Perhaps Veleda had also noticed that when it came to women, Justinus was an idiot.
He continued resisting contact. I released him. Without a word to anyone, Justinus began his lonely walk to find his wife and tell her the hard decision that maturity and good manners had now thrust upon him. None of us envied the couple their coming struggle to regain some kind of friendship. But he was by nature easygoing and she was bitterly determined; it was feasible. For now at least, the Baetican emerald set would stay in Rome. Justinus and Claudia would get back together, although like all their reunions it would be bittersweet.
Lindsey Davis
Saturnalia
SATURNALIA, DAY SEVEN, THE FINAL DAY
Ten days before the Kalends of January (23 December)
LXIII
I know the historians will not record how the priestess Veleda's future came to be decided. I am debarred from revealing it, for the usual pretentious 'security reasons'.
What occurred in my own house is my own to reveal or conceal. In the circumstances, Helena said it was understandable that the priestess was bad-tempered at breakfast. She had been deeply withdrawn since the moment the previous evening when Helena kissed both of her parents gently, leaving them to oversee whatever transpired between her brother and Claudia. The senator and Julia were sympathetic in-laws. I myself was intending to suggest to Quintus that since Claudia did have so much money, it was time they acquired their own house where their tantrums-which would probably continue-could take their course, unobserved by relatives.
We had gathered up the children, Albia and Veleda and come quietly home. Anacrites seemed to have called off his useless spies. This morning everyone rose promptly. The Vestal Virgin had sent word to Julia that she had arranged an appointment at the Palace. She had made it clear this had not been easy. Although Claudius Laeta had given me this day as my deadline, most imperial business was suspended during the festival.
When it was time to leave, the Virgin sent a carpentum-the twowheeled formal carriage used only by empresses and Vestal Virgins, which can be out on the streets even during the wheeled traffic curfew. This unusual arrival caused a traffic jam on the Embankment as all my neighbours rushed to gawk. Julia Justa had already been collected; she leaned out and indicated, by that screwing of the face all women understand, that we were not to show amazement-but she had after all brought Claudia to take part in the deputation. This made it a squash, since the carpentum is not designed to carry three. Clad in black from head to foot, Helena pushed her way in anyway. We had a chair ready, with Veleda inside but heavily curtained, which then followed the carriage to the Palatine. It was flanked by Justinus and me, and escorted by Clemens and the remaining legionaries, all in burnished gear and, as far as I had been able to ensure, minus hangovers.
We had left Lentullus at my house. Helena and I now knew why her brother had appeared at dinner: Marcus Rubella had finally kicked them out of the vigiles' patrol house, so we had acquired the invalid. His condition was much improved, though he did have a setback when I had to tell him he would have to leave the army. Lentullus rallied, however, when he knew that 'the tribune' was offering him a home.
So that Clemens did not return to Germany short-handed, I had suggested that I should formally free the appalling Jacinthus (he would have to lie and say he was thirty), then we would take him before a recruiting officer (to lie again and say he was twenty), enrolling him in the legions. Jacinthus was thrilled. So was Galene, who had convinced Helena that she should be moved to the kitchen as replacement cook. Once again we would be lacking a nurse for the children, but we were used to that. Once again we would have a cook who couldn't cook-but at least Galene would be interested in learning.
All these issues had been debated and resolved that morning, while Helena and I tried not to disturb Veleda's gloomy reverie. By the time the Vestal Virgin sent transport, we had been running out of bright ideas. Veleda had been dumped by Quintus and was returning to captivity. She hated all of us.
At the Palace, the women stepped down from the carriage. Helena led her mother and Claudia in a stately procession, in through the great roofed Cryptoporticus, along many corridors, to an anteroom, where
Julia Justa and her Vestal friend met and exchanged dry kisses. I noticed that Claudia had managed to wear quantities of jewels, which drew disapproval from the Vestal. Claudia tossed her head defiantly.
We had brought the carrying chair indoors with us. Still guarding it, we men remained outside in a corridor. I kissed Helena. She shook out her skirts, straightened her stole, firmed up the pins holding her veil on her fine hair and led the formal deputation into a major receiving room. We had been told Vespasian was on his usual festival pilgrimage to his grandmother's house at Cosa, where he had been brought up. We could have been lumbered with Domitian, but we were in luck: Titus was imperial caretaker, dealing with emergencies. They were a long time. I was sweating. Flunkeys were anxious to depart for lunch. It was clear that ours was the only business being thrust before Titus that morning. It might be dealt with briskly and casually. I cheered myself up thinking that if Berenice really had been sent packing to Judaea, Titus would have no calls on him during the festival and might welcome work.
Rubbish, Falco. Nobody welcomes work when all of Rome is playing. Titus would rather play solo draughts all day than be tied to the office.
Just as I braced myself to barge past the flunkeys and invade the audience, things became even trickier. Word of what was afoot must have reached the Chief Spy's office. Suddenly Anacrites appeared and demanded that we unload the chair and give him Veleda.
At the same moment, ten-foot double doors with gilded handles silently swung open and the women reappeared. Titus was graciously escorting them out. He always looked fetching in purple, and today was bedecked with an extra-large Saturnalia wreath. His hair, normally barbered to a crisp, had been allowed to grow shaggy as a sign of being broken-hearted at the loss of Berenice, but even so a careful valet had spent time positioning the wreath fetchingly on the curly mop.
'You've lost the game-hand her over, Falco!' the Spy was commanding, as he dragged open the half-door and started pulling Veleda from the chair.
He was stopped in his tracks by the frigid tones of the elderly Vestal Virgin: 'Tiberius Claudius Anacrites-Unhand that woman immediately!'
Titus Caesar had an eye for a beautiful foreigner. At once I saw him sizing up the priestess. As she recovered from the Spy's mauling, she gave a rapid assessment to the imperial prince who controlled her fate. In view of her reputation, Titus thought better of flirting, though he inclined his head politely as far as a heavy wreath allowed. Perhaps Veleda looked more hopeful for the future-though I could see she thought Titus a typical, sexually voracious Roman male. Behind everyone's backs, Helena Justina winked at me.
Her mother had noticed, and smacked Helena's wrist playfully.
The Vestal was in charge. 'You are to be sent to a shrine at Ardea,' she told Veleda. Thirty miles from Rome, Ardea was close enough to supervise yet far enough away to be secure. I thought it had been used as an exile for political prisoners before. 'Your life will be spared. You will live out your days as a temple cleaner.'
Veleda bridled. Helena grasped her hand and muttered quickly, 'Do not despise the honour. Being housekeeper to the gods is a worthy occupation-the Vestal and her colleagues traditionally have that role. It is neither onerous nor demeaning.'