There was a silence. I could see Maia still writhing in frustration that she could not escape to run and deal with Pa. Caecilia seemed to have no clue how to continue or to break off this interview.
“Whose idea was it to put Gaia’s name into the Virgins’ lottery?” I asked, thinking about what had happened in my sister’s family.
“Mine.” That surprised me.
“What does her father think?”
Her chin came up slightly. “Scaurus was delighted when I wrote to make the suggestion.” I must have looked puzzled at the way she had expressed it; Caecilia Paeta added calmly, “He no longer lives with us.”
Divorce is common enough, but one place I had not expected to find it was a house where every male was destined to serve as a flamen, whose marriage had to last for life. “So where does Scaurus live?” I managed to sound neutral. Scaurus must be Gaia’s father’s name; it was his first hint of any personal identity, and I wondered if that was significant.
“In the country.” She named a place that I happened to know; it was about an hour’s drive past the farm my mother’s brothers owned. Maia glanced my way, but I avoided her eye.
“And you are divorced?”
“No.” Caecilia’s voice was quiet. I had the feeling she rarely spoke of this to anyone. The ex-Flamen Dialis would be outraged that she should. “My father-in-law is strongly opposed to that.”
“Your husband-his son-was he a member of the priesthood?”
“No.” She looked down. “No, he never was. It had always been presumed he would follow the family tradition, indeed it was promised at the time I married him. Laelius Scaurus preferred a different kind of life.”
“His break with family tradition must have caused great discontent, I imagine?”
Caecilia made no direct comment, though her expression said it all. “It is never too late. There was always a hope that if we were at least only separated something might be salvaged-and there would be Gaia, of course. My father-in-law intended that she would be married in the ancient way to someone who would qualify for the College of Flamens; then one day, he hoped, she might even become the Flaminica like her grandmother…” She trailed off.
“Not if she is a Vestal Virgin!” Maia shot in. Caecilia’s head came up. Maia’s voice dropped conspiratorially. “You defied him! You put Gaia into the lottery deliberately, to thwart her grandfather’s plans!”
“I would never defy the Flamen,” replied Gaia’s mother far too smoothly. Realizing she had given us more than she intended, she prepared to sweep out. “This is a difficult time for my family. Please, show some consideration and leave us alone now.”
She was on her way out.
“We apologize,” said Maia briefly. She might have argued, but she still wanted to be off on her own errand. Instead, she picked up the reference to it being a difficult time. “We were, of course, sorry to hear of your loss.”
Wide-eyed, Caecilia Paeta spun back to stare at her. A rather extreme reaction, though grief can make people touchy in unexpected ways.
“Your family were attending a funeral when Maia came to visit you,” I reminded her gently. “Was it somebody close?”
“Oh no! A relative by marriage, that is all-” Caecilia pulled herself together, inclined her head formally, and went out to the carriage.
Even Maia managed to wait until the woman had departed, so she could mouth at me, “What’s going on? That family is so sensitive!”
“All families are sensitive,” I intoned piously.
“You cannot be thinking of ours!” scoffed my sister-running off at last to hurl herself into a quarrel with Pa.
I went to see my mother, like a devoted boy.
It was a long time since I had driven Ma out to the Campagna to see Great-Auntie Phoebe and whichever she was currently harboring of my unbelievable uncles: moody Fabius and broody Junius-though never the truly loopy one who had gone permanently missing, and of whom we were never supposed to speak. It would be easy to dump Ma at the family market garden for a long gossip, then to find something harmless to occupy myself.
I could, for instance, drive on a few miles to the place Caecilia Paeta had mentioned, and interview the estranged escapee father of little supposedly overimaginative Gaia Laelia.
“HELENA JUSTINA, A man who loves you ferociously is offering to jolt you for hours in a hot open cart, and then grope you in a cabbage field.”
“How can I resist?”
“You can surely leave Gloccus and Cotta on their own for just a day.”
Helena made no sign of hearing me mention the two names. “Do you need me?”
“I do. I have to manage a mule, and you know how I hate that; I shall also require your sensible presence to control Ma. Anyway, if I don’t produce you, Great-Auntie Phoebe will assume you have left me.”
“Oh, why would anyone think that?” Helena knew how to deny it in a way I found faintly worrying.
“By the way, sweetheart, Pa sent a message, in his devious style. He thinks you should know he has heard that Gloccus and Cotta are not all they were at the time he recommended them.”
