their seats. We may actually have several moments before we must join the procession to the Theatre of Pompey in celebration of Julie. What do you wish?â
âJulie?â thought Iole. âWhoâs Julie?â
âI wish a bit of older counsel with the young one here,â Melania said, as all eyes turned to Iole, who suddenly wanted to drop through the floor. âShe does not understand some of our ways and I donât seem to be able to get through. She also, obviously, has trouble looking pretty. We need a Vestal intervention!â
Almost as one, the group headed up the stairs. Iole thought for a moment that they looked like an arc of doves or a flight of swans.
Then all at once, she felt a different pair of eyes on her; someone staringâthe way no one else ever had. And it wasnât the first time sheâd sensed it since sheâd been in the house of Valerius. Sheâd never been able to locate the source, but now she looked all over and finally caught sight of the large front doors and one of the slaves now pushing them shut.
Crispus.
The handsome youth with the curly black hair was staring back up at her even as he threw the heavy bolt into place. When he saw her catch his eye, he immediately diverted his gaze; he knew what it would mean for both of them if he was caught looking at the pretty Vestal. Death.
Iole was beyond confused. Even her mighty, mighty brain had never anticipated this. She simply assumed that she would be alone for the rest of her life. Sheâd gointo a science, if she could; perhaps become the first female physician or astronomer or something of that sort. But this ⦠this was an instantaneous shock to her system. Someone was looking at her the way Homer looked at Alcie. The way young Douban had looked at Pandy! This wasnât part of the plan! This wasnât supposed to happen to â¦
She suddenly started to cough. She found herself, inexplicably, unable to breathe. And she couldnât walk, at least she didnât think she could. Her legs were stiff as wood. Is this what attraction meant: utter loss of motor skills? Complete inability to do
anything
? No one had told her any of this, no one had prepared her; not her mother, nor Pandy, nor Alcie. And they were supposed to be her best friends ⦠well, Pandy, anyway. She never
did
trust Alcie ⦠and he was still
looking
at her!
The women crowded around Iole, blocking her view of Crispus, each one giving little tidbits of information about what it meant to be a Vestal.
They began with things Iole already knew: maintain the sacred fire in the Temple of Vesta, bake the sacred salt cakes to be used for the many ceremonies, dedicate oneself to the rites and rituals of Vesta for thirty yearsâ¦.
Iole began to say, politely, that she already knew all of this.
Then the advice veered toward the slightly odd.
âWhen you pardon a condemned man on the street, donât look him in the eye,â said one woman. âYou donât want him to get the wrong impression. Youâre saving his life, Sister, not being friendly.â
âThatâs right,â answered someone from the crowd.
âUh-huh!â
Iole saw that all the women were starting to get very worked up, very excited by the conversation.
âBut we are compassionate, correct?â Iole asked.
âRight,â said another. âBut superior.â
âSuperior!â
âAnd, when you get your salary from the state treasury,â said a third woman who was so thoroughly draped in fabric that Iole wasnât certain how the woman could lift her own head, âdonât thank the treasurer. After all, itâs the least weâre dueânot being able to marry for thirty years or have children and all.â
âAll right,â said Iole, thinking that was a bit haughty.
âHowever, you
are
allowed to not only thank the new ruler and look at him directly, but you may call him by his