Tales of Ancient Rome by S. J. A. Turney

of the cult. An apsed brick structure, roofed but open to one side to display the cult statue. Fronto smiled as he remembered the view from the Palatine. In his mind’s eye he could just about judge the gap between the roof of the shrine and the wall. He could do it. He could jump that far, he was sure.
    Reeling in his thoughts and with a clear goal now defined, Fronto peered out through the gap. From here, across the courtyard, he could see the windows and doors of the three rooms opposite. All three doors were closed, which could be either a good or bad sign. He waited patiently for a few minutes but nothing moved in the windows. That was hopeful then. There would have to be at least one priestess on duty in the temple; probably two. One was in bed behind him. That left three. They could be anywhere but, given the earliness of the hour, it was likely they were either abed, bathing, or preparing breakfast in the other structure.
    He growled. He’d just have to chance it. His father would beat him if he found out about this, while his mother would faint and his sister would pull him to pieces with her acerbic wit. So nobody must know. Move fast and keep low.
    Taking a deep breath, he opened the door wider and ducked to the side. There was no sound and, as he risked a quick look, no movement opposite. Slowly and surreptitiously, Fronto leaned out of the doorway slightly, gazing left and right along the near wall. So far, so good. Smoke was rising from the oculus in the temple where the fire forever burned. Opposite, to the east, he could see the recessed shrine of Numa with its ancient and revered statue housed in deep shadow. Frowning, he worked out in advance the best possible route to climb the building. He would have to stand on good old King Numa’s head. Was there no end to his heresy?
    “ Here goes” he muttered under his breath and, ducking low enough to move along the wall beneath the level of the windows, he set off at breakneck speed. What the hell was he doing here? He panted as he charged along past the plastered walls of the house, hoping not to wake any priestesses sleeping within with his pounding feet. It was only twenty yards into the shadow of the shrine. There he could take a rest and get his breath back. He could…
    Fronto nearly had a heart failure as he hurdled the priestess’ leg like an athlete at Olympia. As he’d reached the end of the wall, elated at the thought of reaching relative safety, he’d almost collided with, or tripped over, the priestess who had been walking towards him along the far side of the building. Practiced military training took over as he leapt. He’d planned nothing in his panicked moment and would have come down in a heap on the floor had he not had the sense to curl up. He hit the ground at speed, rolled and came up to find himself face to face with his nemesis.
    The vestal priestess, struck silent and immobile by sheer shock, was quite possibly the ugliest old bat Fronto had ever laid his eyes on. In the slow motion experienced by wrong doers as they are found the world over, he watched in horror as the harpy in white before him dropped the carefully folded linen she had been carrying and her hand came slowly up to point an accusing finger at him. Her mouth formed into an ‘O’.
    Fronto smiled weakly.
    “’ Scuse me.”
    And then he was running. The panic was truly setting in now. His heart pounded like the feet of a legion on the march, only faster. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears, for which he was extremely grateful as it almost drowned out the shrieks and bellows from the priestess behind him. Had the circumstances been different, he would have been convinced that, with a voice like that, there was some bovine in the woman’s ancestry.
    The problem was that the panic had carried him automatically. It had given him a head start, but pointed him in the wrong direction. Now he was out of the harpy’s reach but leaving the shrine behind and heading