A Whispering of Spies

by Rosemary Rowe

  It was a long, cold, bumpy journey and long before it stopped my teeth were chattering again and my bones were stiffer still. There had been little conversation while we were on the cart – I think that I was not the only one to listen to the distant howling of the wolves or wonder if there were bears or bandits in wait round every bend.

  If there were, they did not trouble us and at last we found ourselves deep in the countryside. We came to a little valley with a stream and a lane that led along it off the road. There the cart rumbled to a halt. Biccus scrambled down and came round to talk to us.

  ‘That’s the farmstead I was telling you about. What do you want the driver to do now?’

  ‘He can drive us down there and then take you home.’

  Biccus shook his head. ‘No point in doing that. My wife will have given up expecting me tonight. She’ll have bolted all the doors and put the shutters up, and is no doubt sleeping with an axe beside the bed. She’ll have let the dogs out, too – though that would be all right – but she’s likely to attack me with it if I turn up in the dark. I think it’s safer if I stay with company and go back in daylight, if it’s all the same to you.’

  ‘Then we’ll all go to the farm together.’ I was glad of that, in fact. Biccus was the one who knew the area, and if we did run into anyone there was at least a chance he would be recognized.

  Biccus nodded and we heard him scrambling back into his seat.

  The lane was a narrow one and extremely dark, the more so as the torches were beginning to burn dim, and it took a little time to reach the house. When we did so, it came as a surprise. The driver came round to help us from the cart, but even as I got down and looked around I could scarcely take it in. The building was a mere dark smudge against the night, and the barns and stables ghostly silhouettes. There was no sound at all: no noise of animals, no warning honk of geese and not a glint of light – nothing but the hoot of owls and the burble of the stream.

  ‘The place is deserted,’ I murmured in dismay. If the place was empty there was nothing to be learned.

  Biccus was standing beside me in the gloom. ‘I told you that the owner had just moved away. Obviously the new man has not yet arrived. Well, that solves one problem. If there’s no one here, at least we can find a place to bed down in the barn. It will be warm and dry there, if nothing else.’

  Brianus was lighting us another torch from the dying flickers of the old. He brought it to me, joyous. ‘And we’ve even got a light so we can see where we are going.’

  I took it from him and led the way into the nearest barn. It was entirely bare – it had been swept and limewashed recently – but it was dry, as Biccus had observed. I had been in less comfortable lodgings on this very day. ‘This will do,’ I said resignedly. ‘Brianus, there is another barn next door. It looks as if it might have been a store for straw or hay. Go and see if there is any in there now. It’s possible that some was left to feed the horse before it went. If so – and if it is reasonably clean – bring a few armfuls here. We’ll make a mattress out of it and then we’ll sleep like kings. At first light we’ll have a quick look round before we travel back.’

  The cart-driver, who had followed us inside, looked balefully at me. ‘Are you including me in that proposition, citizen? If so, you’ll have to think again. I’ve got a comfortable bed awaiting me at home, and horses to think of. I was instructed to bring you over here. No one said anything about waiting overnight. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be getting back, while I still have enough torches for the trip. I don’t want to run into those rebels on the way – I heard what they did to that poor lictor earlier, and I don’t want it happening to me.’

  ‘What happened to the lictor?’ Junio and I exclaimed in unison.

  The driver raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t say you didn’t hear? The body was found not far away from here by a customer of ours, hacked to little pieces and without a head. They would not have known him, if it wasn’t for the toga-clasp and the ring.’

  ‘The ring?’

  ‘A seal-ring. They found it on the finger of a severed hand. It was brought in to the curia and one of the councillors identified the seal – the lictor had written several times to him.’

  ‘Porteus?’ I murmured.

  ‘I couldn’t tell you that. All I know is they had to use one of our hiring-vehicles to go and pick the pieces up – they couldn’t leave a lictor out lying on the road, but no one else had a vehicle to spare and the army death-cart was busy somewhere else.’ He frowned at me. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t know. There was an awful fuss. Surely you were in the garrison tonight? Didn’t they send you over to requisition me?’

  This was an unexpected awkwardness! ‘I went home to get some items from my household first,’ I answered hastily. ‘This must have happened after the city gates were closed.’

  To my surprise he seemed satisfied by this. ‘Pretty close, I think. I know they had to open up to let us bring the body in. Apparently the man’s wife had only just arrived by sea, and they had to go and let her know the news. Poor woman. She identified the toga-clasp and is going to organize a proper funeral – though she hasn’t even moved into her home. In the meantime the body’s lying in the fort.’ He shook his head again. ‘I’m still surprised they didn’t tell you when you went back tonight.’

  ‘I did hear something,’ I replied, remembering suddenly what the watch had said. Of course, it was the lictor’s body they had meant, not Pronta’s, as I’d thought! ‘Only I thought they were talking about someone else – a person who’d been murdered earlier.’

  ‘Ah, the driver of the treasure-cart!’ he said. ‘That’s another citizen the rebels killed today. To say nothing of the escort, and those men were armed. You can see why I am anxious to get home.’

  ‘In spite of the rebels being on the road?’ Junio put in.

  ‘There’s nothing on my cart to steal and I’m clearly not a Roman, so I hope to Juno that they’ll let me pass. If not, I won’t give up without a fight. I’ve got a knife about me and I’ll use it, too. Take one of them with me, if I do no more.’ He spat on his hand and rubbed his ear for luck, then made an unexpected dash into the court. We heard him jumping up on to the cart.

  ‘Wait!’ I shouted after him, but he was gone and we could only stand and trace the disappearing flicker of the lights as the cart rattled down the lane again. We three were left in darkness – Brianus had our torch – and with one accord we groped toward the other barn.

  The door was open and we could see inside. This barn wasn’t empty like the other one. Brianus had found a sconce to hold the torch and was using his hands to rake together a few remaining strands of hay that were scattered around the bottoms of the wall – ignoring the pile of heavy sacks and boxes which took up the whole of the centre of the floor, and which were roughly covered by a huge coarse sacking cloth.

  I glanced at Junio and saw that he had read my thoughts. ‘The treasure!’ he murmured. ‘Will you look, or shall I?’

  I stepped forward and pulled the cloth away. One of the sacks rolled clanking to the floor. Together we seized it, tore the rope away and tipped the contents out. Bowls, pans, spoons and metal jugs spilled around our feet: good but not expensive, normal household wares.

  I stared at Junio and he stared at me. He picked up a ladle, went over to a box and used the heavy handle to prise the lid away. The wood snapped, creaking, and we looked inside. This time it was clothing – tunics, rugs, a pair of ancient boots. We turned to find Biccus, who was peering at our find with a look of satisfaction on his ugly face.

  ‘Well done, citizens, I would not have thought of that. We can use the rugs as coverings to keep us warm. And you’ve found beakers, too – there is sure to be a well, so we will have water in the morning if we’re thirsty then. Pity there’s no food here, by the look of it – I expect the departing owner took the crops with him and I know he sold or slaughtered all the animals – but there’s enough at my house, and it isn’t far . . .’ He broke
off, seeing the expression on my face and Junio’s. ‘You are disappointed? I thought you would be pleased?’

  I shook my head. ‘This isn’t what I’d really hoped to find.’ I said it bitterly, chilled by the cold reality of my present plight. I had run away and broken bail, and now I was stranded miles away from town with little prospect of returning there before the court convened – so Marcus would be subject to a heavy fine and my sentence doubled, if that were possible. And all for nothing! I had been so keen to come and see the farm, certain that the place would hold a clue, or at least a person who had seen the cart – instead of which the whole estate was cold and dark and the hoped-for treasure proved to be a pile of packed-up household goods.

  Biccus was shrugging. ‘Well, it’s hardly a surprise. I told you that the owner was packing up to leave. In fact, we’re lucky that he hasn’t come back for this load of luggage yet – at least we have the chance to make use of it tonight.’

  I nodded grimly. There was nothing to be said. Junio was already foraging for rugs and blankets in the box. He found a bunch of home-made tapers, too, and I picked up the piece of sacking cloth – it was big enough to make a base for all of us. Brianus, meanwhile, had finished raking straw and came over with an armful – and a triumphant smile.

  ‘This is all that I can find that’s clean,’ he said. ‘There’s just enough to make a bed for you – the rest of us will have to make a mattress of our cloaks. Now you’ve found those blankets we shall not be cold.’ He glanced nervously at me. ‘I wondered about looking in those sacks, myself, but you had told me to collect the straw.’

  He said it simply, as though my word was law: if the barn had been on fire, I thought, he would have continued with his task until it was completed or I ordered otherwise.

  Biccus, though, did not seem satisfied. ‘There’s more straw over there beside the ladder to the loft. Quite a lot of it.’

  Brianus shook his head. ‘That isn’t any good. I had a look at it. Someone has been killing animals, by the look of it, and the straw was put down to mop up the blood.’

  I turned to Junio. ‘Animals? I wonder! If this is the place where the escort stopped the cart – whether it was all arranged before or not – that is much more likely to be human blood.’

  Junio looked doubtfully at me. ‘That’s a lot of “maybe’s”, Father. There isn’t any proof that the cart even came in here to the farm. And as Biccus has just told us, the farmer butchered his remaining stock. Where else would he do it?’

  ‘Outside in the yard?’ I countered. ‘Isn’t that more likely, even in the rain?’

  ‘When he was going to scrub and limewash the shed, in any case?’ Junio replied. ‘And wouldn’t he have made a final sacrifice to ensure the blessing of the gods?’

  ‘So where’s the meat?’ I argued.

  Junio shrugged. ‘If there was any extra he would have taken it – either to the market or to salt in his new home. Even if he’s moving to another farm, he can’t expect fresh produce for at least another year.’

  What he was saying was wholly logical, but I could not let the matter go. ‘But bloodstains, in the only place the convoy could have stopped – on a farm that’s been bought by a customer from Gaul? It’s too much like coincidence. Let me see that straw.’

  Brianus dutifully took the torch and led me to the place. He was right, the top straw was just speckled, but lower down the stalks were steeped in blood – dark red and sticky right down to the floor. There’d obviously been some previous attempt to clean the area – there was no trodden mess or droppings, just the bloodied straw – and the floor around it was swept reasonably clear: no sign of the struggle that murder would have caused. I hated to admit it, even to myself, but it was exactly what you might expect if someone had been butchering a couple of old cows to sacrifice.

  I stooped down and ran a finger across the bloodstained floor. One small patch was particularly wet – as if the blood was fresher there than all the rest, though maybe it was simply that more had settled there. From an oil-anointed creature with severed neck, providing its owner with a last blood sacrifice? Or a dying escort-slave? If only it were possible to tell the difference!

  I looked up to find Junio standing over me. ‘You still think this was where the treasure-party died? In that case it must have been a very swift attack.’

  I got up and slowly shook my head. ‘Perhaps it was the rebels, after all. Perhaps the travellers were betrayed. Perhaps they were surprised. Perhaps they were murdered while they were asleep – because they’d stumbled on a rebel hideout by mistake . . .’

  ‘More maybes, Father?’ Junio squeezed my arm. ‘I can only hope you’re wrong. If rebels have been here, we’re in danger, too. And I suppose that it is remotely possible – a deserted farm would be a splendid place to have a hideaway. But would you not expect an escort to stand guard, if they were sleeping in an empty place – especially with a cart-load of treasure to defend?’

  I shook my head stubbornly but decisively. ‘We are going to keep somebody on watch, at any rate,’ I said. ‘We can take turns to sleep. Two people at a time. Me and Biccus, then you and Brianus. We’ll take these things and bed down in the barn next door. Bring those tapers – we’ll need to keep a light.’

  And for a long, restless and uncomfortable night, that is exactly what we did.

  TWENTY-SIX

  I was awoken from a fitful dream by Brianus’s urgent whisper in my ear. ‘Master! The bandits! I think that they are here!’

  I struggled to sit upright and looked stupidly at him. He was holding a taper, but faint light was filtering though the spaces in the eaves and I realized that it must be almost dawn. ‘There are people in the courtyard!’ He hissed the words at me. ‘Your son has slipped into the other barn. He’s searching through the sacks to see what weapons he can find. He told me to wake you, so we are prepared.’

  I was already shaking Biccus into wakefulness. The pig-man had faithfully kept watch with me for hours and he was inclined to be resentful that I’d disturbed him now. ‘What in Pluto’s name . . . ?’ he hollered, then saw the finger I was holding to my lips. ‘What’s the matter?’ he murmured, suddenly subdued.

  I did not need to answer. The sound of voices just outside the door was an explanation in itself. I simply jerked my head towards the sound, and busied myself with doing up my sandals and my belt. It might be necessary to make a quick retreat.

  Biccus’s pig-eyes were wide open with alarm. ‘Dear gods – I do believe the owner has come back. Or perhaps the new one’s come. I can hear a woman – that must be his wife.’ He had already risen to his feet and was beginning to put his frightful footwear on.

  I paused in the act of putting on my cloak and realized he was right. I could hear a female laughing, rather mirthlessly and her ringing voice exclaiming, in a martyred tone, ‘Well, councillor Florens, thank Juno we’ve arrived. What a frightful journey. Thank Mars we had your gig. I did not realize this place was so far from town.’

  ‘Florens!’ I was so startled that I said the word aloud. ‘These are no rebels. That’s the man who wants me brought to court. He’s found out that I’m here and he’s come to drag me back. Well, I’d better go and face him. You two stay here. It’s better if you do – there’s no need for you to be involved in this.’ And before Brianus could voice the protest that was clearly on his lips, I pushed the barn door open and stepped into the courtyard and the first cold light of day.

  I was expecting to find the place awash with slaves and guards and carriages, but there was only a solitary gig with a rather sullen Servilis in the driving-seat. He was engaged in driving it away – evidently intending to unhitch the horse – and he did not look my way. Standing in the gloom were his erstwhile passengers, a man and woman both in mourning clothes, dark against the semi-dark of dawn: the man in full toga pulla, with a black cloak to match, and the woman in a cape and stola of Ligurian grey.

  If I’d not known that it was Florens, I might have been dec
eived – the light was dim and he looked quite different in his funereal dress – and the woman was not anyone I’d ever seen before. She was young and lively, despite the sombre cloth, and her hair – which should have been hidden by a veil – was escaping from its jet-encrusted pins and plaits and cascading in delightful light-coloured ringlets round her face (which should also have been covered, if the Roman rules of strict decorum had been met).

  Her jewelled hand was resting on her companion’s arm and she was looking boldly up at him. (He was small and portly but she was smaller still.) ‘It’s very lonely here.’ She shivered. ‘Are you quite sure it’s safe? There are no real rebel bandits in the vicinity?’

  He looked into her face and gave a pudgy smile. ‘The fact that it is lonely is exactly why I chose it as a hiding place. And as for being safe, my private guards will be here in a little while. Their wagon is already on the road – though of course it does not travel as quickly as a gig. They’ll stay here when I go back to town, and see off any unwanted visitors. But who is going to come out here, in any case? The man who used to own the farm is unfortunately dead, as you’re aware, and all these buildings now belong to me.’

  I felt a tingle running down my back. My assumptions had been wrong. Florens was not here in search of me at all. This was some secret assignation of his own. I tried to melt back into the barn again, moving as slowly and noiselessly as possible. I wished devoutly I had stayed there all along. At any moment one of them would look up and notice me.

  It was Junio who attracted their attention first. He must have crept out of the other barn without me noticing and seen me standing there, in danger as he thought. He dropped the sack that he was carrying, which fell with a startling clatter to the ground. The woman shrieked in terror and fled towards the house, but Florens whirled around.

  ‘Father, there’s danger. Make a run for it!’ Junio shouted, as all eyes turned to him – and I realized that he’d made the noise on purpose to let me get away.