A Bitter Chill: An Aurelia Marcella Roman Mystery (Aurelia Marcella Roman Series)

by Jane Finnis

  Rufus made a face. “Can’t you give me something easy to do, like crossing the Pennine hills with a train of elephants?”

  Once Sempronia, Horatius, Fabia, and Diogenes were all safely seated, with their slaves in attendance, Quintus and I hurried across to the guest wing. We found Plautius not only awake, but out of bed. He was in the sitting-room, and Timaeus was waiting on him as he ate a frugal meal of bread and boiled eggs.

  Quintus did most of the talking, and Plautius listened carefully, taking everything in his stride and showing no particular agitation. His only question was to me.

  “Aurelia Marcella, this young man Victor. Is he to be trusted?”

  “I’d trust him with my life, and I’m not exaggerating. He has saved my life. He’s a smart lad, honest and loyal. You can believe what he says without hesitation.”

  “Good.” He opened the note-tablet and read the brief contents aloud in a measured, calm tone, which made them all the more chilling.

  If you want your son back alive, send one messenger alone with twenty gold pieces to the Druids’ clearing near Oak Bridges at the second hour tomorrow, to wait for further orders. No tricks, or they will all die.

  Plautius sighed. “I was afraid of something like this. I can manage twenty gold pieces, but they’ll want a large ransom, I assume.”

  I nodded. “Titch says they discussed ransoms, but didn’t name an exact sum.”

  “I can’t take risks with my son’s life. I suppose I’ll have to pay whatever they demand.”

  “Not necessarily,” Quintus answered. “We could try to negotiate, string matters out for a few days, while we find out who’s behind this. It’s possible we could catch them, but we need time. For a start, you could tell them you can’t get more gold till after the holiday, which is probably true, isn’t it?”

  “Oh I can get it if I have to. The garrison commander at Eburacum is a friend of mine. The criminals wouldn’t know that, of course.” He was silent for a while, and then scratched his grey head and smiled. “There is one possibility, of course. Sempronia might not like it. Or perhaps in fact she would welcome it. Yes, it’s definitely worth thinking about.”

  “What have you in mind?” Quintus asked.

  “Let me give it a little more thought first. And talk it over with Sempronia too. Technically the decision is mine, but she has a right to be included in the discussion.”

  I kept my face blank. Best not to speculate what Sempronia would do if she wasn’t included in a decision as important as this.

  Quintus nodded. “I’ll tell her what’s happened and ask her to meet you here after dinner, shall I?”

  “Yes, please.” He lay back on his couch. “Gods, if only I felt stronger. Ah well, we must do the best we can. If you don’t mind, I’d like a little time to rest now.”

  So Quintus went in to dinner, and I returned to the bar-room.

  CHAPTER XVI

  Albia told me she’d sent Titch to his bed in the horse-boys’ loft above the stables. “There’s nothing wrong with him that a good night’s sleep won’t put right. He’s a tough little tyke, as well as a brave one. Oh, he asked if you could feed Poppaea and check on the pups, but I explained you’d probably be too busy, so I told Castor to do it.”

  “Thanks. I don’t fancy going out in the snow again.”

  We were sitting by the fire eating some of the venison stew, when we heard raised voices in the dining-room—or to be accurate, one raised voice, Sempronia’s. Without a word we left our meal and moved to stand close to the connecting door. We’d have looked pretty silly if anyone had come through, but they didn’t, and we could hear perfectly.

  “It’s outrageous!” her ladyship barked. “Preposterous! These bandits, these criminals, simply can’t be allowed to hold a senator’s son, our son, to ransom!” There was more of the same, and for once I didn’t blame her for being angry.

  “It’s no good ranting and raving.” That was Horatius’ voice, soothing and only slightly slurred. “These things happen. We’ll just have to pay up, and guard ourselves better in future.”

  “They’re bound to ask for a preposterous amount of money,” she snapped, “if twenty gold pieces is their opening price. That’s about all the gold we have with us, and we have no chance of raising any more by tomorrow.”

  “Not by tomorrow,” Quintus agreed, “but by the day after, if necessary, so Plautius says. And there may be another way.”

  “You think so?” Sempronia sounded sceptical.

  “I’ve suggested to Plautius that we might be able to catch the gang,” Quintus answered. “If we can buy ourselves a little time.”

  “Catch them? That sounds promising,” Horatius said. “Of course, I keep forgetting you’re one of the Emperor’s investigators. This is right up your street, isn’t it? What’s the best way to play it then?”

  “Play!” Sempronia almost shouted. “Horatius, we are not playing at anything. This isn’t a game.”

  “Sorry, sorry. Just a manner of speaking. Well, Antonius?”

  “I suggest we try to string out our negotiations with them as long as we can. Give them the twenty gold pieces now, and agree to their demands, which will presumably be for a large ransom. We must let them think we definitely mean to co-operate, but tell them we can’t get hold of the gold until after the holiday. That gives us four days, which with luck should be time enough to track the gang down. Oh, and Plautius says he has an idea for delaying tactics too, and he wants to talk to you about it, Sempronia.”

  “Good.” Sempronia sighed. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? I’ve been wishing for some time I could find a way of getting rid of that girl Margarita. But I don’t want a serious breach with Aulus, and he’s besotted with her. He has to make a political marriage eventually, he knows that, and yet he keeps putting it off because of her. Now she’s removed by force, but because Aulus has been captured too, we shall have to pay for the privilege of having her restored to us. Unless….” There was a short silence, and then she said thoughtfully, “Slaves are property, after all, and expendable. I wonder if we should perhaps ransom Aulus, but tell the gang they can keep the two slaves.”

  We were both shocked by this chilling thought. Granted, slaves are property, but they’re still people. How could she describe Margarita and Gaius as contemplate even the possibility of not paying their ransom?expendable, or

  Our silent disgust was given voice by Horatius. “Sempronia, don’t even think such things. Margarita and Gaius are part of your household, and your only honourable course is to get them back, whatever it costs.”

  “Yes, you’re right, I suppose. But it’s a pity. Gods, I’ve already got one son trying to escape his duty. I cannot let Aulus do the same.”

  There was silence for a few heartbeats. Then suddenly Sempronia exclaimed, “Of course!” and there was a crash—she must have thumped her table. “Gods, how blind I’ve been! It’s obvious, isn’t it? Antonius, you’re an investigator. Don’t you see what’s behind all this?”

  “Apart from a band of kidnappers taking the chance of easy money? No, I don’t.”

  “But hasn’t it occurred to you that the obvious person who would want to take Aulus hostage is his brother? This whole affair is Decimus’ doing!”

  “Decimus’?” Horatius clearly didn’t find her conclusion at all obvious.

  “But why?” Quintus asked.

  “He’s trying to exert pressure on us over his proposed marriage. You’ll see! When we enquire what his demands are, he’ll agree to release his hostages in return for our giving consent to his marriage with this innkeeper girl.”

  By my side, the innkeeper girl hissed, “What rubbish!”

  “I don’t think that’s the answer,” Fabia said gently. She’d been so quiet I’d almost forgotten she was there. “Decimus loves his brother. He’d never hurt him. And he knows you wouldn’t give in to that sort of blackmail.”

  “It does you credit that you defend him, my dear,” Sempronia said. “And I’m
sure you’re right, he wouldn’t actually hurt Aulus. So all we have to do is stand firm, and he’ll release them all. No, take it away! I can’t think of eating anything else just now. This is all far too provoking. I must talk to Plautius.”

  “We’ll all go,” Quintus answered. “That is, if I may join you in a family meeting, Sempronia? I’ve some professional experience of this kind of situation.”

  “Yes, yes, all right,” she said shortly.

  “We’d probably better ask the innkeeper to join us,” Horatius suggested. “We’ll need directions to this meeting-place, what was it, the Druids’ clearing? I sincerely hope there are no Druids there now!”

  “I agree,” Quintus said. “I’ll see if she’s in the bar, shall I?”

  We moved quickly back to the fireside, grateful for the warning. He must have known we’d be eavesdropping. He began to open the door slowly, but Sempronia snapped, “No, Antonius, I’m having no outsiders at a family council as important as this. Especially as she’s bound to be on Decimus’ side, because of her sister. Come along now, let’s go and decide what’s to be done.”

  Quintus made a face, then turned back into the dining-room, closing the door carefully behind him. They all began to troop into the hall.

  “What an appalling family,” Albia breathed. “I can’t believe I’m thinking of marrying into it. That Sempronia can blame Candidus for the kidnapping, and if it isn’t Candidus, she can seriously suggest not paying a ransom for Margarita and Gaius!”

  “Plautius won’t let it happen,” I answered. “And Quintus will catch the gang. He’s still a good investigator, even if….” I paused. “Even if he’s stopped caring for me” was the end of that sentence, but I didn’t want to say it aloud.

  “Oh, Relia, I’m sorry. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own problems, I haven’t been thinking about yours. I couldn’t believe the way he behaved to you this afternoon. And yet when he was in here with Titch and just you and me, he seemed like his old self. I don’t understand it.”

  I didn’t understand it either, so we talked of other things for a while, until the man himself came in, looking harassed.

  “Gods, I swear those two will drive me mad!”

  I poured him some wine, and he drained a whole beaker and then sat down on the bench opposite us.

  “That was a short meeting.” I refilled all the mugs. “I thought you’d be stuck in the guest wing for hours while Plautius and Sempronia argued. What have they decided?”

  “I don’t know. Plautius insisted on talking to Sempronia in private.”

  “In private? For the gods’ sake why?”

  “I don’t know,” he said again, shaking his head. “They agreed to negotiate with the kidnappers for as long as they could, but when they started on the details, Plautius said they preferred not to discuss their family finances in the presence of outsiders, and asked me to leave. I don’t like it. I wish I knew what they’re up to.” He looked at me. “You’ve had several conversations with the old man, I gather, Aurelia?”

  “I have. And whenever I see him, he manoeuvres me into doing something he wants, that I’d much prefer not to do.”

  Quintus nodded. “He’s a force to be reckoned with. He comes across as a gentle, mild old patrician, doesn’t he? But there’s a will of iron and a heart of stone under that courteous exterior, even now, when he’s so ill. How else has he managed to control Sempronia all these years?”

  “From what I’ve seen, I wouldn’t say he controls her exactly. It’s more that he prevents her from controlling him.”

  “It’s a mystery to me why he puts up with her,” Albia said. “Such a horrible, bad-tempered harpy, most men would have divorced her long ago.”

  Quintus shrugged. “Plautius has money, but it’s Sempronia who has the political connections. Even before her nephew got the governorship here, she was the one with the really powerful family. He’ll put up with a lot of bad temper for that. And she’s better than some patrician wives, she doesn’t hold orgies, or have affairs.”

  Albia giggled. “Who’d want her?”

  “She was handsome enough as a young woman, they say. Mind you, perhaps they daren’t say anything else!”

  I smiled, recognising a touch of the old Quintus. “Let’s stick to tonight’s private meeting. Did you pick up anything about their plans?”

  “They’re sending a messenger to the Druids’ clearing tomorrow morning as instructed, taking twenty gold pieces. He’ll try some kind of delaying tactics.”

  “Who are they sending?” I asked.

  “Diogenes.”

  “Merda, Quintus, that’s as good as giving in to the gang straight away. He’s bound to do some separate deal of his own with them. Margarita told us he’s been trying to get his hands on her and Gaius for months.”

  Quintus nodded. “I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. We’ll just have to watch him closely.”

  “But how? The instructions are, one messenger to go alone.”

  He smiled. “I did get one sensible decision out of Plautius and Sempronia. I’m going with Diogenes tomorrow to guide him to the meeting-place.”

  “Guide him?” I repeated. “The Druids’ clearing isn’t very difficult to find.”

  “I know that, but he doesn’t. Perhaps I can do something useful while I’m there—eavesdrop on what he says, and have a look at the other members of the gang. They’ll come in force, even if we’re supposed to be sending only one man.”

  “It’s not safe for you to go,” I objected. “Even though they don’t know you, they’ll tell by your manner that you’re someone with military training, someone in authority, not just a guide. I’ve a better idea. I’ll go. They won’t see me as a threat, the way they would you.”

  He laughed. “If only they knew you, they’d realise that you’re at least as much of a threat as I am!”

  Yet again, a glimpse of the old Quintus, and the feeling that had once been so good between us. These occasional reminders of how things used to be made the present situation all the worse. Ridiculously, I suddenly felt so miserable I could have cried, and I took refuge in brusqueness.

  “No doubt they’ll just assume I’m helping a customer, like any excellent innkeeper. So is it agreed? I’ll go instead of you?”

  “Aurelia….”

  “I said, is it agreed?”

  “If you’re sure, yes. It’s a good idea.”

  “Thanks for the compliment.”

  “Relia, you’re not going with only Diogenes for company,” Albia put in. “I don’t trust the Weasel, and we certainly can’t trust the kidnappers.”

  Quintus nodded. “Of course you’re not. I’ll come along too, as far as the turning that leads into the woods, and then I’ll follow you in, but keeping out of sight. If you can divert their attention as much as possible, it’ll make it easier for me to get up close and look around.” He relapsed into thought, staring at the glowing logs. Then he smiled, and asked, “Is Hawk still hunting in these woods?”

  “Now that,” I said, “is a really good idea.”

  CHAPTER XVII

  We were late setting off for the Druids’ clearing. Plautius and Sempronia were moving out to Clarus’ villa, and there was an enormous amount to do, much of it involving Diogenes. I suggested Sempronia send another messenger instead of her indispensable secretary, but she wouldn’t hear of it, so we had to wait until he was ready. At least that gave me time to do my usual rounds outside, and to make sure someone was feeding Titch’s dogs. But I needn’t have worried, because Titch was there in person, complete with cheeky grin and assurances that he felt none the worse after his ordeal yesterday.

  I insisted that we rode rather than drove, to be more mobile if we needed to make a quick escape. Also, I confess, the idea appealed because I was sure it would disconcert Diogenes, who did all his travelling in carriages. So it did, and he complained loudly, but Sempronia reinforced my instructions. “You’ll be going through snowy woods without roads, Mustel
a. A carriage is hardly appropriate, is it?” I don’t know which pleased me more, the wicked gleam in her eyes or the brief spark of anger in his.

  It was a grey, cold morning, and though the snow had stopped, it looked liable to begin again at any time. We took tough riding-mules, and wrapped ourselves up warmly. Quintus and I wore cavalry breeches under our heavy tunics and fur cloaks. Quintus announced to everyone that he’d accompany us as far as the point where the track to the clearing left the main road. He didn’t tell Diogenes that he’d be following us on foot, and of course neither of us mentioned Hawk, but it was comforting to know he would be watching.

  As we made our silent way down the main road, I found my thoughts going back to the last occasion when Quintus and I had visited this hidden clearing together, an August night four years ago. We’d gone in disguise to a Druid ceremony, and hidden among the crowds there. We’d had to witness the hideous sacrifice of a boy, and then…. I wrenched my thoughts back to the present, just as we reached the large holly-bush that marked the turning.

  Quintus pulled up his mule. “I’ll wait for you here. Good luck!”

  I led Diogenes into the woods at walking pace. The track was only a small one used by woodland animals, or sometimes a courting couple seeking a bit of privacy. It wound among the oak trees, which were fairly close together, with scrub and thorn-bushes beneath them. It was simple enough to ride through, as long as you were alert for raised roots masked by the snow, and overhanging branches at head height. The path twisted and turned a bit, but though there was no sun showing to give direction, there was no question of getting lost today. The little track was already marked with two sets of footprints.

  The clearing looked familiar, yet also eerily different from the picture in my memory. It was completely empty, and the snow had changed its whole appearance. It was a wide space perhaps a hundred paces across, with trees growing thickly all round its edges, except along the side that adjoined the river. There, the open area sloped right down to the water, which looked almost black against the white snow. Near where the path entered the clearing was an old tumbledown roundhouse. Of course—it was an ideal place to hide hostages. Perhaps we should have brought a larger party, to attempt a rescue. But the kidnappers had been insistent on “no tricks”.