no harm. This was nothing like my family.

"I shall do my best, sir. You will find it better than average. But success will depend on how much cooperation I receive."

"And what do you offer?"

"A fast, discreet service--on my terms. The most likely solution is that Gaia has imprisoned herself accidentally somewhere in her own home. I have to search your house for hiding places that might attract a child. I have to look everywhere, everywhere, though you have my a.s.surance that what I see will be immediately forgotten if it is not relevant." though you have my a.s.surance that what I see will be immediately forgotten if it is not relevant."

"I understand." His hauteur was chilly.

"I shall knock and wait before entering rooms. I shall give any occupants a chance to remove themselves. I shall work as quickly as I can."

"That is good."

"I do have to be allowed to speak to your family."

"It is acceptable."

"They need not answer any questions they regard as improper, sir." I gave him a level stare. He was intelligent. He knew that refusing fair questions would be informative in itself. "I should also like permission to talk to your staff. It is my intention to limit such interviews. But, for example, Gaia Laelia presumably was entrusted to a nursemaid?"

"There is a girl who looks after her. You may speak to the nurse."

"Thank you." I must be going soft. He did not deserve the restraint I was showing. Still, I could see he expected aggression. I was happy to surprise him.

"And what," asked the ex-Flamen in a tense voice, "are the questions that you wish to put to me?"

x.x.xI.

I TOOK OUT my note-tablet. I would make jottings occasionally, to look competent. Mostly I just held the stylus still and listened, to show my impeccable tact.

"The investigation must begin with the facts of your granddaughter's disappearance. You have expressed a reluctance to raise the alarm or to involve the authorities. Please tell me why."

"There is no need. I recently gave instructions that Gaia Laelia is never to go out alone." After she came to see me, presumably. "The door porter would have stopped her--had she tried." I already knew that the door porter still cheerfully left his station unattended.

"You first noticed her missing yesterday?"

"Ask her mother these details."

"Very well." I refused to be thrown. "My sister is acquainted with Caecilia Paeta." I remembered not to land Caecilia in trouble by admitting that I had met her when she came secretly to Maia's house. "I understand her to be sensible." Numentinus looked annoyed at me for commenting. His eyes narrowed; like most people he encountered, I felt that his daughter-in-law aroused mild contempt in him. I was glad I had spoken. I wanted him to know I would evaluate witnesses on my terms. "Let us consider more general issues. The vigiles have been asked to search the city in case Gaia has been abducted. It is a complex task, but they will do as decent a job as they can." I was telling him it would be near impossible to find her, unless the cohorts had some clues. "My own search starts here. If the child is deliberately hiding, or if she has run away, what would make her do that? Was she unhappy, sir?"

"She had no reason to be."

"Her parents live apart. Did their separation distress her?"

"At first." I was surprised he answered, but I suppose he had already realized this would be asked. "My son left home three years ago. Gaia Laelia was an infant. She has accepted the situation." More readily than the old man himself, probably.

"A parental separation might cause arguments that could have frightened her? But later she must have realized she remained in a secure and loving home." Numentinus looked suspicious, as though he thought I was being ironic. "Are you willing to answer questions about why your son, Laelius Scaurus, left?"

"No. Keep to the subject." After that, I did not dare ask about the possibility of Gaia's parents divorcing, let alone the relations.h.i.+p between Scaurus and his aunt. I would have to tackle that with somebody, though. Somebody else.

"So Gaia settled down, still living here with her mother, and three years later her name has gone into the Vestals' lottery. I understand you are opposed to that?"

"My opinion is immaterial."

"Excuse me. I simply wondered if there had been anger in the family home which might have caused a bad response in a sensitive child." He made no answer. That chin came up again, warning me I strayed too far into an unwelcome area. "Very well. Gaia Laelia's own reaction to her proposal as a Vestal is relevant, you will concede. A motive for her disappearance might be that she hates the prospect and fled to avoid it. Yet I am told by all sources that she was delighted. This, sir, is why I am inclined to believe that her disappearance is some childish accident."

"She is a careful child," he disagreed. No children are careful.

"And intelligent," I said. There was no flicker of grandfatherly pride. If I had been discussing Julia Junilla at home, either Pa or the senator would have been orating in full flood immediately. "I met her, as you know. Which brings me unavoidably to this question: Why would your granddaughter seek out an informer and announce that her family was trying to kill her?"

The old man was ready, and full of contempt. "Since it was untrue, I can offer no reason for her claim."

I kept my voice quiet. "Did you punish her when you found out?"

He hated having to answer. He knew if he did not tell me, the servants would. "It was explained to her that she had erred."

"Was she beaten?" I made the suggestion neutrally.

"No." His lip curled as if disdaining the thought. I wondered. Still, Vestals have to be perfect in every limb. Her mother, wanting Gaia to remain eligible, would have protested against a beating, even if she dared not argue about much else.

"Was she confined to her room?"

"Briefly. She should not have left the house without permission."

"When she left the house, where was her nurse?"

"Gaia had locked her in a pantry."

Numentinus had expressed no emotion, but I let him see me smile slightly at Gaia's spirit and initiative before I continued in the same neutral tone as before: "Was the same pantry used as a cell when Gaia disappeared yesterday?"

"No."

"Who can best tell me what happened then?"

"Discuss it with my daughter-in-law."

"Thank you." I had finished with him. I might as well not have started. He knew that. He looked very pleased with himself. "I shall just check your room, if I may, then you need not be disturbed here again." I scanned everywhere quickly. Flat walls; no curtained arches; only small items of furniture--apart from one chest. "May I look in the chest, please?"

Numentinus breathed; well, he seethed with annoyance. "It is not locked."

I half expected him to come and look over my shoulder. In fact, he sat like stone. I walked quickly to the great wooden box and lifted the lid. It was so heavy I nearly dropped it, but I recovered and held it, one arm braced. The chest contained scrolls and moneybags. I let the old man see me s.h.i.+ft them aside enough to check that no child was hidden in the base, then I replaced the scrolls and bags as found, lowered the lid gently, and made sure I showed no visible interest in the contents.

"Thank you, sir." The coinage did raise another issue, however. "It is possible, I am afraid, that Gaia Laelia has been abducted by some criminal element, with a financial motive. Would your family be known as wealthy?"

"We live simply and very quietly." Numentinus had answered only part of the question. I did not pursue it. After my Census work, I would soon sniff out his financial situation.

"This is a large house. I want to keep a record of rooms as I check them. You only moved here recently; did the agent provide a room plan, by any chance?"

"You may have it." He clapped his hands. A slave appeared instantly from outside and was dispatched to the steward. "That slave will accompany you in your search." Supervision; I had expected it.

"Thanks. Was this house an outright purchase, or do you rent?"

I expected him to tell me he had bought the place, probably expressing horror that anyone should think such a family would be beholden to a landlord. "I rent," he said.

"Long term?" It must be, if he had the landlord's approval for the building work I had seen in the atrium. He nodded haughtily.

"I am grateful for your frankness. I hope the questions were not too painful. I shall see your daughter-in-law next."

The slave was already back, saying the chart would be found for me.

"One final point, sir. I offer my sympathy for your late wife's death. I believe it was recent?"

"The Flaminica suffered from a tragic illness that came upon her last July." Laelius Numentinus spoke out so abruptly I pulled up. It was the first time he had volunteered more than a minimal answer. Did he love his wife? "There is no need--absolutely no need--for you to concern yourself with that. Her death was sudden, though nothing untoward."

I had never supposed it was. I had only wanted to ask him if Gaia had been particularly fond of her grandmother, and perhaps troubled by her death. Instead I said nothing and followed the slave out.

x.x.xII.