Shadows in the Night (37 page)

But when Silvanius turned to confront us all, he was as white as the marble wall behind him, and looked close to fainting. My heart stopped in my chest. Something was dreadfully wrong.

All the same he kept calm, managing to retain his remote, priestlike manner. “My friends,” he said, “a great impiety has been perpetrated here today. A most monstrous, an unheard-of blasphemy against the gods. I call on you all to witness, and I call on the gods to witness, that I am a loyal Roman and a faithful Priest of Jupiter, and I must and will cleanse this horror from the temple.”

There was complete silence. I could hear birdsong, and the gentle breeze, and I could almost hear everyone’s brains whirring as we all tried to work out what in the gods’ holy name this “horror” could be. What had he found in the sanctum? After the last few days it could be anything. And from Silvanius’ stricken look, it was truly terrible, not just a minor slip-up, like a box of tools accidentally left by the workmen. I felt my stomach knot itself into a ball as I started to speculate. Beside me, Quintus was rigid, his face taut and pale.

“I must consult with my priestly colleagues about what is to be done,” Silvanius went on. “I do not know yet whether this, whether what has happened means the gods are angry with us, and what we must do to appease them if they are. But we will perform the rituals that are needed for cleansing the sanctum, and proceed with the dedication in due course.”

We all just stood dumbly there, still too stunned to move or speak.

“Meanwhile, my friends, the dedication is only postponed, not cancelled. So I ask you all to bear a short interruption with patience, and we will resume the ceremony as soon as we can.”

Now the congregation moved, breaking up into small groups, and everyone began talking at once. The two priests who were helping went into a huddle with the augur and Silvanius, and Balbus and Felix joined them. They all went inside the sanctuary and came out again, looking appalled. After a few heartbeats Silvanius glanced round, caught my eye, and beckoned me over; Quintus came too.

“Clarus, this is dreadful for you,” I said. “But what is it? What’s gone wrong?”

“I don’t understand!” he moaned. Now that we were close I could see that he was shivering. “We purified the sanctum at dawn and nobody’s been into it since. How could it have happened?”

“But what
has
happened?”

He motioned for us to go in and look.

The entrance was narrow, but the high windows let in plenty of light. The inner walls were whitewashed and painted with figures of gods; the room was sparsely furnished, and what there was, including the floor, was made of gleaming white marble, so the effect was almost dazzling. In the middle of the floor there was a small marble altar, and against the back wall, almost touching it, a polished table holding a bronze bowl of water and two ornate incense burners, unlit. But our gaze went straight to the back of the room, under the table, where two bodies were lying. They were side by side, with their heads pointing into the middle of the room and their feet hidden by the table top. They were in military clothing, and they were dead.

They were Junius and Marius.

On each man’s chest was pinned a bone disc; I bent to look, and sure enough, it was the usual threat, with a slight twist to the wording:

ALL ROMANS WILL BE KILLED

WHEN THEY DEFY THE SHADOW OF DEATH

I don’t know how long I stood there just gaping. Eventually I heard Quintus mutter, “That’s odd.”

“Odd? It’s hardly the word I’d choose.”

“Look at the bodies. There’s no blood.”

He was right; there wasn’t a drop, and their faces looked tranquil. My brain started slowly to work, like a wheel being dragged through mud.

“So they weren’t killed here. That’s something to comfort Silvanius. They weren’t murdered in the temple itself.”

“No,” Quintus agreed. “And they weren’t stabbed or beaten up. There are no marks of strangulation either. That only leaves poison.”

Vitalis appeared in the sanctum entrance. His eyes darted everywhere as he took in the scene, though he said nothing. But seeing him there made me angry. Had it all been a pretence, his talk of helping his father with the dedication ceremony? Had he known what the Shadow-men intended to do here today? Because there was no doubt the Shadow-men were responsible for this horrifying act. Had Vitalis himself had a hand in it?

“Vitalis,” I said. “Do you know anything about what’s happened here?”

He shook his handsome head. “Me? Why should I?”

“Don’t play games. We know you’re involved with the Shadow-men, you’ve made no secret of it. This outrage is their work, and how you could bring yourself to take part in desecrating your father’s temple, the gods alone know. And they’ll punish you for it in their own good time.”

“I don’t fear the gods of Rome. I worship the old gods, and they will stand fast in the face of their enemies,” he replied calmly, and turning away, walked out across the forecourt.

“For two bronze pins,” I muttered, “I’d chase after that little scum-bag and denounce him in front of everyone!”

Quintus growled, “I know, but it wouldn’t help.”

“But how could he? It’s just…so awful.”

He touched my hand briefly. “Aurelia, we need the public cleared off the site here, with the minimum of fuss. Silvanius is in no state to do it, so somebody else must. Then you and I can investigate what’s happened, without everyone looking on. Who can we ask to speak to the crowd?”

“I’ll find Vedius Saturninus.” I looked outside and saw him coming towards the sanctum. When I beckoned him in, he was aghast.

“Saturninus,” Quintus said. “This is clearly the Shadow-men’s doing, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, I would. By the gods, the blasphemy of it…defiling a holy temple with death, with deliberate murder. It’s beyond belief!”

“We need your help,” I said. “Can you get everyone to leave quietly, without causing a panic?”

“But shouldn’t Silvanius?…” He glanced outside, and said, “I see what you mean. All right, I’ll do it. How much should I tell them?”

“As little as possible,” Quintus said. “Just say there’s been an unfortunate accident, an irregularity in the ceremony, and the sanctum needs purifying. So the dedication is postponed for today, until the rituals for cleansing have been taken care of.”

He did it well. He’d had a Roman education, and all that emphasis on public speaking comes in handy in a crisis. In no time at all people were leaving calmly, till soon the forecourt was empty but for Silvanius, the priests and the augur, Felix, Saturninus and Balbus, who all crowded around the altar. Vitalis had vanished. The only other people left on the site were about twenty slaves and building workers, gathered in an anxious group near the steps leading down to the street. It was a sorry and depressing scene, so utterly different from an hour ago.

“This is the Shadow-men’s work all right,” I said to Quintus. “The deaths of the tribunes are bad enough in themselves, but they’ve been deliberately associated with the new temple, to make it seem contaminated and unclean. Poor Clarus! Everyone will think the gods have turned against him. How can we prove that this is a mortal crime, not a divine omen?”

“Evidence,” Quintus said. “Facts. When were the murders committed? Where? How were the bodies carried into a closed sanctum in the middle of a temple full of people? The answers have to be here somewhere. All we have to do is find them.”

The obvious thing would have been to start by talking to as many people as possible, collecting eyewitness accounts. But as we approached the altar, we could see that everyone was too upset to respond well to being questioned. The two priests stood close together, talking in hushed tones and looking frightened; Felix was mopping his eyes; Silvanius was weeping noisily, sitting on one of his ornamental stone tubs, a picture of misery. Balbus and Saturninus stood nearby, helpless, yet not wanting to leave a friend in such trouble.

“It’s a complete disaster!” Silvanius was moaning. “Such a blasphemy! A dreadful omen! The gods must hate me very much, to punish me like this. But what have I done to offend them? All I wanted was to give them honour….How can I have brought down such anger?”

And more in the same vein. The poor man was devastated.

“Listen, Clarus,” I said. “This
isn’t
an omen from the gods. Truly it isn’t. That’s what it’s meant to look like, but the gods didn’t do this. Mortal men did it, the Shadow-men did it, to try to convince everyone that the gods are angry. But they aren’t.”

“You think not? You believe these are more of the Shadow-men’s killings?”

“I do, and I believe we can prove it. We’ve got to investigate what’s happened here, and the priests must carry out the rituals needed to cleanse a holy place after death has touched it. You should go home, Clarus, and rest for now. Quintus and I will take care of things here, and stay until the priests have got started on their rituals. Felix, why don’t you take Silvanius home? Balbus, Saturninus, you go too. We’ll follow on later.”

They all went off meekly, relieved to let somebody else take charge.

We stood at the doorway of the sanctuary. “Now it’s up to you and me,” I said. “Where do we start?”

“With the bodies,” he answered. “Let’s go and say a last farewell to Junius and Marius.”

Chapter XXV

“First of all, we need some privacy.” Quintus beckoned the building foreman, Lentus, and also Taurus and Brutus.

“I want the whole temple site kept private,” he told them. “Nobody is to come in. If anyone asks for me or Mistress Aurelia, escort them to us personally. Understand?”

They all nodded and were turning to go when I said, “Lentus, have you been here on the site since dawn?”

“I have, Mistress. We all have.”

“Did you go into the sanctum?”

“I looked in there first thing. It was spick and span, as it should be. Then the priests did the purification ritual, and after that we weren’t allowed. They left one of their little acolytes standing outside the entrance to guard it. Well, sitting, mostly—he was only a kid and he kept dozing off. But none of us could have got in past him. Or would have,” he added righteously.

Quintus had picked up my drift. “So how do you reckon the two bodies could have been carried into the sanctum, with a boy standing guard, and only one entrance in full view of the forecourt?”

He looked uncomfortable. “Can’t rightly say, sir.”

Quintus sighed. “Silvanius is talking about having all the slaves here tortured, to give evidence in court. We were hoping, if anybody could tell us anything useful, he would change his mind.”

“I’m a freedman,” Lentus said quickly. “They can’t torture me. Not that I know anything, anyway.”

“They could torture you under the new Lex Domitiana,” I suggested.

“The which?”

“The Lex Domitiana. It says that if a freedman doesn’t give evidence voluntarily when asked by his patron, and then he’s found later to have important knowledge which he’s held back, he can be deprived of his freedom, and then tortured because he’s a slave again.”

“Never heard of that before,” Lentus grumbled. “Is it true? Really?”

I turned to Quintus. “I’ve got it right, haven’t I?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well…I suppose there is one way it could have been done,” Lentus said reluctantly. “I’m not sure, mind.” We waited. “I’d better show you. And if I do, this new law, it can’t apply to me?”

We shook our heads, and Quintus said, “Definitely not. Aurelia and I will both be witnesses that you’ve volunteered all the information you have.”

“All right then. This way, round the back.” We followed as he led us round the outside of the sanctum, to its rear wall. We were hidden from most of the site here; we couldn’t see the forecourt or the altar, and nobody there could see us. Lentus walked along about half the wall’s length to a massive stone tub with a bay tree in it. It looked well against the smooth white surface, but I noticed some spilt earth on the paving round about. Somebody had skimped on the cleaning-up. Not all that surprising in the general rush.

“Can you help me move this tree, sir, please?” Lentus said to Quintus.

They shifted the heavy thing away from the wall. Behind it, the surface wasn’t so smooth, though it was still white; but a whole section of it, about two feet tall by three feet across, was marked out by a noticeable hair-line crack. When Lentus thumped it with his fist, it rang hollow.

“A false wall!” Quintus exclaimed. “Just a sheet of wood?”

Lentus nodded. He took a small knife from a sheath on his belt and stuck the point into the crack; he gave a practised twist, and the whole section of white wood came away. We could see through the gap into the sanctum, and found ourselves looking straight at Junius and Marius as they lay under the marble table.

“Who knew about this?” Quintus demanded.

“We all did. Except the master. Well, we didn’t want to trouble him. With him being so busy, and all.”

“I bet.”

“It was only a small thing,” the foreman said defensively. “We were going to make good the hole with stone as soon as all the ceremonials were out of the way.”