Surely she would have wanted it quick, clean, and neat? Instinct said she would have made the crime itself undetectable-or at least concealed the perpetrator. If ever a killer had the intelligence and the nerve to get away with it, that was Terentia Paulla. Even if she had done it and, in her haughty way, had chosen to admit the deed, I reckoned she would have waited beside the body, then made her confession brisk and businesslike. The scene described by the Master of the Arvals, where a raving bloodstained woman was apprehended, then coaxed into confessing, did not fit at all. Nor did his description of a pathetic creature who would be taken into care match the cool woman talking to me here.

“So what about Gaia?” I asked her carefully.

“Gaia is the one shining star among this family. From who knows where-my family most likely, and even perhaps from her mother’s sideGaia has acquired intelligence and strength of character.”

“Yet you are very unwilling to see her follow you into your own profession as a Vestal?”

“Perhaps,” said Terentia, for once very quietly, “it is time one member of this family grew up to lead a normal life.”

I felt a reply would be intrusive.

“I would like to see some changes, Falco. Gaia will be dutiful, whatever role in life she undertakes.” She paused. “Then, as a Vestal, I must consider my order. I cannot knowingly approve of her selection. The potential for scandal is too great. She is a wrong choice for Vesta-and the burden on Gaia herself would be intolerable too, if a ghastly murder in her close family ever became public knowledge.”

“The lottery will be taking place now,” I said. “She’s out of it. If somebody has hidden her away to avoid her selection, she can be safely released.”

“Nobody did that. Nobody has deliberately harmed her either,” Terentia assured me.

“I’d like to ask Gaia how she felt about that.”

“Once the danger was known, I was on hand to protect her.” Protect her from whom? “She has to be found first. That, if I may remind you, Falco, is your prime responsibility.”

I decided to chance it. “According to my own young niece, Gaia Laelia has a mad aunt who has threatened to kill her.”

Terentia showed no reaction. She was going to pursue the coverup to the very end if she could.

I tried again. “Gaia told me, and she told the Vestal Constantia, that somebody in her family wanted her dead. Forgive me,” I said gently. “I have to take that seriously, especially as she has a relative who was murdered recently. It could be assumed that the killer has in fact struck twice.” Still no reaction. “Terentia, the Master of the Arval Brethren let me believe that Ventidius Silanus was slain by his wife.”

“He’s a fool.” Terentia Paulla gazed at the sky with her head back. She leaned forwards, with her face in both hands, rubbing her eyes. Were they the eyes of a deranged woman? Or merely one who was sinking under a morass of male incompetence? She growled to herself, a low, desperate noise at the back of her throat, yet I felt strangely unafraid.

“If the Master is right, how courageous you are!” she suggested sarcastically after a moment. “Sitting here alone with me… I have killed neither Ventidius nor Gaia. I love the child dearly, and she knows it. I am merely the stubborn, benevolent sister of her grandmother, who has been trying to protect her.”

I watched the woman carefully. She must be under great stress. The questions I was now asking would tax anyone, even the innocent. Especially the innocent. Terentia knew she could not simply accuse me of an informer’s impertinence. So she had been dragging out for me what she believed to be the truth, much of it embarrassing to repeat to any stranger. If I accepted the Master’s hint, she was accused of a dreadful crime. If Terentia Paulla was the type to break out and run crazy, this was the time for it to show.

She looked back at me with arrogance, anger, and high feminine scorn. She wanted to rage at me, probably to strike me. But she did nothing.

“It was somebody else,” she said. “Somebody else killed my husband. Apprehended and bloodstained, she raved at the Master that she was the dead man’s wife, and the Master believed her at the time. Men are so unobservant and easily suggestible. Besides, if you know anything about marriage, her claim seemed perfectly feasible. Later, of course, pretending that a wife had killed him seemed a good way to deter you and that Camillus boy from poking your noses in. But she was simply a past victim of Ventidius, whom he had dropped-at my insistence-and who went wild when she felt rejected.”

“Not you, then?” I confirmed softly.

“No, it was not me. I could never, ever do any such thing.”

Of course, all cornered killers say that.

Sadly, I nodded, letting Terentia know that I would not be coerced into protecting the real killer. Not while there was any doubt about the fate of little Gaia.

Then two things happened.

My dog came to look for me. Nux suddenly rushed out of the far undergrowth, barking, though her yelps were muffled by what she was carrying in her mouth. She brought it to me: a piece of clean white wood, a new stave, to which had been nailed long strands of horsehair to make some kind of brush.

And from the house stepped Aelianus. He looked startled when he saw Terentia, but what he had to say was too urgent to put off.

“Falco, you ought to come.” I was already on my feet. “The vigiles have just delivered Scaurus here, and everyone is going absolutely wild. It seems more than just a quarrel. If they aren’t stopped, I think somebody is going to be killed.”

I picked up the dog and ran.

LIV

THE FUROR was occurring in the atrium. Very traditional. The center of a true Roman house. The hearth, the pool (still dry, in this instance), and the household gods.

There were people everywhere. The first one I recognized was Anacrites. He was vainly attempting to shepherd slaves and builders away from the fuss, while they tried to push past him and ogle. Aelianus joined in, shoving the crowd back down a corridor.

“Anacrites! Quickly-what’s happening?”

“Madness! The vigiles brought the son-”

“Scaurus?”

“Yes. I had just arrived and was attempting to gain admittance to see the ex-Vestal.” His eyes lingered upon Terentia. “The old man had come to argue with me. When he saw his son, apparently under arrest, Numentinus seemed to have expected it. He was furious. He went at Scaurus, berating him, saying that Scaurus had only had to do what he had been told, and everything could have been sorted out. I don’t know what Scaurus’ orders were-”

“To keep quiet!” Terentia elaborated. Then she fumed, “Numentinus could have done the same.”

Anacrites obviously guessed who she was, and still thought she was the lunatic who had killed Ventidius. He looked nervous; I no longer was. I had no time to explain. “Then a woman rushed in,” he told me. “ The son yelled at her-he was demanding, what had she said to get him brought here like this? She went hysterical-”

“Falco-” Terentia began urgently.

“It’s Laelia-yes, I understand.” I gave her a straight look. I needed to hear no more. I shoved the dog into Anacrites’ arms. If Nux bit him, so much the better. I rushed ahead into the atrium. Terentia Paulla was close on my heels.

They were all there. Numentinus appeared to have had some kind of seizure. Caecilia Paeta was bending over the elderly man, trying to fan his face with her hands. Ariminius was on the floor. He had blood all over him, though I could not see where he was hurt. He was alive, though curled up and gasping; he needed help, and in the next few minutes.