“You tidied up?” I posed the question without exaggerated disapproval. These people were intelligent. They knew that I knew they wished that their secret had remained within the cult.

The Master immediately increased his air of deep apology. “I am afraid we did. It was, after all, the main night of our annual festival and we hoped to avoid panic among the attendant staff and members of the public who were visiting the Games. The Sacred Grove of the Dea Dia had been polluted too, so there were considerations of how to reconsecrate it as swiftly as possible… Well, this is a most dreadful business, but there is no untoward secrecy. I am grateful that you have come to me with your concerns. Let me explain what has happened, as far as we know it-”

“The dead man was one of the Brethren?” I asked.

“Unhappily, yes.” I noticed he made no attempt to give a name. “A sad domestic incident. The woman responsible was found wandering in the Grove immediately afterwards, covered with blood and weeping hysterically, totally deranged.”

“You call it a ‘domestic incident’; do you mean she is a relative of her victim?”

“Sadly, yes. Is it not true, Falco, that people are most likely to be murdered by members of their families?”

I acknowledged it. “Men get killed by their wives, usually. You saw the woman yourself?”

For the first time he did appear to be overcome by the grim story. “Yes. Yes, I did.” He was silent for a second, then went on. “She became calmer, seeming bemused. I spoke to her gently, and she admitted what had happened.”

“Was she capable of giving any rational explanation?”

“No.”

“Difficult!” I said dryly.

“These things happen. It was quite unexpected, or the ghastly consequences might have been averted. Our member, it now transpires, had been troubled by the woman’s bouts of mental stress but was attempting to protect her by concealing them. People do that, you know.” I made a face that said I knew. “I have made further enquiries, and I am satisfied that this is the truth. Her mind went. Whether it was under some great burden that cannot now be discovered or some unfortunate natural illness, we may never know.”

“Official action?”

“No, Falco. I have consulted the Emperor today, but there is nothing to gain by a court case. It would only add to the immense distress of those involved. Nothing remained for us to do but arrange for the body to be given reverently into the care of his relatives for burial. The poor woman has been assigned to her own close family, on the promise she will be nursed and constantly guarded.”

At this, the two deputy officials we had first met seemed to shift slightly in their seats. Glances passed between them and the Master, then the vice-Master told him, “We were just discussing the arrangements before you returned.”

“Good, good!”

I thought that exchange contained more meaning than the mere words implied. Was some sort of warning being given?

The Master was gazing at me, as if waiting to see if I pressed the issue. I decided to oblige. “Of course there will be no publicity?”

He assented in silence.

“What was the name of the Brother who died?” Aelianus put in.

The Master gave him a narrow look from under his eyebrows. “I am afraid I cannot tell you. It has been agreed-” He spoke heavily, and his tone implied the agreement had been granted by Vespasian, at the consultation which the Master had claimed to have had. “The name of the family involved in this terrible tragedy will not be released.”

The three other Brothers shifted in their seats. I was now in no doubt that they knew the whole story. They were rapt by the way their chief romanced us with the official version.

I pursed my lips, drawing in a long, slow breath. Once, I would have made myself unpleasant, insisting on further information-and I would have got nowhere. When the Establishment closes ranks, the personnel know just how to do it. Aelianus was hopping and eager to pursue it, but I shook my head slightly, warning him not to make a fuss.

“Young man,” sympathized the Master, “I am most perturbed that you should have been drawn into this sad episode while attending on our rites. It must have been an appalling shock. I will speak to your father, but do pass on to him my sincere regrets-and you, Didius Falco, thank you-thank you most heartily for your help and support.”

“Rely on our discretion.” I smiled, trying not to make it grim. The big man in the dinner robe had not asked us to keep quiet; still, it was understood that we would be thoughtful towards the distraught family involved. “I am a trusted imperial agent, and Aelianus, as you know, regards the Arval Brethren with the greatest respect.”

To ask who was in line for the unexpected new vacancy would have been crass. I tipped Aelianus the wink, and we saluted all around, then left.

Almost before we were out of the room, there was a murmur of conversation behind us. The Master’s deputy began saying, as if he could hardly contain himself, “We had a visitation from himself just before all that-” Then the door closed firmly.

I gazed at young Camillus, searching to see how he interpreted our interview. He was Helena’s brother all right. He was angry at how we had been led along and finessed with stonewall courtesy. In view of the antipathy he had already harbored, he was blaming me for the lack of results.

His mouth tightened in distaste. “Well, as I said at the start of this evening, Falco-that was a waste of time!”

WE TOOK THREE strides. Between the exit and us, the Brethren were processing into the Master’s dining room. We stopped.

Behind us, the Master and his cronies came out from the room we had left. The big man paused, clapped Aelianus on the shoulder, then apologized that since the feast was to take place in his private house, where couches were limited, he could not invite us. The ordinary members had slowed, so the Master and other officers could now join the head of their group and lead the way. Aelianus and I stayed where we were to watch the corn dollies all process to their last formal meal of the festival.

“Aulus, I thought on the first day they squeezed you in to watch?”

“Yes.”

“But today the Master reckons they are pushed for space! Dining room must have shrunk.”

“You see conspiracies everywhere, Falco.”

“No. Just two unwanted enquirers who have been fed a very sticky porridge of half-truths.”

Probably all the Master was doing was covering up a tragic incident that would hurt those involved if it became a public scandal. I sympathized with the stricken family; after all, my own had troubles we preferred to veil. But I hated to be patronized.

Tripping over the hems of their white robes, the Brothers jostled past us. They were the pride of the patrician ranks, so half were tipsy and some senile. I counted them under my breath. There were one or two extras, but the corn wreaths stood out. All twelve. Wrong; eleven. One had been carved up last night by a mad wife. At least, I supposed it was a wife, though on reflection the Master had not specifically said so. (I was doubting him on every aspect now.)

“Full complement. Tell me, would-be novitiate, do they usually all make the effort to attend?”

“No. They reckon to muster between three and nine. A full quorum occurred once at the end of Nero’s reign, and is still spoken of with awe.”

“That Master must have owned a spectacular cook.”

“I expect they were going to debate the crazy emperor.”

“Surprise me!”

The party had all crammed into the triclinium. We could hear mutters as they vied for the best couches, and groans as the old men among them struggled to recline their raddled bodies encumbered with the clinging folds of their robes. I could imagine their eagerness to hear salacious details of the murder and to know how bad a scandal affected their order.