“Yes, I’m here! Still, cheer up, Aulus.” He hated his sister living with an informer. Now Helena and I had made it permanent, I enjoyed teasing him.

Aelianus just stood there, neither coming in to join us nor storming off in annoyance. His father demanded to know any news about his co-option.

“I didn’t get in.” He could hardly bear to say it.

Decimus asked who was elected. His son forced out a name I did not know; Decimus exclaimed in disgust.

“Oh, he’s a good fellow,” Aelianus managed to mutter, surprisingly mildly.

I murmured sympathy. “Helena will be very sorry to hear this.” She would realize that it was one more slapdown for a brother who might be spoiled for good unless he soon bagged some public achievements.

More than his failure with the Arvals was bothering him. Both his father and I belatedly stared harder at Aelianus. He looked as if he was going to throw up. “Buried your face in too many goblets?” He shook his head. I grabbed a tasteful ceramic from a shelf with a vase collection and proffered it anyway. Just in time.

It was an Athenian cup, featuring a boy with his tutor, a nice didactic subject for one who seemed to have overindulged himself. The vessel had decent proportions for a sick bowl, and two handles to grip. Wonderful antique art.

After he stopped retching, Aelianus made an effort to apologize.

“Don’t worry; we’ve all done it.”

“I’m not drunk.”

His father hauled him to a couch. “And we have all produced that finely honed poetic line as well!”

Aelianus stayed lost in a heavy silence. While Decimus fielded the Athenianware and shunted it elsewhere for some poor slave to find tomorrow, his son sat, oddly hunched. Experience told me he had passed the risk of being ill again.

“What’s up, Aulus?”

His voice was strained. “Something you know all about, Marcus Didius.” Decimus moved abruptly. I lifted an eyebrow, signaling that we should let the lad take his time. “I found something.” Aelianus now looked up and wanted to talk. “I stumbled over something horrible.”

He closed his eyes. His face told me the worst. In the grim business of informing, I had seen more than enough people wearing this expression. “There has been an accident?” I was being optimistic.

Aelianus braced himself. “Not exactly. I fell over a corpse. But whoever it is, it’s very clear he did not die by accident.”

VIII

“ALL RIGHT; TAKE your time, son.” The senator had found a jug of water and a beaker. Aelianus rinsed his teeth and spat into the beaker. Patiently I emptied it into the Athenianware he had already used, rinsed the beaker, then poured fresh water, which I made him drink.

“So,” I said firmly. “Your father told me you went to partake in the main day of worship amid the corn wreaths and dinner napkins. Stuffing your face in the cause of new growth at the Arval Brothers’ Sacred Grove-was that where this happened?”

Aelianus sat up straighter and nodded. I chivvied him, brisk as a legionary commander taking details from a scout: “The Grove is where?”

“Five miles outside the city on the Via Portuensis.” He had served in the army and civil government. He could give a reliable report when he chose.

“Are we talking about some verdant circle of venerable trees?”

“No. It is more like a forum complex. It has a circus, several temples, and a Caesarium for the deified emperors.”

“How modern! Silly me, I had expected some rustic haven.”

“The Emperor Augustus brought the rites up to date. The cult had fallen into abeyance rather-”

“Of course! He interfered in everything. So just set the scene for me.”

“There has been a day of worship, followed by games and races.”

“Members of the public?”

“Yes.”

“All men?”

“No.”

“Is the revelry over?”

“People are hanging on. Most of the Brothers have returned to Rome for another feast at the house of the current Master.” He paused. “ Well, except for one of them.” I noted that remark, but let him carry on. “I came home early. People who had been at the Games were still enjoying themselves in the Grove.”

“What made you leave early?”

Aelianus sighed. “One of the Brothers had taken me aside and warned me that they felt I was not quite ready for the burdens of election to such a demanding cult. He obviously meant I was not important enough.” Aelianus dropped his gaze; his father compressed his mouth. “I felt low. I tried to continue with a brave face, but I kept hearing the snide bastard saying what a good impression I had made, and how sincerely the Brothers hoped I would find some other way to apply my supposed talents… I could not bear the way people looked at me. I know I should have braved it out…”

He paused for a moment, leaning on his elbow with one palm covering his mouth. The splayed fingers had bitten nails. I put a hand on his shoulder. Where my thumb touched skin under the edge of his tunic it felt cold. He was in shock.

Aelianus continued in a quiet voice, “My horse was just outside the Grove, where they had set up a picket line. To get back there I had to walk past a pavilion for the Master, a big temporary tent. I heard a group of people coming out, so I dodged quickly around the back to avoid them. I stumbled over one of the guy ropes; then I literally fell onto the body.”

He stopped again briefly. “I assumed the man was drunk. I don’t know what made me anxious. But I felt my heart race even before I looked properly. The people I had heard all went off in another direction. Silence fell. Nobody was about. I could hardly take in what I saw. It was horrible. He was lying in his own blood. His clothing was drenched in it. His head had been covered with some kind of cloth, which was sopping too. His wounds looked terrible-one great gash across the neck especially. He had been cut down with a sacrificial knife. It was still lying alongside him.”

“He was definitely dead?” asked Decimus.

“No doubt.”

“Did you know him?” I murmured.

“No. But a corn chaplet with the white ribbons was lying by him, dragged off in the struggle presumably-he was one of the Arval Brothers.”

“Well, that creates another vacancy!” I sucked in air through my teeth. “I take it you then reported your find?”

A narrow look crossed the young man’s face.

“Oh, Aulus!” groaned the senator.

“Papa, I was badly shaken. There was nothing I could do for him. It was a ghastly scene. There was no sign of the killer, or I would genuinely have made an effort to apprehend him. One worry I had was that if anyone turned up and found me alone with the body I might be suspected of killing him myself.”

At once I asked, “Could the corpse have been the man who told you that you were unacceptable to the Arvals?”

Aelianus met my gaze, wide-eyed. He considered this. “No. No, Falco. Wrong build, I’m sure of it.”

“Good! So what did you do?”

“Got out of there fast. Ran for my horse. Rode back here as quickly as I could.”

“And came to ask our advice,” I suggested, guessing he had hoped to forget the whole incident.

He pulled a face. “All right. I’m a fool.”

“Not entirely. You have reported your grim find to your father, a senator, and to me… That’s acceptable” Acceptable-but not enough. I tightened my belt and pushed my tunic down under it. “We have two choices. We can pretend we know nothing about it-or behave like reputable citizens.”

Aelianus knew what I meant. He stood up. He wavered a little, but was probably fit for the job: “I have to go back there.”

I grinned at him. “Don’t imagine you get all the fun. You will have to take me too. Catch me sitting here with a flagon when I can jump on a horse and give myself indigestion pounding five miles into the countryside-all to learn that somebody else has by now found your piece of butchery and nobody thanks us for reporting it a second time.” I turned to his father. “I can handle this. But you will have the awkward job: explaining to Helena and your wife why we have bunked off-”