The Dead Virgins (The India Sommers Mysteries Book 1) Page 9

  ‘What about the two dead girls? Do you think they are linked to this kidnapping?’

  ‘Hard to say. The only link is the coin but that is what I am going to find out.’

  ‘Is there anything else?’ she asked.

  ‘Nope, that’s it,’ he said, ‘you now know as much as me.’

  ‘Wow,’ she said quietly, ‘this is completely and utterly mad.’

  ‘Right, we need to get serious now, India. Four people are dead that we know of, another is in a coma and a child’s life is at risk. From now on in I need your full attention and cooperation. You need to tell me anything that you may know, relevant or not. If there is any link in this direction, I need your expertise to guide me.’

  ‘Understood,’ she said.

  He looked up at the digital display.

  ‘We have an hour until take off so now it’s your turn, I want you to go through this whole Samothrace thing. I need to know exactly what we are getting into.’

  ----

  Chapter 11

  Rome 64 AD

  Rubria was sitting at the sacred hearth when she was unexpectedly summoned to the emperor’s palace for the last time. She went out to the courtyard where the high priestess was talking to Dragus in hushed whispers. They were obviously agitated over something.

  ‘Holy Mother,’ she said as she approached, ‘what’s concerns you?’

  ‘Child,’ she said, ‘Nero has summoned you to his presence and Dragus worries for your person.’

  ‘Dragus it is nice to see you again,’ said Rubria, ‘your posting here ended six months ago. How is it that we are honoured by your presence?’

  ‘My comrade has been dispatched on duties elsewhere this evening and Nero saw fit to send me instead,’ he explained.

  ‘Tell me, what news is so concerning that it warrants lowering the Holy Mother’s brow with worry?’

  ‘Sister Rubria,’ said Dragus, ‘the emperor is agitated and lashes out against all around him. I only ask that perhaps you don’t attend until his mood calms.’

  ‘How can I deny my emperor?’

  ‘You could say you were ill.’

  ‘Dragus,’ interrupted the high priestess, ‘ours is a service of truth. There are issues here that you don’t understand. Rubria represents Vesta herself and enjoys her protection. If I thought there was any risk to her safety, I would not let her go and gladly suffer the consequences.’

  ‘Holy Mother,’ said Dragus, ‘I understand but something vexes him. There are things afoot that he keeps to himself. I think something terrible is about to happen and don’t want any of you at risk. Even the senate fear for their safety.’

  ‘Dragus,’ said Rubria as her hand rested gently on his arm, ‘fret not. I enjoy the emperor’s trust and over the past year have become his confidante. Yes, his mood swings wildly and I have seen him lash out on several occasions but never has he given me cause to worry about my safety. On the contrary, I believe my presence inspires a calming effect on his troubled mind. If my emperor needs me, then I am duty bound to comply. His majesty is second only to the great goddess. Give me a moment, I would cleanse myself and return shortly.’

  The centurion nodded in reluctant acceptance and watched her glide across the courtyard to disappear into the atrium.

  ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Holy Mother,’ he said, ‘Nero’s excesses know no limits.’

  ‘I have no choice, Dragus,’ said the high priestess, ‘the very temple is at risk. At least this way we may have some advance warning.’ She stared at him for a long while. ‘Dragus, we are honoured by your concern but when you gaze upon Sister Rubria, I see a look in your eyes that extends beyond the love of Vesta.’

  Dragus looked down in shame.

  ‘You are truly wise, mother,’ he said, ‘it is true that I am entranced by Rubria’s beauty and elegance but I assure you I respect the goddess and all who serve her. My intentions are honourable and I seek only to ensure her safety.’

  ‘I know,’ said the high priestess kindly, ‘and your patronage is greatly welcomed but beware the tendrils of lust, Dragus. This is an affection that can never be returned.’

  ‘I am aware of this,’ he said, ‘and accept that this is a lifetime’s burden that I have to bear.’

  ‘The goddess will support you, Dragus,’ she said, ‘will you join with me with a glass of warm wine while we wait?’

  Forty minutes later, Rubria’s litter once again rested inside the outer courtyard of the emperor’s palace. She stood for a moment straightening out her attire before walking toward the doors. Dragus caught up with her and walked at her side.

  ‘If you feel threatened at any time, Rubria, you must leave immediately. Do not hesitate or take any chances. I will be waiting outside these doors for you.’

  ‘I don’t know how long I will be.’

  ‘It matters not, I will be here.’

  She stopped and took his hand in hers, setting his pulse racing as she pierced his soul with her gaze.

  ‘I am touched, Dragus,’ she said, ‘but worry not for my safety, the goddess is with me.’

  ‘I hope you are right, Rubria,’ he said and watched her disappear for the second time that night.

  ----

  Rubria knew at once that something was wrong. The whole atmosphere of the palace was different and the lack of servants was disturbing. She made her way through the audience chamber and into the corridor that led to the emperor’s private quarters. Eventually she stood before the double doors flanked by two praetorian guards.

  ‘I am Rubria of the temple of Vesta,’ she said.

  ‘You are expected,’ responded one of the guards and opened the door. She walked into Nero’s reception area and waited for the doors to close behind her. As soon as they slammed shut she made her way nervously toward his quarters. Without warning, a female slave burst out through a door and ran past her, sobbing as she went. Her clothes were torn and her face bloody.

  ‘Wait,’ shouted Rubria, painfully self-conscious that she had raised her voice to someone less fortunate than herself.

  The girl collapsed to the floor and waited for the admonition that would surely follow. Rubria approached and squatted next to her, gently brushing the girl’s hair back revealing her bruised face.

  ‘You seem to be hurt,’ said Rubria, ‘please, let me help you.’

  The girl looked up nervously, surprised yet dubious at the sound of a kind voice in a world of harshness.

  ‘Are you a goddess?’ she murmured, staring into Rubria’s beautiful face.

  ‘No,’ smiled Rubria, ‘though I do indeed serve one. I too am a servant, though the mistress I serve is Vesta.’

  ‘You are a holy virgin?’ gasped the girl in astonishment.

  ‘I am,’ confirmed Rubria, ‘and I need to bathe your injuries.’

  The girl threw her arms around the priestess.

  ‘Mistress of the great goddess,’ she pleaded, ‘please honour me with your blessing.’

  Rubria glanced around. She knew that the blessing of slaves was frowned upon in the higher levels of Roman society.

  ‘What is your name, child?’ she asked.

  ‘I am known as Rose, mistress,’ she said and altered her position to kneel in front of the priestess, clasping her hands together in the universal gesture of prayer.

  Rubria made the dedication to Vesta and marked the sign of the Goddess on the slave’s forehead. Suddenly a voice echoed across the chamber causing Rubria to jump back in fright.

  ‘Priestess.’ roared Nero from a balcony, ‘what insult is this? You dishonour me in my own household.’

  The slave scrambled to her feet and ran from the chamber in terror while Rubria gathered her wits and prostrated herself before the emperor.

  ‘Imperial majesty,’ she intoned, ‘forgive me my impudence. I seek only to spread peace and harmony throughout your household.’

  ‘I decide when there will be peace and harmony,’ he raged, ‘and today is not such a day.’<
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  Rubria stood and looked up at her emperor. He was draped in his imperial purple robes and wore a golden laurel wreath on his head, albeit tilted to one side. In one hand, he clutched an amphora of wine, in the other he brandished a cane.

  ‘Guard,’ he shouted, ‘bring that slave to my quarters.’ He slammed the cane down onto the marble balustrade with a force that made Rubria flinch, ‘she will learn that no one denies the whim of the emperor.’

  ‘If I can be so bold, Majesty,’ said Rubria, ‘it would seem you are a little vexed today.’

  ‘Hold your counsel, priestess,’ he shouted, ‘I am in no mood for your oiled tongue. You will meet me in my chambers immediately and bring a fresh amphora with you.’ He disappeared out of sight and Rubria made her way to the door that led to his private quarters. A few minutes later, she stood before the drapes to his bedchamber, alongside a pair of slaves.

  ‘Enter.’ roared a voice and one slave pulled back a curtain while the other handed her the obligatory container of wine.

  She walked into the inner chamber and stared at the dishevelled figure of the emperor now sat on his couch, staring at the floor.

  ‘You are late,’ he snarled.

  ‘I came as soon as I could,’ she said.

  ‘Not soon enough.’ he snapped, ‘am I not your emperor? All tasks should be cast aside to meet my demands.’

  ‘My apologies,’ she said and approached the couch, stopping to collect a stool on the way. She placed herself before him, waiting for him to look up. Eventually he met her gaze.

  ‘Your eyes pierce me like an assassin’s blade, priestess,’ he said.

  ‘You have said as much on many occasions, Sire.’

  ‘Yet, still I catch my breath every time you attend.’

  ‘If my appearance offends, then I can only apologise.’

  ‘Cut the false modesty, priestess,’ he snapped, ‘you know your gaze is like a drug to me.’ He stood up and walked slowly around the room, expanding on his comparison, ‘intoxicating to partake,’ he said as he passed her, ‘yet poisonous in its effect.

  She tensed at the silence that followed before jumping as his head suddenly appeared on her shoulder.

  ‘And addictive in the memory.’ He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, absorbing her intoxicating scent.

  Rubria stood up nervously and took a few paces away from him.

  ‘Priestess,’ he said, throwing his arms wide, ‘it is I, your glorious emperor. Surely you do not fear me?’

  ‘I only worry for you, sire,’ she said nervously, ‘I have not seen you like this before.’

  ‘Like what, priestess?’ he asked, ‘intoxicated? Lyrical?’ He paused and leaned forward as he sneered, ‘scary?’

  ‘All three, sire,’ she said.

  He stared at her again before seeming to come back to his senses.

  ‘Fear not, priestess,’ he sighed, ‘my reasons for summoning you here are entirely honourable.’

  ‘I did not fear otherwise, sire.’

  ‘Good, so I expect you want to know why you are here.’

  ‘I’m sure you will tell me in your own time.’

  ‘You’re right, I will but suffice to say tonight you will witness history being made. An event of such devastation, it will elevate me to the ranks of Romulus himself, paving my way to the gates of the pantheon.’

  ‘You intrigue me, sire,’ she said, ‘what act can have such consequences?’

  ‘All in good time, priestess,’ he said and walked to a cabinet to retrieve something before spinning around with a flourish. ‘First of all, I will entertain you.’

  She stared at the lyre in his hand. The tales of Nero frequenting the taverns of Rome dressed in plain clothing, regaling the masses with song and verse were manifold but living the life she did meant she was sheltered from such things. He hesitated, scrutinising her reaction.

  ‘This concerns you?’ he queried.

  Her face broke into a beautiful smile.

  ‘On the contrary, sire,’ she said, ‘I think it is a delightful idea.’

  ‘Good,’ he said, his smile matching hers, ‘in that case, you may sit on my couch and relax, for you are in the presence of a genius.’

  ----

  Deep in the poorest part of the city, a group of figures stood silently in the gloom of a side alley, waiting for instruction. Each was dressed in the manner of a servant and an iron cooking pot lay at their feet. Eventually a seventh figure entered the alleyway and addressed the group.

  ‘The wind has risen,’ he said, ‘and blows in the right direction.’

  ‘At last,’ said one, ‘three nights I have stayed from the whorehouse. The girls must think I am dead.’ The leader silenced a ripple of laughter.

  ‘Enough,’ he said, ‘this is serious business. There are piles of rubbish everywhere, make these your targets. The vigils are under instruction to delay their response. Ensure your identity is not revealed and if someone does see through your disguise,’ He pulled his cape to one side revealing his Gladius, ‘ensure it is the last thing they see.’

  A murmur of mirth again rippled around the group.

  ‘Right,’ said the disguised officer, ‘let’s get it done and I will see you back in the barracks before dawn.’

  They each picked up an unlit torch from the floor and in turn, placed its oil soaked head into the fire pot. Within a few minutes, seven Praetorian Guard were running through the maze of streets, setting light to anything that would burn. Fanned by the warm night breeze, the flames quickly took hold and soon the fires reached the point of no return, Rome was ablaze.

  ----

  Rubria clapped her hands in delight, with an enchanted grin on her face. The emperor had just finished another song extolling the virtues of his horse.

  ‘Wonderful, Sire,’ she laughed, ‘though I’m not sure the senate would appreciate the implied similarities.’

  ‘I’m glad you like it,’ said Nero, ‘there are those who would doubt my unarguable talent.’

  ‘Then they have not experienced it, Sire,’ she said, ‘you are truly gifted.’

  Though Nero was indeed skilled, Rubria was worried about his descent into drunkenness and played to his vanity in an effort to better his mood. He had been singing and reciting for over two hours, breaking only to eat and attend to his toilet. Rubria had picked on some fruit and sipped on watered wine, more to appease the emperor rather than any need but she was getting tired and longed to be gone. She was wondering how to broach the subject when the situation took a fateful turn. Outside in the distance someone screamed.

  ‘Ah, I believe the time is approaching,’ said Nero, ‘come with me.’ He led Rubria from the room and made his way through the corridors of the palace and up several stairwells. Eventually they reached a round room at the top of a tower. Nero stopped before a pair of drapes and turned to face Rubria.

  ‘Oh, priestess,’ he said, ‘how privileged are you to witness what now unfolds.’

  Rubria waited patiently until he called her forward and shuddered involuntarily as he placed his arm around her shoulder to lead her out to the balcony. What she saw took her breath away. The city sprawled out before her like an embroidered blanket but though she had seen the vista before, this time it was different. Scores of fires illuminated the darkness each seemingly competing for size as the breeze fed their hunger. Even as she watched, she could see more and more fires starting and as they did, the screams of those affected became audible.

  ‘By the gods,’ she gasped eventually, ‘the city is ablaze.’

  ‘That it is,’ answered Nero, moving behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders, ‘the city is being cleansed of the accumulated filth of generations to make way for a place of greatness, a place where an emperor can reside alongside the gods and become immortal.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Rubria, ‘who would do such a thing?’

  ‘Those who recognise my greatness and would hasten my path to the Pantheon,’ said Nero.
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  ‘But why?’ she asked, unable to take her eyes from the catastrophe unfolding below.

  ‘To scourge the city of what has been and make way for what will be. Across the hills to your front, magnificent gardens and marble palaces of unimaginable opulence will replace the places presently occupied by the hovels of the poor. At its centre will be a building the likes of which Rome has never seen before, a palace fit for a god, adorned with gold and bejewelled in precious stones from across the empire. The world’s greatest artisans will be brought to Rome to decorate the walls with friezes and mosaics of such breath-taking beauty that scholars and kings will travel from the corners of the earth to weep at their beauty.’

  ‘But I don’t understand, Sire,’ she said, ‘surely the palace in which you reside is glory enough for one man?’

  ‘Any ordinary man perhaps but not a god and besides, how could I expect any woman worthy enough to rein alongside me to settle for anything else?’

  ‘Alongside you?’ she asked, ‘I don’t understand, are you saying you have plans to marry?’

  ‘Oh yes, Rubria,’ he said, ‘plans indeed. Look again before you and imagine the sweeping hills covered with lush vegetation, interspersed with fountains and streams. Fish will dart in its pools and tiny deer will gambol through the manicured gardens. Bird song will be the only sound to disturb the peace and the tastiest of fruits will make the trees groan under their weight. Oh yes, priestess, I have plans and when all this is done you will understand why it was necessary.’

  ‘But what about people’s homes?’ she asked, ‘where will they all go?’

  ‘It concerns me not,’ said the Emperor, ‘they are my subjects and would willingly give up their very lives for my benefit. What matters a few mud bricks and wooden doors? There is room enough on the outskirts for new buildings or even outside the city walls but the centre of Rome should reflect the greatness of my glory, or should I say our glory?’