Get Out or Die

by Jane Finnis

  “No, on his way here. He was at home, and he received a letter, asking him to come to my house urgently. Although it was late, and such a filthy night, he set off—his wife says he left home just as it was getting dark. But he never got here. He was attacked on the road, and his body was found at first light.”

  “You sent him a letter?” I asked. “Who knew you’d sent it? Who knew he’d be coming here?”

  “No, I said he received a letter,” Silvanius corrected. “I did not write it. It was a forgery. Quite a competent one, and it included the password, so he thought it was genuine….” He stopped abruptly. “But forgive me, I’m forgetting my manners. This horrible business….Let us go into my study. You’ll take some wine?”

  While his major-domo brought it, I told him about the attack, and also about the greetings from Messapus on my wall. Then Felix piled Pelion on Ossa by recounting the destruction of his Apollo.

  “This is frightful.” Silvanius looked round distractedly as if he expected yelling barbarian hordes to come pouring into his garden there and then. “Your mansio attacked…Vedius killed…your beautiful statue broken…and someone in our trusted circle betraying our secrets!”

  “There’s only one person it can be,” Felix said. “The potter with the feet of clay. And I hesitate to say ‘I told you so,’ but….”

  “That’s what we think too,” I said. “If there’s really a traitor among the five of us who met here three days ago, it can only be Balbus.”

  “I agree, though it gives me no pleasure.” Silvanius sighed. “So what’s the best course of action now? Arrest him, I think, and have him sent to Eburacum. What do you say, Aurelia?”

  There was a knock on the door and the major-domo came in.

  “Excuse me, my lord, I’m sorry to interrupt, but Councillor Fannius Balbus has sent a messenger, begging you to visit him at his shop urgently. He says something disastrous has happened there. The Councillor is uninjured, but very shaken.”

  “Disastrous? Did he give any more details?” Silvanius demanded.

  “No, my lord.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  The slave shook his head. “No, my lord. He simply delivered his message, and said his master had told him to return straight away.”

  “Then I must go and see him. We all will. Order the large carriage immediately,” Silvanius told the slave. “And I’ll need three mounted men as escort. We’ll all go together.”

  The servant left, and we sat there in gloomy silence.

  “He didn’t use the password,” Felix said at last. “Is that significant? Does he know it’s been betrayed?”

  “He could just have forgotten,” I suggested. “If something awful has happened.”

  “Or it could be a trap,” Quintus muttered.

  “It could,” Silvanius agreed. “If we’re right about Balbus betraying us. But he is a friend, and he is asking for our help. We’ll give him the benefit of the doubt for now, and we’ll be on our guard.”

  He got to his feet; we three made to follow his example, but he waved us down again. “No no, stay there till the carriage comes. I am only going to change into my toga.”

  While he was gone Vitalis strolled in, looking every inch the well-groomed young Roman gentleman, in a white tunic with dark green trimmings, except that he had a livid cut on his left arm. Somebody had plastered it with healing ointment, which made it stand out even more. You’ve been in a fight, my lad, I thought, and we all know where. But he showed no emotion at the sight of me and Quintus.

  “Felix, are you….Oh, good morning, Aurelia. And this is Quintus Valerius Longinus, I presume?”

  “We meet again,” Quintus said, as they eyed each other warily. Both were doubtless remembering the way Quintus had dealt with the drunken warrior in my bar.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Vitalis said. “Is something wrong? You all look very serious.”

  “Aurelia has been telling us about an attack on the Oak Tree,” Felix answered. “And now we’ve heard that Vedius has been killed, and Balbus has had some sort of catastrophe and wants us all to go to his shop.”

  “Oh, I see.” Vitalis didn’t look concerned, just mildly disappointed. “Are you going too, Felix? Only you did say you’d hear my lines again today.”

  “My dear boy, so I did. And so I will. I’m sure Balbus won’t miss me, and I doubt if I can be of much help in a ceramics crisis.”

  “Good. I still need some final rehearsing,” he said to Quintus and me. He had nerve, I couldn’t deny it.

  I decided to try to shake him a little. “You’ve been in the wars, Vitalis. What happened to your arm?”

  His composure was unruffled. “I was on patrol last night. One of the new watch patrols, you know. Somebody threw a stone at me. I hope it doesn’t put the girls off,” he added, with his dazzling smile.

  “Where did it happen?”

  There was a tiny hesitation before he answered, “Near Father’s temple.”

  “You’re certainly doing a good job, you night-watchmen,” Quintus commented genially. “It must take guts, going out there in the dark, never knowing what you’ll have to face.”

  “Someone’s got to do it,” Vitalis said, with a becoming air of modesty.

  “Well, all credit to you, I say. How’s the poor man who lost his foot?”

  “Pretty ill. We don’t know if he’ll survive, but….” He stopped. “So they say. I haven’t seen him yet, myself.”

  “Vitalis, we’d better go and make our excuses to Publius,” Felix said, getting up from his couch. “Then we’ll find somewhere quiet for a rehearsal. Aurelia dear, and Valerius Longinus, you will forgive us, won’t you?”

  “Our bout, I think,” Quintus murmured when they’d gone. “If Vitalis isn’t up to his ears in this rebellion, I’ll eat my boots! And I still wonder about his father. Surely he has to be in it too?”

  It didn’t take long to drive to the pottery shop in His Pomposity’s grand carriage. The forum was quiet, and the shop looked much as usual from the street.

  But when we stepped inside, it was like plunging into a nightmare. The whole interior was in ruins. Somebody had efficiently and mercilessly smashed up the entire place and everything in it. The floor was a finger deep in pieces of broken pot and glass; there wasn’t a fragment longer than my thumb, and most of them were shorter. The shelves were chopped to splinters which lay everywhere in heaps. The walls, including the green alcove, were smeared with patches of black paint. On the biggest bare patch of wall was the usual threatening message—with Balbus’ name instead of “All Romans”—and ending with a greeting from Messapus.

  What made this appalling mess almost unbearable was the sight of Balbus and Ennia, standing in the midst of it all, white-faced and forlorn, surveying the wreck of their livelihood.

  Chapter XXII

  Ennia was crying, and Balbus was shaking; he was either going to explode, or start crying too. We went to them, surrounding them as if by our physical presence we could somehow help, though there was no comfort any of us could offer for this sort of horror. As I embraced Ennia she moaned, “Not again! Dear gods, not again! I can’t bear it!” I remembered what she’d told me about their troubles in Gaul. I hugged her tight, trying to show her the enormous sympathy I felt for both of them. I knew how I’d feel if somebody did this to the Oak Tree. After last night, I knew all too clearly.

  I could sense that Balbus was angry for two quite different reasons. He’d lost his beautiful pots and glass, many of them exceptionally lovely pieces which he’d gone to endless trouble to seek out and import. But he’d also lost his whole stock-in-trade, and rich though he was, he’d find it hard to start again from scratch, even if he had the heart to.

  A slave came in from the living quarters at the back, with a tray of wine. Balbus roused himself to invite us through to their sitting-room, where we sat around awkwardly. I perched on a couch next to Ennia, who was still crying. I pu
t my arm round her and just held her, and gradually her tears dried.

  Quintus was telling Balbus about last night’s attack, with Silvanius chipping in comments and asking questions. I found it hard to concentrate on what they were saying, until I heard Quintus remark, “Balbus, you know who’s done this, don’t you?”

  He looked, if possible, even angrier. “I think it must be my foreman. He’s gone missing, since yesterday afternoon. His woman and child have gone too, which makes it look as if he’s run off for good. When I find the bastard, I’ll kill him!”

  “I’m afraid you’re right.” I told him how Brutus had killed the man.

  “I knew there was something wrong,” Balbus said. “He’s been behaving oddly for days. Drinking too much, and so moody! Surly and resentful half the time, and then suddenly over-eager to please, trying to make up for it. I thought he might be wanting to tell me he was leaving me. He’d been talking about setting up on his own. I never guessed he’d betray me like this. I was his patron, I gave him his freedom because he was a good worker….How could he?”

  “Maybe he had no choice,” Quintus said. “If they had some sort of hold over him, if his woman was a local girl perhaps….”

  “There’s always a choice!” Balbus snapped. “There’s always a point when you can choose what to do next!”

  But Ennia interrupted quietly, “Not always, Aulus. Sometimes there’s only one road open.” And he subsided, thinking presumably of Gaul.

  “You’ve got a good few native slaves here, haven’t you?” Silvanius asked. “We could get evidence from them.”

  “Torture them, you mean? That’s the only way to get admissible evidence from slaves—by torture. Believe me, I’m tempted! And if I do, Clarus, you’ll support me as a magistrate?”

  “Of course I will.”

  “But when all’s said and done, what’s the point?” Ennia asked. “We know who to blame, and nothing can undo this mess!”

  We didn’t stay much longer. As we were mounting to ride home, Balbus came after me and said, “Aurelia, I don’t want that bastard’s body back. He doesn’t deserve a funeral. Throw him in your lime pit with the dead animals, will you?”

  “Whatever you say, Balbus.”

  Silvanius offered us more refreshments at his humble abode, but we regretfully declined; we wanted to get back to the mansio as quickly as we could.

  “But you’ll be able to come tomorrow, won’t you, Aurelia?” he asked anxiously.

  “Tomorrow?”

  “My temple. The dedication.”

  His temple! “Gods alive, Clarus, you’re going ahead with the dedication? I mean I thought, with all these disasters….”

  “I know. I wondered if I should delay the ceremony because of Vedius Severus’ death. But if I do put it off, that will be a victory for the Shadow-men. They are trying to disrupt our lives. I must go on as I’ve planned. I asked Saturninus, and he said his father would wish us to continue. To show them we Romans are strong and unafraid. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes,” I said soberly, “I think you’re right. Of course I’ll come.”

  “And I’m still holding my celebration dinner afterwards.” Silvanius turned to Quintus. “You’ll come to the dedication, and to dinner, won’t you, Valerius? Any friend of Aurelia’s will be most welcome.”

  “Thank you. I’d be honoured, Chief Councillor,” Quintus answered, and gave a slight bow. I suppressed a smile. It never ceases to amaze me how we manage to hang on to these formal courtesies even in the middle of catastrophe. Like the scene in the comic play, where two fat men try to escape from a burning house through a narrow doorway, each repeatedly saying “After you, Senator” until the flames burn their backsides.

  “And the meeting afterwards, Clarus?” I asked him. “We were going to….” I paused, remembering that Quintus wasn’t supposed to know about our secret circle.

  “I’ll need to think about that.” He scratched his chin reflectively. “Having seen what has just happened to Balbus, I can’t believe he is the one who betrayed our password. And yet somebody did. We’ll see.”

  We rode home with Taurus twenty paces or so behind us, so we could talk privately.

  “Well, nothing’s ever simple, is it?” I said. “We’re back at the starting-gate once again. And our field of runners is getting smaller by the day! Even with your suspicious mind, you can’t seriously believe the traitor is Vedius now. Or Balbus.”

  “Not Vedius, no. But I wouldn’t rule out Balbus just yet.”

  “What, with everything he and Ennia have worked for in ruins? If that’s the work of the Shadow-men, then Balbus can’t be their leader.”

  “But suppose he and his foreman were working together, Balbus organising, the foreman leading the warriors. All their bickering could just have been a pretence. The foreman leads the attack on the mansio, and gets himself killed. Balbus realises that’ll implicate him, and there’s still the matter of the green paint. He needs to show the world he’s a victim of the rebels. So he arranges to have the shop trashed. He wouldn’t tell his wife, of course.”

  “But you saw him this morning, Quintus. Do you honestly think he could have destroyed the shop? It’d be like hacking off his hand.”

  “It’d be worth it, to allay our suspicions. Remember, if he is the Shadow of Death, he must be capable of being utterly ruthless.”

  “Look, when you first asked me to help, you said my local knowledge would be useful. And I’m telling you—Balbus could be ruthless, he could even have such a grievance against Rome that he could organise a campaign of terror. What he could never do is destroy his own shop.”

  “Fair enough. Would you say the same applies to Felix not being capable of destroying his statue of Nero?”

  “That isn’t so easy, I admit. Felix is such an odd mixture.…Hello, who’s that?” I’d spotted a green-brown figure at the edge of the wood, beside a big holly-bush which was unusual enough to be a local landmark. He waved to us briefly and then vanished into the trees.

  We pulled up sharply. “That was Hawk, I’m sure it was.”

  Quintus looked uncertain. “I only got a glimpse. It might be a trap.”

  “Not if Hawk’s involved. And I’m sure it was him.”

  “Yes, it was, Mistress,” Taurus said. “I saw his big dog too. Shall I go and see what he wants?”

  “We’ll all go,” I decided. “Just to the edge of the trees, within sight of the road.”

  “It’s too risky,” Quintus began, but I drew my dagger and walked my horse slowly over the cleared strip of land that bordered the road. I heard Quintus swear under his breath, but he and Taurus drew their weapons and followed.

  I halted a few paces from the trees and called, “Is anybody there?”

  A voice came from further on, though there was nobody to be seen. “It’s Hawk. Come for more cough-mixture. Follow this little track into the wood.”

  We rode along a faint game-track, until Hawk and his dog emerged as silently as a swirl of mist.

  “Your tribunes are hunting, and so far they’ve stayed together,” he announced, without preamble. “Teilo is still with them. We found something interesting down by the river. I’ll show you.”

  We followed, still riding, as he picked his way through the trees. The oaks were tall and widely spaced, so it wasn’t hard going. In a hundred paces or so we came into a large clearing, and on the far side I caught the gleam of the river. We were on Segovax’s land, close to where it adjoined our own, the place that Hawk had said was used by young lovers, and also by Druids.

  I hadn’t been here for years, but the clearing looked much the same, big oaks all around in a rough circle, except for a gap in the trees where the grass led straight down to the river. There was a ruin of an old house on the side furthest from the river, and this was the spot the courting couples used; Hawk had said Junius and Marius had come here. As I glanced round I was surprised to see a huge stone, like an altar,
in the middle of the space, and some strange wooden statues—surely they were recent additions. But before I could take in any more Hawk said “Look!” and pointed at the tallest of the big old oaks.

  However hard I looked, I couldn’t see anybody in it, or under it, not even an animal. “There’s nothing there,” I said. “Just an old grandfather of a tree.”

  “Mistletoe!” Taurus exclaimed. “In the forked branch there, see? Odd, that. It never used to grow here.”

  It was just an ordinary bunch of mistletoe, in a fork about three men’s height from the ground. It was quite a small clump, with some of its light-coloured, shiny leaves dangling down beneath it, but no berries yet of course. Not exactly a common sight, admittedly, but nothing to get excited about.

  I said, “Is that all? I thought it was something important.”

  “The Druids would call it important,” Quintus remarked.

  “It wasn’t there yesterday,” Hawk said.

  “It must have been,” I objected. “It couldn’t grow so fast, could it?”

  “No,” Quintus answered seriously. “Hawk, somebody has planted that mistletoe there overnight.”

  “I wouldn’t call it planting, in the strict horticultural sense.” He gave his lazy smile. “But yes, it’s been fixed there in the tree to look natural.”

  “But why?” Taurus asked.

  Quintus said, “My guess is the Druids are preparing for a ceremony here. Am I right?”

  Hawk nodded. “I think so. That’s why they’ve brought in all the statues, too. They….” He stopped suddenly as his dog gave a soft growl. He muttered, “You haven’t seen me,” and was gone.

  “Time for some play-acting,” Quintus murmured, and turning his horse back towards the road, frowned horribly, and swore loudly, exclaiming, “Aurelia, your eyes are playing you tricks, or is it your brain? There’s no sign of any deer here, red, green, or sky-blue-pink!”

  “I saw one, I know I did,” I retorted. “A big one, too. You’ve frightened it off, that’s all. We should have come up on foot. Riding up like this, we’re about as silent as a cavalry charge.”