‘Do I know you?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Dragus, ‘Like the lady said, we have to go. Now let us pass.’
‘Yes I do,’ said the soldier, ‘I have seen you in the barracks. You are a legionary, but why are you dressed like a slave?’ Suddenly the soldier’s eyes widened in shock.
‘Centurion, Dragus,’ he exclaimed, ‘I don’t understand. I was told you were dead. Perished in the Temple of Vesta along with…’ He stopped and stared back and fore between Dragus and Rubria before taking a step backwards.
‘Look, I don’t know what’s going on here,’ he said, ‘But I think you should come with me.’
‘Decurion,’ said Dragus. ‘There are things happening here you don’t understand. Now let us pass.’
‘I can’t do that, sir,’ said the soldier.
‘Yes you can,’ said Dragus, his tone lowering menacingly. ‘I still outrank you. Now step aside before this goes too far.’
The soldier went to draw his sword but before it had cleared the sheath, Dragus threw himself forward and tackled him to the ground. Although both soldiers had undergone similar training, only one had undergone any active service and there was only one possible outcome. All the stomach churning terror and self preserving battle rage he had experienced back on the killing fields of Britannia washed over him like a waterfall. Within seconds Dragus had overpowered the soldier and smashed his opponent’s head, over and over again onto the cobbled floor. Only the fact that the soldier was wearing a helmet prevented his head from being caved in.
‘Stop it!’ screamed Rubria, grabbing the back of his tunic, ‘You’re killing him.’
Dragus came back to his senses and let the man’s head go.
‘Shit,’ he murmured, ‘I’m sorry, I thought…’ He stepped back and Rubria crouched down besides the unconscious soldier.
‘He is still breathing,’ she said, ‘But needs a Medicus.’
Dragus turned to the group of slaves who had witnessed the scene in horror.
‘You there,’ he said, pointing at the nearest man, ‘Go and get help.’
‘Now!’ he screamed when the man didn’t move immediately. He turned to Rubria. ‘Priestess,’ he said. ‘Leave him. We have to get out of here.’
‘We can’t leave him,’ she said, ‘He is bleeding.’
‘He will be okay,’ said Dragus, ‘I have seen many such injuries on the battlefield. He will have a headache he will remember for the rest of his life, but he will live.’
‘Promise?’
‘Trust me,’ he said, ‘But we have to get out of here. As soon as he is able, he will tell the garrison we are alive and a search will be instigated. We have to make use of every minute.’
‘Okay,’ she said standing up. ‘If you’re sure. Which way?’
‘I just realised where we are,’ he said, ‘We need to go down here.’ He pointed down a side street.
‘Why, what’s down there?’
‘The river Tiber,’ he said. ‘It’s our only hope.’
Chapter Eighteen
Rome 2010
Once again, India and Brandon were in the safe house in Rome. Helios had picked them up from Samothrace in the middle of the night in his fishing boat, and they had sailed to Rome over a period of two days, hugging the coastlines of the Greek islands to avoid any searches that may be underway. Finally they had arrived in Civitavecchia, and, after rewarding Helios handsomely with a wad of notes, Brandon had flagged down a taxi and they had made their way to the safe house.
‘Who exactly is he?’ asked India in the taxi.
‘Who?’
‘Helios.’
‘Ask no questions and I’ll tell you no lies,’ murmured Brandon, gazing out of the window.
‘Ah, Grey man syndrome,’ she said.
‘Something like that,’ he said and remained silent for the rest of the trip.
— -
They were each given their own room, and, after taking a long hot shower, India eventually joined Brandon down in the lounge, refreshed and ready to eat. Shirley, the landlady was an English woman who had married an Italian many years previously and had a surprise up her sleeve.
‘Hello luvvie,’ she said when India entered the room, ‘You look nice. Sit down and I’ll bring you a drink. What would you like?’
‘Oh, I don’t know really,’ said India, feeling a bit awkward. It wasn’t as if this was a hotel or guest house, this was someone’s home.
‘I tell you what,’ said Shirley, ‘While you’re having a think, I’ll make us all a nice cup of tea, shall I?’
‘Oh, tea would be wonderful,’ said India with a smile, ‘I didn’t like to ask.’
‘You can ask me anything you want, luvvie,’ said Shirley.’ It may have been twenty years since his lordship swept me off my feet and brought me here, but I still think you can’t beat a good old cup of British char.’
‘Lovely,’ said Brandon and Stella left to make the tea.
‘Feel better?’ asked India
‘What do you mean?’ asked Brandon, ‘I’m fine.’
‘You were a bit moody in the car,’ she said, ‘I just thought there may be something wrong, that’s all.’
‘No, nothing wrong,’said Brandon, ‘Just thoughtful.’
‘Penny for them,’ said India with a smile.
‘All this historic stuff,’ said Brandon. ‘It’s all very interesting and all that, but we don’t seem to be getting anywhere fast and all the time that little girl back home is in danger.’
‘I thought we were doing well,’ said India. ‘We’ve managed to trace one of the suspects this far. Isn’t that good?’
‘In a sense, yes,’ said Brandon ‘But don’t forget, everything we have uncovered so far is just conjecture. We have nothing that actually ties him to England and have found nothing yet that may link him to the girls. All we have is the dead guy from the library and this Peter Venezelos who tried to burn down the house. There are so many different parts to this puzzle yet nothing seems to fit.’
The door opened and Stella brought in the tea.
‘Dinner won’t be long,’ she said, ‘Roast beef and Yorkshires do you?’ The delight on both people’s faces was priceless and she returned to the kitchen to finish the meal.
‘A good old roast,’ said Brandon, ‘Better than all that foreign muck.’
‘Behave,’ said India, ‘When in Rome and all that.’
‘Anyway,’ said Brandon, ‘Tell me about this Vestal Temple. How is it linked to this Palladium thing?’
India sipped her tea and sat back to explain.
‘Like I said,’ said India, ‘The statue of Pallas Athena finally ended up in Rome, hundreds of years after its disappearance from Troy. Stories vary how it got there, but when it did, it was placed in the care of the Vestal Virgins.’
‘And who were they, exactly?’
‘They were extraordinary women who dedicated their lives to the worship of the Goddess Vesta, or as we now know, the Great Mother. They originated sometime around the formation of Rome and there were never more than half a dozen at any one time.’
‘What did they do?’ asked Brandon.
‘Nothing much really, they cared for the sacred fire at the heart of Rome, a symbolic flame that represented the hearth as a central point of any family. They also took part in religious rituals throughout the year and looked after various important documents and treasures of the government.’
‘Like the Palladium?’
‘Yes, but that was just one of many. Some we will never know as they were guarded jealously but we know they also looked after important papers of state.’
‘But why did they have to be Virgins?’
‘The tradition stemmed from thousands of years earlier when the young girls of the villages used to be left behind to tend the fires when the rest of the villagers went out to hunt and forage. Due to their age they were obviously virgins, and, over time, virginity became synonymous with tending the sacred fires. Eventually it became almost a cult and the Vestal Virgins became a very powerful entity within Rome. They were feted by many and had the power of reprieve over criminals sentenced to death. They were salaried and in a very patriarchal society were allowed to own property and develop business interests of their own. Those who saw out their thirty years ended up very wealthy and powerful women.’