Rome 2010
Once again, India and Brandon were in the safe house in Rome. Helios had picked them up from Samothrace in the middle of the night in his fishing boat, and they had sailed to Rome over a period of two days, hugging the coastlines of the Greek islands to avoid any searches that may be underway. Finally they had arrived in Civitavecchia, and, after rewarding Helios handsomely with a wad of notes, Brandon had flagged down a taxi and they had made their way to the safe house.
‘Who exactly is he?’ asked India in the taxi.
‘Who?’
‘Helios.’
‘Ask no questions and I’ll tell you no lies,’ murmured Brandon, gazing out of the window.
‘Ah, Grey man syndrome,’ she said.
‘Something like that,’ he said and remained silent for the rest of the trip.
— -
They were each given their own room, and, after taking a long hot shower, India eventually joined Brandon down in the lounge, refreshed and ready to eat. Shirley, the landlady was an English woman who had married an Italian many years previously and had a surprise up her sleeve.
‘Hello luvvie,’ she said when India entered the room, ‘You look nice. Sit down and I’ll bring you a drink. What would you like?’
‘Oh, I don’t know really,’ said India, feeling a bit awkward. It wasn’t as if this was a hotel or guest house, this was someone’s home.
‘I tell you what,’ said Shirley, ‘While you’re having a think, I’ll make us all a nice cup of tea, shall I?’
‘Oh, tea would be wonderful,’ said India with a smile, ‘I didn’t like to ask.’
‘You can ask me anything you want, luvvie,’ said Shirley.’ It may have been twenty years since his lordship swept me off my feet and brought me here, but I still think you can’t beat a good old cup of British char.’
‘Lovely,’ said Brandon and Stella left to make the tea.
‘Feel better?’ asked India
‘What do you mean?’ asked Brandon, ‘I’m fine.’
‘You were a bit moody in the car,’ she said, ‘I just thought there may be something wrong, that’s all.’
‘No, nothing wrong,’said Brandon, ‘Just thoughtful.’
‘Penny for them,’ said India with a smile.
‘All this historic stuff,’ said Brandon. ‘It’s all very interesting and all that, but we don’t seem to be getting anywhere fast and all the time that little girl back home is in danger.’
‘I thought we were doing well,’ said India. ‘We’ve managed to trace one of the suspects this far. Isn’t that good?’
‘In a sense, yes,’ said Brandon ‘But don’t forget, everything we have uncovered so far is just conjecture. We have nothing that actually ties him to England and have found nothing yet that may link him to the girls. All we have is the dead guy from the library and this Peter Venezelos who tried to burn down the house. There are so many different parts to this puzzle yet nothing seems to fit.’
The door opened and Stella brought in the tea.
‘Dinner won’t be long,’ she said, ‘Roast beef and Yorkshires do you?’ The delight on both people’s faces was priceless and she returned to the kitchen to finish the meal.
‘A good old roast,’ said Brandon, ‘Better than all that foreign muck.’
‘Behave,’ said India, ‘When in Rome and all that.’
‘Anyway,’ said Brandon, ‘Tell me about this Vestal Temple. How is it linked to this Palladium thing?’
India sipped her tea and sat back to explain.
‘Like I said,’ said India, ‘The statue of Pallas Athena finally ended up in Rome, hundreds of years after its disappearance from Troy. Stories vary how it got there, but when it did, it was placed in the care of the Vestal Virgins.’
‘And who were they, exactly?’
‘They were extraordinary women who dedicated their lives to the worship of the Goddess Vesta, or as we now know, the Great Mother. They originated sometime around the formation of Rome and there were never more than half a dozen at any one time.’
‘What did they do?’ asked Brandon.
‘Nothing much really, they cared for the sacred fire at the heart of Rome, a symbolic flame that represented the hearth as a central point of any family. They also took part in religious rituals throughout the year and looked after various important documents and treasures of the government.’
‘Like the Palladium?’
‘Yes, but that was just one of many. Some we will never know as they were guarded jealously but we know they also looked after important papers of state.’
‘But why did they have to be Virgins?’
‘The tradition stemmed from thousands of years earlier when the young girls of the villages used to be left behind to tend the fires when the rest of the villagers went out to hunt and forage. Due to their age they were obviously virgins, and, over time, virginity became synonymous with tending the sacred fires. Eventually it became almost a cult and the Vestal Virgins became a very powerful entity within Rome. They were feted by many and had the power of reprieve over criminals sentenced to death. They were salaried and in a very patriarchal society were allowed to own property and develop business interests of their own. Those who saw out their thirty years ended up very wealthy and powerful women.’
‘What do you mean, thirty years?’
‘Oh it wasn’t a lifetime sentence,’ said India, ‘They were selected between the age of six and ten and had to serve at least thirty years in the Goddess’s service, ten as a trainee, ten as an actual Priestess and ten as a tutor. After that they were free to leave the order and marry if they so desired. Mind you, so privileged was the position that most stayed within the order.’
‘And during those thirty years, they had to stay chaste?’
‘Yes, and that’s the flip side. Their virginity was seen as a symbol of their divinity and a sign of their devotion to Rome. Once they had lost that link the penalty was brutal.’
‘Don’t tell me they were killed,’ said Brandon.
‘That’s exactly what happened,’ said India. ‘In the beginning they were simply flogged to death or strangled, but, as time went on, society demanded that no-one could take the life of a Vestal Virgin so they came up with a cruel alternative. Anyone found guilty of losing their virginity, whether by choice or by rape, were sentenced to a horrific fate. They would be carried through the streets of Rome on a litter in front of the whole population. The crowds would remain deathly silent as they witnessed the soiled Priestesses make her way to the streets of Campus Sceleratus where a subterranean tomb had been prepared. She would then be forced to climb down a ladder, and, in the room would be a candle, a bed, some water and food. Once down there, the room would be sealed and covered with the soil and slabs of the road above. The crowd would disperse and the city returned to its business.’
‘How long would she be down there?’
‘That’s just it. That’s where she stayed and her name never mentioned again.’
‘What, forever?’
‘Yup!’
‘But I thought you said they couldn’t kill a priestess.’
‘Well, in their own way they thought that they weren’t killing her. She had food, light, water and comfort. As far as they were concerned when they left her she was alive and what happened after that was of no concern to them.’
‘That’s stupid.’
‘But true,’ said India.
‘How many were killed like that?’ asked Brandon.
‘The figures vary but probably not more than a dozen or so.’
‘Wow,’ said Brandon. ‘That’s brutal.’
‘A severe price to pay for love,’ said India.
‘Or lust,’ said Brandon.
‘Don’t be such a philistine,’ said India. ‘I’m sure that any that may have succumbed to their desires would have done so only because they had fallen in love.’
‘Yeah, right,’ said Brandon sarcastically. ‘Anyway, where is this Temple?’
‘Near the foot of the Palatine hill,’ she said, ‘Or what’s left of it. There are substantial ruins there and apparently you can still see the base of the Dias that once held the Palladium.’
‘And you think that’s where Venezelos would have gone?’
‘As good a guess as any,’ she said.’ It was the last place the Palladium was known to be, and had been for hundreds of years. If you are going to try and learn about its whereabouts you may as well start there.’
‘And you think that is what these boys were after.’
‘If they believed it existed, I have no doubt. It would be the greatest find since Tutankhamen’s tomb. Not only would it be a political coup for Samothrace but would make anyone finding it, instant millionaires.’
‘So that’s where we’ll go first, then.’ said Brandon.
‘May as well,’ said India. ‘I can’t wait, I’ve always wanted to see the buildings around the Palatine.’
‘Roast beef first,’ said Brandon, ‘Sightseeing later.’ As if on cue Stella’s voice rang out from the kitchen.
‘Dinner’s ready,’ she called. ‘Come and get it.’
They both stood up and walked into the dining room to enjoy a British feast in an Italian home.
Early the following morning they took a taxi to the ancient city and made their way to the area of the palatine. As the car drove off they stood in awe looking up at the ruins. Crowds were gathering and touts were already trying to rope in the tourists to their respective tours. Brandon looked around and settled on one younger man who sat to one side rolling a cigarette.
‘This way,’ he said and walked over to the Italian.
‘Excuse me, do you speak English?’ he asked.
The man glanced up briefly but returned his attention to the cigarette.
‘Tours over there,’ he said, ‘Fifty Euro’s, best tours in Roma.’
‘I don’t want a tour,’ interrupted Brandon.
‘Then I can’t help you,’ said the Italian, reaching into his inner pocket for a lighter.
Brandon held out two fifty Euro notes in front of the man’s eyes. The Italian paused and drew a lungful of smoke, before blowing it out slowly.
‘What do you want?’ he asked.
‘I want a personal tour of the Palatine,’ he said. ‘Just us two and a local expert. Someone who knows the history of this place inside out and can tell us things that may not be in the official guide books.’
‘Like what?’
‘Anything.’
‘I know of someone,’ he said. ‘Used to work for the museum and was the best guide around here for years. Got fired for selling something he found in the undergrowth.’
‘Sounds good,’ said Brandon, ‘Where can we find him?’
‘You don’t,’ said the man, ‘I do!’ He took the hundred Euros’ from Brandon’s hand. ‘One hour he said. We will meet you back here.’
Brandon grabbed the man’s wrist.
‘Make sure you do,’ he said ‘And if he is good, there is another five hundred each for both of you.’
The guy took another drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke over Brandon’s head, before pulling his hand from the man’s grip.
‘Don’t worry, English,’ he said, ‘For five hundred I will bring the Pope himself.’
‘One hour,’ said Brandon and they watched the man walk away.
‘What was all that about?’ asked India.
‘Sometimes you have to dig deeper beneath the surface to get to anything of quality,’ said Brandon. ‘Anything the tour guides have to say we can probably find out on the internet. What we want is someone who grew up around here.’
‘Do you think he will come back?’ she asked
‘He will come back,’ said Brandon, holding out another note. ‘Be a love and get us a coke,’
India snatched the note with a snarl, but as she walked towards the ice cream stand, a slight smile played around her mouth.
An hour later they were sat on a bench in the shade of a dried olive tree. Finally the Italian reappeared with a reluctant looking old man.
‘Is this him?’ asked Brandon.
‘This is Louigi,’ said the younger man.
Brandon held out his hand.
‘Hello, Louigi,’ he said, ‘I’m Brandon and this is India.’
‘Ciao,’ said Louigi and shook Brandon’s hand.
‘I hear you were the best guide on the Palatine,’ said Brandon.
‘Still am,’ said Louigi, ‘These others are just amateurs selling their stories to the tourists that pay the best money.’
‘Surely, they’re not all bad,’ said Brandon.
‘Not all, but most. So, English, what do you want to know?’
Brandon looked at India.
‘I think this is where you step in,’ he said.
‘Hello, Louigi,’ she said. ‘We want to know about the history of the Palatine and in particular, the Temple of Vesta.’
‘Ah, the Vestals,’ said Louigi, ‘Well, Miss India, this is your lucky day. The history of the Sisters is my particular favourite. Come with me.’ He turned and walked back the way he had come.
‘Wait a minute,’ said Brandon, ‘I may be no expert but isn’t the Forum that way?’ He pointed up the hill towards the main ruins.
The old man stopped and turned around.
‘If you want to be a sheep, join the flock,’ he said, ‘My story lies this way.’ He turned and led them down a cobbled side road away from the growing crowds.
Ten minutes later they ducked under a wire perimeter fence and walked across a rough piece of ground.
‘Where are we going?’ asked Brandon.
Louigi didn’t answer but continued up a small grassy rise. He stopped and waited for the others to catch him up. They stood alongside each other gazing at the whole of the Palatine hill rising before them, magnificent in its splendour.
‘Wow!’ said India, ‘That is beautiful.’
Louigi sat down on the grass and patted the ground beside him.
‘Come,’ he said, ‘Sit.’
Brandon looked at India and shrugged his shoulders before sitting to the left of Louigi. India sat to his right.
‘Look before you,’ said Louigi sweeping his hand across the vista to their front.’ Tell me what you see.’
‘Um, buildings,’ said Brandon, ‘Ruins of a city. Some trees, a couple of column things and tourists, lots of tourists.’
Louigi gave him a look bordering on contempt before turning his attention to India.
‘And you, Lady India?’ He asked, ‘What do you see?’
India held his gaze for a moment before turning her gaze back to the city.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘That building complex over there is the arch of Septimus Severus. I think that one over there is the Temple of Julius Caesar. I can see the Temple of Vesta and of course the Forum Romanum.’
Louigi nodded appreciatively.
‘I can see you have some knowledge,’ he said. ‘You have learned from lessons in school and from books in your libraries. This is all very well but you need to look past the bricks and mortar. Look past the photographic images and let your soul see what I see.’
‘And what is that?’ asked Brandon.
Louigi took a deep breath and half closed his eyes.
‘Oh, the sights are truly wonderful,’ he said. ‘Not archaeology or sightseers but a living breathing city. Imagine these buildings glistening in the sunlight, soaring skyward in the morning sun, the colours vibrant and powerful. The main street running through the centre of the Forum, flanked by a row of stunning marble Colonnades stretching as far as the city walls in the distance. The street is full of people bustling back and fore, going about their business. Slaves in simple tunics carrying their Master’s wares to the markets or pulling hand carts piled high with bales of cloth and amphorae of wine. Ladies dressed in swathes of beautiful coloured cloth making their way to buy the day’s food, and the business men in their Toga’s heading to the Forum for a day’s debate on the politics of the day. And then there’s the smells,’ he continued, ‘Can you imagine? Hundreds of ovens in this area alone, making the bread for the city. Roasting hops from the breweries. Stalls piled high with fish from the Mediterranean and spices from the eastern borders of the empire.’
‘You see, English, when I walk these streets I breathe the history. Rome is more than just a tourist attraction. She is, and always has been a living breathing entity. Millions of people visit every year yet only a tiny proportion care about her history. Her traumatic birth, her violent youth and glorious adulthood, yet, though she is old, she has not yet died. Yes she is changing but these ruins in front of you are nothing but an outfit she is discarding in favour of a more modern image.’
‘Such is my city, English. So ask your questions and I will tell you my stories. But complain not if my answers do not match the history books. My tales are from the mouth of my grandmother and a hundred grandmothers before her.’ He stopped and lit a cigarette, breathing in the smoke deeply as he looked over the city he so obviously loved.
A short silence followed before India spoke.
‘You are obviously very passionate about your home, Louigi,’ she said, ‘But we were wondering whether you could let us know anything about the Vestal Virgins.’
‘Aaah, the Sisters,’ he said, ‘The most purest and misunderstood citizens of Rome. Well, I suppose you already know the basics. The recruitment process, the training and their lifetime of devotion to the Goddess Vesta. Over the millennia, their purity and devotion became the focus for poets and writers alike and legends have arisen around them. The very mention of their name conjures up stories of drama and beauty. Some true, many false but all passionate.’
‘It must have been a very holy existence,’ said India.
‘And boring,’ said Brandon.
‘Oh don’t believe everything you have heard,’ said Louigi. ‘Yes, most of them were chaste but don’t forget, they were recruited between the age of six and ten, and were closely guarded over the next ten years while they were trained. This meant that when they were finally allowed out into the wider world they would have been in their late teens and early twenties. An age when their hormones would have been rampant. In a city where sex and debauchery were not only freely available but celebrated, they would have been exposed to temptation all around. Many fell foul of their own desires and broke the vows of chastity.’
‘Hang on,’ said Brandon, turning to India, ‘I thought you said that anyone caught having sex were buried alive.’
‘Oh many were,’ interrupted Louigi, Throughout Rome’s history, twenty two Vestals were found guilty of breaking their chastity. Eighteen of those were buried alive.
‘What about the other four?’ asked Brandon
‘Two killed themselves, one was forced to marry the madman Emperor Heliogabalus, but there is no record of what happened to the last one, apart from the fact she was murdered by Nero.’
‘Really?’ asked India
‘Absolutely!’ said Louigi. ‘Though many historians say that Nero married the Vestal Rubria in 64 AD, the fact is he raped her and then got rid of her body.’
‘How do you know?’ asked Brandon.
‘We know Rubria was a particularly beautiful woman with long blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes. We also know Nero wanted her for his wife, for it is recorded in the diaries of Suetonius Tranquillus, the Roman historian who lived at the time. He also recorded the rape, and we can only guess, that the reason he raped her was that she rejected him. That was probably the worst thing she could have done for as we know, nobody ever said no to Nero.’
‘How did he kill her?’
‘Well, we don’t know for certain but out of all the Vestals her fate is the only one not recorded but everyone agrees that after raping her Nero probably murdered her.’
‘I didn’t know,’ said India.
‘Their history is filled with anomalies,’ said Louigi.’ Let’s not forget the order lasted over fourteen hundred years and during that time thousands of girls would have worn the stola of Vesta. By implication it is obvious some would have fallen by the wayside. Some were tempted by the flesh, some were indeed executed. There are even stories of some betraying Rome to her enemies.’
‘How?’ asked Brandon
‘Well, they were often used as go-betweens during times of tension as they were seen as incorruptible. Unfortunately that wasn’t always the case. On one occasion a Priestess called Tarpeia was sent as an ambassador to the besieging Sabine army but sold out in return for what she thought would be a fortune in gold. Unfortunately the Sabine king tricked her and he had her crushed beneath the shields of his army. When the battle was over, he had her body thrown from a cliff on the Capitoline hill.’
‘The Tarpeian Rock?’ said India.
‘It subsequently became known as that,’ said Louigi, ‘And was a place of execution for traitors for hundreds of years after that.’
For the next hour, Louigi regaled Brandon and India about the lives and deaths of the people of Rome. The triumphs, disasters, achievements and tragedies. In particular he recounted the stories of the Vestals and their roles in the daily life of Rome. India was transfixed and sat in silence as she listened to Louigi bringing history to life, but Brandon was getting impatient. Eventually he took advantage of a break in the conversation.
‘What about the Temple of Vesta?’ he said, ‘I understand they contained the treasures of Rome.’
‘Aaah the treasures,’ said Louigi, ‘Always the treasures. As soon as the word is mentioned the tourists eyes light up with images of Gold and Silver, But Rome’s true treasures were not of reformed elements but of history and tradition. You see, just as we look back on Rome’s past, they looked back on the stories of their ancestors, and the greatest of these became central to their view of the world. Where we hope for gold, the Romans gathered documents. Where we imagine Silver, they revered artefacts. Such were the true treasures of the Temple, English, parchments from long dead empires, statues from annihilated cities, stories from kings and confessions from Emperors. These are real treasures, and I would gladly give my life for one day alone with such things, but alas fate decreed they would be lost forever.’
‘But were they, Louigi?’ asked Brandon, ‘Is it possible that any may have survived to the present day?’
‘Probably not,’ said the Italian, ‘Though some people think that history may have been altered to hide mistakes.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You already know what I mean,’ said Louigi, ‘Your line of questioning tells me you probably seek the Palladium. Personally I think you waste your time. Many have already taken this path, both scholars and treasure hunters, with no luck.’
‘Humour us,’ said Brandon, somewhat bluntly, ‘What do you mean altered history?’
‘There is an emerging school of thought,’ said Louigi, ‘That the Palladium exists and is in the hands of a private collector.’
‘But how can that be?’ asked India, ‘Everyone knows the Palladium was taken to Constantinople by Emperor Constantine. It is buried beneath the Constantine tower with all the other treasures.’
‘But was it?’ said Louigi, ‘For centuries, that is what has been believed, but, as more and more evidence is revealed, some historians believe that the statue taken by Emperor Constantine was a fake and the real one actually disappeared hundreds of years earlier, during the rein of Nero.’
‘Why?’ asked India.
‘Because the last time anyone actually saw it, was just before the great fire in 64 AD. After that, it was withdrawn from view for safe keeping. Apparently it was kept in a wicker basket and never seen by anyone except the Vestal Priestesses. However, it is now thought that either it was burnt in the fire or was stolen in the confusion. Apart from the shame that would have brought on the order, imagine the effect on the population if it was known that the image of their protector had been destroyed.’
‘There would have been widespread panic,’ said India.
‘Exactly,’ said Louigi, ‘It has been suggested that it was withdrawn from view, simply because it was missing. After the devastation of the fire, Nero could not risk the backlash from the people and would have needed a cover story while a copy was made. Eventually it was placed on display again, but what we don’t know is, was it the original or a fake? We will never know for sure.’
‘So was the Temple destroyed in the fire?’ asked Brandon
‘Oh yes,’ said Louigi. ‘It was destroyed several times over the centuries, either by fire or by her enemies but it was always rebuilt.’
‘So do you have any idea where the Palladium may be now?’ asked India.
‘No.’
‘Even if you knew, you wouldn’t tell us, would you?’ asked Brandon.
‘Not really,’ said Louigi.
‘Can’t say I blame you,’ said Brandon. He stood up and stretched his legs, walking around the nearby ancient rubble.
‘So what happened to the Vestals themselves?’ asked India.
‘They carried on for a few hundred years after the fire but not even they could hold back the tide of Christianity sweeping the known world. They were finally disbanded by Emperor Gratian in 382 AD and the last Vestal Priestess died twelve years later.’
‘So that’s it then,’ said Brandon coming back to the group. ‘The Palladium disappeared and all the Vestals eventually died out, carrying their secrets with them forever.’
‘Well, not entirely true,’ said Louigi, ‘The Vestals in Rome died out but the cult continued in temples around Europe for a few hundred years after that.’
‘There were Vestals elsewhere?’ asked Rubria in surprise.
‘Oh yes,’ answered Louigi.’ The Goddess’s influence reached right across Europe, even as far as your England.’
‘What?’ said Brandon spinning round in shock.
‘Didn’t you know?’ asked Louigi, ‘The cult was established in England for hundreds of years.’
Brandon stared at India.
‘I didn’t know,’ she said quietly. She turned back to Louigi. ‘Where was it centred?’
‘I don’t know much about your England,’ he said ‘But I do know it was near London and was built not long after General Paullinus wiped out the armies of Boudica. It would have caused quite a stir in Rome as Britannia had only just been conquered and was still a hotbed of violence.’
‘That’s amazing.’ said India
‘I wouldn’t get too carried away,’ said Louigi, ‘There were hundreds of similar temples throughout the empire.’
Brandon looked at his watch.
‘Look, thanks very much,’ said Brandon, ‘You have been a great help but we have to be somewhere else in an hour.’
India looked at him quizzically but stood up anyway. Louigi rolled another cigarette as Brandon counted out two rolls of Euros. He gave the first to the younger Italian before holding out the second roll to Louigi. The man moved his hand to accept the money but moved his hand suddenly and grabbed Brandon’s wrist. Brandon tried to pull his hand away but the old man’s grip was like iron.
‘What do you think your doing?’ he asked.
‘Who are you?’ snarled the man.
‘What?’ asked Brandon, perplexed.
‘You have been lying to me.’
‘What are you on about?’ snapped Brandon.
‘The ring,’ growled the man. ‘You wear the ring of Nike.’
Brandon looked down at the ring India had taken from the body of Peter Venezelos back in England.
‘I bought it,’ he lied and yanked his hand free.
‘You are a liar, English,’ said Louigi. ‘There are only a few of these rings in existence and the owners would protect them with their lives.’
‘Why, what do you know about the owners?’
Louigi stared at him and took a step backwards.
‘I don’t know who you are, English,’ he said, ‘But I want no more to do with you. Now go.’
‘Now wait a minute,’ started Brandon and took a step forward.
The younger Italian stepped forward and aimed a previously concealed gun at Brandon’s head.
‘You heard him,’ English he said. ‘You have what you came for; now leave before it is too late for all of us.’
‘This is stupid,’ said Brandon. ‘Why are you so scared?’
‘You are the stupid one, English,’ he said, ‘Now go, before I do something we will both regret.’
‘Okay, said Brandon, ‘Calm down. We are going.’
‘Not just from here,’ said Louigi, ‘You must leave Rome before someone else sees the ring.’
Brandon and India walked slowly backwards to the path before turning and hurrying down to the road. Brandon waved down a taxi and they sat in silence, stunned at the close shave they had just experienced.
‘What was that all about?’ asked Brandon eventually in disbelief.
India turned and looked at him. He expected to see a look of horror on her face but was surprised to see a slight smile playing about her lips.
‘India,’ he said, ‘Are you alright. You’ve been quiet for ages.’
‘Oh I’m alright,’ she said, ‘In fact, better than alright. I’ve think I’ve just worked out where the Palladium is!’
‘You have?’ he stated in shock, ‘Where?’
‘Littlewick Green,’ she said with a smirk. ‘Come, on, we need to book a flight. I’ll explain as we go.’