The Vestal Vanishes Read online

  I felt at once this was significant. ‘It must have been something of great importance!’ I exclaimed.

  Despite his discomfort he managed a wry smile. ‘She seemed to think so, citizen. She was quite distraught. A pair of special wedding slippers, I believe it was. She did not discover the loss till after we arrived last night, I understand, when she went to show them to Lavinia and found they were not there.’

  Wedding slippers! I had not expected that, I had been imagining the loss of jewels or gold. But this was a more endearing picture of Audelia. Although she was marrying so late, she would be a virgin still – Vestals who infringed their vows in that respect faced an appalling death – and like any first-time bride, naturally she’d want the special trappings of the day. The shoes would be especially important to a Vestal, too, since most of her other clothes looked like a bride’s in any case.

  I remembered the only time that I had seen a Vestal was when I was in Londinium once. I had actually commented that she looked dressed for marriage, then: the same special hairstyle divided into six, the light-coloured stola and the carefully knotted band around the waist which can only be untied for a husband – or a deity. It was explained to me that these were all adopted when the priestess joined the hearth as a sign of her being spiritually wedded to the shrine. So only the distinctive saffron-colour of the bridal veil and shoes, instead of the white versions which she usually wore, would mark Audelia’s marriage-day. ‘No wonder the poor woman was distressed at leaving them behind,’ I said.

  ‘It was the maidservant who was to blame for it, of course,’ the driver said, moving his shoulders slightly as if to ease the ache. ‘The Vestal was so proud of them, and so excited that she was at last to be a bride, the girl was sent to get them from the box at every stop they made, to show them off. Only this time, it seems she forgot to put them back.’

  I looked at him suspiciously. ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘Puella, the maidservant, told me so herself.’

  ‘You talked to her?’

  He made a woeful face. ‘That box took up so much room there was no space for her inside – there was less room in my carriage than the one they’d had before – so she had to come and ride with me on the bench-seat in front.’ I realized that, although speech was agony, he was now keen to help me if he could. ‘Of course, she swore that it was not her fault – she’d put the shoes back as she always did – and someone must have moved them afterwards.’ He caught his breath in pain. ‘But of course she couldn’t have. Took them out to look at them herself, I rather think. They were finest leather and quite exquisite, she said, a parting present from a grateful, barren wife for whom the Vestal had once offered sacrifice – and who had then gone on to bear a son. Audelia was heartbroken to find that they had gone.’

  ‘Had Puella been guilty of such a lapse before? Indeed, had she been with the Vestal very long?’ I was suddenly suspicious. It occurred to me that attendant servants at a shrine are usually slaves of the temple as a whole, and not owned by any individual. I wondered how much Audelia knew about her careless maid.

  ‘Acquired for the journey, as I understand. A gift from another grateful supplicant, which only made the situation worse. Puella was a pretty little thing, but you could see that she was terrified. She’d been promised freedom when she got here, I believe, and obviously she feared that she had lost her chance and that a fearful beating was awaiting her instead. I think she was quite glad of the excuse to ride outside with me, despite the fact that it was raining heavily.’

  These wedding shoes were interesting me. Was it possible the maid had left them out deliberately? Or had she packed them, as she claimed she had, and someone else had really moved them later on? But either way, what purpose did it serve? And then it struck me: it removed the guard.

  ‘Who suggested that Audelia should send the rider back?’ I asked.

  It was more and more painful for him even to draw breath. ‘Citizen, I fear I cannot answer that. I was in the stable, sleeping near my horses as I always do, to keep an eye on them. By the time I was sent for the decision had been made.’ He winced. ‘Have you nearly finished with your questioning?’

  ‘Not quite. If we hope to find Audelia you must tell me all you can. You did not think it strange that they sent away the mounted guard?’

  He took a sobbing breath. ‘Not really, citizen. I was there to guard her the remainder of the way – after all I had guarded Lavinia until then. And anyway, what else was there to do, if Audelia really wanted to have her slippers for the marriage feast? If the rider set off at first light there was a good chance that he would manage to retrieve the shoes in time, especially if he brought them directly to this house: a man on horseback can travel twice as quickly as a coach. It wasn’t my idea, but if I’d thought of it, I might well have suggested it myself.’

  It seemed a cruelty to ask him any more, but I had no choice. ‘So where had Audelia left the shoes?’ I asked. ‘Another lodging-house? I understood that she had only assented to this stop, because the owners were known to her uncle’s family.’

  ‘There were other stops, of course. It took her several days to make the journey from the shrine, I understand.’

  But of course it had, I thought. It’s not as if she were an Imperial messenger, with relays of fresh horses every mile or two. ‘A Vestal pilentum is notoriously slow and dignified,’ I said. ‘I suppose he would have to stop somewhere overnight each time. Doubtless the family had arranged it all.’

  ‘Glad to stop too, I shouldn’t be surprised, in an old-fashioned coach like that. I saw it in the stable-yard and had a look at it.’ Talk of his trade brought animation to his face. ‘Two horses – like a raeda, but much more cumbersome. A little bit more padded, but extremely slow.’ He was so engrossed that he almost tried to rise, only to sink back with a painful groan. When he spoke again, he sounded more subdued. ‘Puella said they stopped at several households on the way – most of them friends or distant relatives of Lavinius. It was all arranged before they left the temple, anyway. A Vestal Virgin doesn’t stop at common inns. But I can’t tell you anything about all that. I only collected her at Corinium.’

  There was a movement at the doorway and Modesta sidled in, looking in astonishment at the pair of us speaking in a language which she clearly didn’t understand.

  ‘Well?’ I said in Latin. ‘Have you news for us?’

  ‘Citizen, the steward’s on his way,’ she said in the same tongue. ‘I thought you ought to know. There has been a message that the banquet will take place after all. The master and the bridegroom are already on their way, Publius managed to use his influence and borrowed a carriage to bring them here as soon as the games ended. They will not be very long. When they come, I’ll bring them out to you.’ She darted me a timid little smile. ‘Don’t let the master catch you talking foreign languages, though, or he’ll think you two are plotting and chain you up as well.’

  The raedarius made an outraged, strangled sound. ‘But . . . !’

  I kicked his leg to warn him that he should hold his tongue. I knew what he had been tempted to retort: that Latin, if anything, was the foreign language here, and that what we were speaking was her ancestral tongue, but it is not wise to voice an argument like that – especially if you are at the mercy of a high-born Roman at the time.

  I need not have worried. The captive took my hint and said not another word until the maidservant had sketched a bow and scuttled off.

  SEVEN

  I turned back to the prisoner. ‘You heard her, raeda-driver. We don’t have very long.’ I leaned towards him, settling myself more firmly on the sack. ‘And the facts are against you, as you must see yourself. Let’s just go over all of it again, in case there is something extra that comes into your mind.’ I was convinced that he was hiding something, but I could not see what. ‘You saw Audelia get into the coach, but when the slaves brought down the box you set off without checking that she was still a passenger?’


  He looked at me helplessly. ‘I didn’t have to check. I knew that she was there. She was talking to some other people who had come out of the inn – they said goodbye to her and I heard her voice calling to tell me to drive on. And that was it. When we got to Glevum, she had disappeared.’

  ‘There were no unexpected hold-ups on the way?’

  He shook his head. ‘None that I can think of,’ he said reluctantly.

  ‘Not even for a moment? Not of any kind at all?’

  I saw a look of resignation cross the anguished face. ‘Well, now you come to mention it, there was one incident. It was only a few moments, and I cannot see how anyone would have the chance to seize her then, but we did have to stop at one point to let some troops march by.’

  So why had he attempted to disguise the fact? The stop made sense, of course. Marching soldiers always have priority – that is why the Romans built the roads, and why they are always called the ‘military routes’ – so all civilian traffic must wait till they go by: it is only by concession that we can use the roads at all. But of course a marching cohort draws the eyes of any spectators, which might create an opportunity for a kidnapper to seize a passenger while everyone’s attention was elsewhere. Yet marching troops are subject to orders from Imperial command. A kidnapper could hardly have arranged that in advance. Or could he?

  ‘And you did not get down to check your passenger and let her stretch her legs?’ I knew from Marcus that this was sometimes done.

  ‘I sent the maidservant,’ he muttered, painfully. ‘But she came back and said the removable shutters were across the window-space, and that was a signal that her mistress did not wish to be disturbed.’

  ‘The shutters were in place?’ The fact was news to me. ‘This did not surprise you? It must be dark in there.’

  He was so startled by the question that he tried to lift his head. ‘You are clearly not a raeda-driver, citizen. It’s just what you’d expect. Most ladies prefer to travel with the shutters up – it keeps the rain out in the wet, and in the dry it keeps the dust at bay.’

  I mentally conceded that this might be true. I once heard my patron’s wife say something much the same: complaining that on a journey from Aqua Sulis, when they’d hired a coach, the jolting and darkness make her feel quite ill, but it was a price worth paying to keep out the dust.

  I was aware that I was uncomfortable myself, from sitting on something damp and lumpy in the sack. I moved my weight again. ‘You did not urge Audelia to get down and take the air?’

  The driver answered readily enough, although the effort still made him catch his breath with pain. ‘This was a priestess, citizen. I would not presume to urge her to do anything, and obviously she would not want to let herself be seen. You don’t meet many Vestal Virgins on the road. Common people would have crowded round to gawp when we were forced to stop, even if she’d simply had the shutters down.’

  ‘Supposing that she was really in the raeda at the time.’

  ‘But citizen, where else could she possibly have been? If anyone had snatched her, I would certainly have seen. I didn’t leave . . .’ He tailed into silence.

  ‘You didn’t leave the raeda? That is what you were about to say, I think. And then you suddenly thought better of the claim. You did leave the carriage for a moment, then?’

  His voice, which had not been strong at any time, was faint and laboured now. ‘I suppose I shall have to tell you, citizen. At the time there seemed no harm in it. It was only for a moment, and I left the maid in charge – just while I crossed the road to buy a basket for my wife.’ His eyes beseeched me. ‘Don’t tell Lavinius this, or he will have me whipped to death. I am newly married, and we expect a child, and . . .’

  ‘The basket?’ I persisted.

  ‘The hold-up happened at a crossing point, where there are several little rundown cottages. At one of them there lives an ancient crone who from time to time picks osiers from the stream and weaves them into baskets which she sells at the front door. Lavinius had paid me half the money in advance, and . . .’ He trailed off again.

  ‘So you went and bought one, leaving your precious passenger unguarded and alone?’

  His tone of voice was almost piteous. ‘It cost no extra time. We had been obliged to stop in any case and it only took an instant – I didn’t even stop to haggle with the crone, I just paid what she was asking. And there seemed to be no harm – when I got back Puella was still sitting in her place, terrified of moving or making any sound lest her mistress should awaken and find more fault with her. I even asked her whether everything was well – and she said it was exactly as it was when I had left.’

  Which might be a very clever choice of words, I thought. I was more and more interested in this serving-girl. ‘And when you got to Glevum and found Audelia gone, this girl went missing too? At the same time you think?’

  He gave a painful shrug. ‘I didn’t see her vanish, either. She was on the raeda at the front with me and I told her to stay there and watch my basket while I let the horses drink and went and tied them up. I only left her for a moment, while I was doing that. When I came back she was no longer on the cart. I supposed that she had gone to open up the door, but when I got round there I found the bride had gone.’

  ‘And Puella?’

  He looked uncomfortable. ‘She was nowhere to be found – and neither was my basket. I could not believe my eyes. I looked in all directions but there was no sign of them. I did not know what to do, so I found a passing messenger and sent the news to Publius at once.’

  ‘You did not search for them?’ I was incredulous.

  ‘Where could I begin? I asked around, of course, but none of the other drivers had noticed anything – they were more interested in the wine-stall that was opening up outside the gates. Of course a slave-girl with a basket is not remarkable, especially on a feast-day like today – but a Vestal Virgin would have raised an eye or two. The two of them had simply disappeared – and Audelia’s jewel box with them.’

  ‘And what about the box that was inside the coach?’

  ‘Still in the raeda, as far as I’m aware. Not even a skilful kidnapper could have taken that – it was far too heavy for anyone to move without attracting huge attention to themselves. I tried to tell Publius about it being there, but he would not listen – just had me gagged and bound and dragged away – though I think he left a servant to keep an eye on things—’

  He broke off as a squeaky voice interrupted us. ‘Citizen?’ It was Modesta once again. I got uncomfortably to my feet and went towards her, feeling rather stiff and aware of a damp patch on my toga, where I had been sitting on the sack.

  ‘Have you brought the chief slave to free this man?’ I enquired.

  She was staring at me goggle-eyed. ‘He’s on his way here now. And the master and Publius have just arrived so they are going to come and speak to you themselves. Here they are in fact.’

  I looked where she was pointing and saw a small group of people now approaching us, coming from the direction of the house. There were two ‘purple-stripers’ – wealthy Roman citizens in patrician dress. Each of them was accompanied by a page while, dancing along a step or two behind, attempting the near-impossible feat of keeping up with them while simultaneously bowing at every other step, was the beaky steward that I’d noticed in the atrium earlier.

  The chief slave had lost his air of cool authority and now seemed to be explaining something to his owner earnestly, with frantic gesticulations of his hands. He turned to Modesta. ‘Your mistress requires you. You’re wanted at the house.’

  She gave me an apologetic glance, as if reluctant to leave me unattended, but she scuttled off and I turned to meet the newcomers.

  I recognized the stouter citizen as Publius, from having seen him at the feast, but I realized that I had also seen Lavinius before. He was not a resident of Glevum, of course – and therefore not a member of the local curia – but I had noticed him from time to time at the basilica, consorting with variou
s important councillors. He was not an easy man to overlook: a strikingly tall, thin individual, whose patrician hawk-nose was made more prominent by sharp, clean-shaven cheeks. With his balding head and fringe of whitish hair, he might have been good-looking in a Roman kind of way, except that age had given his shoulders a slight stoop and his face an expression of ill-disguised contempt for lesser men.

  He was turning that expression in my direction now. ‘You are this pavement-maker I have been hearing of?’ His voice was low and colourless, but strangely echoing, like someone speaking in a sepulchre.

  I had learned from long experience how to respond to wealthy men like this. I dropped immediately down onto one knee and bowed my head as though I were truly as low in status as his words implied. ‘The citizen Longinus Flavius Libertus, at your service, mightiness,’ I murmured. It was a pretence at grovelling, but in fact it made a point. I was a Roman citizen and therefore entitled to respect – as my formal use of the full three Roman names was deliberately designed to emphasize.

  Lavinius, however, was not impressed by this. He waved a bony hand in vague dismissal of my words. ‘Well whatever your name is, pavement-maker, do get up from there.’ As I clambered stiffly to my feet, he ran a pair of faded pale-blue eyes over me, from my now-grimy toga to my greying hair. ‘Your patron, Marcus Septimus, commended you to me and seems to think that you might be of help. I suppose he knows what he is speaking of, although to look at you, I must say I’m surprised. If we are dealing with armed kidnappers and bandits, as seems probable, I can’t see what use a man your age will be. I had expected someone with a bit more strength to him.’ He made a little tutting sound against his perfect teeth. ‘Still, it is not for me to question what His Excellence suggests. I have agreed to allow you to assist. I think you understand the problem – my niece has disappeared. Where exactly are you hoping to begin?’