‘Rubria Antonius of the house of Gaius Paulo Antonius,’ he announced formally, ‘I take you to be a Vestal Priestess, who will carry out sacred rites which it is the law for a Vestal Priestess to perform on behalf of the Roman people, on the same terms as her who was a Vestal on the best terms.’
Rubria’s smile faded slightly and she glanced over to Maria for reassurance. The servant held her both hands over her mouth to stop any sound escaping and nodded in encouragement, her tears flowing down her face.
‘Is it time now?’ she asked.
‘It is,’ answered Maria.
Rubria turned to the old man.
‘Can I take dolly?’ she asked innocently.
The man knelt down to face her at her level.
‘The time for such things is over Rubria,’ he said gently, ‘There is much to learn and the Goddess awaits.’ He gazed into her piercing blue eyes. At the presentation there had been twelve beautiful girls but it had been these eyes that had swung his decision. He had never seen such a piercing blue.
Rubria walked over to Maria and offered her the doll.
‘Will you look after dolly for me?’ she asked.
Maria nodded, and took the child’s beloved toy, unable to speak, and, as Rubria walked into the back of the cart, the servant burst into heart wrenching sobs and ran from the Atrium. The old man turned to the family to say his goodbyes.
‘Look after her,’ said her father.
‘We will,’ he said, ‘You may visit her in the outer chambers in one year, but until then we request that you stay away. It will be easier on her.’ The old man handed over a leather pouch containing promissory notes for a hundred thousand Denarii. Though it was supposed to be compensation for the loss of a daughter, everyone present knew that the honour and social standing of the family would be greatly enhanced by the selection of one of their daughters and much greater riches would surely follow.
Outside the sound of the cart tailgate being closed focused their attention and all left the Atrium to stand on the veranda. Paulus put his arm around his wife’s shoulders and watched the old man get on his horse. The whole century of Praetorian Guard saluted as one and wheeled left, awaiting the order to leave the estate. The old man, otherwise known as the Pontifex Maximus, high priest of the Temple of Vesta gave the order to proceed, and, without further ado, the whole procession started their journey back to Rome. At their centre rolled the cart containing its very precious cargo as Rubria, eight years old and daughter of nobility, pure of body and mind set out on the first day of her life as a Vestal Virgin.
Chapter 2
London 2010
‘Good night, India,’ came a voice, interrupting the librarian as she finished scanning the last of the bar codes on the returned books.
‘Goodnight, Mrs Thomas,’ she said looking up, ‘Find anything interesting?’
‘I did, actually,’ came the reply from the portly woman as she paused by the door, ‘This internet thing is quite good once you get going. I’ve just found out my great, great grandfather was a jewel thief.’
‘A jewel thief, how exciting,’ laughed India, ‘I wonder if he left any of his ill gotten gains hidden under your patio.’
‘No such luck,’ said the woman, ‘Anyway, I’ve turned the computer off, save you the trouble.’
‘Thanks for that,’ said India, ‘See you next week?’
‘You will, goodnight.’ The woman left the library and India checked the clock on the wall. Quarter to seven! Thirty more minutes and she could go home. She looked around the room. The last of the ancestry group had gone home and there were only three users left, two teenage boys sat giggling at a corner PC and a lone man who was browsing the history section between the aisles. She returned to the bar code reader but was interrupted once more when the man coughed gently to attract her attention.
‘Oh!’ she said, standing up suddenly, ‘You startled me.’
The man had approached without her noticing and stood in front of the counter.
‘Sorry,’ he smiled, ‘You seemed to be somewhere else there for a while.’
‘I wish,’ she laughed, ‘Bahamas would be nice, I could do with a holiday.’
‘Me too,’ said the man, ‘Weather’s been awful.’
‘That’s Britain for you, how can I help?’
‘I was wondering if you could help me identify a coin,’ he asked.
‘What sort of coin?’ responded India, her interest suddenly rising.
‘Well, it’s a necklace really but the pendant is definitely a coin. I’ve searched the internet but can’t find anything quite like it.’
‘Do you have it with you?’ she asked.
He looked around the library but the only two other users were too engrossed in whatever illicit site they had managed to access past the council’s fire wall. He reached into his inner jacket pocket to retrieve a neatly folded paper towel and placed it on the counter.
‘May I?’ she asked and, after unwrapping the package, lifted the necklace up to the light, her experienced eyes taking in the detail as it revolved slowly.
The first thing she noticed was the chain and the coin were of two different eras. The chain was fairly contemporary, probably Silver and no more than ten or twenty years old. The coin itself, however, was of a completely different age altogether, and, if she wasn’t mistaken, bore the image of Phillip the Second of Macedonia.
‘Interesting,’ she said, ‘Is it yours?’
‘Well, I found it, but I’m not sure what the legal position is with treasure trove. What do you think?’
India didn’t know how to let him down gently. She was known within numismatic circles as a bit of an expert and was often approached by amateur collectors hoping she would make their dreams come true and confirm the rusty farthing they had found in some farmer’s field was one off Roman coin worth a fortune.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘What did you say your name was?’
‘Jones,’ he said a bit too quickly, ‘Mr Jones.’
‘Well, Mr Jones,’ said India, ‘I recognise the image but it doesn’t seem to be any coinage I recognise so I can’t really put a value on it.’
‘I’m not worried about value,’ he answered, ‘More the history, if you know what I mean. Is there anything you can tell me about its provenance?’
She glanced at the clock on the wall. Five to seven.
‘Well, we are about to close,’ she said, ‘But I am a bit of an enthusiast when it comes to coins and I have a whole bookshelf full of reference books at home. I’ll bring them in tomorrow and see what I can find out. Why don’t you leave it with me and come back then? I should be able to tell you more about it.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘It’ll be a pleasure,’ she said, ‘I’ll put it in the safe.’ She paused. ‘Oh I am so sorry, how presumptuous of me, I don’t even know you and I’m asking you to part with something.’
‘It’s okay, Miss Sommers,’ he laughed, ‘If I can’t trust the local librarian who can I trust?’
‘How do you know my name?’ she asked, a slight frown forming on her brow.
‘Oh, didn’t I say?’ he asked, ‘I posted a picture of the coin on the web page of the local numismatic society asking for any information.’
‘And were they any help?’
‘No, not really, though several recommended I came to you. Sorry, I should have said.’
‘No problem. I suppose I should be flattered really, anyway, I promise I won’t run away with your necklace.’
‘I trust you,’ he said, ‘I’ll come back tomorrow night about six’. He pointed at the two lads nudging each other at the PC. ‘Do you need any help?’
‘No, they’re harmless enough,’ she said, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Goodnight,’ he said and left the library. A few minutes later, the doors opened again and the two lads were ushered out into the night, disappointed that their first foray into murky websites had just been cut abruptly short by the librarian.
‘Banned for a week!’ shouted India as they ran laughing into the darkness. She smiled as she locked the library doors behind them and turned the PC’s off before finishing off tidying the shelves. She placed the necklace in the safe and set the burglar alarm before running quickly through the drizzle with a magazine held over her head.