by Jane Finnis
He touched my hand briefly. “Aurelia, we need the public cleared off the site here, with the minimum of fuss. Silvanius is in no state to do it, so somebody else must. Then you and I can investigate what’s happened, without everyone looking on. Who can we ask to speak to the crowd?”
“I’ll find Vedius Saturninus.” I looked outside and saw him coming towards the sanctum. When I beckoned him in, he was aghast.
“Saturninus,” Quintus said. “This is clearly the Shadow-men’s doing, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, I would. By the gods, the blasphemy of it…defiling a holy temple with death, with deliberate murder. It’s beyond belief!”
“We need your help,” I said. “Can you get everyone to leave quietly, without causing a panic?”
“But shouldn’t Silvanius?…” He glanced outside, and said, “I see what you mean. All right, I’ll do it. How much should I tell them?”
“As little as possible,” Quintus said. “Just say there’s been an unfortunate accident, an irregularity in the ceremony, and the sanctum needs purifying. So the dedication is postponed for today, until the rituals for cleansing have been taken care of.”
He did it well. He’d had a Roman education, and all that emphasis on public speaking comes in handy in a crisis. In no time at all people were leaving calmly, till soon the forecourt was empty but for Silvanius, the priests and the augur, Felix, Saturninus and Balbus, who all crowded around the altar. Vitalis had vanished. The only other people left on the site were about twenty slaves and building workers, gathered in an anxious group near the steps leading down to the street. It was a sorry and depressing scene, so utterly different from an hour ago.
“This is the Shadow-men’s work all right,” I said to Quintus. “The deaths of the tribunes are bad enough in themselves, but they’ve been deliberately associated with the new temple, to make it seem contaminated and unclean. Poor Clarus! Everyone will think the gods have turned against him. How can we prove that this is a mortal crime, not a divine omen?”
“Evidence,” Quintus said. “Facts. When were the murders committed? Where? How were the bodies carried into a closed sanctum in the middle of a temple full of people? The answers have to be here somewhere. All we have to do is find them.”
The obvious thing would have been to start by talking to as many people as possible, collecting eyewitness accounts. But as we approached the altar, we could see that everyone was too upset to respond well to being questioned. The two priests stood close together, talking in hushed tones and looking frightened; Felix was mopping his eyes; Silvanius was weeping noisily, sitting on one of his ornamental stone tubs, a picture of misery. Balbus and Saturninus stood nearby, helpless, yet not wanting to leave a friend in such trouble.
“It’s a complete disaster!” Silvanius was moaning. “Such a blasphemy! A dreadful omen! The gods must hate me very much, to punish me like this. But what have I done to offend them? All I wanted was to give them honour….How can I have brought down such anger?”
And more in the same vein. The poor man was devastated.
“Listen, Clarus,” I said. “This isn’t an omen from the gods. Truly it isn’t. That’s what it’s meant to look like, but the gods didn’t do this. Mortal men did it, the Shadow-men did it, to try to convince everyone that the gods are angry. But they aren’t.”
“You think not? You believe these are more of the Shadow-men’s killings?”
“I do, and I believe we can prove it. We’ve got to investigate what’s happened here, and the priests must carry out the rituals needed to cleanse a holy place after death has touched it. You should go home, Clarus, and rest for now. Quintus and I will take care of things here, and stay until the priests have got started on their rituals. Felix, why don’t you take Silvanius home? Balbus, Saturninus, you go too. We’ll follow on later.”
They all went off meekly, relieved to let somebody else take charge.
We stood at the doorway of the sanctuary. “Now it’s up to you and me,” I said. “Where do we start?”
“With the bodies,” he answered. “Let’s go and say a last farewell to Junius and Marius.”
Chapter XXV
“First of all, we need some privacy.” Quintus beckoned the building foreman, Lentus, and also Taurus and Brutus.
“I want the whole temple site kept private,” he told them. “Nobody is to come in. If anyone asks for me or Mistress Aurelia, escort them to us personally. Understand?”
They all nodded and were turning to go when I said, “Lentus, have you been here on the site since dawn?”
“I have, Mistress. We all have.”
“Did you go into the sanctum?”
“I looked in there first thing. It was spick and span, as it should be. Then the priests did the purification ritual, and after that we weren’t allowed. They left one of their little acolytes standing outside the entrance to guard it. Well, sitting, mostly—he was only a kid and he kept dozing off. But none of us could have got in past him. Or would have,” he added righteously.
Quintus had picked up my drift. “So how do you reckon the two bodies could have been carried into the sanctum, with a boy standing guard, and only one entrance in full view of the forecourt?”
He looked uncomfortable. “Can’t rightly say, sir.”
Quintus sighed. “Silvanius is talking about having all the slaves here tortured, to give evidence in court. We were hoping, if anybody could tell us anything useful, he would change his mind.”
“I’m a freedman,” Lentus said quickly. “They can’t torture me. Not that I know anything, anyway.”
“They could torture you under the new Lex Domitiana,” I suggested.
“The which?”
“The Lex Domitiana. It says that if a freedman doesn’t give evidence voluntarily when asked by his patron, and then he’s found later to have important knowledge which he’s held back, he can be deprived of his freedom, and then tortured because he’s a slave again.”
“Never heard of that before,” Lentus grumbled. “Is it true? Really?”
I turned to Quintus. “I’ve got it right, haven’t I?”
“Absolutely.”
“Well…I suppose there is one way it could have been done,” Lentus said reluctantly. “I’m not sure, mind.” We waited. “I’d better show you. And if I do, this new law, it can’t apply to me?”
We shook our heads, and Quintus said, “Definitely not. Aurelia and I will both be witnesses that you’ve volunteered all the information you have.”
“All right then. This way, round the back.” We followed as he led us round the outside of the sanctum, to its rear wall. We were hidden from most of the site here; we couldn’t see the forecourt or the altar, and nobody there could see us. Lentus walked along about half the wall’s length to a massive stone tub with a bay tree in it. It looked well against the smooth white surface, but I noticed some spilt earth on the paving round about. Somebody had skimped on the cleaning-up. Not all that surprising in the general rush.
“Can you help me move this tree, sir, please?” Lentus said to Quintus.
They shifted the heavy thing away from the wall. Behind it, the surface wasn’t so smooth, though it was still white; but a whole section of it, about two feet tall by three feet across, was marked out by a noticeable hair-line crack. When Lentus thumped it with his fist, it rang hollow.
“A false wall!” Quintus exclaimed. “Just a sheet of wood?”
Lentus nodded. He took a small knife from a sheath on his belt and stuck the point into the crack; he gave a practised twist, and the whole section of white wood came away. We could see through the gap into the sanctum, and found ourselves looking straight at Junius and Marius as they lay under the marble table.
“Who knew about this?” Quintus demanded.
“We all did. Except the master. Well, we didn’t want to trouble him. With him being so busy, and all.”
“I bet.”
“It was only a small thing,” the foreman said defensively. “We were going to make good the hole with stone as soon as all the ceremonials were out of the way.”
“But why is it there?” I asked. “It can’t have been designed like that?”
“Drains,” Lentus sighed. “That floor ain’t laid right, it slopes inwards, so any liquid would collect at the back here—blood from the sacrifices, water from the purifying, that sort of thing. It was meant to slope to one side, see, where there’s a drain-hole to carry everything away. Stupid tilers the master brought in, couldn’t lay an egg, never mind a decent marble floor. Mind you, to be fair, it was all being done in a hurry. By the time we realised, the walls was nearly up, so we had two choices—either take the whole building down and start again, or else put in a false wall, so we could sort out the drainage from the back.”
I’ll skip all the technical stuff about levels and pipe diameters. The point was, we now knew how the bodies had got into the sanctum.
Quintus said, “Thank you, Lentus, that’s very helpful. Now, have you any idea who brought those bodies into the sanctum this morning?”
“No, sir, I haven’t. And you can torture me or do what you like, but that’s all I know.”
Quintus dismissed him, and we went back inside.
“Lex Domitiana,” he murmured. “An interesting little piece of legislation. Remind me when it was passed, exactly?”
“Given our present Caesar and his paranoia about Palace freedmen, any time now, I should think.”
He grinned “So we know how they were moved, but not who by, or where from. Or who killed them. Still, it’s a start.” He bent down for a close look at the two figures lying side by side. “They have no wounds on them. It must have been poison of some kind. With two fit young soldiers, the killers probably didn’t want to risk force. Poison would be easier.”
“Their servants said they were with some young Brigantians last night. They must have been lured into a trap.”
Quintus nodded grimly, and gently touched Marius’ face, peering closely at the mouth; then he touched Junius’ and recoiled as if he’d been burned. “Gods, Aurelia, he’s still warm. I think he may be still alive!”
So he was, but his pulse was very weak. We carried his limp body outside into the sunshine, and Quintus said, “We must get the poison out of his system. Make him sick.”
I’ll draw a veil over exactly how we did this. Just take it from me that we made him very sick, and it worked. Lying in front of the sanctum, on some sacking we borrowed from the builders, he slowly dragged himself back to consciousness. A groggy and uncertain consciousness, but nevertheless, he opened his eyes and saw us, and knew us.
He looked very boyish and vulnerable; his sandy hair was damp with sweat, and his light-grey eyes had trouble focusing. I crouched down on the ground beside his head, and took hold of his hand, which was icy cold. I said softly, “Junius, you’re all right. You’re safe, and you’re among friends. This is Quintus Antonius Delfinus. Can you tell us what happened to you?”
“Oh gods!” He gave a moan, and licked his lips.
“Shall I get you some water?” I asked.
“No,” Junius said hoarsely. “It will…spread…the poison.”
Gods, he thinks he’s dying. Perhaps he is. But he was speaking again, and I had to concentrate to hear him.
“Tell Lucius I’m sorry. I’ve made a complete mess of things.”
“What happened?” Quintus asked.
“We met two natives by the river. A girl and a boy. They said they’d take us to see the Chief, but we’d have to wait a while…. They gave us some of their mead. I realised it was poisoned, but too late. Don’t remember any more. Where’s Marius?”
“Dead, I’m afraid,” Quintus answered gently.
“It’s best. He was helping the Shadow-men.”
“We realised,” Quintus interrupted. “How long have you known?”
“After the eclipse. He kept getting separated. I tried and tried but…couldn’t change his mind. They wanted me to join too. I thought, if I pretended to go along, I could learn…and report back…so I let them think I sympathised…said I’d help. Tried to stay with Marius…stop him doing too much harm.”
“Oh, gods, Junius, if only we’d known. You were playing a very dangerous game!”
“I should have told Lucius. But I kept thinking, just one more day, just a few more hours, and I’ll know everything. And then when Albia was in danger…I didn’t want even to pretend any more. I told Marius I’d die rather than hurt Albia….I’m sorry.” He began to cough, and was sick again.
I wiped his mouth and smoothed the hair back from his face. “Junius, tell us all you can. Have you seen the Shadow of Death?”
“Only with the mask on.” His breathing was ragged. “He’s tall and fair…carries himself well. And from what they say…it’s not…not….” He had another spasm of coughing. “Not for money. For revenge. Find…a Roman who hates Rome.”
“We’ll find him,” Quintus promised. “And you’ll help us, when you’re better. Now, did you get any idea where their hideout is?”
“I heard them mention the ‘house in the rock.’ They said.…it’s so secret, nobody will find it.”
“House on the rock?” Quintus said thoughtfully. “Surely there are dozens of houses built on rocks on the hillsides?”
Junius gave a tiny shake of his head. “No. Not on…in the rock. Maybe a cave….”
Quintus turned to me. “Are there any caves near here?”
“Not that I know of.”
“What else did you get, Junius?” Quintus asked.
But Junius began coughing again. His skin was greyish; sweat stood out on his face, and his eyes were starting to glaze. He wasn’t going to recover, and there wasn’t much time.
“Have you any message for Albia?” I asked. Quintus glared at me for changing the subject, but Junius smiled.
“Yes. Tell her I love her. Too late now. Tell her…and tell my father…I died for Rome.” His eyelids closed, and he slipped back into unconsciousness. We both tried to rouse him, but a short while later he died.
I felt a numbing sadness. Here was the ruin of a lively, intelligent young officer, not much more than a boy; whether he’d only pretended to be tempted along with his friend we would never know, but in the end he was killed by the Shadow-men because he wouldn’t be a part of their campaign of terror against the girl he loved. Poor Junius, and poor Albia. I sent a silent prayer to the gods of the Underworld to receive him kindly.
“We can tell his father he died for Rome,” I said to Quintus. “And Albia too. Can’t we?”
He looked at me doubtfully. “You don’t think he was seriously helping the enemy?”
“Who knows? I doubt it, but…anyway, he came back to us in the end. Does it matter now?”
He shrugged. “No. No, it doesn’t.” Suddenly he swore. “So close,” he muttered. “So very close. Gods, what an idiot! If he had to try something so dangerous, why couldn’t he have at least let Lucius know, then perhaps we could have given him some support. He must have realised they would kill him if they thought he was slipping away from them, and knew too much about them.”
I felt tired and depressed by it all. “Gods, Quintus, why is everything such a mess?”
“If you don’t like mess, you shouldn’t be working with an investigator. It goes with the job.”
“Your job. Not mine. And I just feel….”
“You just feel sad, and so do I, but there isn’t time. We have to concentrate on catching the Shadow of Death. Later there’ll be time to be sad.” He took my hand and held it as he went on: “The Shadow-men are very sure of themselves, to kill two Roman officers and leave them in such a public place in broad daylight. If you ask me, the whole rebellion is about to erupt. Like a volcano that’s been rumbling, and suddenly starts spitting rocks and fire.”
He shivered in spite of the heat. Like me
, just for a few heartbeats, he was remembering Pompeii.
“Junius said the Shadow of Death is a Roman who hates Rome,” I mused. “Which ties in with that cryptic remark the old Druid made. ‘When love feels itself betrayed….’ He meant love of country, not of a person.”
“There are still three people who have grudges against Rome. Balbus, and Felix, and of course Vitalis. All of them in a position to be using the natives here to get revenge.”
“We’ve already agreed that the traitor isn’t either Felix or Balbus. They’ve both had something they valued destroyed by the rebels. The one person who hasn’t lost or suffered anything so far is Vitalis. And he’s a Roman who hates Rome, if ever I met one.”
“I agree. We can go on forever, supposing and speculating about bluffs and double bluffs, but I think we should accept the answer that’s staring us in the face. The Shadow of Death has to be Vitalis.”
I got to my feet, brushing the dust off my tunic. “Then let’s not waste any more time.”
Quintus stood up too. “He’s presumably at Silvanius’ villa now. We’ll go straight there and arrest him. Then I’ll borrow a couple of your men and escort him to Eburacum to be locked up.”
But Vitalis wasn’t at the villa. The door-slave said he hadn’t returned there since the disaster at the temple.
We were shown into the beautiful dining-room. It was decorated with flowers and greenery, and the tables were crammed with delicious food. Silvanius was sitting in solitary state, looking utterly miserable.
“Valerius, Aurelia, you must forgive me,” he said, getting up to greet us. “I’m afraid I’m poor company. I sent my friends home. I—I’m not feeling very sociable.”
Quintus said, “I’m sorry, Councillor, this isn’t a social call. I’m here to ask for your help officially. I’m afraid I’ve been less than truthful about my presence in Oak Bridges. I’m here to investigate the native trouble in this area.” He produced one of his high-powered government passes and handed it to Silvanius, who examined it carefully and exclaimed, “My dear Valerius, if you’re on the Governor’s service, I’m yours to command. Whatever you need, just name it.”