There was one obvious flaw in this convenient theory, though. If this was Genialis, what had happened to the priest? Presumably he wasn’t at the temple now, or no one would ever have supposed that the legs and feet were his. But how could he have got out unobserved? Surely he would never have set off alone for Cantalarius’s farm, and in the dark — since he was missed before the morning sacrifice at dawn? Or had he, for some reason, done exactly that? In which case, was it possible the rumours were all true and was this really the corpse of the old sacerdos, foiling my poor neighbour’s hoped-for sacrifice again?
My mind was going in circles. I was back where I began. It was obvious I must discover more.
My first thought was to call into the temple and enquire. For one thing, I could ask about the movements of the priest and find out, for instance, who had seen him last; and for another I might even get a look at the remains — if they really had been brought there as the money-lender thought. That would settle the question of whose legs they were — Genialis was much stouter than the skinny priest. But wouldn’t the temple have noticed such a thing themselves, if the wrong body had been brought to them? Well, there was only one way to find out.
I hurried to the temple, but as I climbed the steps I found my way was courteously barred. An apologetic but determined temple slave had stepped out from between the pillars and was standing in my path — quite deliberately to stop me getting in. It was not difficult for him to do. He was a man of vast proportions: not quite the tallest person I had ever seen, nor quite the widest either, but approximating both. He was olive-skinned and looked as if he’d once been beautiful — though now his neck and arms were wreathed in folds of fat — and he was resplendent in his dark-red temple slave tunic.
So it was rather like encountering a hill in uniform, as he appeared in front of me, blocking my view and saying in a strangely high and piping voice, ‘I’m sorry, citizen. The shrine is closed today.’
I tried to see round him, but he moved to block my view. ‘But I have business …’ I protested.
He shook his head, jangling the golden hoops that dangled from his ears, and folded his huge arms across his chest. ‘No entrance is permitted this evening, I’m afraid. There’s been a tragic incident and the necessary rituals of cleansing are taking place. I don’t know when the temple will be functioning again. There’ll be a formal announcement on these steps tomorrow at midday. Other shrines are open if you wish to purchase votive offerings. If you have a prayer or curse tablet that you particularly want to present to one of our three Capitoline gods, and you are in a hurry, I can attend to that for you — or deal with any donation that you hope to make.’
‘I’m only here to make enquiries,’ I said, still trying to peer around his massive bulk, though without success. Whatever was going on in the shrine, one couldn’t see from here. ‘The old priest of Diana — I hear his body was discovered in a pond?’
‘I can’t confirm that nor deny it. My orders are quite clear. I must not encourage rumours!’ This was clearly intended as serious rebuke, but in that childish treble voice it was rather laughable. ‘A full public statement will be issued in due course.’
‘I ask because a neighbour of mine was expecting the priest to call on him today,’ I said, adopting a duly apologetic tone. ‘To officiate at a different cleansing ritual. I understand that some donation to the temple had been made, on the understanding that the priest would come. But, of course, if something dreadful befell him on the way …’ I let the words trail off.
The mountain inclined a little towards me at the waist. ‘I think there’s some mistake. He did have a visit from a supplicant yesterday, I know, offering donations to the shrine and hoping he would undertake some private offerings — he was boasting about it in the courtyard afterwards. But he had no duties outside the shrine today — none, at least, of which we servants were informed. He was expected, as usual, at the morning rituals …’
‘Expected?’ I echoed. ‘So he did not appear? So he is missing! I imagine the alarm was raised at once? You say he did not attend the morning rituals? So people have been searching ever since first light?’
A faint pink tone suffused the olive face. ‘Not entirely, citizen.’ He looked furtively to either side then leaned a little closer and said, confidentially, ‘He was elderly, you see, and did sometimes miss the early sacrifice. But then it was time to break our fast and eat the offerings — you know that when the gods have had their share, the rest often is taken to the kitchens to be cooked and then distributed among the priests and temple staff — and that was something that he did like to attend. But when they sent to fetch him, he could not be found. His cell was empty and his bed appeared unused — though he was there long after vespers, I can vouch for that myself. I saw him standing at the window of his cell.’
‘What was he doing at that time of night?’ I matched his tone. ‘Watching for someone? Did he seem in distress? Or didn’t he tell you?’
The mountain shook his massive head reproachfully, making the earrings jangle even more. ‘Of course not, citizen. There was no distress at all. I could see what he was doing. He was praying to the moon. Perfectly normal — he was a priest of Luna, after all.’
I nodded. ‘And of Diana and Fortuna, I believe. Of course Diana has always been connected with the moon.’
‘Exactly!’ the slave replied. ‘So I was not surprised. The night was bright and cloudless and he’d thrown back the shutters — though it was very cold — and was doing his nightly devotions in the dark. He was old, of course, and not as scrupulous at rituals as perhaps he used to be, but he was still a servant of his deities. So of course I did not speak to him — I would not have dared disturb him at his prayers.’
‘But you’re quite certain that you saw him then?’
‘There is no doubt of that. I’ve seen him lots of times, before. Last night I was crossing to the shrine of Jupiter to set the altar fire for the morning ritual and I could see him clearly, in the window space, worshipping the goddess with his arms outspread — just as he always did. It has occurred to me before that it might be dangerous — standing for a long time in the cold like that, at his age, in this weather, without a cloak and hood — but it’s not my place to say anything, of course, and obviously I couldn’t interrupt him at such moments anyway. But then, when they found him later, dead and frozen in the ice — you can see that it seemed like a kind of irony.’
‘So they did find his body head-down in a pool? And was he half-missing, as the rumours say?’
He straightened up abruptly and reverted to his former tone, brisk and official. ‘You may deduce that if you care to, citizen. You did not hear it from me.’ His high voice was even squeakier than before. ‘I know my duty. I am saying nothing more. The temple will make a formal announcement on the steps, when there is agreement on exactly what occurred and what is the best way in which we might proceed. They have called in the augurers to consult the birds. Now, citizen, I think this conversation has lasted long enough.’ He took a single step towards me as he spoke.
I don’t know what I thought that he might do — pick me up and carry me bodily down the steps, perhaps, or call for reinforcements to summon the town watch and have me dragged off to the city jail — but I judged that it was prudent to retreat.