The Raven and the Rose (31 page)

“You think?” Sura said.

“I know,” Paris said reluctantly. “She as much as admitted it to me.”

“Which slave?” Sura asked.

“Her bodyguard, a Gaul. Verrix by name.”

“Do you have any corroborating evidence for this charge?” Sura said.

“Ask the other slaves in the Sejana’s house. I’m sure they’ve seen more than I did.”

 
Sura pursed his lips and then waved his hand dismissively at the gladiator. “Take him out and clean him up, then send him home,” Sura said.
 

The gladiator nodded.

To Paris Sura said, “You will attend the hearing at noon tomorrow in case your evidence is required.”

Paris sagged into the gladiator’s arms as soon as his bonds were cut, and the bigger man dragged him from the room. When the door opened the guards standing outside it moved aside to let them pass.
 

“Well, that was another shock,” Livia said, blinking rapidly, her eye brows raised.
 

“Stuprum is a matter for the civil courts. I’ll contact Mark Antony and it will be dealt with at the next Senate session. I hear the Senators are meeting in the anteroom of the curia until the Assembly Hall can be repaired.” Sura pushed back his chair and stood, shaking his head. “It’s a good thing old Casca has fled the country. If the failure of his coup against Caesar didn’t kill him this surely would. His two granddaughters, one a disgraced and pregnant Vestal and the other languishing in the arms of a rutting barbarian slave. The ancient Casca name is sinking in the mud.”

“We still don’t know the identity of Julia’s lover,” Livia pointed out to him.

“According to the law, in the case of a pregnant Vestal the identity of the man need not be revealed in order to prosecute the case.
Res ipsa loquitur,
the thing speaks for itself. If she’s pregnant, she broke her vows of chastity. I just wanted to bring the man to justice too, and publicly, in order to prevent this disaster from happening again.”

“Julia’s death will do that,” Livia said softly.

Sura looked at her sharply. “Don’t feel pity for her, she violated a sacred trust. You’ve seen the records, you know how infrequently this has happened since the time of the Etruscan kings. And I must say that I am not pleased that the trial will be taking place under my jurisdiction.”

Livia took this for the reproof it was. “Julia was closely watched,” she said.

“Not closely enough, apparently. You were permitting her to regularly visit a house which, from the testimony we just heard, is clearly a den of iniquity.”

“What!” Livia said, staring at him.

“You heard the doctor. Julia Rosalaba’s sister is conducting an illegal liaison with a slave, and this sister was the very person you were permitting Julia to visit.”

“For the sole purpose of consulting with the physician, pontifex!”

“You should have had the physician come to her suite at the Atrium.”

“You know that’s against the code.”

“You brought two physicians to the Atrium when the Rosalba fainted.”

“She was unconscious, she could not be moved,” Livia said heatedly, incensed that she should have to defend herself. “And I don’t see myself as a prison warden. My women view their trust as an honor and find their calling admirable. I didn’t think that permitting a doctor’s visit was issuing a license to fornicate.”

“One of your women did not admire her calling very much,” he snapped.

“That’s unfair...” Livia began.

“Enough, Livia,” Sura said, in a tone calculated to end the discussion. “Bickering between us will not solve this problem, only making a public example of this errant Vestal will. And that will take place tomorrow.”
 

“And you will you attend to the other matter, regarding the widow Sejana?” Livia asked him stiffly, still smarting from his criticism.

He bowed his head.

Livia left the fanum without another word.

* * *

Septimus was just considering ordering his slaves to canvas the town for Marcus when Castor came into the tablinum. He said that Centurion Demeter was in the atrium of the Gracchus house.

“Thank you, Castor. Show him in here and then leave us alone please.”

Castor bowed and withdrew. When Marcus entered the room Septimus waited until Castor had closed the door behind him and then seized Marcus’ shoulders.

“Where in Hades were you?” he demanded. “I’ve been scouring the city for you.”

“I had the afternoon watch and then came straight here,” Marcus replied.

Septimus searched his face.

“I already know,” Marcus said quietly. “How did you find out about it?”

“My father heard it in the Senate, it was all the talk. He didn’t know who the Vestal was, but as soon as I heard it, I knew.”

“Is your father here?” Marcus asked.

Septimus shook his head.

“Good. I need to use his library and I don’t want him hanging over my shoulder.

“The library? Why?”

“He was a lawyer before he went into the Senate, wasn’t he?” Marcus said impatiently. “He must have a copy of the Lex Papia in there, the pontifex is using that to try Julia.”

“And how will that help you?”

“I won’t know until I read it. Let’s go.”
 

Septimus led the way to the
libraria
at the back of the house, standing aside as Marcus bent to examine the labels on the bottom shelves.

“Frankly I’m surprised that you’re not at the fanum right now, cutting off the heads of Julia’s guards,” Septimus said.

“That was my first reaction.”

“What stopped you?”

“A tip from an unexpected source,” Marcus replied dryly, extracting a scroll.
 

“What does that mean?”

“Never mind.” Marcus unrolled the parchment and looked it over, then replaced it.

“Have you consulted with Julia’s sister? She’s had every lawyer in Rome at her house today, she might be able to help you with this.”

“I can’t go there. If I’m seen, she’ll be implicated, and Sura is probably having her house watched by now.”

“Implicated in what?” Septimus demanded. “Marcus, what are you planning?”

“I can’t read half of this,” Marcus muttered, ignoring the question as he held another scroll up to the light of a candle. “Your father writes like an arthritic chicken.”

“That’s Nestor’s handwriting,” Septimus said.

“Isn’t there a special section for religious law?” Marcus asked, standing on tiptoe to scan the high shelves.

Septimus shrugged.

“You don’t know?” Marcus asked, bending again, looking up at him from the floor.

“I’m not a big reader,” Septimus replied, with an irony that was lost on his anxious friend.
 

“Then get Castor in here,” Marcus said. “I’m wasting precious time.”

Septimus muttered something under his breath, but left the room and came back shortly with Castor.

“Where is the religious law?” Marcus asked him, and Castor took him to a corner of the room.

“Lex Papia?” Marcus asked.

Castor stood on a stool and took four scrolls down from a high shelf. He handed them to Marcus, who unrolled the first one on the Senator’s desk and bent over it.

“Thank you, Castor, you may go,” Septimus said.

When the slave had left he added to Marcus, “I guess now you can see who knows what’s going on around here.”

Marcus was not listening. He was reading. He scanned the sheets of parchment until he came to the section marked, “
De virgo
vestalis.”
 

“Here it is,” he said to Septimus.

“Does Julia NEED a lawyer? I don’t know what Larthia is doing, but I can get the best,” Septimus offered. “My father knows everybody and we can pay.”

“She’s not entitled to one, the hearing tomorrow is a formality, to make an example of her,” Marcus answered, his eyes still fixed on the page.

“Are there any exculpating conditions?” Septimus asked urgently.

Marcus didn’t answer.
 

 
“Any situations in which breaking her vows would be excused?” Septimus pressed him.

Marcus held up his forefinger for silence as he continued to read rapidly.

“Well?” Septimus said.

Marcus rose, his expression set.

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

“What?” Septimus demanded, bewildered. “What did you think?”

Marcus didn’t answer.

He knew what he had to do.

Chapter 10

Julia awoke in the detention cell in the high priest’s house before the birds began to sing. The cot had not been used in a long time and the covers were grainy and dusty. She shook them off and went to stand by the barred window, watching the first lemon light come into the sky.

Perhaps this was her last day of life. She wasn’t sure how long it took for the sentence, once imposed, to be carried out, but her death would most likely follow soon after the trial.
 

Well, so be it. She was content. Marcus was already in Elysium and she would see him there.

Her only regret was for Marcus’ baby. She put her hand on her still flat stomach and thought about the child growing there, the child which would perish before it was even born because of the sins of its parents.

Julia didn’t feel very sinful. She knew she would be held up to public ridicule today, but she didn’t care. Those evenings in Marcus’ arms were worth the years taken from both of them. And she knew that before he died Marcus had felt the same.
 

Julia turned back to the room, thinking about the prisoners who had stood in this spot before her. Priests who had broken their vows, abused their privileges, sold their influence: the detainees for many years before her had always been men. And none of them had suffered the fate that was now to be hers.

She wondered what it was like to be buried alive. Was suffocation a slow, painful death, as everyone imagined? Or was it really quite pleasant, like drowning, a gradual, dreamlike loss of consciousness that passed uneventfully into death?
 

She didn’t know.

The sun was rising. Half a day would pass before the trial. She knew there was no one to help her. Marcus was dead, her grandfather was gone, fled into exile, and even if present would have disowned her for shaming his name. Larthia was doubtless trying, conniving, perhaps bribing, working behind the scenes, but Julia knew she had committed the crime from which everyone turned in horror and for which there was no remedy in Rome.

A disgraced Vestal had no friends.

She sat back down on the edge of the cot and folded her hands in her lap, lacing the fingers, thinking back to the first time she saw Marcus. He’d been so handsome, standing tall and proud at Caesar’s side, his dark eyes lingering on her face, bringing the heat up under her skin.
 

It would be much easier to pass the long morning with pleasant thoughts.

* * *

Larthia stood up as Verrix entered the tablinum, waiting until he had closed the door behind him before demanding urgently, “Did you get it?”

Verrix reached into his tunic and produced a vial, holding it out to Larthia, who clutched it eagerly.

“What is it?” she asked.

“The Syrian poison,
zarnig
. The Greeks call it
arsenikos.
It works very fast, your sister will not suffer if she drinks this as soon as she is entombed.”

“Did you get it from Paris?”

“No, he was not in his shop, no one seems to know where he is. The other physician in the same street, Antistius, sold it to me. Did you get permission to see Julia?”

Larthia shook her head, her distress apparent. “That old rule book Livia Versalia keeps quoting forbids any visitors. I spent what seemed like an eternity with Livia and got nowhere. Not with her or anyone else. This whole city has been for sale for the last ten years and suddenly my money’s no good, I can’t even bribe a clerk to get a copy of the charges brought against Julia.”

“They’re afraid, Larthia, the whole government has closed ranks on your sister. She’s made them look ridiculous for holding the Vestals in such awe and reverence and they want her life in expiation for her crime.”

“She didn’t want to make anyone look ridiculous, she was just in love,” Larthia said softly.

“Have you heard from Demeter?” Verrix asked.

“No. He’s my only hope now. And if he fails, I must get the poison to Julia. I can’t stand the thought of her choking, gasping, clawing the rock walls of her tomb...” She broke off, stuffing her fist into her mouth, and Verrix put his arm around her.

“I’ll get her the poison,” he said. “They know you’re her sister but they don’t know me. I’ll figure some way to do it, don’t worry about it.”