Scribonius looked at me with renewed respect. ‘You know about these regulations, citizen? So few ordinary citizens do. The requirements are extraordinarily strict — do you know the office was left open once, for years, because they could not find a man who met them all? And of course, it isn’t everyone who wants to live a life like that — all those things you’re not allowed to do — even with all the wealth and influence it brings.’
I nodded again. ‘So, His Mightiness the pontifex. .?’
‘Exactly, citizen. He has worked all his life for an opportunity like this. But these events. .’ he waved his hand towards the Imperial shrine, ‘you can imagine what the effect of that will be. It will be seen as an omen against him from the gods. And that will make two of us whose dreams are shattered by all this.’
‘You think he is unlikely to get the position now?’ That was something I had not considered.
Scribonius shook his head. ‘I think it will be impossible. He has ordered sacrifices and purification rituals of the gravest kind, but even he cannot believe that it will help. No augurer in the Empire could overlook a set of signs like those. It will spell the end of everything for him. He may even find himself removed from serving at the temple here, and sent somewhere even more remote — or removed from the priesthood altogether on some excuse.’ He swallowed, his throat working visibly, like a toad’s. ‘Unless. . Oh, what’s the use of pretending! Of course he won’t allow that to happen. I know the pontifex. He’ll try to find some other scapegoat, and pin the responsibility for it onto him. And it’s not hard to guess who that will be.’ He paused and looked at me. ‘So you see why it’s important that you speak to him for me, and remind him that it was Meritus who found the body first. I know that you were shaken by what I said back there but you will do that, won’t you, citizen?’
I was silent for a moment. It was true, I had been shaken — not by what he’d said, but by a sudden fear that this whole business defied analysis, and that some deep unexplained and sinister power was at work.
Scribonius began again, almost babbling by this time. ‘I will offer votive tablets for you, citizen, make special sacrifices. I know what kinds of offerings please the gods and I’ll ensure the animals are flawless and pass the hirospex. I’ll petition them for riches, women — anything you like.’
That brought me back to rationality. The idea of the small, staid, balding Scribonius earnestly petitioning the gods for a selection of willing virgins on my account was enough to make me smile. ‘Ask them for guidance for me, if you must,’ I said. ‘And make sure your offerings are made at the central shrine. Judging by all those prayer tablets from Lucianus, petitions to the Emperor don’t seem to do much good.’
Scribonius looked up at the statues in the courtyard again. My irreverence clearly troubled him a lot. However, the gods remained immovably on their pedestals, and nothing came to strike me dead. ‘Lucianus is a melancholy case,’ he said unhappily, and led the way up to the outer gate. Before he reached it, however, he stopped in surprise.
‘What are all these people doing here? Someone has been gossiping. News must have leaked out somehow to the town.’
He was right. Some rumour had clearly found its way beyond the gates, because quite a little crowd had gathered, and were crowding round the entranceway. Not merely curious onlookers, but people with an air of panic and unease. Some of them were clearly terrified. One or two women were actually wailing, and men were waving votive plaques, or carried sacrificial birds in wicker cages. The temple slave whom I had seen before was now outside the gates, attempting to keep the rabble back, and only just succeeding too, although his temple uniform ensured him some respect.
He was standing on a small four-legged stool, and trying to address the mob, and they were listening to him, though there were mutterings.
‘You must keep away,’ he was saying. ‘There are ill omens for you at the temple now. Go back to your homes, and make your offerings there. There must not be a riot here, or we shall feel more than the gods’ displeasure. The Emperor will hear of it. So go away. Leave matters to the priests. Sacrifices are being offered as I speak, and when the auguries are read the pontifex and the authorities will work out what to do. Your entering the temple will only make things worse.’
The truth of his words made my spine prickle. This was what Scribonius had also feared. If there was a civil disturbance at the temple, then the whole city would have cause to fear. In fact, when the Emperor heard what had happened here already — as he assuredly would do — there could be very unfortunate results for everyone. Commodus took Imperial worship personally.
Fortunately, the slave’s little homily was having some effect. A few of the crowd were still muttering discontentedly but others were beginning to drift away.
‘This is the handiwork of the gods,’ the slave said again. ‘Leave proper propitiation to the priests. There is nothing you can do here for the moment.’
I turned to Scribonius. ‘If this is the hand of the gods,’ I murmured (we were still inside the ambulatory, so that only he could hear), ‘perhaps there is nothing anyone can do. However, I am still inclined to seek a human agency. I remember that opened bolt and that unprotected key. Make your sacrifices, just in case, to placate the deities — but keep your ears and eyes open too. That is the best way you can serve the temple.’
He nodded, doubtfully.
‘Farewell, for now at least.’ I left him to it, and made my way out past the slave and through the gate.
A little gaggle of people still lingered there, reluctant to disperse. As soon as they saw me they surrounded me, asking a hundred questions and tugging me this way and that, all shouting at once, their voices high with panic. I could see in their faces that unreasoning fear which had possessed me earlier.
‘What’s happening, tradesman? Why have they called on you?’ One of the wailing women accosted me. I did not know her, but she’d seized me by the sleeve and forced me to stop and talk to her. I was wearing a simple tunic, of course — if I had been wearing my toga, she would never have dared. ‘What’s happening in there? A demon with four heads they say. And someone saw a shower of stars last night. Are we all doomed?’ She gave my arm a little jerk, as if she could shake the information from me.
Her terror was infectious. I knew that if I closed my eyes, I would see that reappearing stain, hear that inhuman moaning sound, feel the sticky warmth of blood upon my hands. I began to find my own heart thumping hard, and a cold sweat running down my spine. Besides, they were all swarming round me now. I’ve always had a fear of mindless crowds. But there was little I could say to calm them down. I was as mystified as they were. But it would not do to show it.
As I was trying to compose myself, a second crone began plucking at me on the other side. ‘And is it true there was a visitation from the gods?’
‘A monstrous spectre with a face like death?’ That was a third, pulling at my shoulder.
A man in a tattered tunic thrust his red face close to mine. ‘Don’t try to fob us off with lies. We heard that awful moaning yesterday.’
This was getting out of hand. It would not take much to start a riot. I had to do something. I strove to recollect myself. ‘These things are exaggerated in the telling,’ I said firmly, shaking myself free. ‘Some serious events have happened at the temple, it is true, but there is a simple human explanation — which you will be told. But not today.’ I only wished I was as certain of that as I sounded. ‘The priests will tell you at the proper time, but first, of course, they must consult the auguries. Now, I am going back to attend to my work, and I suggest that you all do the same.’