‘What’s that?’ The high priest’s voice was sharp.
Hirsus repeated what he had said — a little more loudly this time. ‘On your strict instructions, Pontifex. Meritus told us yesterday.’
Marcus looked enquiringly at the high priest. ‘And is this so?’
The old man had been looking vague, but he brightened visibly. ‘Indeed, indeed, I did give the command. Dear me. A necessary precaution, we thought, Excellence. A matter for experienced celebrants. Of course, we could not guess then that a body would be found, but we thought it probable that something would occur. And I’m sure the principle was sound enough. If the gods are already angry, we decided, we should not add to it by interfering in their acts with unhallowed hands.’ He nodded his white-capped head at me.
My hands, he obviously meant, but Marcus chose to ignore the implication. He turned back to Hirsus. ‘So you found the body and went for help? Tell me, how did you come to discover it, exactly?’
‘Your pardon, Excellence, I thought you understood. We were in the robing room, preparing — there is to be a procession, as you know — when Meritus came in saying that, after that dreadful moaning sound, he wanted both the censers lit and carried with the images. Scribonius agreed. He said they should be lighted from the sacred fire, and I was supposed to be the duty priest today. So I was sent. It is beginning to get dark as you will have noticed, gentlemen, so I lit a taper from the brazier, and went over to the shrine.’ He had forgotten his nervousness by now — or rather it had made him garrulous, because he went on without a pause for breath. ‘It was very dark inside the shrine, only the light of the embers on the altar, and I didn’t notice that there was something pale glimmering at its foot. I almost fell over it. But as soon as I lifted my taper over it, I could see exactly what it was.’
He gulped again, but no one said a word. We were all imagining, too clearly, what had met his eyes.
‘Right in front of the altar, Excellences, where all the signs and omens occurred before. Stretched out full-length like a kind of sacrifice. And that bloodstain seeping over it. It was hard to believe it was a human form — just a package of something soft and warm and wet-’
‘You did touch it!’ I could not help myself. I interrupted him.
Hirsus shook his head.
‘You must have done,’ my patron said, with a triumphant look at me. ‘Otherwise how could you know that it was warm?’
Hirsus shook his head again. He looked genuinely bewildered. ‘Believe me, gentlemen, by all the gods! I would not have dared. And nor did Meritus or Scribonius when they came. We simply closed the shrine and sent for you. But. . I don’t know. I suppose I know what blood is like — I’ve seen it shed at sacrifice often enough — and this was new blood, freshly spilt. Great Mercury!’ He swallowed hard. His pale face had taken on a greyish hue and his voice choked as though the memory had made him nauseous. ‘It glistened in the taper-light. . bright red. . and had a warm smell, if you understand. .’
Strangely enough, I thought I did, though Marcus was looking dubious.
‘Excellence,’ I said urgently, ‘I think he’s telling us the truth. And if he’s right, that is significant. If that blood is warm and wet there is a chance the man is not yet dead.’
Marcus and the high priest stared at me.
Hirsus gave a little sob. ‘No man could lose that quantity of blood and live. Citizen, he was completely drenched in it.’
‘All the same,’ I said. ‘I think that we should go to the temple now. Immediately. Without waiting for the guards. Suppose it is the legate’s messenger? Bad enough that he should be attacked. Do you wish to have it said you left him there to bleed to death, with no one coming to his aid?’
If I had suggested that Jupiter himself was liable to descend at any moment, I could not have caused more of a sensation. Everyone leapt to their feet at once, and began their own manifestations of panic.
Aurelia started crying out aloud, ‘We shall be ruined!’ and tearing at her hair.
Her husband shuffled to the household shrine, pulled up his hood and began muttering incantations to himself — though, if he was hoping to avert evil influence, it seemed to me he’d left it rather late.
Marcus said nothing, but he had that tight-lipped look I knew. It meant that he was planning something. Usually something uncomfortable, involving me.
I was right. He tapped his baton on his thigh and gave me his most patronly smile. ‘I suppose that you are right as usual, my friend. If there is any chance of what you suggest, there’s no time to be lost. We shall simply have to brave the mob, and hope they haven’t broken through the gates. The high priest cannot go, of course, in case the man is dead and he finds himself looking on a corpse. Nor me, for the moment, I’m afraid. I must consult with him and plan what can be done. We can hardly go ahead with the procession if there is a body in the shrine. You go with Hirsus and assess the situation. I will have the slaves bring torches, and I won’t be far behind.’
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. When I had urged this I had envisaged a large party, with plenty of illumination and a dozen slaves. I’d never thought of going back there alone.
Bad enough that the mob was after me, but to walk through the temple precinct in the dark! A temple where strange happenings had occurred for days. All those shadowy statues and stone gods. Bloodstained altars and a chilling shrine where, at best, a bloodstained horror awaited me! At worst — I didn’t dare to think of it. Compared to this, being a self-flagellant in a procession seemed almost desirable.
Hirsus seemed no more keen than I was. ‘Excellence,’ he wailed. ‘I’m sure the man was dead. And how could it be a messenger? The temple grounds have been sealed off all day. Besides, if Libertus is ill-omened and we take him to the shrine. . Forgive me. . Oh, blessed Mercury, we shall all be doomed!’
But it was too late. Marcus frowned, and tapped his baton on his palm impatiently. ‘You heard me, sub-sevir.’
I had brought this on myself. Marcus had given his command, and there was no help for it.
Which is how I came to find myself walking alone with Hirsus, through the inner gate into the darkness of the temple grounds.
Chapter Twenty-one
It was getting seriously dark by now. Dark clouds had blocked out whatever stars there were and the feeble light of the taper we were carrying only served to make our surroundings seem more mysterious. Also there was suddenly a damp chill in the air. I am a rational man — or try to be — but even to me the graven faces of the gods appeared to stir as our moving torch-flame flickered across them, and a hundred expressionless stone eyes seemed to be silently following our every move.
Beside me, Hirsus was panting with terror. I could see him fingering his amulet.
I could feel my own pulse racing. From somewhere beyond the temple there came a faint, persistent roar. Too far away to be distinct, but rising and falling like the sea, with sometimes a high shout, louder than the rest. The crowd. I have heard them like this at the arena, shouting ‘Kill the netman! Death to the trident-bearer!’ I did not need to hear what they were chorusing tonight. I knew.
Ours was not the only light in the precinct, however. In the distance we could dimly see the shadowy silhouettes of slaves, coming and going beside the outbuilding, with lamps or burning torches in their hands. Further off, half shrouded by the grove, we could see the dull red light of an altar fire. A group of dark figures could be seen, and behind them the columns of the Imperial temple gleamed menacingly in the glow.
Hirsus, who had not addressed a single word to me, gestured towards all this with his hand. He was clearly too petrified to speak. It must be my presence, I thought suddenly, rather than his surroundings, which terrified him so. He must after all have crossed this courtyard a hundred times, and the shadows of the temple were his second home. I knew from Scribonius that the duty priest sometimes kept watch all night. Yet he was genuinely terrified. He really feared that I was cursed.