The list of possible crises sounded like an excuse in retrospect. Then the subtle way Laeta failed to meet my eye alerted me. Dear gods. I could hardly believe what must have happened: 'So, Claudius Laeta, let me be quite clear: Rutilius Gallicus brought the priestess back to Rome with him – for "safety" – then he let her escape here?'
Veleda was a stupendously influential barbarian, a famous enemy who once rabble-roused a whole continent into revolt against Rome. She hated us. She hated everything we represented. She had united northern Europe while we were preoccupied with our leadership tussles, and at the height of her activity she nearly lost us Batavia, Gaul and Germany. And now, Laeta was telling me, she was on the loose, right inside our city.
IV
Claudius Laeta pursed his lips. He had the sorrowful expression of a top official who is absolutely determined his department will not be blamed for this. 'Is it your problem?' I murmured mischievously. 'Chief Spy's remit,' he announced firmly. 'Then it's everybody's problem!' 'You are very frank about your differences with Anacrites, Falco.' 'Someone has to be open. That fool will do a lot of damage if he isn't stopped.' 'We believe him to be competent.' 'Then you're nuts.' We were both silent. I was thinking about the implications of Veleda's escape. It was not that she could launch a military attack here. But her presence right in Rome was a disaster. That she had been imported by an ex-consul, a high-ranking provincial administrator, one of the Emperor's favourites, would damage public confidence.