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Updated: June 16, 2025
The Vestals might mourn but the Atrium was never in mourning. Its routine went on as if nothing had happened; no sign of grief was displayed or even permitted; visitors were received as usual. Among the first visitors to the Atrium on the morning after Almo's fight and Meffia's death was, naturally, Flexinna. At the first word Brinnaria cut her short.
"He left Velitrae day before yesterday," said Flexinna, "and went to Aricia. Yesterday he challenged the K-K-King of the G-G-Grove." "Just as Celsianus conjectured," Brinnaria groaned. "Some unthinkable method of suicide. Is he dead?" "No," Flexinna replied. "He's very much alive." "Then he is the King of the Grove!" Brinnaria cried. "They haven't fought yet," Flexinna informed her. "Impossible!"
"Whoever she is," Flexinna continued, "she is sure to be chosen and taken mighty quick. For with this p-p-pestilence in the city, and all the trouble the P-P-Parthians are making in the East, of the Marcomanni on the Rhine colonies, and the thunder-storms that have raged about lately, there'll be need felt for all the p-p-prayers all the offer. They'll not leave the vacancy open long.
I have been racking my brains about it ever since it happened and it is an enigma to me." "No riddle to me," Flexinna declared. "It's as c-c-clear as d-d-daylight." "If you are so sure," said Brinnaria, "explain. I have no guess even." "Why," expounded Flexinna, "he was there to c-c-collect evidence against you.
I can't think of anything, except death, that would fill me with more horror than the very idea of being made a Vestal. It makes me shiver now just to speak of it." "You're a f-f-fool," Flexinna declared, "the f-f-foolest kind of a f-f-fool. This is the f-f-first f-f-foolish thing I ever knew you to d-d-do. I always th-th-thought you s-s-so s-s-sensible, t-t-too.
Terentia, who was passionately fond of small children, revelled in her visits to Flexinna's house, where there were children of all ages in abundance, all ready to make friends, all diverting, all pleased at being petted, and, as Flexinna said: "Not a stutterer among 'em." >From Almo news came frequently through Flexinna.
"She's got a b-b-big purple birthmark on her neck." "Magnonia," Brinnaria proposed. "She's far away, in Britain, with her father and mother; might as well be out of the world." Brinnaria was at a loss. She meditated. "Gavinna!" she said at last. "She has a bad squint and you know it," laughed Flexinna. "Why don't you think of an eligible c-c-candidate?"
You look sixteen to anybody, and no one would imagine you are under fourteen. You could halt the proceedings, at least, and gain t-t-time." "Faltonius has the lists," said Brinnaria wearily, "with all the birthdays sworn to by both parents for every girl on them and attested by four excellent witnesses, besides. He'd know I was lying and it would do me no good." Flexinna changed the subject.
"It would have been Occurnea, I think," Flexinna said. "You know it was a chance for a while whether she'd get it instead of Meffia. But she's not eligible now. Her mother d-d-died yesterday." "Tallentia, perhaps," Brinnaria hazarded. "Impossible," Flexinna declared. "You remember how recklessly she rode and how her horse f-f-fell on her. She has limped ever since and always will."
Otherwise Brinnaria was very happy. Through Flexinna she had frequent news of Almo. Ancient Rome had no institution, public or private, in any way corresponding to our post office. But routes of trade and travel by land and sea were well defined and traffic along them fairly regular, on the most used routes almost continual.
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