A couple of vigiles were trying to drag Scaurus to safety while his sister Laelia wielded the late Flaminica’s sacrificial knife. Laelia must have snatched it from the shrine. I cursed myself for having ever left it there. Athene, Gaia’s horse-faced nurse, was making a brave attempt to hold Laelia back; she must share the duties of caring for and guarding the lunatic. In great danger herself, she was nonetheless hanging on although Laelia was fighting her off with obscenities and violence. As I approached, Laelia started beating the nurse, luckily with her free hand, not the one that held the knife. Athene acquired yet more bruises on top of those she had had when I interviewed her, yet she doggedly took the punishment.

Every time his sister lunged near enough to Scaurus, she stabbed at him wildly. Instead of retreating, Scaurus was waving his arms at her, and yelling. He was fueling her agitation. It almost looked deliberate.

One of the watch fastened both arms around Scaurus from behind and would have carried him off backwards, but a fierce knife stroke from Laelia slashed into the man’s forearm, and he let go, cursing and pouring with blood. Another vigilis rushed to support his wounded colleague and pull him away from danger.

Caecilia Paeta now saw what was happening. With a scream, she left the old man and ran to her husband, crying at Scaurus to stop before he was killed. Oblivious, Scaurus only concerned himself with goading his sister. She looked radiant, exultantly jeering at him, and encouraging him to risk himself on the wide sweeps of the wicked bronze knife. She tossed Athene to one side; the poor girl fell heavily, and as I broke through the crowd I signaled her to keep away.

Caecilia had caught at the front of Scaurus’ clothing, trying to deter him from approaching his crazy sister. With great determination, his still-loyal wife hung on to him and held him back. Nobody else seemed willing to help.

“Dear gods, what a mess!”

I keep a dagger in my boot. Half the time I never used it, and it would not achieve much now. I was the only person here who would have any sort of weapon, except possibly Anacrites, and he was still in poor health, unreliable in a ruck. This was a household of priests; for them, swords were what antique heroes hung up in temple sanctums prettily adorned with laurel twigs. Even the vigiles, as civil troops, are unarmed. So it was up to me.

Laelia was now really raving. Apart from Athene’s and Caecilia’s efforts, only his sister’s uncontrolled mania had saved Scaurus from real harm. Nobody dared approach her, but she had no aim and only half an intention. Flecks of froth showed around her mouth. A manic grin was transfixed on her flushed face. She was dancing from foot to foot, swinging the knife to left and right. So far, she appeared not to want to harm herself, but I felt that could come at any moment.

I, of course, am a correct Roman. I do not fight women. This was a problem. I would have to disarm Laelia, and then rapidly overpower her. Her grip on the knife was so tight her knuckles shone white.

I leaped across the hall, vaulting the dry pool, to where the workmen had stored their equipment. I snatched up a piece of rough wood that they probably used as scaffolding. Sensing a new situation, Laelia started screaming repeatedly. Other people were shouting. Scaurus suddenly stopped struggling, so Caecilia let go of him.

Scaurus threw open his arms as if to embrace Laelia.

Abruptly she stood still. “Cutting his throat was not enough,” she told Scaurus. Her calm was even more unnerving than her previous violence. She could have been explaining why she had changed the daily bakery delivery. Everyone else froze in horror. “The man’s entrails should have been examined for omens. The liver should have been offered to the gods.”

I started walking towards her. “So it was you who killed Uncle Tiberius?” I asked, trying to distract her. “Why did you do that, Laelia?”

She turned in my direction. “He stopped wanting me. Aunt Terentia made him stay away-he should not have listened to her. I held the bowl!” she exclaimed. Something that had always bothered me began to make sense.

“I realize how hard it must have been.” I was managing to move in closer. “Ventidius had thrashed around trying to escape. He fell outside, through the wall of the tent. He landed on the grass. The rest must have been extremely awkward.” I kept stepping forward gently. I was nearly there.

“You know, don’t you?” Laelia demanded of me. “It’s not like sacrificing an animal, is it? Anyway, the priest has assistants. Tiberius was lying on the ground. It was very difficult to put the bowl under his throat-”

It was impossible for one to manage. At the ritual sacrifice of Ventidius Silanus, two people must have officiated. As realization dawned it must have shown on my face. While Laelia was watching me, Scaurus decided to get to her.

“Keep away,” I warned him urgently. Laelia’s gaze flickered wildly between us; Scaurus hesitated. The people watching had fallen very quiet, and were at last all standing still. “Leave it to me, Scaurus.”

Laelia turned to me and said clearly, “I could not have done it. I was never taught how-but my brother had been trained in what a flamen has to do, so he knew. Scaurus said, if the knife is sharp, it’s easier than you think!”

Scaurus came at her ahead of me. He grabbed her wrist. As everyone kept telling me, the man was an idiot. He had grabbed the wrist nearest to him-not the one holding the knife. Laelia spun, actually pivoting more easily because her other arm was held. She brought around her free hand, trying to carve a stroke across his neck. She was hopeless too. She drew blood from his shoulder, but he leaped back out of harm’s way.

Suddenly I was free to act. Safely at arm’s length, I brought the stave down on Laelia’s knife hand as hard as possible. The weapon jerked from her grasp and skidded away across the hall mosaic. She hardly seemed to feel it. She was going from us now; her mind was visibly wandering.

I got to her. I had turned the stave, as if intending to hold her at bay with it. I managed to extend one end beyond Laelia just as Scaurus bent and retrieved their mother’s sacrificial knife. I was ready for him. I flung an arm around Laelia and dragged her back away from him. Nobody else seemed to have any idea of the danger she was in. She knew least of all; that made it even more dangerous.

Sobbing wildly now, Laelia grabbed at the stave suddenly and hampered my movements. While I shook her off, somebody whipped past me in a blur of gray. Terentia Paulla stepped past her mad niece just as Scaurus, her equally mad nephew, squared up to kill Laelia.

“You!” cried Terentia, in complete exasperation. “It was bad enough thinking that your ridiculous sister killed him-but you helped her!”

“He was an animal,” said Scaurus.

I hurled Laelia as far from me as possible and turned to protect Terentia. There was no need.

The furious ex-Vestal let fly at her nephew with a straight-armed, right-handed punch that came all the way from the shoulder. I heard his jaw crack. His head jerked back. Scaurus looked at the ceiling abruptly. Then he went down.