I nodded.
“But the agreement we saw was signed after Livius’ death.”
“True, but Livius was the one making trips back and forth across the lake. Something over there is tied into the villa, I’m sure. And one of the kidnappers took Rhoda to that villa. However tenuous it may be, I think that’s a connection worth investigating.”
The old town of Comum, now reduced to a village, had no dock, so we pulled the boat up on the shore and walked a short distance to the main street of the little town. Tacitus, with his height and his equestrian stripe, drew people to the doors of the few shops along the street. I took the mask from the villa out of the bag I was carrying and asked if anyone knew what it was. All I got was heads shaking.
We had passed one shop when somebody jumped Tacitus and knocked him down. “You can’t take me back! I won’t let you!” he shouted.
“We’re not going to hurt you!” I cried. “We just want to talk.”
Tacitus managed to subdue him. “Come on,” I said, “let’s sit down. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”
When we were settled in what proved to be his parents’ shop and home, I took a closer look at him. He was about my age, with hair almost Germanic-blond and a face that could have been copied from a statue of Adonis. His hands shook as his mother handed him and us some wine to drink.
“You’re one of the boys who was taken to the villa, aren’t you?” I said.
“Yes. My name is Gaius Fulvius. This is my mother, Porcia. My parents had nothing. They sold me to a man named Catulus. At least that’s what he said his name was.”
“I cried over him every night,” his mother said. “But we had no choice. Please understand that.”
“I know parents sometimes find themselves in that position,” I said. “We want to find out as much as we can about that villa and who was there.”
When her son didn’t respond, Porcia said, “He won’t talk about it. He showed up here one day, after he’d been gone for two years, but he won’t tell us anything.”
“We know what happened there,” I said.
“You don’t know what happened there,” Fulvius said, rising halfway out of his seat. “You can’t know unless you were there.”
“We know what you were forced to do,” Tacitus put in. “We’ve seen the frescoes.”
That seemed to reassure Fulvius. I wanted his mother to leave us alone, but the living quarters behind the shop consisted of one room.
“We just want to know who was there,” I said, “not any details about who did anything to you.”
“I don’t know who was there. They all wore masks like the one you have. The only person I knew by name was Lucius.”
“Who was he?” I doubted that was his real name, considering that Livius had called himself Catulus.
“He lived at the villa and looked after the boys there. He wasn’t what you’d call kind, but he kept the men from doing some of the worst things they wanted to do to us. When no men were there, he fed us and tried to get us to play like normal boys, but we had little interest in doing so. He carved toys for us.”
“Like this?” I took the wooden ox out of the bag.
“Yes, that’s one of his. He was quite good. He carved the masks.”
“How did you get out of there?” Tacitus asked. I could sense that Fulvius wasn’t comfortable talking to a man, but I couldn’t tell Tacitus to stop interfering.
Fulvius sighed deeply. “One night another man came to the villa and told Lucius that Nero had been killed. We weren’t sure who Nero was or what that meant. The man said armies were marching toward Rome. He was frightened. What if they found the villa? Lucius told the man he would take care of things and sent him away. Then he told us to get our clothes and come with him.”
“How many of you were there?” I asked.
“There were six of us in the villa then. He led us through the woods to the lake and found a boat. He got us across and pointed us in the direction of our homes. ‘That’s all I can do,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry it can’t be more.’ Then he sailed back across the lake.”
“Are any of the other boys still around here?” I asked.
He shook his head. “A couple of them didn’t even come home when we got off the boat. I can’t say I blame them, since their parents had sold them. A couple of the others have died recently. As far as I know, I’m the only one left.”
“Were any other boys ever brought back over here?”
“No. While I was there, some of the boys got too old, and that man Catulus came and said he was going to take them back home, I’ve never found anybody over here who knows of a boy who came back. Do you know what happened to them?”
I knew from Tacitus’ glower that he was suspecting the same thing I was. Livius was killing the older boys and dumping their bodies in the lake. Maybe one of them fought back and caused his boat to capsize. That would make the boy a hero in my eyes. “No, I’m sorry, Fulvius. We don’t know,” I said.
XI
Nothing is more dangerous to men than a sudden change of fortune.
—Quintilian
I was awakened by a tumult of noise—someone pounding, on a door perhaps, others shouting. People seemed to be running. Aurora sat up beside me, her hand and her chin on my shoulder, as a heavy knock sounded on the door of my room.
“My lord,” Felix said through the door, “there’s something you need to see.”
Slipping on a tunic, I opened the door slightly and put my head out. It was still pitch dark. Lamps flickered here and there in the garden. “What is it?”
“It’s Brennus, my lord. He’s at the back gate.”
“Brennus? Is he all right?”
“Bruised and scratched, my lord, but otherwise unharmed. Decimus was going to come get you, but I volunteered because I thought…”
“Yes, of course. I’ll be right there.” I closed the door. “Wait a few moments,” I told Aurora, kissing her quickly. “Once everybody is away from here, you can slip out. Just don’t let anyone see you.” She nodded and I joined Felix in the garden. “What’s going on? How did he get here?” The image of Rhoda trussed up and dumped at my door hadn’t faded yet.
“He managed to escape, my lord, and make his way back here. I’ll let him tell you the story.”
Brennus was sitting on the ground just inside the back gate. I was glad to see everyone moving in that direction, many of them carrying lamps. Aurora would be able to get out of my room without anyone noticing where she had been. Decimus and Barbatus stood over Brennus, who was wearing a slave’s manacles. His hands were fastened behind his back and a chain ran down to leg irons which gave him only limited movement. From the bruises and scrapes on his face, I could tell he had fallen during his escape or been maltreated by his captors.
Barbatus had a hammer and a chisel. As I approached, he popped the manacles off Brennus’ wrists and began to work on the irons on his ankles. When he saw me, Brennus tried to stand.
“Steady, man,” Barbatus said. “If you keep moving around, I’m likely to slip and take your foot off.”
“It’s all right,” I assured Brennus. “Stay where you are. What happened? How did you get here? Is Livia all right?”
“Yes, my lord, she is. And so is Procne, but they’re in chains, just like these. The fellow who was supposed to take his turn guarding us tonight fell asleep. I knew I couldn’t get the women out without waking the guard, so I decided to make my break and get help.”
“You were fortunate that you were awake.”
“I kept myself awake by pressing on the manacles until it hurt, my lord. I thought there might be a chance the man would fall asleep.”
“Is there only one?”
“There are two, my lord, but they were taking turns guarding us. The other one had gone to get some supplies.”
Tacitus had now joined the circle around Brennus. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Aurora hanging back on the fringe of the group.
“I thought you w
ere attacked by three men,” Tacitus said.
The leg irons fell off and Brennus got to his feet, stretching his stiff limbs. “We were, my lord, but we’ve not seen the third man since we were taken off. It’s just been the two. The third man rode off with Rhoda.”
“Where are they?” I asked.
“In a shepherd’s hut, my lord.”
“Can you find it again?”
“I’m sure I can, my lord.”
“How did you find your way here in the dark?”
“As you know, my lord, I have a very keen nose. I’ve been called a son of a bitch for that reason, as well as others. When we were carried off, they were short one horse. I was tied up and forced to walk behind them. I paid attention to any plants we passed. This time of year, at the height of summer, there are many scents in the air. When I escaped, I followed what I could see and what I could smell back to the road and then up to here.”
“Didn’t your captors blindfold you?” Tacitus asked.
“No, my lord. They wore masks, hideous skull-like things, so they didn’t bother to blindfold us.”
“You’ve acted very bravely,” I said. “I’ll see to it that you’re rewarded.”
“Thank you, my lord. Let’s just get my lady back. I’m ashamed that I wasn’t able to protect her in the first place.”
“I’m sure you did all you could.”
“It’ll be light in an hour or so,” Tacitus said. “Let’s get some men and horses ready to go after these bastards.”
“My lord,” Brennus said, “I think a large force might frighten them into doing something drastic. They’re acting on someone else’s orders. I’m sure of that. They don’t seem to be vicious men.”
“They killed the driver,” Tacitus pointed out.
“He lashed one of them with his whip, my lord. Until then I don’t think they meant to hurt anyone. They haven’t harmed my lady Livia or Procne, but I’m not sure how they’ll react if they’re attacked.”
* * *
I took Brennus’ advice to heart. As soon as it was light, Tacitus, Aurora and I got ready to set off with him to find the kidnappers. I felt Aurora’s tracking skills might be as useful as Brennus’ nose. We also took Grillus, the freedman who serves as the estate’s doctor, because I was afraid someone might get hurt if it came to a confrontation. As Brennus had said, these men would strike if provoked.
Just before we mounted, Aurora took me aside. “Do you think this is wise, Gaius, to go with so small a number? You’re letting Brennus determine how we proceed. How do you know he’s not leading you into some kind of trap?”
“Brennus has been in my household since he was a child, just like you. He came here a few days ago. He doesn’t know anyone here. How could he be involved?”
“I don’t know. It just seems his escape is…convenient.”
I knew better than to disregard Aurora’s instincts and suspicions. “We’ll be extremely cautious. Are you armed?”
“Always, my lord.” Aurora patted her thigh at the spot where she carries the knife I gave her, strapped under her gown.
“What’s your plan, Gaius?” Tacitus asked.
“It will depend on what we find when we get to the hut. I suspect the kidnappers will move somewhere else when they find Brennus gone.”
“I’d bet on it. They’ll know that he’ll lead a rescue party back to the place.”
As we rode, Brennus pointed out places where he had fallen the night before. With his ankles chained and his hands fastened behind him, I was amazed he had been able to move at all. We passed the spot where Livia and her party had been seized. About a quarter mile farther down the road Brennus signaled for us to stop.
“We turned into the woods here, my lord.” It was the spot where Aurora had said the kidnappers rode into a stream. “If I may, I’ll lead on foot so I can pick up the scents I need to follow. The horses will mask the smells of the plants.” We held the reins of his horse as Brennus advanced ahead of us, raising his head and turning it from side to side.
“It’s like following a two-legged dog,” Tacitus whispered to me as we rode behind him.
Half an hour later Brennus raised his hand to stop us. We dismounted and walked quietly to where he was standing on the edge of the woods. In front of us was a pasture, overgrown because no one had kept sheep in it for some time. A few small trees had sprouted here and there. About twenty paces off to our right stood a small windowless hut, made of mud wattle with a thatched roof. Near the door was a spot where a fire, presumably for cooking, was still smoldering.
“That’s it,” Brennus said, “but I think they’re gone. I don’t see any horses.”
With swords drawn, Tacitus and I crept up to the hut, but Brennus was right. The door was open, showing how empty the place was. We stood in the doorway and surveyed the room. On one side of it sat a small table and a rickety chair.
“What’s that?” Tacitus said, raising his sword to point at something on the table.
In the dim interior I couldn’t make out what the object was until I stood right over it. Then I gasped. “By the gods, it’s a finger! Somebody’s little finger.”
“Whose do you think it is?” Tacitus asked.
I regarded the finger with horror, trying not to think about the agony a woman had endured here, but I could almost hear the screams still echoing around the hut. “It’s long and slender, so it must have come from Procne.” Although Livia and I had rarely touched one another, I knew how short and pudgy her fingers were. “The blood isn’t completely dry, so the injury was quite recent, probably only an hour or two ago.”
“You were prescient to bring Grillus along,” Tacitus said. “Procne will need some care when we find her.”
The finger wasn’t the only thing on the table. Someone had taken soot from the fireplace and written on the table, in barely literate Latin: if you follow us we cut off more.
“The writing is different from the note that was pinned to Rhoda’s dress,” I said. “Whoever wrote that was an educated person. This, I think, was written by the underlings who are actually holding Livia.”
“They’ve panicked and fled,” Tacitus said. “Now how do we find them? Brennus’ nose isn’t going to do us any good.”
“They headed south, my lord,” Aurora said from the doorway behind us, “across the pasture, and not long ago.”
When I turned to her, I took in a breath and had to collect myself. The sun behind her gave her an aura like a goddess. “Can you…can you track them?” I asked.
She stepped into the hut and broke the spell. “It should be easy enough. People in a hurry leave plenty of traces. And I’ve seen bloodstains.” She saw the finger for the first time and gasped. “Oh, dear gods, so that’s why. Somebody was bleeding pretty badly, I’m afraid. They didn’t take time to wrap the wound. I don’t think they’re too far ahead of us.”
As we mounted our horses Brennus said, “One of the men kept saying he wished they had hidden in the cave instead of this place. He always said it like it was a place they knew, ‘the cave.’”
“Eustachius’ quarry is in that direction, my lord,” Aurora said, pointing southeast. “That seems a likely place to find a cave.”
The high grass in the meadow made tracking the kidnappers’ horses so easy even I could see where they had been. It became more difficult when we entered the woods on the other side of the opening, but Aurora did not seem to be deterred. In a short time she led us to the far edge of the woods.
Putting a finger to her lips, she said, “There’s a bloodstain over there. They dismounted here and went off in that direction, leading their horses. We’re at the edge of an abandoned part of the quarry, to judge from the way it’s overgrown. Eustachius told Felix and me that they have stopped working some of it. There must be a trail down over the ledge.”
Leaving our horses with Brennus, we followed Aurora to a trail that, as she had predicted, led over a cut in the ledge and down into the quarry. It was narrow; leadin
g a horse down it must have been difficult. Trees and bushes grew up in the cracks left where stone had been cut.
“Watch the droppings,” Aurora said as we started down, single-file. “They’re fresh. So is that bloodstain.” She pointed to a smear on the rocks beside us. “I suspect someone was trying to leave a trail.”
The neighing of a horse brought us to a stop.
“That sounds close,” I said.
“The animal is in a cave.” Aurora dropped to one knee. “I think they’re just around that outcropping.”
“What’s our plan of attack?” Tacitus asked.
“I wish we could get somebody behind them,” I said, “but even if there is another entrance to the cave, who knows how long it would take us to find it. We’ll just have to rely on surprise and superior numbers.”
“But they have hostages,” Tacitus said.
“That’s why we have to act quickly.”
Drawing my sword, I took the lead now, with Tacitus right behind me. The trail broadened into a ledge and we could hear several horses snuffling. Ahead of us a cave opened. Motioning Tacitus to a halt, I crept forward until I could look around the rocks and into the cave, which was about the size of the atrium in a typical house, but with a low enough ceiling that a man could barely stand in it. Two men, wearing skull masks with open mouths like the masks worn by tragic actors, sat next to a fire, the only source of light in the cave. The horses were tied up behind them.
On the other side of the fire Livia and Procne huddled together, still in chains and gagged. Procne, moaning and sobbing softly, clutched her hand against the bosom of her gown, which was now a splotchy red. The flickering light playing on Livia’s face showed her fear. She was close to tears but tried to comfort Procne, clanking the chains on her wrists. I didn’t know she was capable of such tenderness.
“Be quiet over there,” one of the men growled, picking up a small rock and throwing it at Livia, as though she were a bothersome dog. It struck her in the face.
That’s one more thing you’ll pay for, I thought.
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