Vestal Virgin: Suspense in Ancient Rome by Suzanne Tyrpak Read Free Book Online Page B

October
     
Year IX, reign of Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus
     
Dear Gallus Justinus,
     
Last night I dreamt of skulls, cracked and yellowed, lining a long corridor—warm stickiness dripped from the ceiling, and the joists were human femurs, flesh clinging to the bones.
     
      
    Elissa read what she had written. The man would think her mad. She tore the page in half, began again.
      
Dear Gallus Justinus,
     
I’m delighted to hear your apple trees are thriving. Ground fish bones should enhance your crop—
     
      
    “Elissa?”
    She glanced toward the doorway. “Coming.”
    The curtain opened, revealing Angerona.
    “Entering unannounced has become your habit,” Elissa said. She blew on the page, willing the ink to dry before Angerona had a chance to read the words.
    “The Vestal Maxima requests your presence.”
    “Why?”
    “She said you’re to come at once.”
    Thoughts raced around Elissa’s head like chariots. The missing letter flashed through her mind. She’d prayed it had been swept under a table, tossed into a fire, but someone must have found the damning words. Nero? Tigellinus?
    “Tell Mother Amelia I’ll be there shortly.”
    Angerona peered over Elissa’s shoulder. “What are you writing?”
    Elissa folded the papyrus, hiding what she’d written. “Just a note to a friend of my family.”
    “Gallus Justinus?”
    “No.” Elissa wasn’t certain why she lied.
    Taking care to hide her nervousness, she wiped her stylus, recapped the inkpot, and drew off her leather writing glove. She needed time to think, time to make a plan. She needed time she didn’t have.
    * * * * *
     
    “Are you listening?”
    Elissa nodded.
    Honeycombs of scrolls lined the library from floor to ceiling. Usually she reveled in the scent of parchment, but today the smell was suffocating. She often turned to books for comfort—Virgil for solace, Aristotle for wisdom, Sappho for oblivion. But now their words floated through her thoughts like dust.
    “Did you hear what I just said?”
    Elissa hadn’t, but she answered, “Yes, Mother Amelia.”
    The Vestal Maxima sat behind her marble desk, feet planted together like an Egyptian statue, her spine straight as a pharaoh’s scepter, proud as a goddess with the power to show mercy or wield punishment. Her hands, knotted from years of scribing documents, rested on the ivory arms of her curule chair. She might have retired ten years ago, at the age of thirty-seven, but like most vestals, she chose to retain her position as one of the most influential women in the empire. Coils of snowy wool wrapped around her forehead like a turban, securing the shoulder-length suffibulum that veiled her graying hair. Her eyes remained sharp, and now they focused on Elissa.
    “You’ve broken my trust.”
    Elissa bit her inner cheek, preparing her rebuttal regarding her letter to Justinus.
    “Your family has suffered a great loss,” the high vestal said. “But even death does not allow a priestess to neglect protocol and run off unescorted to the Circus Maximus.”
    “I’m sorry, Mother Amelia. But Marcus—” she choked on her brother’s name.
    “A tragedy, but no excuse.” Mother Amelia shook her head. “You not only endangered your own life, but you compromised the reputation of the order. Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t be interrogated by the Collegiate of Pontiffs.”
    Elissa dug her teeth deep into her cheek, biting so hard she tasted blood. Willing away tears, she studied the carpet, the intricate design of birds and flowers, sapphire blues, ruby reds. Her gaze came to rest on the clawed foot of the massive desk, and she felt the weight of her circumstance.
    “Nero summoned me,” she said, her voice wavering.
    “So you decided to go to him alone, without seeking my permission?”
    “There was no time.”
    “And, despite breaking rules, despite risking your well-being, did your actions save your brother?”
    “No.” A tear rolled down