“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.
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.”
