'In answer to the summons, I made my way to the House of the Vestals. The doors stood open, as they always do; it is the law, not wooden doors, that keeps men out at night. I had been to Fabia's room before, always chaperoned and in daylight, of course, so I had no trouble finding it. She was quite surprised to see me, for it turned out that she had not sent the message at all! It was a practical joke played on me by some dubious friend, I thought — until Fabia and I were startled out of our wits by a scream'

'A scream?' said Meto.

'From behind a curtain. The scream of a dying man, as it turned out. I pulled aside the curtain to discover him writhing on the floor, his throat cut, and beside him a bloody knife. The whole house was awakened. Before I could flee, the Virgo Maxima herself entered the room It was a thorny situation.'

Tongilius laughed aloud. 'Lucius, what a gift you have for understatement!'

Catilina arched an eyebrow. The gesture was typically patrician, but together with his chin-strap beard and unruly cuds, it gave his face the shrewd look of a satyr contemplating an unprotected sheep. 'The situation wasn't compromising — Fabia and I were both fully dressed — but there remained the fact that I was on forbidden ground, and of course the presence of a corpse in a holy place. Do you know the penalty for such crimes, Meto?' Meto vigorously shook his head.

'Really, Gordianus, you've neglected the boy's education. Do you not regale him with anecdotes of your past adventures, dwelling on all the juicy details? When a Vestal is convicted of an improper dalliance with a man, Meto, the man is put to death by public scourging. Painful and humiliating, but not the most terrible of fates — death is death, after all. But for the Vestal — oh, for her, the end is far more gruesome.'

I glanced at Meto, who gazed raptly at Catilina. Tongilius, who must have heard the tale many times already, found fresh amusement in Meto's wide-eyed fascination.

'Shall I tell you the punishment for a Vestal found guilty of impiety?' said Catilina.

Meto nodded.

'Really, Catilina,' I protested, 'the boy won't sleep a wink tonight.'

'Nonsense! A young man his age craves images of horror and depravity. A fifteen-year-old sleeps best when he's had his head freshly filled with atrocities.'

'I'll be sixteen this month,' said Meto, wanting to remind us he was almost a man.

'There, you see,' said Catilina. 'Really, you're too protective, Gordianus. Well, them first, the Vestal is stripped of her diadem and her linen mantle. Then she is whipped by the Pontifex Maximus, to whom, as head of the state religion, all the Vestals are directly accountable. After being whipped, the condemned Vestal is dressed like a corpse, laid in a closed litter, and carried through the Forum attended by her weeping kinfolk in a hideous parody of her own funeral. She-is carried to a place just inside the Colline Gate, where a small vault is prepared underground, containing a couch, a lamp, and a table with a little food. An executioner guides her down the ladder into the cell, but he does not harm her, as her person is still sacred to the goddess Vesta and she cannot be killed outright. The ladder is drawn up, the vault sealed, the ground levelled. No man bears direct responsibility for taking her life, you see; the goddess Vesta claims her.'

‘You mean she's buried alive?' said Meto.

'Exactly! In theory, if the court has been mistaken and the Vestal is innocent, the goddess Vesta will refuse to take her life, and she'll remain alive in her tomb indefinitely. But since the vault is sealed, the opportunity to redeem herself is merely a technicality. And surely Vesta would eventually take pity on the girl and snuff out her life whether she was innocent or not, rather than let her live through eternity in a cold vault, alone and miserable.' Meto contemplated this idea with awed repulsion. 'Fortunately,' said Catilina, 'that is not what happened to the lovely Fabia. She is very much alive and still a Vestal, though I haven't spoken to her in years. We can thank your father for her salvation. Really, Gordianus, you never told this tale to your son? It's not bragging to simply tell the truth. But if Gordianus is too modest, I will tell it for him.

'Where was I? Ah, yes, in the House of the Vestals, in the middle of the night, alone with Fabia and a fresh corpse. The Virgo Maxima, who found us, was already implicated in a scandal herself and desperate to avoid another. She sent for help to Fabia's brother-in-law, a rising young advocate famed for his cleverness — Marcus Tullius Cicero. Yes, the consul himself, though who then could have foreseen his destiny? Cicero in turn sent for Gordianus. And it was Gordianus who discovered the murderer still lurking in the House of the Vestals when no one else could find him. It turned out that the assassin had miscalculated his opportunity to escape and was trapped in the courtyard when the gates were shut He was hiding — can you believe it? — in the pool among the lily pads, breathing through a hollow reed. It was your father who noticed that the reed had moved from one place to another. Gordianus strode into the pool and pulled the man sputtering from the water. The assassin swung a knife. I leaped upon him. A moment later the man was impaled on his own blade. But before he died he confessed all — namely that my enemy Clodius had put him up to everything: sending the false note, luring me to the House of the Vestals, following me inside, and killing his confederate, so that I would be found not only in a dubious position but with blood on my hands in a sacred place.'

'But there was a trial?' said Meto.

'Of sorts. The assassin was dead, so nothing could be proved against Clodius. Even so, with the biggest prude in Rome to defend her honour — I mean young Marcus Cato, of course — Fabia was found innocent, and so was I. Clodius was so disgraced he fled to Baiae to wait for the scandal to blow over. He didn't have long to wait That was the year the gladiator Spartacus began the great slave uprising, and the little matter of the Vestals was quickly forgotten in the wake of more momentous events.

'Alas, Meto, I fear I've disappointed you. The scandal was no scandal. at all, you see, only a contrivance designed by my enemies to have me dishonoured at best and at worst put to death. I cannot claim to be the man who deflowered a Vestal and lived to tell about it, for I never did such a thing. I merely prevailed over a trumped-up charge, thanks to the help of clever lawyers and an even cleverer man who called himself the Finder. Ironic, is it not, Gordianus, that it was Cicero who called on you to unravel the mystery? Of course it was his wife's half-sister Fabia whom he wished to save from ruin, not me. Even so, in those days Cicero and I were not yet enemies.'

There followed a long silence. Tongilius was beginning to nod. So was Meto, despite his enthusiasm for the tale.

'Younger men require more sleep than their elders,' said Catilina.

'Yes, off to bed with you, Meto.'

He made no complaint, but rose and nodded respectfully to our guests before leaving. Tongilius followed him shortly thereafter, retiring to the room he was to share with Catilina.

The two of us sat in silence for a long moment. The night was warm and still. The lamps were beginning to sputter and sink. The sky above us was moonless and pierced by bright stars.

'Well, Gordianus, did I do justice to the tale and to your part in it?'

I paused for a long moment before I spoke. I stared up at the stars, not at Catilina. 'I would say that you put the facts plainly enough.' 'You sound dissatisfied.'

'I suppose I still have my doubts about the matter.' 'Doubts? Please, Gordianus, be frank.'

'It always seemed odd to me that a man should spend so much time and effort courting a young woman sworn to chastity, unless he had some ulterior motive.'