Emperor: The Blood of Gods

‘I am glad to see he has such friends,’ she said. ‘His mother despairs at the low company he usually keeps. Will you be the witnesses to the document of identity?’

Maecenas nodded, with a glare at Agrippa.

‘Good, then come through.’

They followed her into the maze of rooms and halls beyond the main entrance. The House of Virgins was many times larger than the round temple that faced the forum. Young women scurried past in simple white shifts, often carrying sheaves of parchments or bound scrolls.

Quintina saw their interest and smiled.

‘You assumed they would spend their days in prayer? My girls are part of the beating heart of Rome, gentlemen. Believe me when I say they know more about the laws of the city than the most august orators in the courts or the Senate. When their time in the temple is up, they have no difficulty finding good husbands, with households to run.’

‘I never doubted it,’ Maecenas said. He stumbled as he tried to watch one long-legged young woman who had just passed them. Quintina saw the interest.

‘Though, of course, until then they are children of the goddess. If their purity is, shall we say, removed, they are buried alive – and the man is impaled before the crowds.’

‘A harsh punishment,’ Maecenas said wistfully.

‘But necessary. Men can be wolves, nephew.’

‘Shocking, truly shocking.’

They reached a door of polished oak and the priestess led them in. On a large table lay piles of wax tablets and cut parchment pieces, along with ink and reed pens and all the paraphernalia of a business. Quintina seated herself behind the desk, leaving them standing.

‘This is a simple matter. I have prepared the document to be signed in front of your witnesses. I will add my name and then, Octavian, you will be Gaius Julius Caesar.’ She shuddered slightly as she said the name. ‘I had not thought to hear it again so soon. It is a name of honour. I hope you bear it well.’

‘I will,’ Octavian said. He read the single page, then each man signed his name with the reed pen Quintina handed to them.

The priestess touched a lump of wax to the small flame of an oil lamp. She wore no rings, but used an iron stick imprinted with the seal of Vesta. Octavian repeated her action with Caesar’s seal and she looked at the imprinted image with fond sadness.

‘He was loved, you know. If you are half the man he was, you will make his shade proud.’

She picked up a tiny bell and rang it, waiting as the door opened and a woman of delicate beauty came in and took it from her hands. As the woman passed Maecenas, she made a slight sound and stared angrily back at him. He looked innocent.

‘It is done, then. I hope you understand I could not allow the argentarii to enter the house. It is unusual enough to have the three of you in these rooms. They are waiting for you in the garden on the far side. The gate there leads out to the Palatine.’

‘Argentarii?’ Octavian asked.

Quintina looked taken aback.

‘The moneylenders. They have been applying to me all morning to see you. What did you expect?’