“Being the offspring of a Flamen, they were kept from other children-and to some extent, I suppose, from adult company too?”

“It was fatal, in my opinion,” said Terentia cryptically.

“They never learned normal behavior?”

“No. They seemed to buckle down to their religious duties well as infants, but they developed a ridiculous sense of their own importance which could do neither any good.”

“They both seem rather vague now,” I commented.

“They both have uncontrollable tempers when thwarted. They brood. They lash out. They lack tolerance and restraint. Some children never need companionship to make them sweet natured. Look at Gaia; yet she is an only child, brought up utterly solitary too.”

“A little spoiled materially?” I suggested.

“Blame Laelia,” Terentia said, in a clipped tone. “No sense of decency. She constantly buys presents without reference to Caecilia, and sneaks them to Gaia. Once Laelia has given clothes or toys to the child, it is hard to remove them again.”

“So Laelia loves her little niece Gaia?” Laelia, it struck me, was the real aunt here; Terentia a great-aunt. “Is it consistent, or might she turn on the child?”

“Laelia’s love is a volatile emotion,” Terentia commented. Still, she was mad. How could she evaluate emotion?

“Would she threaten Gaia with violence just as easily as spoiling her?”

Terentia made a slight gesture of assent-as if congratulating me on at last seeing the truth. “As for Laelia, we did our best. When she reached marriageable age, I suggested Ariminius-a complete change, fresh blood. He was flattered to be asked to join a family of such standing. It has to be said, he is very good with Laelia.”

I had interviewed Ariminius and his wife together, at their choice-his, maybe? He must have been deliberately guarding against indiscretions by the woman. I had certainly missed any suggestion that Laelia had been willingly playing about with “Uncle Tiberius.”

“They seem to have a good marriage,” I interposed in defense of the Pomonalis, not revealing that I realized he wanted to move on.

“You are easy to bluff!” sneered Terentia. “From a man who comes with a seal of approval from a more than usually efficient emperor, I expect better. Ariminius has reached his limit. He has had enough. He is asking for a divorce.”

Yes, that fitted his remarks yesterday afternoon when he was searching for Gaia with me. “He has spoken of a yen for independence.” In fact he spoke of “desertion,” I now recalled. That would fit leaving an unstable wife. So just how unstable was Laelia? “I thought a flamen had to stay married for life? You can’t mean Ariminius will give up being a member of the priestly college?”

“I do mean that. Now you see why I have been trying to arrange formal guardianship. If there is a divorce, Laelia comes back into her own family. Numentinus is growing old and cannot be relied on indefinitely.”

“Scaurus told me you wanted him to act for you!”

She stared at me. “Me? Why should I need that?” It seemed wise not to answer. “Oh, really! The boy is an imbecile.”

“I understood that you were very fond of him, Terentia Paulla.”

“Fond? Fond is not the word. Both those children were brought up ignorant and in need of control. Scaurus is irredeemably foolish, and I try to protect him from public shame.”

Now this was the kind of madness I could understand: a woman who had apparently been declared furiosa convincing herself, and trying to convince me, that her very protectors were in need of care! Yes, it was time for a serious rethink.

“Terentia Paulla, your nephew looks like the only one here who has shown some initiative-I mean, by refusing to be drawn into the family traditions, and by leaving home.”

His loving aunt beat the side of her hand against her other fist impatiently. “Nonsense. The evidence is right in front of you, Falco. Whatever has he told you about this question of guardianship? Why spin you such a stupid story? All he had to say was the truth: that he came to Rome on legal business. He knew the whole matter has to be confidential, and by the time he saw you, his father and I had decided he was incapable of taking on the burden of his sister. He had also been clearly told to keep quiet. Instead, he dreams up some complicated fantasy that even you will soon see through-”

“So Scaurus is a bit dim?”

“Dim? My poor nephew really needs a guardian himself. When I had talked to him about his sister, I realized he was useless and I packed him off home. It leaves us with no solution, but there are hopes of Ariminius.”

I thought for a moment. “Why not help Ariminius to a divorce, with a very large settlement if possible, and ask him to be Laelia’s guardian? He could still do it. And he can be capable in a crisis. I’m sorry,” I added. “I realize it might have to be your money in the settlement, and you might not enjoy giving it over to Laelia.”

“My idea,” said Terentia, with relish, “is to use my husband’s money after I inherit! Ventidius caused this. He owes some return to the family. His wealth can make Ariminius Modullus happy, and provide for Laelia’s future care.”

“And what about Scaurus? Is his lack of brainpower why he never became a flamen?”

“Of course. The highest posts were open to him in theory. Appointing him would have been a shambles. Even his father had to admit that. Scaurus would never remember the rituals-even if he could summon the will to try. Caecilia Paeta thought, when they were first married, that she could help him through it, but in the end even she lost heart. Rituals have to be carried out exactly.”

“Ah, the old religion!” I groaned. “Appeasing the gods by the mindless repetition of meaningless words and actions, until the divine ones send good crops just to win themselves some peace from the mumblings and the smell of burning wheatcake crumbs!”

“You blaspheme, Falco.”

“I do indeed.” And I was proud of it.

Terentia decided to ignore my outburst. “My nephew’s wife, like my niece’s husband, could only endure so much. Ariminius will look after himself when he is ready; he has reason enough to leave, after all.” I wanted to ask what she meant, but she was in full flow, unused to interruptions. “Three years ago, Caecilia was breaking down; she had to be relieved of the burden of her marriage, but Numentinus would not face the problem. I put Scaurus on the farm to keep him out of harm’s way, and a sensible girl of mine looks after him.”

“The lovely Meldina?” I leered.

“You have the wrong idea again, Falco. Meldina is happily married with three children. To persuade her to do this, I have to accommodate her husband and family as well.”

“Ah! Excuse me, but does Numentinus play no part at all? You appear to have assumed responsibility; does the rigid ex-Flamen really accept you managing his children for him?”

“He watches feebly, complaining. His children are a great disappointment to him-so instead of attempting to put matters right, he absorbs himself in honoring the gods. As Flamen Dialis, he had an excuse: every hour of his time was occupied with his duties to Jupiter. My sister was no better. In a serious crisis, they both used to chew bay leaves and put themselves into a trance until somebody else had sorted it out. Thank goodness, as a Vestal I could command authority.”

Everything Terentia Paulla said could be true-or it could be some maniacal distortion of the truth. Was she really a dedicated savior of these hopeless people, or was her constant fanatical interference beyond belief? An intolerable strain from which they could not shake themselves free?

I kept reminding myself, the Arval Master had implied that this woman had run mad and cut down her husband like a blood sacrifice. The more she talked, in that angry yet well-controlled tone, the easier it was to believe that she could easily have killed her husband if she had decided it was necessary-and yet the harder it became to envisage her turning the death into a stagy tableau, conducted in a crazy trance.