Aelianus still wanted to press me for information. He was out of luck. I was sinking under the effects of a long, depressing day. I had two choices now: to collapse and sleep, or to keep alert in the search for little Gaia by tackling some new activity. This was what I had been brooding on, while the barber grazed my neck. As I lay still, while I tried to avoid having my throat cut, my body had rested and my mind cleared. My thoughts had had time to concentrate, as they had not done all that afternoon while I was bound up in physical effort at the Laelius house.
Now I knew what was needed next. I also knew I required help. The best person would be Lucius Petronius, but in fairness to him I could not ask. He had already nearly lost his job over his dalliance with the gangster's daughter. What I planned was far too big a risk.
"So what's your advice to me, Falco?" Aelianus asked, surprisingly.
"Forget the past."
"I have to live with it."
"Build for the future. The Arvals were probably the wrong choice for you anyway: too much of a clique, too restrictive and backward looking. You don't want to dance around some grove where mad wives are killing their corn-wreathed husbands with sacrificial knives." I remembered something I wanted to tackle him about. "By the way, I hear you asked the Chief Spy to discover who the victim was?"
Aelianus had the grace to blush slightly. "We were getting nowhere-"
"We? It was your puzzle, which you told me you were giving up anyway."
"Sorry."
"Right."
"Anyway, Anacrites is useless, Falco. I never got an answer."
"He told me instead. Ventidius Silanus is the man's name. Ever heard of him?" Aelianus shook his head. "Nor me." I gazed at him quietly. "I was surprised you had approached Anacrites."
"Well, it seemed the only hope. I had done all I could. I even thought of riding out along the Via Appia and looking at all the patrician tombs for evidence of a recent funeral. There was nothing. If that's where the urn went, all the funerary flowers and so forth have been swept up."
He had really shown initiative. I hid my astonishment. "You're lucky. The Chief Spy does not know."
"Know what, Falco?"
I let him stew just long enough. "But he could easily find out."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, the evidence is still sitting there in his pigeonholes. I am amazed you should have risked reminding him. Of course, somebody else could do so."
"You?" He was starting to notice my threats.
"You're in my power!" I grinned. Then I got tough. "You were entrusted with a secret document, on which the fate of the Baetican oil industry, and perhaps the whole province of Hispania Baetica, hung. You let it fall into the hands of the very men named as conspirators. You allowed them the time and opportunity to alter it. Then, realizing you had betrayed your trust, you pretended not to notice and handed in the corrupt scroll, in silence, to the Chief Spy."
Aelianus was very still.
"Just like Uncle Publius, really," I taunted him. "And we know what then happened to him-well, no; we have to imagine it." I stopped, imagining all too vividly the stench of the traitor's gaseous and disintegrating body. "Now listen hard: Anacrites is extremely dangerous. If you want a career-in fact, if you want any kind of future at all-don't tangle with him."
The young man ran a dry tongue over drier lips. "So what now, Falco?"
"Now," I said, "I have to attempt something that is sheer madness. But I am fortunate because you, Aulus, do owe me a large debt. So you-without any argument or hesitation, and certainly without telling your family-will be coming along to support me."
"That is fair," he acknowledged. He put a brave face on it. "What is my task?"
"Just holding a ladder."
He blinked. "I can do that."
"Good. You will have to be very quiet while I climb up. We cannot risk discovery."
He looked more nervous. "Is this something illegal, Falco?" Sharp fellow!
"About as illegal as it can be. You and I, trusty comrade, are about to break into the House of the Vestals."
Aelianus knew it was bad news, but it took him a moment to remember precisely that for an offense against the Vestal Virgins, the penalty was death.
XLI
"I don't like this, Falco."
"Hush. It's just a minor trespass."
I had brought Aelianus to the end of the Sacred Way before his courage failed. He was huddling in a dark cloak, his idea of what to wear for murky work. I did not need to play dressing-up games; I had spent my working career under cover for real. It was best to look normal. I was still in my toga, a respectable procuratorial Roman.
Well, Festus used to swank in it. On me, for some reason, this old toga had always looked seedy and moth-eaten.
My idea was that we could pass along the streets like two relaxed dinner companions, deep in philosophical talk. If at any point later in the enterprise I was apprehended, wearing the toga should gain me valuable leeway. I would still be beaten to death, but I would be given time to apologize first. Unlike Maia's children enduring the shame of Famia, Julia Junilla would know when she grew up that her dear father might have shown disrespect to the Vestals, but he went down in style.
"We are going to get caught, Falco."
"We will be if you don't shut up. Look as if you have a docket that entitles you to be here."
Now my heart was pounding. The last time I felt this anxious, I had been working with Pa. In his company, there was good reason to feel terrified. Mind you, rampaging through the art world as the naughty Didius boys had been a doddle compared to this.
"Aulus, I'm not expecting you to come with me; you can stay on guard outside. I've done worse things. All I have to do is climb in, then prowl about until I find Constantia's bedroom door."
"I can't believe the Vestals have name-tablets on their rooms."
"I see you are the logical one in your family."
We had left the senator's house (giving the porter a very oblique message about our future movements). We marched up to the Capena Gate, then turned right in front of the Temple of the Divine Claudius and left down the Via Sacra until we reached the Street of Vesta. We wheeled straight into the walled enclosure, which was not locked.
"Surprise!" muttered Aelianus.
"No, no; they have builders working here. Workmen never lock up other people's property."
I could smell the scent from the Sacred Fire, as it wreathed up gently through the hole in the temple roof. It was too dark now to make out the thin trail. The temple's ornamental drum seemed to loom above us, larger than normal, with a pale white sheen. The Forum outside would soon become eerie. It would look deserted, but everywhere would be alive with sinister rustlings and shufflings. Lovemaking and other unsavory deals would probably occur in here too. If the temple had been left open, dossers would warm themselves at the Sacred Hearth.
There would be patrols. They would come around and kick out vagrants. Once the creatures of the night took over Rome, we would be at risk from both them and those who guarded against them. We had to work fast.
Pallid lights flickered on the large Ionic shrine built against the entrance block. We could not risk a torch. I had not even brought one. The twinkly lamps on the shrine made it the best place to attempt entry. Anywhere else would be simply too dark. It would also mean we would be visible, if anyone came along.
I knew exactly where I was going to find a ladder. I had not been wasting time when I came here this morning. As in everywhere else I seemed to go these days, the contractors working on the Vestals' House after it was destroyed in the Great Fire had adopted a storage area, roping off a corner of the enclosure, probably without a by-your-leave. Nothing was sacred to them. I did borrow a lamp from the shrine in order to explore what the men had left for me. Struggling to be quiet, we edged out the nearest set of rungs. It moved freely at first, then as we angled one end away from the other stuff it seemed to grow heavier and more awkward.