He was enthroned on an ivory stool with arms, like a magistrate. He had been sitting alone in that posture before I entered. Other people might have been reading or writing, but he preferred the brooding stillness of a stone god.
The room was furnished with side tables and lamps, and a small rug lay at his feet, which occupied a footstool. It could have been comfortable, but for the frosty atmosphere.
Helena Justina had brought me up to scratch on flamens when she and I had first talked about Gaia. Jove’s priest lived a life so hedged around with restrictive duties he had no time to stray; that was the idea, no doubt. Representing the god, he was untouchable in the strictest sense. When he went out, adding a double cloak to his woolly uniform, he carried a sacrificial knife in one hand (which must have deterred unwelcome contacts) and in the other a long wand with which he kept the populace at a distance. He was preceded by a lictor, but also by criers at whose approach everyone had to lay aside their tasks, for not only was every day a holiday for the Flamen himself (nice life!), but he must never see others working.
There was more. He could not mount, or even touch, a horse. He might not leave the city (except in recent enlightened times, for a maximum of two nights, to carry out unavoidable family duties, if directly sanctioned by the Pontifex Maximus). He could wear no knots (his clothes were fixed with clasps); his rings were split; he was forbidden to name ivy because of its binding properties, or to walk under any pergola that was canopied with vines. If someone in bonds was brought to his house, the fetters were at once struck off and hurled down from the roof; if he encountered a criminal, that person could neither be scourged nor executed. Only a free man could barber a Flamen’s beard; it must be cut with a bronze knife; the clippings and his nail trimmings were collected and buried beneath a sacred tree. The Flamen could not remove his tunic or headdress during daylight, lest Jove glimpse his person.
He must avoid dogs (which explained why they had no guard dogs here), she-goats, beans, raw flesh, or fermented dough.
There was probably more, but Helena had seen my eyes glaze over and had spared me. The restrictions seemed outrageous; they were designed to ensure the Flamen never let his mind wander, though he looked to me as if he had retained full control of his thoughts-and his rigid opinions too.
For all that, by virtue of his priesthood, this oddity would have sat in the senate. Still, he probably fitted in among the other eccentrics and crazy men.
Here in his house, everything was arranged to suit his wishes. That did not include me. He looked at me as though I had scuttled out of a drain.
“I understand, sir, that the Emperor has cleared my path with you. Your granddaughter is missing, and I possess experience that may help find her. It is particularly important that you work with me, since you have expressed a wish not to have contact with the vigiles. I regret that. They could have helped save time-and time is vital in a case like this.”
“You were recommended as a specialist. Are you saying you are not up to the job?” His voice was thin, his tone edged with malice. I knew what I had here: a wicked old bastard. In families like mine, they wield no power and so can do no harm. This was nothing like my family.
“I shall do my best, sir. You will find it better than average. But success will depend on how much cooperation I receive.”
“And what do you offer?”
“A fast, discreet service-on my terms. The most likely solution is that Gaia has imprisoned herself accidentally somewhere in her own home. I have to search your house for hiding places that might attract a child. I have to look everywhere, though you have my assurance that what I see will be immediately forgotten if it is not relevant.”
“I understand.” His hauteur was chilly.
“I shall knock and wait before entering rooms. I shall give any occupants a chance to remove themselves. I shall work as quickly as I can.”
“That is good.”
“I do have to be allowed to speak to your family.”
“It is acceptable.”
“They need not answer any questions they regard as improper, sir.” I gave him a level stare. He was intelligent. He knew that refusing fair questions would be informative in itself. “I should also like permission to talk to your staff. It is my intention to limit such interviews. But, for example, Gaia Laelia presumably was entrusted to a nursemaid?”
“There is a girl who looks after her. You may speak to the nurse.”
“Thank you.” I must be going soft. He did not deserve the restraint I was showing. Still, I could see he expected aggression. I was happy to surprise him.
“And what,” asked the ex-Flamen in a tense voice, “are the questions that you wish to put to me?”
I TOOK OUT my note-tablet. I would make jottings occasionally, to look competent. Mostly I just held the stylus still and listened, to show my impeccable tact.
