by Jane Finnis
We’d reached the top of a fairly steep rise, and got our first view of the sea. Lucius pulled up his horse. “Time for a short halt, I think. It’s not far now, and we need to let the raeda catch up a bit. You did bring some wine, didn’t you?”
“Wine, bread, cheese, sausage, and some of Cook’s honey cakes. No, you’re not having any food now, that’s all for Albia. But I’ve plenty of wine.” I detached a wine-skin and two beakers from my saddlebag and poured us each a drink. We sat gazing over the green fields that sloped down towards the German Ocean, which glinted in the warm sun. High above us among small white clouds a skylark was singing. I could have lingered all day, but Lucius was impatient to be moving.
“I can’t dawdle,” he said, “if I’m to have any time at all with Albia and Candidus before I push on to the coast. I want long enough to find out how things are with them.”
“And to share your mysterious bit of family news,” I reminded him. “Can’t you give me just a hint of what it’s about?”
“Not a chance. Change the subject. Let me work my plans out. If I leave Albia’s with a couple of hours of daylight left, I’ll easily get to the Headland before dark. With luck the tide will be low enough to let us bring the cargo on land tonight.”
“But the wagon won’t get to you much before nightfall,” I pointed out, “so even if you’ve salvaged the box, you won’t want to set off in the dark, surely?”
“No, we’ll stay put till morning, whatever the tide’s doing. Ollius said the wreck’s under water most of the time, so I may have to wait till tomorrow anyway for a low enough tide.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the huge tides here.” I shivered in spite of the warm sun on my face. “The whole idea of waves rushing in and out and changing the appearance of the shore scares me. Our sea in Italia was so much less trouble. You knew where you were.”
“I agree there, not to mention a lot warmer. Don’t tell me you’re changing your mind about coming to look at the wreck for yourself? If the sea scares you so much…”
“It’s not the sea I’m coming to look at. It’s this famous box of gold with its massive reward!”
We set off again and soon found the pile of white rocks that marked the turning to Belinus’ farm. When the raeda had caught us up, Lucius and I led the way off the main road onto a rutted narrow track running between weed-infested pasture and fields of thin grass that was presumably being grown for hay.
The sound of our horses brought out a man carrying a huge cudgel. He came to stand just where the track entered the farmyard, barring our way. He looked very like Belinus, tall and square, with fair hair and beard.
He recognised Lucius and frowned.
“Oh, so it’s you, Aurelius. If you’re looking for Belinus, he’s not here. He’s gone to see the doctor down in Oak Bridges. He wouldn’t have needed no doctor if he hadn’t been working for you.” Deliberately he spat at Lucius’ feet. “So you can just clear off, or I’ll set the dogs on you.”
Lucius ignored the native’s hostility. “Good day, Divico. I know that Belinus isn’t here, but he’s the reason we’ve come. I’m afraid we’ve some very sad news. He died this morning. The doctor did everything he could, but Belinus was too ill to be saved.”
Divico swore at us, hurling a torrent of abuse that was like a blow in the chest. We stood there and waited. I wondered if he’d strike Lucius, but the violence was in words, not blows, and eventually it subsided a little.
“So your poxy Roman doctor couldn’t save him? Couldn’t be bothered, more like. What was the trouble, Belinus didn’t pay him enough? Or he doesn’t trouble himself to save Parisi men, is that it? Well listen, if I ever get my hands on that doctor…”
“No, you listen!” I was angry at the unfairness of this tirade. “He took a great deal of trouble, and he’s a fine doctor. He treats everyone as well as he knows how, rich or poor, native or Roman. Belinus had a badly injured leg which poisoned his whole body, and broken ribs which damaged him inside. Timaeus tried his best, and he said that if Belinus had been brought to him a day earlier, he might have saved him. As it was, you left it too late, and Belinus has crossed to the Otherworld. Now we’ve brought him home where he belongs, because you’ll want to perform his funeral rites.” I indicated the raeda, which was waiting a few paces behind us. “He’s in the carriage. We’ll help you bring his body out, and then we’ll be on our way.”
There was a silence. Divico seemed stunned, and Lucius looked surprised by my outburst. Eventually Divico went to the raeda and looked inside. When he came back to us, his expression had softened from open rage to surly wariness. “Then I must thank you for bringing him home. Wait here, and I’ll fetch Father. He’s in the house.”
As he walked off, Lucius whispered, “Well said, Sis! Mind you, I thought he was going to take his cudgel to us at one point.”
“Is he Belinus’ brother?”
“Wife’s brother. Their father Esico owns the farm.”
While we waited, we had a chance to gaze around us. The whole place had a sad, neglected air. The roundhouse, little more than a hut, was in bad repair, its walls uneven and flaking. The farm buildings were even worse, with cracks in their mud plaster and holes in their roofs. They’d let in water whenever it rained, and probably fall down flat in a really strong wind. The patch of garden we could glimpse to the left of the house was producing a fine crop of nettles and thistles, and half-a-dozen scrawny chickens and some scruffy ducks scratched listlessly among them.
“This looks bad,” I said softly. “If the farm’s got into such a miserable state with Belinus alive…”
Lucius nodded, but said nothing, because just then a young woman emerged, carrying a small baby about six weeks old.
“Illiana,” Lucius whispered. “Belinus’ widow.”
She looked like her brother, but though her build and colouring were like Divico’s, her manner was a wretched contrast. She was downcast and unkempt, shuffling along slowly with her head lowered. Her face, which could have been pretty, was pale and blotchy, and the baby was pale too, and dirty.
Behind her limped a grey-bearded old man, barely managing to put one foot in front of the other even though he leaned on a stick. But he held his head high and greeted us courteously. “I am Esico, father to Belinus’ wife. You are welcome to our farm, even at this sad time.”
“We’re sorry to bring such tragic news,” Lucius answered, and introduced me to the old man.
“The doctor couldn’t save him then,” Esico muttered.
“He did his very best,” I repeated how hard Timaeus had tried to save his patient, and what were the causes of his death.
Esico sighed, and without another word, he and his daughter went to look inside the carriage. When they walked back to us, she was crying.
“Thank you for bringing him home,” the old man said. “We’re grateful, aren’t we, Illiana?”
“Yes. Thank you for bringing him home,” she echoed, so softly we could hardly hear.
“Poor lass, this is all too much for you, I reckon,” her father said gently. “Take the baby back inside now. It isn’t good for either of you to be out here. We’ll manage this.”
She headed for the house without giving us a second look.
Esico sighed again. “You must forgive her. She’s been melancholy since the baby came. A hard birth it was, and she can’t seem to pick herself up. And now this. I don’t know how she’ll stand it, she loved Belinus so much. But we’ll see that he’s properly buried. His own father’s dead, so it’ll be me and Divico that’ll take care of things.” He started to tell us about the ceremony: it seemed they were going to bury him in the ground, with some of his favourite tools which he’d need in the Otherworld. I know the natives here often do this, not to mention folk in other parts of the Empire, like Egypt, but I find the thought of burial unsettling. Also I couldn’t help thinking it would be a waste, on a farm as poor as this one, to bury the
farmer’s tools along with the man himself. But I’ve learned more sense than to argue with other people about their religious beliefs, so I just listened, and eventually Lucius managed to move the conversation to the attack on Belinus.
He started cautiously, with a question to which we knew the answer already. “Belinus hadn’t time to say much, and he was fairly confused in his mind by the end. But he said he was attacked. Is that what happened?”
The old man nodded. “For no reason, by strangers riding out of nowhere. A terrible mess his leg was. Cut to the bone. I was afraid it was too deep to be mended, even if we could have got him to the doctor quicker. In the end we had to ask our neighbour’s boy to drive him.”
“Father!” Divico interrupted sharply. “I’m sure these people don’t want to be wasting their time listening to our family business.”
I said, “We don’t want to pry, just to help if we can. Belinus asked us to help you after he’d gone. I made him a promise that I would, and I mean to keep it.”
“We can manage without your help,” Divico snapped.
“Be quiet, boy, and try not to be a fool for once in your life,” Esico cut in, and despite his physical weakness, the anger and authority in his voice silenced his son.
I looked directly at the old man. “Esico, we don’t want to interfere in your family’s affairs. But somebody has murdered your daughter’s man, and surely you want justice for him. We can try to make sure you get it. Do you know who attacked him?”
Esico said “Yes,” but Divico shook his head and growled, “This isn’t the time for talking. We must move Belinus round the back, before my sister comes out again.”
That, at least, was sensible. The poor girl was in a low enough state without having to look at her man’s corpse when she came out of her front door. Divico fetched a hurdle, and he and Lucius carried the body round behind the house. For a brief while I had Esico to myself, and I said softly, “Belinus hadn’t time to say much before he died, but I gave him my promise to try and protect you. So I feel honour bound to find out what I can.” I shot an arrow in the dark. “He said you’ve been plagued by these sea-raiders, but he thought they were working for somebody else, not on their own account.”
He scratched his beard. “Mebbe, mebbe not. The raiders are trouble enough on their own. They’re mostly from Gaul, and they range up and down the coast, thieving and robbing, or getting paid for leaving us alone. But they don’t usually kill. What’s the point? They want all us farmers alive and well, with fat sheep to steal or full purses to pay them off. If they killed Belinus, it must have been for some other reason. Likely they found out he was passing information on to your brother.”
I was glad the old man knew Belinus had worked as an informer. It made my next question easier. “Who could have told them that? Surely none of you?”
“‘Course not. Divico didn’t approve, but he’d never have put Belinus in danger. Anyhow, it hardly matters any more. We’ll have to move off this land now. We four can’t manage it alone.”
“That’s sad. Isn’t there anyone who could help you?”
He shook his head. “And I don’t know where we can go. By the Three Mothers, I don’t! Belinus has no kin in these parts, he came from west of Eburacum. It’s all bogs and mountains over that way. I suppose they’d take us in if we really can’t find anywhere. But I don’t want to go so far away. I was born here, in this farmhouse. It’s where I belong…”
“Suppose you could find someone to buy the farm, but let you run it for them? Perhaps one of the new settlers. They’re often glad to have local people to work the land.”
”No.” He almost shouted it, making me jump. “We’ll have no Roman masters. We’re used to being free. Begging your pardon,” he added more quietly. “But it’s the way we are. Either we work this land as free men, or we sell it. And we’ll have to sell it, we’ve no choice. The young people can’t manage it by themselves, and I’m not much use these days.” He went to sit down on a low pile of logs near the door, and I sat beside him.
“I don’t like to see Magnus get his way after all, but there’s nothing we can do. And he’ll give us a rock bottom price, being the man he is. Then what’ll we live on? How’ll we manage?”
“I’ve heard he’s buying up land near here. He’s offered to buy you out then?”
He nodded his grey head. ”Twice he’s offered. The first time he set a reasonable price, but we said no. The second time he came calling, the price was an insult. But even if it had been a good offer, we’d have said no. With Belinus here, we could manage well enough, and we wanted a future for the children. Now he’s gone…He’s trouble, that Magnus. I reckon a lot of our misfortunes are his responsibility. Between him and the raids from the coast, we’re finished here now.” He stopped as he saw Lucius and Divico returning, and the next thing he said was, “Let me bring you out a drink to set you on your road.”
While he fetched it, I walked over to the raeda, where the two horse-boys were sitting demurely. (They’d usually be playing dice, but I’d given them a stern warning about what would be considered appropriate behaviour by Belinus’ relatives.) I checked that they’d watered their mules and our two horses, and told them to get on their way home.
As I crossed the yard again, Divico and Lucius approached, walking silently side by side. As they reached me, Esico shuffled slowly out with a tray of mugs. He began handing them round, and when I took mine I realised it contained not wine but native beer, which of course I should have expected. I don’t like beer, and this was sharp thin stuff, yet good manners dictated I should drink it as if I enjoyed it. While we drank, Esico and his son talked resolutely about the weather and the sheep, until Illiana came out of the house to join us, and then they talked resolutely about the baby.
We finished our drinks and refused refills, and Lucius returned to the subject of our visit. “Let me say again how sorry we are about Belinus’ death. And I mustn’t forget to give you the money I owe him, for the work he did for me.” He held out a purse to Illiana which, judging from its weight, contained a more than generous amount. She took it and began to thank him, but her brother stepped forward, red-faced with rage.
“We don’t need your money!” he burst out, snatching the purse and throwing it at Lucius’ feet. “We don’t need it, and we won’t take it. If he hadn’t been so greedy for Roman silver, Belinus wouldn’t have got himself killed.”
Lucius looked at the young man calmly. “I’m sorry you didn’t approve of the work he was doing for me. But he earned this money fairly. It belongs to his family now.”
“It’s tainted silver,” Divico growled. “We refuse it.”
“That’s enough!” Illiana roused herself and looked animated for the first time since we’d met her. “Belinus was happy to pass on information about the sea-raiders, and the gods know we needed the money. You’d have just gone on paying them every time they came round threatening us, I suppose.”
Divico was silent, and I seized my chance.
“Esico, what did you mean just now about Magnus being responsible for your misfortunes?”
“It’s what I think,” Esico answered.
“Father!” Divico was even angrier. “Why do you have to go blabbing our business to all and sundry?”
“If somebody’s harassing you,” Lucius was stern, “then that makes it my business too. I represent the Governor here, and I can get something done to stop it. But only if you tell me what’s been going on, and why you suspect Magnus. First of all, though, please take this.” He bent and retrieved the purse, and held it out to Illiana. “It’s yours by right, and your baby son’s too.”
She nodded. “I will, and thank you. We need it for the baby, and like you say, my man earned it.” She tucked it into her belt-pouch, ignoring her brother’s furious glare.
The old man said, “We’ve had all sorts of things go wrong. One day a fence was broken down and our cows got out and trampled one of the whea
t-fields. Another time our best ram disappeared, and Belinus found his body in the road. And sometimes we see horsemen near the farm, watching us. Or we hear them galloping by at night. All meant to scare us, and take up our time when we should be working the land.”
“But aren’t they just the sort of things the raiders would do?” Lucius asked.
“They would be,” Divico snarled. “But they promised to let us alone, after I paid them last time.”
“We’d no choice but to pay them,” Esico said sadly. “And up to now they’ve kept their side of the bargain. These latest troubles are different. They’re Ostorius Magnus’ work. He wants more land, and he’s been round several of the local farmers, offering to buy us out. He’s got three nephews, and he says he wants to set them up as farmers on their own.”
“He’s just greedy, like all Romans,” Divico growled.
“Not all,” Lucius answered. “But some are, and that’s why we have laws to stop people from intimidating their neighbours.”
“Was Magnus angry when you refused to sell him the farm?” I asked. “Did he threaten you?”
Esico nodded. “He ended up saying he hoped we’d change our minds, because he’d hate to see any harm coming to us if we stayed on. Belinus said we could take care of ourselves.”
“And so we can,” Divico said. Brave words, I thought. I only wish they were true.
Illiana’s face crumpled and she began to cry. She sat down heavily on the log-pile, and her father went to stand near her and put an arm round her.
Divico looked at them both, no longer angry but sad and concerned. He motioned for us to follow him across the yard out of earshot. “I don’t like to see her upset like that,” he muttered.
“Nor do we,” Lucius answered. “As we’ve said already, Divico, we’ll do our best to help you. Aurelia promised Belinus, and that promise binds me too.”
Divico shrugged. “You can’t help us. If it’s the raiders that are plaguing us, you’ll never catch them, nobody will. If it’s Magnus, well, we all know how it is. Romans side with Romans. In a quarrel between a rich Roman and a poor tribesman, who do you think the authorities are going to side with?”