Queen of the Night

chamber, took off her tunic and loincloth, washed herself and lay naked on the bed. She felt so tired and harassed she couldn't have cared if half of Rome came trooping through her chamber.
    'Ye gods!' she muttered to the ceiling. 'Theodore could talk you to death! He'd win the crown for sheer boredom.'
    The actor had chattered incessantly from the moment they'd left the Temple of Hathor until they reached the uproar which still reigned at the She Asses. The crowds, aware of the Great Miracle, had thronged in to view the Sacred Corpse, as Polybius now advertised it. Her uncle was doing a roaring trade charging those who wished to view the corpse, then inviting them to sample the 'fine wines and tasty food' of his establishment. Poppaoe, Januaria, Sorry, Oceanus, Mercury the Messenger, Simon the Stoic, and Petronius the Pimp had all been recruited for the kitchens, the counter or the garden. A hot-faced Poppaoe had whispered how the Vigiles had been and gone, their palms well greased with silver. The police had proudly announced that the Great Miracle was not the result of a murder and, consequently, did not fall within their jurisdiction; their captain had eagerly taken up Polybius' invitation to return after sunset for a 'sumptuous meal' and cups of the best Falernian, all on the house. Apuleius the Apothecary, together with Narcissus the Neat, had also been busy investigating; they had eventually established that the corpse was the mortal remains of one Fulgentia.
    'A virgin,' Poppaoe whispered, 'brought in from the countryside by Diocletian's agents. An old porter near the Flavian Gate has identified the corpse. He remembers her being brought to the gatehouse and recalls her name. She later disappeared. No one knows anything about her background. Apuleius believes she was a refugee from the south, fleeing from persecution, being passed from one local Christian community to the next.'
    Claudia had only half listened; she'd heard so much of Theodore's chatter about his stomach, his diet, his triumphs, his finest roles, his favourite authors, towns and theatres, then back to his stomach, that she couldn't listen to anyone any more. On their journey back, Murranus had begun to whistle under his breath whilst Claudia had tried to question the actor about what precisely had happened near the Fountain of Artemis in the gardens of the Villa Carina. Theodore could add little to what he had already said, and Claudia's suspicions only deepened that he was being truthful about most things but holding something back. She narrowed her eyes and watched a fly crawling across the ceiling. Theodore was harmless, so full of himself, he had little time for anyone else. She listened to the noise below and sighed. Helena already knew about the Great Miracle. Well, of course she would! Helena's informers swarmed everywhere. Claudia wondered idly who it could be here.
    'Simon the Stoic!' she murmured. 'I've always wondered how he came by his paltry coins.' Claudia didn't object. It wasn't that the Empress distrusted her,- Helena just wanted to know the truth. Watching Polybius downstairs, Claudia had realised that the uncle she loved so much, for all his roguish ways, was up to something, but what? Polybius, for all his nefarious dealings, would not sink to murder or body-snatching, whilst Apuleius was a man of integrity. Claudia's eyes grew heavy, but she shook herself awake. She had to dress, eat and go out to the Lucia Gloriosa tavern to meet those veterans. Murranus would escort her. She smiled again and stretched. Tomorrow Murranus would report to Aurelian's villa and she would go with him to make sure!
    Claudia sat up. She must concentrate on the present. Murranus would have to wait; these abductions had to be investigated. She swung her feet off the bed. One conclusion she had reached was that the kidnappings must have been organised by someone who knew about their victims' movements. Before she left the palace, Claudia had read both the police reports and those of Helena's agents, yet she'd discovered nothing new. All the victims had been seized when they were vulnerable, in a lane, a lonely part of a garden, as they left the house early in the morning or returned from the baths in the evening. The ransom demanded was very substantial but not enough to make the victims' parents hesitate, whilst the place of liberation was well chosen. The great cemetery bordering the Appian Way was a rambling, desolate wasteland with dips and