A Murder on the Appian Way by Steven Saylor

Author:Steven Saylor [Saylor, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2007-04-01T07:00:00+00:00

18

Following Felicia’s advice, we turned around and made our way back to the House of the Vestals.

From the Appian Way a narrow, winding lane led up to the forecourt and main entrance. Both the lane and the building were clearly of recent construction; broken earth and tree stumps lined the lanes and the sharp edges and stained walls of the house were not yet softened by the wear of time. It was a humble dwelling compared to the great House of the Vestals in Rome, but hardly a hovel; many a dweller on the Palatine would have been proud to claim it. Or so it appeared from the outside.

It is not true, as many people think, that all men are forbidden at all times to enter any part of a sanctified building where Vestals dwell. I myself had once penetrated into the very sleeping cubicles of the House of the Vestals in Rome, when I was called upon to investigate the scandal that led to the trials of Catilina and Crassus for desecrating the purity of certain of the Vestals. The penalty for such a crime is death for the man, and for the Vestal something far worse: she is buried alive.

That incident was now twenty years in the past, and the circumstances had been highly unusual. But it occurred to me, as I recalled it, that Clodius had been involved in that affair as well. It had been one of his earliest escapades. The general consensus finally held that Clodius had tried to falsely incriminate the accused parties for his own obscure motives, and the reaction against him had been so hostile that for a while he had dropped from sight. Early on, Clodius had set a pattern of attacking powerful men and revered institutions, and had occasionally paid a price for his impudence.

I had no expectation of being allowed into the sleeping chambers of the House of the Vestals on Mount Alba, but if the rules of the dwelling followed those of the one in Rome, during daylight hours the vestibule and perhaps one or two public rooms would be open to male visitors. Vestals are not entirely shut off from the world of men, after all, and must have practical means of meeting and dealing with the tradesmen who serve their needs and the state priests who oversee their activities.

Still, the wizened slave woman who answered the door peered at Eco and me as if she had never seen a man before, or so I thought until I realized that her squinting was due to her poor eyesight. Her hearing also seemed to be impaired. I found myself repeating my request to see the Virgo Maxima in a louder and louder voice, until at last a stout woman wearing the simple white woolen gown of a Vestal appeared behind the slave and gently told her to move aside.

The Vestal wore the traditional headdress of her order, an oblong, purple-bordered scarf wound around her close-cropped hair and secured with a metal clasp at her forehead.

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