“I need to speak to the informer,” he whined again.
“Oh, I know that feeling!” I could imagine how Helena’s great brown eyes were dancing as she stalled the priest. “But his specialty is dodging. He will turn up in his own time.”
“And you are?” the man demanded snootily.
“Who am I?” she mused, still teasing. “The daughter of Camillus Verus, senator and friend of Vespasian; the wife and partner of Didius Falco, agent of Vespasian and Procurator of the Sacred Poultry; the mother of Julia Junilla, who is too young to have social relevance. Those are my formal definitions. My name, should you be keeping a daily diary of the interesting people you meet, is Helena Justina-”
“You are a senator’s daughter-and you live here?” He must be looking around at our bare decorations and furniture. We coped. We had each other. (Plus various tasty artifacts waiting in store for better days.)
“Certainly not,” Helena rattled back promptly. “This is merely an office where we meet members of the public. We live in a spacious villa on the Janiculan.” First I heard of it. Still, I was only the head of the household. With a practical young woman in charge of my private life (and in possession of her own bank box), if my home address changed overnight I would be the last to be notified.
Helena was picking on the prong-bearer now. “I see you are a flamen. Obviously not the Flamen Dialis.” The top man, Jupiter’s priest, wore an even more ludicrous uniform and kept the public at a distance with a long wand. “The Flamen Quirinalis is my father’s second cousin.” As far as I knew, this was pure invention. Being related to the priest of Quirinus, the deified Romulus, would place Helena in high circles, if true, and was designed to intimidate. “The Flamen Martialis is ninety and renowned for groping women.” Not many people would know the unsavory habits of the priest of Mars. “I believe the Emperor is very concerned about how to deal with it…” Incorrigible girl. “So you are not one of the patrician group,” Helena’s cool voice concluded, insulting the man if he was at all sensitive about his status. “Which, then, shall I tell Falco has called on him?” she cooed.
“I am the Flamen Pomonalis.”
“Oh, poor you! That’s the lowest of all, isn’t it?” Excluding the novelty newcomers who honored the deified emperors, there were fifteen priests in the College of Flamens, three culled from the aristocracy to attend the major deities, and the rest, who sacrificed to gods most people had never heard of and who were recruited from the plebeian ranks. No one I knew had ever been selected; you had to be a pleb whose face fitted. “Do you have a name?” demanded Helena.
“Ariminius Modullus.” I could have guessed it would be an awkward mouthful.
“Well, if this is about the goslings, Falco has the matter well in hand.”
“The goslings?”
“The Flamen Dialis has some objection to small birds, I believe.”
This made little sense to Pomona’s pointy head. He sounded so wound up that his birchwood prong must be shooting right out of his bonnet. “I have come about Gaia Laelia!”
“Well, so I assumed.” Helena knew how to reply to an overexcited supplicant with maddening calm. “The child came here with an intriguing complaint. You need to know what was said.”
The flamen must be biting his lip as he worried about what had been discussed yesterday.
“And you want to know what Didius Falco is intending to do,” Helena added ominously. If the child really were being threatened at home, it would do no harm to let her people know that we were aware of it. “Is Gaia Laelia a relation?”
“I am her uncle-by marriage.” Where, I wondered, were Gaia’s parents in this? Why had they sent this rather stiff mediator? Distracted, I leaned my head sideways, to try to discourage Julia from eating my earlobe.
“And you are acting for Gaia’s parents?” Helena asked, barely hiding her skepticism. I dried Julia’s dribble off my ear, using my tunic sleeve. She burped, messily. I wiped her face on the same bunch of sleeve.
“Gaia is in the guardianship of her grandfather. The family holds to tradition. My father-in-law will remain head of the household while he lives.” This meant Gaia’s father had not been legally emancipated from the grandfather’s control-a situation so old-fashioned that most modern men would regard it as untenable. The scope for causing friction in the family was huge.
“Gaia Laelia belongs to a family who have a long history of the highest religious service. Her grandfather is Publius Laelius Numentinus, the recently retired Flamen Dialis-”
Yes, that was the fool who had been complaining about my goslings. Interesting that he had in fact retired from office; everyone on the Capitol had still seemed to regard him with active terror.
“I thought a priesthood was for life. Some dereliction of his duties?” Helena chuckled, ignoring the speaker’s pomposity. Priests who disgraced their office might be asked to resign, but it was rare. For one thing, the priests of the official cult had the power to cover up their crimes and the wherewithal to control critics. They could be absolute bastards, yet the truth would never get out. Let’s be honest: they could be bastards and everybody knew it, but still no controls would be applied.
The Flamen Pomonalis was stiff: “The Flaminica, his wife, has died. Since the Flaminica partakes officially in many ceremonies, it is necessary for a widowed Flamen Dialis to step down. Otherwise, essential rites would be incomplete.”
Helena’s own voice grew cold. “Hard, I always thought, for a man to lose both his wife and his position at a stroke. Especially when the position is so significant, and its rituals are so demanding. Gaia’s grandfather must now find his life rather empty. Is this part of the problem?”
“There is no problem.”
“Well, I am relieved to hear it.” She had the knack of seeming to engage in mere polite conversation, while she doggedly pursued a point. She wanted to know what had been happening in this family to make a young child take the unusual step of seeking outside help. A thwarted six-year-old would normally slam doors, scream herself into convulsions, and throw her wooden doll through a window, but then be pacified in a few seconds with just a bowl of honeyed nuts. “Even so, your young niece came here with a tale of woe and now you too are here to discuss it… What puzzled us was how Gaia chose Falco to confide in. How would she have known who he was?”
“She may have heard his name mentioned in connection with his appointment as Procurator of the Sacred Birds.” It gave me a thrill to imagine some crusty old ex-priest of Jupiter exploding with rage over his breakfast while he heard that the Emperor had given ancient responsibilities to an upstart informer-who would now be allowed to poke around with impunity among the temple enclosures. Was that why Vespasian had done it? “And I believe,” conceded the Flamen Pomonalis, “Gaia Laelia met a relative of yours at the reception when certain promising young ladies were introduced to Queen Berenice.”
His significant tone seemed rather overdone. The only link I had with Berenice was my sister Maia’s uncharacteristic foray to the Palace, the day I had first tried to find her. Had the function Maia attended been stuffed with female relatives of priests? I controlled a snigger, wondering what my sister had made of that.
Helena must have decided to pursue the mystery with Maia later. “ Well, I suggest,” she said, so crisply that it seemed like a rebuke, “ you tell me exactly what your family’s concerns are.”
“Our concerns should be obvious!” the flamen snapped. Bluffing. Hoping little Gaia had never said whatever it was her precious family was hoping to keep quiet. Or, if Gaia had revealed too many secrets, trying to play down their importance.
“Don’t worry. Falco and I know how to regard the complaints of an unhappy child. So embarrassing, is it not?”