I tried a friendly smile. ‘Of course. I’m not expecting that you’ll have a spare military tunic in the house. But in the meantime, anything is better than what he’s wearing now. The poor boy’s wet and frozen – they took his cloak and armour and they beat him savagely. I don’t know what he did to anger them, but he can hardly go and meet Darturius as he is.’
Paigh gave a bitter laugh. ‘I doubt that he’ll be meeting Darturius at all. It’s you that I’m instructed to bring in for an audience.’ He stopped and looked me shrewdly in the eye. ‘Look, fellow Celt, there’s one thing I must make clear. We have much in common and in any other circumstances I might have called you friend. But whatever game you’re playing here, I can’t be part of it. I’ll do what’s rational – I’ll send you washing water and a change of clothes – but that is all the help you can expect from me. Is that understood?’
I stared at him. ‘Not understood at all. What do you—’
He cut me off abruptly and aimed his spear at me. ‘Enough! There’s nothing to discuss. Another word and I will change my mind. Now, we’re nearly at the gate. There’s no guard needed when the tide is in, so you can go straight in.’ I believe he would have prodded us with the barbed prongs if we had not complied.
It was strange to walk in through a Celtic palisade, so very like my own, and find oneself confronting a Roman country house – and a handsome one, though clearly very new. Even stranger to find that, instead of formal gardens or an open court, there was nothing around it but a patch of scrubby grass, full of ducks and geese and little round huts in the native style. Paigh gestured to the nearest one of these.
‘Make for that dye-house and wait for me inside. And don’t consider trying to escape – the front gates are guarded so there’s no way through there, and no way back unless you want to drown.’
‘Escape …?’ I echoed, mystified.
But he had already set off at a run towards the house.
TWENTY-FOUR
‘What was he saying, citizen? You look alarmed?’ A frightened Trinculus was plucking at my arm.
I did not want to disquiet him still more, so I simply explained that Paigh had gone to find us clothes and we were told to wait. I gestured to the hut. ‘In there. The door is open,’ I finished, cheerfully. ‘And it will be warm inside.’
It was. The place was bigger than my dye-house, but very similar and – though there was no dying actually in progress now – there were signs that there had been, fairly recently. There were still warm embers on the central fire and a now empty vat that was hanging over it gave off a vague heat too – though there was no sign of what it had contained. Perhaps there was a separate drying-room somewhere. But I no longer cared. I was simply glad to sit down on the floor, remove my single sodden sandal, and allow my old chilled legs and feet to find comfort near the hearth, while Trinculus huddled as close as possible.
As he did, I realised that he was shivering. Shivering so much that I took off my own cloak, and – despite his protests – wrapped it round his skinny form. ‘It’s damp but it is wool. It will still warm you,’ I said, and then, in answer to his grateful smile, I said, ‘What happened to your own?’
The shy grin faded instantly and he shook his head. But he did not reply.
‘You can tell me, Trinculus,’ I urged. ‘The last few hours have been frightening, but now we’re safely here.’
He turned his bruised and purpling face to me. ‘Safe for you, citizen, perhaps.’ I was distressed to see teardrops running down his cheeks, and that one eye was now so swollen that it was just a slit. ‘You have your warrant, but how does that help me? I was assigned to guard you on the road, and I was proud to come. But then, last night …’ He trailed off into silence again.
‘Last night …?’ I urged gently.
It came out in a rush. ‘Last night they threw me into a dismal room, stripped me of my armour by brute force and said I was a thief. And when I attempted to protest, that soldier knocked me down – and kicked my teeth loose, by the feel of it. I tried to maintain a soldier’s dignity – said that I was entitled to military respect – but that just made him beat me savagely.’ He shook his battered head. ‘It is an insult to our regiment!’
‘We’ll send a message to the tesserarius,’ I soothed. ‘Though I think I can explain why we were harshly entertained. I suspect events in Glevum may have overtaken us – we’re probably fortunate that they allowed us to come here.’ I outlined my theory about my patron’s fall from grace. ‘Though as a soldier-escort – rather than a slave – that should not strictly have affected you. But I’ll make sure that your principalis is informed at once.’
But Trinculus was not comforted. ‘Let’s hope that you succeed. I’m sorry, citizen, if that sounds impolite, but I tried to send a message from that mansio myself. I asked them most politely to include it in the military post, with the day’s despatches, but they would not hear of it. Said that I was sufficient trouble as it was – impersonating soldiers was a capital offence, and I would be lucky if the tribune did not feed me to the beasts.’
I frowned. ‘But you are a Roman soldier! That cannot be in doubt. You arrived in armour, on a military gig, and I told them who you were.’
He hunched his thin-cloaked shoulders round his dormouse ears. ‘But they did not believe it. Jove alone knows why. And when I referred them to your warrant all they did was laugh and say it did not mention me. I pointed out that I was sent to escort you on the road, but that infuriated that brutal soldier more. I knew the truth and I was hiding it, he said, and if I did not tell them everything he would beat it out of me.’
I shook my head, bewildered and appalled. No part of the last few hours had been what I hoped, but this was simply inexplicable. I began to wonder if this was all a dreadful dream and I was going to wake up any minute safely in my bed. ‘But you were hiding nothing!’ I exclaimed. ‘Though they did not believe that, either, I suppose?’
Trinculus said nothing, merely rubbed his upper arms and looked away, as though he were embarrassed.
‘Well?’ I demanded.
‘Well …’ His voice was trembling. ‘There was something, I suppose. But when I told the guard, he thrashed me even more. I think he would have beaten me to death, if that old mansionarius had not come in just then, saying that they must be careful, just in case.’
‘In case of what?’ I wondered.
‘In case I turned out to be, not an imposter, but a deserter after all – they’d been warned that there was one in the area – in which event the local commander would want to deal with me.’
‘But they still allowed you to accompany me here?’
‘Only because I could not easily escape from here, they said – which would mean they were relieved of responsibility, but could send and arrest me at any time. I was not supposed to hear all that, of course, and when they realised that I had, the guard grabbed me by the tunic-front and shook me till the blood sang in my ears. I was not to tell you any part of this, he said, otherwise – even if I was not a deserter, and therefore to be stoned – he would see that I was sentenced to the mines as a civilian disobeying a military command.’ The voice was tremulous, more with fear than cold.
‘But you told me anyway?’ I was oddly touched, although his tormentor’s attitude made very little sense. ‘Perhaps they really think that you are not what you claim. There was a deserter, as we know. But never fear. As soon as I see Darturius I’ll ensure that a message is sent back at once, and then they’ll be in trouble for mistreating you. You’re a soldier obeying orders and did nothing wrong. Your tesserarius will be furious.’
There was a silence. I was rather expecting relief and gratitude, but after a little the boy said doubtfully, ‘Will he have to be told that I confessed? He’d probably decide that I earned my punishment.’ He had been staring at the embers until now, but all at once he turned and looked at me.
‘Confessed?’ I gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘But you’ve done nothing to confess
about – have you? Or is there something that I don’t know about?’
He shook his head. ‘It’s nothing that I did. It’s what I didn’t do.’ He paused, and then went on in a rush: ‘I was going to tell you yesterday, once that driver had left us at the inn – I didn’t want him telling tales when he got back. But at the mansio they dragged us apart, and I never got the opportunity. And it did not occur to me before. It was that coach, you see.’
‘The coach? What coach? You mean the gig that brought us here?’
Trinculus shook his head. ‘The one belonging to that other citizen – Posthumous or whatever he was called. I saw it at the inn. It reminded me of something and I could not think what, but as we drove along, the answer came to me. It was rather like the one that Acacius Flauccus used to have – though without the fancy paint. And that is when I realised what I’d done, or failed to do … Perhaps I should have thought of it before.’ He hunched himself up by the embers as before.
‘Trinculus,’ I said, impatiently. ‘What are you telling me?’
‘I might have let the carriage past,’ he said. ‘You know, at Uudum. The tax-collector’s coach.’
‘You were on duty at the gate that day?’ I could hardly believe it. ‘And you never mentioned it?’
He shook his head, defensively. ‘There was nothing to report. I hadn’t seen the tax collector go past in his coach. But I would not have paid the least attention even if I had, because we’d just received the message that he still had money to collect. I was just pointing the messenger the way—’
I cut him off. ‘The messenger!’ I was an idiot. ‘Of course! It wasn’t Aureax after all. So how did Flauccus find a messenger? All of his servants had been taken off for sale. And he would hardly use an urchin from the street.’
Trinculus looked puzzled. ‘Of course not, citizen. But there is no mystery about the messenger – he was an official courier who was known to us. He’d taken a message to Flauccus a little while before, and naturally he reported to the guard-post on the way. He’d been to Uudum several times before. I recognised him by his horse and by his uniform.’
I frowned. ‘Yet he needed directions? An Imperial courier? And one who’d been before? Surely he must have known the route?’
‘Not an Imperial rider, citizen, just an official one. From the Glevum curia, in fact – with a message from your own patron, I believe. And of course he knew the way. But first he wanted directions to a farmstead locally – one of the properties that had not paid their tax. Flauccus had commissioned him to take a message there, to warn them that they would be fined if they did not pay before he left the town. He said the curia was anxious to collect all missing tax.’
Indeed they were, I thought – because they’d have to make up any deficit. But a sad and dreadful image had come back to me: a young curial courier beheaded in a ditch. ‘Dear gods,’ I muttered. ‘Perhaps he saw the killers without knowing it.’ Not attacked by rebels after all, but killed because he knew too much and mutilated to make it look like Druid work?
Not that he would have seen the corpse, of course. If Flauccus’s killers were already in the house what would they do if a messenger arrived? Pretend to be townsmen waiting to pay outstanding tax, perhaps, and wait politely till he went away? Or suppose they’d already murdered Flauccus by that time? Did they affect to be attendant friends, perhaps? Saying that Flauccus was busy and couldn’t be disturbed, but offering to pass on the courier’s message when convenient?
Quick thinking on their part, if that was the case – but it must have been something of the kind. The messenger would be questioned by the authorities, once the death was known – even if it was thought to be a suicide – and would innocently testify as to whom he had seen and what they’d said. And as a courier he’d be skilled at recalling word for word – dangerous, since most of it was evidently lies – and at giving exact descriptions of the people he had seen.
So he must be disposed of, but not there in the house – that would prove that there were murderers about. What could be easier than inventing another message for him to take away – saying it was very urgent, naturally? To some isolated farmstead up a lonely road – perhaps one they had noticed on their way, or one which was genuinely listed as being in arrears? That would not only conveniently get rid of the witness instantly, it also meant that they knew where he was going – where they could catch up with him, away from prying eyes, and silence him for good. And giving him a message to the guardhouse on the way was a final masterstroke – it not only made certain that he was seen to leave unharmed, it also ensured that the escort was stood down, so no one was looking for Flauccus – or his coach – till long after the killers, and the tax, were gone.
‘Great Jupiter! I do believe that I have stumbled on the truth.’ I turned to Trinculus. ‘Was that carriage secretly following the courier, do you think – from a distance?’ I enquired.
Trinculus looked doubtfully at me. ‘I don’t know, citizen. I suppose it might have been. I saw it when I was pointing out the farm to him. That’s what I remembered yesterday. The carriage was in the background coming down the street – in the town, where it had every right to be, since Flauccus was supposed to be collecting debts – and I thought no more of it. I just went in and dealt with the travel documents, which had to be countersigned to prove the man had been there. But it occurred to me last night that I did not see the carriage again when we came out – and that perhaps it had been waiting an opportunity and crossed the bridge while I was in the guardhouse with the messenger.’
Meaning it was ahead of the courier, I thought. And waiting out of sight. Poor lad! Aloud I said, ‘And meanwhile, there was nobody on watch? You left your post – for several minutes by the sound of it – and did not tell the tesserarius so, when he was questioning the troops?’
‘I suppose so, citizen. Though he did not ask us that. In fact he did not ask me anything. I took your message to him, asking him to make enquiries, but I was on detachment and came straight back to you. Although I’m sure that he will blame me, when he gets to hear of it – and punish me again. Especially if I contributed to letting them escape.’ He looked timidly at me. ‘Unless you could tell him that I was otherwise of help?’
I tried to comfort him. ‘You are not entirely to blame. If I am right there is a clever mind at work. But I think that you are right about the coach. It went past while you were in the guard-post with the messenger, and the killers went ahead and lay in wait for him. They left the body miles away where no one would connect it with the taxman’s death – which they’d arranged to look like suicide. Easy enough to move the dead courier in the coach and leave it where Druids are known to be at large. Even easier to sell a handsome horse.’
‘Body?’ Trinculus gave an unhappy little moan. ‘You think they killed him?’
‘I’m certain that they did. I believe I saw the corpse.’ I’d forgotten for a moment that he wouldn’t know. I began to tell him, but I’d only just begun when the dye-hut door flew open and Paigh came striding in. In one hand he carried a pile of clothing and a pair of ancient shoes – in the Celtic style he wore himself. It had not occurred to me that a household of this kind would not have Roman garments, and to spare.
He threw them on the ground beside the fire. ‘Here, citizen, this is the best that I can do. The tunics have been washed. The shoes were once my own. If you want to clean your legs, there’s water in the pail.’ He gestured to a wooden bucket in the corner of the hut.
The water was even colder than the sea had been, but I was glad to wash the salt and mud crust from my limbs and rub them dry with my discarded clothes. The tunic he had brought me was very short, and had abbreviated sleeves, but it was clean and decent and I was glad of it. I had forgotten too, how flexible soft Celtic shoes can be; the pair that were provided looked far too big for me, but tightening the cord around my foot pulled in the leather and made them wearable.
Thus washed and clothed I felt myself again and Trinculus wa
s clearly grateful to be warmly clad, though none of the tunics really fitted us and my servant’s garb was hardly flattering to Marcus, whose representative I was. However, a promise is a promise. I fastened my belt around my tunic of coloured homespun plaid and opened the drawstring of my hanging purse.
‘What price are you demanding?’ It would no doubt be high and I was in no position to protest.
He shook his head. ‘I should have been obliged to clothe you anyway – and if you are to stay here in the house, I do not wish to make an enemy. A tip, however, would be acceptable.’
I gave him one – so handsome that he tested the coin with his teeth, before he slipped it in an arm-purse and thanked me with a bow. ‘And now, I think, my master is awaiting you. Though he is not alone – he is entertaining the wedding guests who got here yesterday. Not you,’ he added quickly, as my young companion made as if to rise. ‘I am told to leave you here.’
Trinculus sank down beside the hearth again – clearly torn between disappointment and relief – and Paigh turned to me. ‘Follow me, I will present you in the house – together with that document that I was asked to bring.’ He waved my patron’s writing-tablet at me with a smile.
I nodded, doubtfully. I did not need my travel warrant here – it was merely authority to use the mansios – and if Marcus had fallen from favour, I was not sure it would help. But it was Marcus who had been invited to the feast, and perhaps his seal was still of some account.
‘Lead on,’ I said, and we set off towards the house.
The villa was even stranger as one got close to it. It was large and lofty, with pillars at the door and even a small flight of steps approaching it, but the effect was not harmonious. The pediment, for instance, was grand and finely carved, but the entranceway itself was flanked on either side by too many statues in too many styles – and not especially handsome ones at that. And all of this incongruously set in a Celtic enclosure among round Celtic huts, with not a formal garden, fountain or courtyard anywhere in sight.
The Price of Freedom Page 21