‘Good!’ he said, ‘And please, call me Brandon.’
‘Am I allowed to say anything to my parents about this?’ she asked.
‘I’d rather you didn’t, why?’
‘Oh, you know, it would be quite a shock to find out their daughter is working for the police.’
‘Police?’ he said, ‘Who said anything about working for the police?’
He turned to leave the building, leaving India staring open mouthed behind him.
Chapter 3
Rome 64 BC
Rubria knelt at her bedside, her hands held tightly together in prayer as she had been taught since a child. She prayed earnestly, full of love and ultimate servitude to the Goddess Vesta, thanking her for her glory and the continued bounty of life. She had been up since first bell and had since knelt in prayer for two hours, the reed mat the only acknowledgement to the wear on her knees.
Her cell was basic but spotlessly clean. The rough stone walls were a stark contrast to the marble slabs of the Temple proper and the only furniture was a simple bed covered with a rough linen sheet and a three legged stool. A tiny arched window pierced the thick walls high above her head, too high to be reached by any acolyte tempted to peer out at the city of sin, but necessary for the passage of fresh air to the tiny cell.
All too soon, second bell sounded and she raised herself from her knees to face the day. She knew that outside the walls of the Temple, the profile of the city would be looming out of the darkness once more as the miracle of the sun hinted at its imminent rebirth from the hell of night. She turned around and faced the doorway, not quite sure if the shivering was from the pre-dawn temperatures or the apprehension about what lay before her. She forgave herself the emotion of relief as the day she had waited so long for, finally arrived.
Ten long years she had waited. Ten years since she had been taken from her family and brought to the Temple of Vesta to serve the Goddess. At first it had been very hard and she had missed her family so much it hurt. Every day she had asked when she was going home, receiving only kindly smiles from her tutors in return. She even tried to run away once but had been caught no further that the gateway peering into the dirty city that lay beyond. That had been an important milestone for Rubria, as far from being angry; the kindly teacher had sat besides her for a long time giving her comfort and support.
That had been the first time the needs of the people had been explained to her. How the majority of the poor misguided masses needed their help and prayers to help them on their journey through the torture of life to the ultimate gates of heaven. How the starving and the destitute, the diseased, sick and the lonely, all needed their help and how Rubria, along with selected others had been chosen by Vesta to serve, her and by doing so, help the needy. Soon, the memories eased and one glorious night she had been stood in her cell staring up at the dark sky through the window when the Goddess blessed her with a vision.
The shooting star, the first she had ever seen had blazed across the heavens, radiating its fleeting glory into her cell for the briefest of moments and filling her with wonder at the bounty of the Goddess. From that moment on everything changed. The lessons became easier, the mantra’s made more sense and she embraced the glory of the Goddess with all her heart
Not that she had forgotten her family, she often thought of them though these days with fondness and gratitude for allowing her to serve the Goddess. Once a year on the anniversary of her arrival, her mother would visit her in the outer Temple, suitably attired and saying the sort of things you would expect from a mother, but despite looking forward to her visit each time, it was always a relief to get back to her cell when the visit was over.
Now the time was fast approaching when all she had learned over the last ten years would come to fruition. Today was her birth, her first step into the real service of the Goddess. From now she would take part in the ceremonies expected as a Priestess of Vesta. For the first time in ten years, she would be able to step outside the walls of the Temple, albeit always in the presence of an armed unit of Praetorian Guard, but outside nonetheless. As one of only six Priestesses she would be in great demand across the city and since the retreat of one of the older Sisters into her last ten years as a teacher, the pressures on the other five had been immense as they waited for her replacement to be nominated.
Rubria realised she had been very lucky. There were six other acolytes ready to take the next step forward but she had been selected by the high Priestess as the most ready and had lain prone for two days before the image of the Goddess, giving thanks for her selection. She stared at the open doorway holding her breath as the footsteps approached until, at last the Pontifex Maximus stood before her.
‘You are summoned, Acolyte!’ intoned the familiar voice formally. Rubria took a pace forward……and slammed the door in his face!
‘Get thee from my vision, temptation,’ she cried out, ‘I reject you!’
As expected, a minute later the door was flung open once more and six Sisters who had already served their times as Priestesses, filed into the room and took their place in a circle around her. She dropped to her knees, and bending her head forward, allowed her long golden tresses to hang low to the floor. Another person entered the room and stopped before Rubria.
‘Do you discard all worldly possessions acolyte?’ asked the High Priestess gently.
‘I do,’ she answered meekly.
‘Do you surrender to the service of the great mother, blessed Virgin of the house of Vesta?’
‘With all my heart.’
‘Will you repel the hand of man in deed and thought, even unto death?’
‘I will!’
‘And will you nurture the flames of our mother’s untouched womb, forsaking all other god’s.’
‘Until the day I die.’
‘Then make the choice, Acolyte. Leave the world of the ignorant and embrace the heart of the enlightened.’
The high Priestess gathered Rubria’s hair and bunched it together, holding it high. Another Priestess holding a silken cushion stepped forward and gave her a pair shears. The gathered Sisters said a mutual prayer, and as she prayed with her eyes tightly shut, Rubria’s hair fell to the floor beneath her. When the last of the golden locks had been cut she waited patiently as the stubble was shaved from her scalp. Fragrant oils were smoothed over her skin and she was helped up to face her fellow priestesses. A Palla of purest white silk, the mantle that would be the only type of clothing she would wear for the next ten years was draped over her shoulders and wrapped around her body before the surplus was draped down her left side. A white lace Infula was placed gently over her head and the headdress hung down over her shoulders to be fastened to the Palla over her left breast with a Suffibulum, a broach of pure gold.
When they had finished, the high Priestess handed Rubria the cushion, this time laden with her old clothing and topped with her shorn golden locks. They left her alone in the cell for a few minutes, a beautiful vision in white, until once again the voice of the Pontifex Maximus boomed out.
‘Acolyte, you are summoned!’
This time, after taking a deep breath, Rubria stepped forward and left the cell, carrying the remnants of her old life before her and walked towards the roaring flames of the fires of Vesta.
Chapter 4
London 2010
‘What do you mean, not working for the police?’ asked India, half trotting to keep up with Brandon as they walked through the morning light to the car, ‘You said you were a Detective Inspector.’
‘I lied.’
‘Why?’
He turned and spoke over the bonnet.
‘I bent the truth,’ he said, ‘I am working with the police, not for the police.’