‘Fashion is fleeting,’ he said ‘But class is eternal. Some things just can’t be bettered, now, get your laughing gear around that.’ He passed over the tea and she sipped cautiously. ‘Nice?’
‘Okay, I suppose,’ she acknowledged.
‘Right, I know it’s been a tough day but I’ve gone over and over this and nothing makes sense. The police investigations are getting nowhere and the only thing that all the deaths have in common is this.’ He placed something on the table.
She picked up the necklace and looked at the familiar profile spinning slowly before her.
‘The Macedonian necklace,’ she said, ‘Or at least a copy, where did you get it from?’
‘The girl on the cross,’ he answered
She looked at him in horror.
‘You stole it from a dead body?’
‘It’s the only thing we have to go on,’ he said, ‘It was necessary.’
She stared at the coin, turning it over and over in her hand, searching for anything new.
‘Doesn’t help much,’ she said, ‘It’s exactly the same as the picture we saw earlier,’ and passed the coin over to Brandon.
Brandon held the coin in one hand while sipping his tea. Suddenly he stared closer at the coin, with his cup halfway to his mouth.
‘Hang on,’ he said, ‘Pass me that magnifying glass, there’s writing on the edge of the coin.’
‘Where?’
‘Just get a pen,’ he said ‘And write this down. The first letter is U, then U again, the next letter is worn, I can’t make it out, then there’s a space followed by U again, the next is worn, then R and G. The next one is O. I think the next one is M,’ he continued, ‘Then O and R and the last one is missing.’
India wrote the letters down on the back of an envelope.
‘What have we got?’ he asked.
She held out the envelope for him to see. UU_ _U_RGO_MO_
‘Mean anything?’ he asked.
‘Looks like Latin,’ she mumbled, Possibly an anagram.
‘Let me see,’ he said and took the envelope from her. For the next few minutes they tried the letters in different orders without any success until eventually Brandon sat back and stared at her.
‘Hang on,’ he said, ‘How stupid are we? We are looking to solve a problem that isn’t there. It’s not an anagram, the letters are in the right order; we have just started in the wrong place. Some letters may be missing but others depict spaces, let me see them again. There is a distinct gap between the O and the M but it’s not a missing letter, it’s the end of a word. Move the last three letters to the front.’
India made the changes. Already it made more sense. MOR_ UU_ _U_RGO Brandon pored over the letters trying different letters with no luck.
‘T, S and I,’ said India quietly.
‘What?’ he asked looking up.’
‘The missing letters,’ she repeated, They are T and S and I.’
‘But there are four letters missing, not three.’
‘No, we have assumed the two centre gaps are both missing letters. We were wrong. One of them is a space, there are actually two words.’
He looked at the paper again and filled in the blanks.
‘Mortuus Uirgo,’ he read aloud.
‘The last U is actually a V,’ she said, ‘In Roman lettering the two are often depicted the same.’
‘Mortuus Virgo,’ he suggested.
‘Mortuus Virgo,’ confirmed India.
He turned to look at her, surprised at the look of concern at her face.
‘You know what it means, don’t you?’
She nodded grimly.
‘What is it?’
‘Dead Virgins,’ she said, ‘It means the Dead virgins!’
Chapter 9
Rome 64 AD
Over the next few weeks, Rubria was summoned to Nero’s presence more and more, and, as time went on, his trust in her grew. She often left the palace confused at his random outbursts but overall she started to get a feel for the way the Emperor’s mind worked. Every night she sat with the high Priestess, relaying every detail of what had passed between them. Though she knew the Priestess was looking for something specific, she was never told what. Finally Rubria decided to broach the subject.
‘Holy Mother,’ she said, ‘Forgive me but if I knew what concerns you, perhaps my visits would be more fruitful.’
‘Sweet child,’ said the High Priestess holding her hand, ‘Your innocence is your best defence. If I explained my concerns, then I fear your honesty would be your downfall and Nero would see through you. This would put you in danger. All I can say, is our task is given from the Senate themselves and they fear Nero plans some grand gesture that may harm not only the city but the sanctity of our very temple.’
Rubria gasped and held her hand over her mouth.
‘Your role is simply to gain his trust,’ continued the High Priestess, ‘And if you hear of anything that gives you concern, then relay it back to me. In the meantime, if you need to get a message to me, then you can trust the Centurion posted as your guard. He and his family are devotees of the Goddess and can be trusted completely.’
Rubria retired to the Atrium and slept fitfully as she fretted about any harm coming to the Temple of Vesta. First bell hadn’t even rung when she was awoken by the Sister on vigil.
‘Rubria, the Emperor has summoned you,’ she said gently.
She rose immediately and after bathing and praying at her shrine made her way to the courtyard where an escort was waiting. She recognised the Centurion on duty.
‘Hello again,’ she said, ‘An unwelcome hour, it has to be said.’
‘That it is, Priestess,’ he said, ‘Please, come this way, your litter awaits.’ They walked to the gates and once again, as had happened many times in the last few weeks, they made their way up the Palatine hill.
Dragus walked alongside her carriage.
‘Are you warm enough, Priestess?’ he asked.
‘I am fine, thank you,’ she answered and, after considering the Holy Mother’s words carefully, done something she would not have dared with any other man except the Emperor. She engaged him in conversation.
‘I’m sorry your rest have been disturbed,’ she said, ‘It is a strange business we find ourselves on.’
‘It is no burden, Priestess,’ he answered, ‘I am here to serve.’
‘How old are you?’ she asked.
‘Sorry?’
‘It’s just that you seem so young to be a Centurion.’
‘I am thirty years old,’ he said ‘And have been promoted through the ranks.’
‘Have you seen active service?’
‘Indeed, I have only just returned from the battlefields of Britannia not three years since.’
‘Britannia,’ she said in admiration, ‘I have heard tell it is a place of evil and sorcery. Is it true they eat their children?’
‘I cannot say I ever witnessed the practise,’ he laughed, ‘But it is true they are indeed a strange people.’
‘So how are you back here?’
‘I suffered an injury at the final battle with their warrior queen Boudica.’
‘And they sent you back.’
‘For political purposes,’ he said, ‘I saved a Legate during the battle and was brought back to receive the freedom of Rome.’
‘Was it exciting?’ she asked, ‘You know, fighting the Britons.’
For a moment he was quiet as he walked besides her litter.
‘Horrible, yes. Frightening and brutal, absolutely, but exciting no. Tens of thousands were slain. Children, old people, animals, all slaughtered with no quarter. Their towns were burned to the ground and whole tribes were wiped from the face of the earth.’
‘Is it a strange place?’
‘It is cold, it is wet and yes, I suppose it is strange but it is also a beautiful land. The ground is fertile and its forests abound with deer and boar. The waters run clear and sweet and the breeze is refreshing on the tired face. But more than this, it is a spiritual place. The very air whispers its secrets and it is said that though the lands are full of spirits, it is also a place of gods. The mist often lies like a heavy blanket and they worship in places that were old when Rome was still a village.’