Some we already knew: how at the Quadrumatus house the two women had plotted to escape in the laundry cart, then how Veleda managed it, but went alone. How Veleda sought out Zosime, then afterwards made her way to the Temple of Diana, where a priestess gave her shelter out of sisterly fellow-feeling, while Ganna – by then staying at my mother's apartment – was able to visit the temple and leave messages of support. She was never allowed to see Veleda face to face. But temple attendants always reassured her – until yesterday, when Ganna ran there after my sisters had scared her, and they claimed Veleda was no longer with them. 'Ganna ran away because she found your sisters very frightening!' I found them frightening myself 'So where is Veleda now?' I asked, giving Helena a narrow look. Helena accepted my scrutiny in her serene way. 'Ganna insists that she does not know. Anacrites is all set to make pompous demands of the chief priest. A bad mistake.' 'Does he not have jurisdiction over temples?' I wondered. 'Tell that to the temples' priests! It does not do to underestimate the power of such institutions. Even the Emperor would approach cautiously. I think Anacrites will be roundly rebuffed – if only because of the outrages committed last night by the Praetorians in his name.'
'That was stupid.' He should have cleared the operation with the temple first.
Helena nodded. 'He has no diplomacy. But anyway, it may be that the priests really cannot help with Veleda's current whereabouts. If she sensed that pursuit was closing in on her, she may have left in a hurry and without revealing her plans.'
I was not convinced. She was sick, foreign, and probably short of funds. The Temple of Diana Aventinensis may not have liked being stuck with a fleeing barbarian, but once they took her in, they would see it through. 'So where could she go, my darling? She must be running out of options now. Where next?' Helena Justina gave me a straight look. 'It seems nobody knows.' I bet! I knew Helena, so I was convinced Ganna told her something in confidence when they tried the 'two shy girls have to go to the lavatory together' trick. You could tell Anacrites had no real knowledge of women, or he would never have fallen for that one.
I gave Helena a glance that told her I believed that she was holding back – and in return she gave me a smile that said she saw what I thought, and wouldn't give… Fine. 'So was Anacrites impressed by your help, my darling?' Helena Justina let out an uncharacteristic snort. 'He thinks he's very clever – but the man is a fool!'
Excellent. Anacrites had failed to notice that my wife secretly possessed a clue. Helena mentioned that she was going over to the Capena Gate later, to tell her parents and Claudia that Justinus was now free and well. She spoke idly, like any efficient wicked woman. Either she had taken a lover – which I always feared was possible – or she was up to something she thought she could bring off better than me. She might be right, but if she went out on the loose, I was a heavy-handed Roman husband: I intended to play the chaperon. During the day, I watched for indications. She spent a lot of time giving instructions about Julia and Favonia; normally she would have taken them with her to see their doting grandparents. She collected a few things, as if she might be travelling.
I gave her a couple of hours' start, using the time to shave and to pack necessities myself I put Clemens in charge of everything at home, and I asked for a volunteer who could ride. The legionaries were still too upset by what had happened to Lentullus. Only Jacinthus whispered please could he come? Typical. I was better off when I worked alone. Still, he was a dead loss in the kitchen, he took no interest at all in cutlets or calamari, and I might well need a companion. So gritting my teeth at my usual filthy handout from fortune, I set off accompanied by my cook. Jacinthus seemed thrilled to be taken on an unknown mission. He could have been a soldier; all he wanted was to be on the move, never mind why or where.
We tailed Helena from the senator's house to the stables where I knew her father kept his carriage. Two female companions were with her, closely cloaked and followed by a slave carrying small hand luggage. They left the slave behind when they departed in the carriage like the three Graces taking their dancing sandals to a summer picnic. It was a slow vehicle, giving me time to acquire horses for Jacinthus and me.
Whether Ganna had whispered it to her, or whether Helena simply worked it out for herself, as soon as I saw that she was taking a route along the Via Appia and out towards the Alban Hills, it struck me where we were probably going. In winter it would be a long hauclass="underline" we were heading for another shrine of Diana. We were going to Lake Nemi.
XLV
The carriage stopped for a comfort break after about six miles. I rode up. 'Surprise!'
'I thought we'd let you catch up,' said Helena pleasantly. Her eyes lingered on Jacinthus. The cook had no idea his presence was making me feel unprofessional.
To my surprise Helena not only had Albia with her, which I might have expected, but also Claudia Rufina, the hard-done-by wife of Justinus. Claudia was exhibiting the bright eyes and firm mouth of a wronged woman who now had her rival pinned down in catapult range. If Veleda really was skulking at Nemi, she was liable to end up buried there in a shallow grave.
When I grumbled about being excluded, Helena retorted that men were superfluous. The shrine of Diana Nemorensis had become a wildly fashionable complex for wealthy wives who needed assistance in conception. Helena and Claudia were going to Nemi under guise of seeking fertility advice. I said a fertility shrine seemed an odd place to hide a virgin priestess. Claudia sniffed. Albia spluttered with laughter. Helena just grinned and told me that if I had to tag along, I must keep right out of their way at the shrine. That suited me.
Since Nemi lies between fifteen and twenty miles from Rome, our late start was ludicrous. We only reached the area by the feeble light of lanterns. We were forced to stay overnight at Aricia. Aricia had been a stronghold of Augustus' horrible family, so it was full of people who took a snide view of anyone who lacked gods in their ancestry. There were inns. Any town on the edge of a famous sanctuary extends hospitality to those it can exploit. In theory Aricia was a pleasant spot, famous for its wine, its cuts of pork, its woodland strawberries. The whole place was half dead in December, however. Dinner was foul, the beds were damp, and the only consolation was that there were few Saturnalia revellers creating a din on its sour streets. At least we slept. Helena and I slept together, and since we were so close to a fertility shrine, I made sure we demonstrated that we did not need any divine assistance in our matrimonial rites. No votive statue sellers tomorrow would be selling me little models of sick wombs or wobbly penises. In the morning I had barely enough energy to beat up the landlord for overcharging – but that was nothing to do with my exertions, just seasonal depression clamping down.
We did not linger over breakfast, since the inn did not offer any. We found a solitary bakery that condescended to sell a bag of old rolls and some must-cake. Eating as we went, in a manner that would not be approved of by snobs, we set off soon after dawn to find the sacred grove and the lake.
SATURNALIA, DAY THREE
XLVI
The Alban Hills enclose two inland lakes known as the mirrors of Diana – the Lakes of Nemi and Albanus. Of these, Lake Nemi is famously the more isolated, beautiful and mysterious. When the country road brought us three miles from Aricia along the upper ridges, nothing prepared us for what would lie below. That frosty December morning, mist writhed like abandoned laundry on the silent forest trees and hung over the lake basin in a suspended white canopy. The shrine of Diana was set apart from the world, within a perfect circle of volcanic peaks. The enclosed lake gave the impression it might be as deep again as the surrounding hills are high. Tangles of age-old vegetation clothed the steep interior slopes, ancient holm oaks and ash, thriving amidst head-high brambles and ferns; yet somehow a road had been hacked out down inside the ancient crater. Even the presence of Julius Caesar's enormous villa, sprawled in ugly splendour at the southern end of the lake, could not spoil the remote perfection of the scene.