Buried Too Deep

by Jane Finnis

  We all stood gazing at the trench, until Taurus said, “Quite good spades, these. I’ll take these along to Mistress Albia’s.”

  We made a quick search of the house and barns, but found nothing amiss. It seemed the men hadn’t gone inside at all. We re-mounted and resumed our journey, speculating about what the men had been doing.

  “They must have been burying something,” Titch said. “A dead sheep, or a cow?”

  “The trench is the wrong shape for that,” I objected. “It’d be about right for a body or two.”

  “Aye, that’s it! They’re Voltacos’ men, and they’re disposing of someone they’ve killed.”

  “They hadn’t a corpse with them,” Quintus pointed out. “Perhaps they were sinking a new water-channel, or a pond? But if they were doing something as useful as that, why run away?”

  “They might be digging an underground hiding-place for weapons,” I suggested. “Maybe Bodvocus has been collecting arms and wants to store them well off the beaten track.”

  Taurus said, “You know what I think? You’re looking at this from the wrong side of the gate. I don’t think they were burying anything. I think they were looking for something that was buried already.”

  I laughed. “You mean like Caratacus’ gold?”

  “Yes, why not?”

  “Well then, they haven’t found it.”

  “Not yet,” he agreed, “but we interrupted them. It could still be there. Perhaps it’s buried too deep.”

  “Perhaps it isn’t there to find.”

  We were still arguing when we reached the sheep pasture, We couldn’t see either Cattos or Balca, but everything was reassuringly calm, the sheep grazing quietly and the lambs eating or playing. When Titch gave a piercing whistle, the two youngsters came out from behind the wooden hut.

  “Good morning, Aurelia.” Balca smiled at me, and cast an appraising glance over the rest of the group. “Have you brought us more reinforcements? We saw the men come up here yesterday.”

  “Yes, we’re here to help too, and we’re going to be staying with Albia and Candidus for a while, till the trouble here blows over. Brutus and his men, who came yesterday, will give everyone more protection, including the sheep pasture here, and they’ll patrol down as far as Esico’s farm.”

  “Thank you,” Balca said. “That’s excellent.”

  I made the introductions. I described Quintus as a government official who’d come to investigate the raiders, and she greeted him with formal courtesy. I said Taurus was one of our most useful guards, and she nodded politely. But when I presented Titch as Quintus’ assistant, she responded with a warm smile and a flash of eye that he didn’t miss, though he pretended to.

  “Have you seen any more of the Long-hairs since we were here last?” I asked them.

  They both shook their heads. “I expect they’ve heard we’ve got sling-shots now,” Cattos suggested.

  “Slings are fine for emergencies,” Titch said. “But you could do with some bows and arrows here.”

  “Just what I’ve been thinking,” Balca agreed. “I’d love to learn to use a bow, and I’m sure I could, I’m as strong as any lad my age. But Father says it isn’t a proper weapon for a woman. I’ve asked a couple of the boys in the guard to teach me, but they’re all too scared of Father to risk it.”

  “I can teach you, if you like,” Titch offered.

  “Would you? Would you really?”

  “If Quintus Antonius can spare me for an hour or two. It’s not the teaching that’ll take the time, it’s practising hard.”

  “I’d practise all right. Are you a soldier then?”

  Titch nodded. “I enlisted in the cavalry, and I learnt to shoot a bow there, because we were quartered next door to a squadron of Syrian archers. I’ve transferred to a more important unit now,” he added loftily. “But I still keep up my weapons practice, naturally.”

  The girl’s obvious admiration must have pleased him. I managed not to smile, and avoided looking at Quintus, who had developed a sudden coughing fit and turned away.

  “That’d be all right, sir, wouldn’t it?” Titch asked Quintus. “I can spend some time here, giving Miss Balca archery training? I’ll be well placed to keep an eye out for any trouble, and I can ride back to the empty farm every now and then and let you know if anyone unauthorised goes there.”

  “You can stay till noon,” Quintus answered. “Then ride up to Albia’s farm. I’ll want you with me this afternoon when I go to visit Ostorius Magnus.”

  Balca exclaimed, “You’re going up to the Fort? Whatever for?”

  “Part of my enquiries about the sea-raiders. I’ll be visiting several people with land near the coast in due course. But I’m intending to go to Ostorius’ house, not to any fort.”

  Balca laughed. “That’s what we all call his house, because it’s built like a fort. Well on the outside, anyway. I’ve never actually been in it.”

  “Like a fort? How extraordinary,” Quintus said. “You’d think after years and years in the army, the last place he’d want to live would be a building that reminded him of army life.”

  “He and his nephews are all ex-army,” she said. “Except the poet. I wish you joy of the lot of them.”

  Quintus smiled his most dazzling smile. “That sounds as if you don’t like them much.”

  She said nothing.

  “I’ve never met any of the Ostorius family, so you can give me some advance briefing, if you will. What’s Magnus like?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know him well.”

  “But what you do know, you dislike?”

  “Oh, if he was just a typical greedy settler, I could put up with him. But I think he’s somehow conspiring with the Gauls. I’m sure he was behind the attack on Belinus, though it was some of Voltacos’ men who actually did the dirty work. And my father had his arm broken when he was caught out on his own at night by a couple of them. He’s pretty sure that was on the orders of Magnus, or maybe Vividus or Ferox. One’s just as bad as the other.”

  “That’s a serious allegation,” Quintus said, as if considering it for the first time. “Have you any definite evidence that the Ostorii are making trouble?”

  “I’ve never actually seen them,” she admitted. “But for one thing, they’ve never been troubled by any raids themselves. They have pastures on the Headland, you’d think the bastards would help themselves to a sheep or a goat now and then. And second, the folk that are getting attacked are all our men from the Parisi tribe, never Romans. Like poor Belinus. And now they’ve killed Nertacos, one of the oldest men of the tribe, even older than the Chief…”

  “Nertacos?” I stared at her. “Nertacos the huntsman?”

  “That’s right. He used to be, years and years ago. He’s been too old and blind lately, except in his dreams, poor old man. But now he’s in the Otherworld, so he’ll be hunting again. Did you know him?”

  “An old friend of his at Oak Bridges was telling me about him just the other day, and I promised to visit him and bring him greetings. But you say the raiders have killed him? What happened?”

  “His daughter found him, quite close to their house. He was lying at the bottom of a steep bank, where the ground drops down almost sheer. His neck was broken. He’d been pushed over the edge, everybody says so.”

  “He couldn’t just have fallen?” Quintus asked. “You said he couldn’t see.”

  She shook her head. “He knew every inch of that land, with his eyes or without them. And his body was covered in bruises, and a couple of his fingers were broken. His daughter didn’t know what to make of it, she’s a simple girl. But Father says he must have been beaten and tortured.”

  I felt cold inside. “Tortured? But why?”

  “Perhaps,” she said slowly, “they thought he knew something important that they wanted him to tell them. But I bet he didn’t. He could be a stubborn old mule.”

  “I’ll miss him,” Cattos put in. �
��I used to love the wonderful stories he told us when we went round there.”

  Balca smiled. “We never knew if they were true, but while he was telling them, we believed every word.”

  “Did he have a story about buried treasure?” I asked.

  Cattos looked at me in surprise. “Why yes, how did you know that? It was about Caratacus’ gold, he said he knew where it was hid. Mind you, he didn’t ever tell the exact spot, just that one day he’d go and dig it up, so he could be very very rich.”

  “I never believed that one,” Balca said scornfully. “Everybody between here and the Humber has searched for Caratacus’ gold for years, and never found any…” She stopped suddenly. She had seen the same connection I’d made. “You think that’s what the Gauls are looking for?”

  “There’s a rumour that they are,” Quintus said cautiously. “If you don’t mind a bit of advice, I wouldn’t go around repeating Nertacos’ old story about it, except to people you know you can trust.”

  She said gravely, “No. No, we won’t.”

  “And now we should be moving,” Quintus said. “You’ve been very helpful. I expect we’ll meet again.” He darted a quick sideways glance at Titch.

  “Are you coming to our Beltane feast?” she asked. “The Chief keeps open house for everyone in this whole area.”

  “Beltane?” I never can remember when these native festivals are. “Isn’t that quite soon?”

  “Yes, the first day of May—the Kalends, you’d call it. Only two days away. It’s always a wonderful party. Do come if you can. If you’re staying with Albia and Candidus, you can come with them, they’re bound to be there. Or if you stay with Ostorius Magnus, come with him,” she added with an air of disgust. “Chief Bodvocus has invited the Ostorii too, though the gods know why. He says it’s traditional to include everyone, especially the neighbours, and Ostorius’ land adjoins ours on the Headland, so he has to. But I bet he’s hoping they won’t turn up.”

  “I’ve never been to a Beltane feast. What’s it like?” Titch asked. “Would I be able to come as well?”

  “Oh, you must!” Her eyes lit up. “It’s one of the best days of the year. It starts at dawn with the fire-lighting, and then we all watch the Mother-gift ceremony in the big bay south of the Headland. The priests dedicate a gift to the sea, the Mother-gift. It’s a special boat with offerings in it to bring good fortune for the year—corn and a honeycomb and a lamb, and two rag dolls made like a mother and child. When the tide is halfway out, they launch the boat into the water and let the sea gods take it away on the ebb. They say in the old days they used to put real people in the boat, but of course they don’t now.” She sounded almost regretful. “And after that we all eat and drink as much as we like. There are roast oxen, and deer, and piglets, lambs, fowls, and beer and wine and mead, more than we can possibly get through, and it’s there all day long. By the afternoon some of the lads are always drunk, and Father’s men have to drag them into the sea to sober them up and stop them fighting. It’s terrific fun. And then in the evening we go up on the cliff and there’s a huge fire, and the bards take turns to tell stories and sing songs. Do say you’ll come.”

  “It sounds grand. I will if I can.” His look said he’d make certain he could.

  “And so will I,” I said, “if you’re sure the Chief won’t mind strangers being there.”

  “No, it really is open house. Candidus and Albia will tell you. And they’ll be bringing the twins this year, I expect. Grand little tykes, considering. Not that I’m all that keen on children as a rule myself.”

  “We’ll give them your best wishes,” Quintus said. “Now we must push on to their farm, they’ll be expecting us. Thank you for your help.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Quintus Antonius.” But we could all see it was Titch she was pleased to have met. As we made our way back onto the road, the two of them were talking and smiling, too absorbed to wave us good-bye.

  “Well!” I said when we were out of earshot. “So Titch fancies the guard captain’s daughter. She’s certainly a lively youngster. Isn’t love a wonderful thing?”

  “Wonderful. But if he’s not ready to leave for Magnus’ with me, I’ll have his guts for catapult-springs.”

  “This Beltane feast,” I mused. “If Magnus and his nephews can be persuaded to go to it, what would be the chances of getting them and Bodvocus to make some sort of public declaration of peace?”

  “Pretty slim, from what we’ve heard so far.”

  “But surely neither side wants this feud to go on indefinitely. They just need a way of ending it without anyone having to back down. Perhaps their leaders would agree to drink a formal toast together, and declare publicly that they’ll stop squabbling and combine against the Gauls. We could at least suggest it.”

  “But if either Magnus or Bodvocus is really in some sort of secret alliance with the Gauls, the last thing he’ll want to do is promise peace, and even if he did, he wouldn’t keep the promise.”

  “But it would mean he’d have to stop his part of the trouble-making for a while at least, probably while you were in the area, and that would buy us some time to find out what’s really happening. Whatever he thought privately, he couldn’t refuse to make peace publicly without giving himself away.”

  “That’s true. But how could we manage it? They’re both powerful men with reputations to keep up. Neither would want to be seen as the first to suggest a compromise, in case it’s seen as a sign of weakness.”

  “Then we must suggest it to each of them separately, giving the impression that the other has already agreed. You’re going to see Magnus today. I’ll make a visit to Bodvocus today too, on pretext of delivering the letters from Oak Bridges. He’s already invited the Ostorii to the feast, so perhaps he’s halfway there. Beltane is the day after tomorrow, so we can’t delay.”

  He nodded slowly. “It’s worth a try. What have we got to lose?”

  Chapter XVII

  Albia’s farm was as busy as a hive of bees. Brutus and his men were hard at work building a defensive stockade, an earth rampart with a wooden fence on its top and a ditch in front of it. It would be tall enough to give basic protection against intruders, and it would eventually surround the house and the part of the garden that contained the spring. It was a big project, but Brutus in his legionary days had helped build scores of similar defences, and the work was going well, with encouragement from Candidus and plentiful supplies of food and beer from Albia.

  We got a warm welcome from Albia and Candidus, and the twins were delighted to see Taurus. He offered to help with the digging, but the children refused to allow this at first, and he went off happily to play with them.

  “Where’s Illiana?” I asked. “And her father? Divico’s out in the fields, I presume?”

  “He’s helping with the stockade,” Candidus said. “Esico and Illiana are inside. Poor Illiana’s little boy died yesterday, so she doesn’t want to see anyone but her father just now.”

  “It’s terrible for her,” Albia said. “The poor little mite was all she had left of Belinus. But he was never really strong or healthy from the day he was born.”

  She fetched wine, and we all sat down by the pond to discuss our plans.

  “These men Clarus has sent us are a gift from the gods,” Albia said as she handed round beakers. “I must say I don’t like the idea of having a fence around our house, but Candidus says we have to have one for now, and if that’s so, I want it built as well as possible. And it’s very comforting to have so many strong lads about the farm just at present.”

  “Clarus has given Quintus an assignment while he’s in this area,” I said, “and Clarilla has given me one.” We told them the details, and they were amused by our dual functions. They both offered any help they could give.

  “Thanks, I think we’ll be more than glad of it,” I said. “To start with, could I borrow a raeda please, to visit Bodvocus? I don’t think he’s likely to be i
mpressed if I ride up on horseback in my cavalry trousers.”

  “Of course,” Albia said. “When will you go?”

  “This afternoon.”

  “You’ve already had a long journey, Relia. Can’t it wait till tomorrow?”

  “I’d like to see Bodvocus’ daughter as soon as I can. Clarilla’s quite worried about her. And Quintus and I want to persuade Bodvocus and Ostorius Magnus that they should stop their silly feuding and think about making peace.”

  Albia smiled. “I wish you could. Relia. We feel as if we’re caught between Scylla and Charybdis here, in the middle of somebody else’s quarrel.” She turned to Quintus. “Will you be going to see Bodvocus with Relia?”

  “No, I’m off in the other direction. I plan to visit the Ostorii family, and if I leave it till fairly late to arrive, I should be able to get myself and Titch invited to stay with them overnight. That’ll give us a better chance of seeing what the Ostorii are up to, if anything.”

  “Titch?” Albia exclaimed. “Titch is coming here too?”

  While we were explaining about Titch, his new job and his latest romantic interest, the house-boy Nasua brought out the midday meal of bread, cold mutton, and tiny sweet onions. We set to hungrily, but eating didn’t stop us talking.

  “Young Balca mentioned,” I said, “that Bodvocus is giving a big Beltane feast, and everyone for miles around is invited. Will you be going?”

  “Oh yes, all being well. It’s always a good day out, and the twins are just about old enough to enjoy it. Will you come too?”

  “I’d like to, certainly. And we thought that, if we can get Magnus and the Chief to agree to some sort of public declaration of peace, the Beltane celebration might be the ideal place for it—somewhere public, a festive occasion, no threats of any kind.”

  Albia nodded. “It would be perfect, if you could bring it off.”

  “There’s one practical problem that I can see,” Candidus spoke up. “It’s not a good idea for you to go alone to Bodvocus’ place.”