by Jane Finnis
I couldn’t see Margarita, so I had to deal with the squabble myself. As I opened my mouth to stop the row and back up Cook, I realised the girl in tears was Baca. She must still be shaken after her unpleasant experience earlier, and that made a difference, in my eyes if not in Cook’s.
“Calm down, both of you.” I said it loud enough to carry over their voices, and they both fell silent and gazed at me. “Cook, Baca’s had a nasty shock today, she’s not at her best. It’s not surprising she’s made a mistake. Don’t be too hard on her.”
“She’s just a stupid…”
“No argument, please. Baca, you’ve been clumsy, but I’m sure you didn’t mean to be. Apologise to Cook and clean all this up, and we’ll say no more about it.”
The door from the hall opened, and Margarita came in. “What’s happened? Oh dear. A bit of an accident?”
“Nothing serious. Well, Baca? Cook’s waiting for you to apologise.”
“I’m sorry, Cook,” she answered in a small voice. “I just…I don’t know. It slipped.”
Cook grunted. “Well, don’t do it again. Clear it away, for the gods’ sake.” He gestured to one of the other girls. “Crispina, chop some more vegetables. I’ll have to start all over again.” He made it sound as if he’d have to prepare an entire replacement banquet, but I ignored that.
As he and everyone else went back to work, I had a useful idea. “Margarita, can I borrow Baca for a few hours this afternoon? I’ve some sewing that needs doing.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll send her to you when she’s finished here.”
Baca smiled. She was one of the best of the servants when it came to sewing, and I’d realised that at least one of my tunics and my travelling cloak were in need of repair before I set off for Jovina’s. Also I must decide what I would be wearing for her party. I’d lost some weight over the past few months, and my best clothes would need taking in a little.
Margarita and I moved into the barroom, and I told her about my holiday. As I’d expected, she was delighted, and began asking me all about Cousin Jovina. But she was soon distracted, because the bar was filling up as customers started to arrive for their midday beaker of beer or bite of food.
I left her to it and went to my study to write yet another note. This was to my friend Clarilla, the sister of our local chief town councillor. They lived in Oak Bridges, only a mile or so away, and I wanted to tell her about my holiday, and also ask for her help in case I ran into problems getting round Lucius’ prohibition of it. I sent one of the horse-boys over to her villa with a note asking if she’d be free later for me to drop in and tell her some good news.
By the time I’d had something to eat and set Baca to work reviving my clothes, the boy was back with Clarilla’s answer: she was agog to hear my news and would be delighted to see me any time this afternoon.
I asked Secundus to get a small two-wheeled gig ready. I would drive myself, and take one of the horse-boys along as a mounted escort. It was a long time since I’d felt like driving anywhere, and my spirits lifted as I took the reins and set off for Oak Bridges.
Chapter VI
I found Clarilla outside in her garden, lounging on a cushioned reading-couch with a scroll on her lap. As it was still rolled up, I gathered she’d been doing more drowsing than reading, but she jumped up when she saw me.
“Welcome, Aurelia. It’s lovely to see you.” She turned to the maid who’d brought me to her. “Let the master know that Aurelia’s here, and fetch the wine, please. Now, sit down and tell me how you are. Indeed I can see how you are—you look better than you’ve done for months, like your old self again.”
We sat down side by side on the couch. “Yes, I’m feeling really well. It’s like coming out of a dark cave into bright sunshine.”
“That’s wonderful. Though I’m a little disappointed you’ve come all alone. I was hoping you might bring your brother and this gorgeous new fiancée of his.”
“You’ve heard about her, have you?”
“My dear, who hasn’t? Everyone’s talking about her…young and beautiful, and from a very good family too. In fact I thought that might be the good news you’d come to tell me. You must be delighted.”
“Yes, I suppose I must. She’s a mixture of the Goddess Aphrodite and Queen Cleopatra.”
“Oh, dear. Don’t you like her?”
“It’s not that I don’t like her exactly, but she’s very immature, and just not the kind of girl I’d hoped he would marry.”
“I’m sure as you get to know her better, you’ll understand what he sees in her.” She smiled. “Who knows, you might even come around to the idea of marriage yourself one of these days. You and Quintus Antonius, perhaps?”
I laughed. “I know you love matchmaking, Clarilla, but Quintus and I are very happy the way things are, so don’t hold your breath. And no, it isn’t Lucius and Vitellia I’ve come to tell you about. I’ve some happy news of my own. I’m going on a little holiday. First to stay with Albia at Eburacum, then to a cousin’s birthday party at Isurium.”
“How exciting. No wonder you’re looking so full of life.”
“My cousin’s invitation only arrived this morning, and the party is at midsummer, so it’s all a bit of a rush. I wondered if I might ask you a favour.”
“Of course, anything.” Clarilla paused as her stately major-domo arrived carrying a tray with a beautiful silver wine-jug and three matching goblets, and a silver dish of tiny round pastries. As he set them out on a small table, her brother Silvanius Clarus appeared from the house. He looked every inch a chief councillor, tall and elegant, immaculate as always in a gleaming white toga, even though this was an ordinary working afternoon. I knew the reason he liked to dress so formally: he was born British but had earned Roman citizenship, and he treasured the right to wear the toga whenever he could.
He greeted me with his usual mixture of warmth and pomposity. “Aurelia, my dear, it’s a pleasure indeed to see you. I’m so sorry I was not here to greet you. Important meeting, I’m afraid. The price of responsibility…one is honoured to serve, but the work is onerous sometimes.”
“You do a very valuable job, Clarus. I don’t know what we’d do without you.” And you love it, I added silently. Well, why not? We Romans depend on people like Clarus for the day-to-day governing of this province. He’s devoted to Rome, and he has considerable power in our district, which he uses to bring Roman civilisation to his fellow Britons whenever he can. I don’t begrudge him a little vainglory now and then.
Clarilla poured wine for us all, and Clarus smiled at me over the rim of his goblet. “It’s good to see you out and about, Aurelia. You’re looking better, if I may say so.”
Clarilla said, “Isn’t she? And she’s going on holiday. Eburacum, and then Isurium. Is your cousin’s husband with the army?”
“Yes, he’s an officer at the fort there. I’ve never been to Isurium before, but you two know it well, don’t you?”
“Quite well,” Clarilla said. “We have a kinsman there, Brennus, and we still keep in touch, though it’s a while since I visited. It’s a quiet little place, no public entertainments of any kind, but it’s very pleasant for a holiday, especially if there’s a party. Clarus, we must give her a note of introduction to Brennus.”
“Indeed yes. He’s done rather well for himself, I’m glad to say. A citizen now of course, and an important local leader at Isurium. He has a most charming wife too. I’ll write you an introduction. And perhaps you’d also take a personal letter from us to them both?”
“Of course I will. I’m sure I’ll enjoy meeting them.”
He frowned slightly. “And if there’s any trouble while you’re there…but then of course you’ll be staying with your cousin and her husband, so you’ll be well protected.”
“Trouble? I thought Clarilla just said it was quiet.”
“Certainly it always has been, but lately…I’m sure it’s a storm in a wine-cup, my dear, but there are rumours of—ah—restlessness, d
iscontent even.”
“I see. So that explains it.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Lucius is a bit worried about my making the trip. He seems to think there might be some unrest among the locals there.”
“Your brother has heard the rumours too, has he? I’m not surprised. In his position he’ll be well informed. The main problem, it seems to me, arises from this silly fashion for idolising Prince Venutius. Some say it is just the young people being overexuberant, but I consider it dangerous.”
“I’ve heard a little about this young Venutius. Couldn’t he be just another headstrong would-be warrior with too much ambition? Making a great deal of noise, but not a real threat to Rome.”
“That’s what I keep hoping. But Brennus is quite concerned about it. You see…I know I can trust your discretion, Aurelia, and this isn’t public knowledge yet. The governor plans to make Isurium some kind of administrative centre for the Brigantes, with its own town council to run day-to-day affairs. As ours does in Oak Bridges.”
“Our council here is a good example of how well that can work.”
He beamed at the compliment. “Brennus and his friends would do an admirable job as town councillors at Isurium. The last thing they want is for a group of hot-headed young fools to cause the governor to change his mind.” He sighed and sipped his wine. “I’m afraid there are still some benighted folk here who—ah—haven’t fully accepted the finality of being a part of our great Empire.”
“Actually, it isn’t just Venutius that my brother is concerned about. It’s this wretched tax auditor from Rome, Eurytus, who seems to be going round upsetting everybody. He’s due in Isurium soon. Has your kinsman mentioned him at all?”
“Not by name, but his most recent letter said something about corrupt tax collectors in his district, and I’ve heard from elsewhere the gossip about Eurytus’ very—ah—abrasive manner.”
“He’s downright unpleasant, everybody says so,” Clarilla put in. “Rude and arrogant, and yet he’s only a freedman.”
“An Imperial freedman, don’t forget,” Clarus amended quickly, “and I realise he has a job to do. We must all pay our taxes, but he does seem to have the knack of causing friction, rather than smoothing it away.”
“I suppose it’s inevitable,” I said. “Nobody likes taxmen.”
“It’s more than that, I gather.” Clarus refilled our glasses. “As you say, he’ll visit Isurium sooner or later, and there have been problems there caused by some—ah—overzealousness on the part of the local tax officials.”
“Corruption, in plain Latin. Well, we all know there are some parts of the province where the tax collecting system is as bent as a catapult-spring. Isn’t that what people like Eurytus are supposed to put right when they do their auditing?”
“Perhaps. But Caesar is interested mainly in gathering the right amount of taxes into his treasury. He’s less concerned about exactly how that is done.”
“Let’s not depress poor Aurelia just as she’s about to visit the place,” Clarilla said. “You’ll be fine if the army are looking after you. Now, you mentioned a favour. To do with your holiday?”
“Well…I’m only asking on the strict understanding that you’ll say no if it isn’t convenient. The problem is, our carriages are all on the elderly side, and a bit scruffy. I wondered if I might borrow a raeda from you for the journey.”
“Of course, my dear, we’d be delighted. In fact you must take two. A big one for yourself, and a smaller one for baggage and servants.”
“That would be excellent, if you’re sure you can spare them.”
She smiled indulgently. “Clarus buys far too many carriages. We could never use them all, if we travelled the Empire all summer long.”
“And perhaps we can help set your brother’s mind at rest about your journey too,” Clarus said. ”Would you like Brutus to escort you?”
“Clarus, that would be wonderful.” Brutus, an ex-soldier, was one of Silvanius Clarus’ best retainers, a kind of chief bodyguard, reliable and brave. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have accompanying us. But can you manage without him? You or Clarilla might need him yourselves, if you’re thinking of travelling anywhere.”
Clarilla assured me that they had no journeys planned themselves till the middle of July. “And you’ll be back in Oak Bridges long before that, won’t you, Aurelia?”
“Yes, I will. And in any case I wouldn’t dream of keeping him or the carriages there for my whole visit, only for the journey itself. They could return here straight away. Jovina’s husband will provide vehicles and an escort when I travel home again.”
“Then it’s settled,” Clarus said. “When do you leave?”
“The day after tomorrow.”
Clarilla exclaimed in surprise. “However will you be ready at such short notice? I need at least half a month to prepare for a holiday.”
“At least,” Clarus smiled. “Now if you’ll forgive me, I must get back to work, so I’ll leave you to your women’s talk. Have a wonderful time, my dear.”
I left soon after too, pleading that I’d a mountain of work to get through before I went away. That was true, but the mountain was considerably less daunting now.
It was midafternoon by the time I reached home, and the bar-room was almost empty. Usually there’s a sleepy lull between the midday crowd and the evening drinkers, but this time I was aware of tension in the air. A stranger was talking to Margarita at the bar, and the remaining four or five customers were silently watching.
“Well, for the gods’ sake, how long will she be?” The man had a gravelly, growling voice, as if he was recovering from a sore throat, but that didn’t conceal his anger or impatience. “This is an urgent matter. I’m late already, and it’s really very simple. All I want is to find him. Why can’t you give me a straight answer? Is he here or not?”
“Ah, you’re in luck.” Margarita was relieved to see me. “Here’s the innkeeper now, she’ll be able to help you. Aurelia, this is Portius Niger, he’s been waiting for you. He says he needs to find Terentius urgently. I think it may have something to do with that guest from Arpinum.”
I looked the man up and down as I walked slowly across the room. He was tall and muscular, with very dark hair, either black or brown. It was hard to see much of his face, because his head was swathed in bandages which obscured most of it completely, or left it in shadow. I got an impression of a jutting jaw with a two days’ growth of beard, a straight nose, and a confident, imperious manner.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Portius,” I said. “Aurelia Marcella, at your service. How can I help?”
“I need to find one of your guests, a soldier called Terentius.” The man stifled a cough with a hand in front of his mouth. “He’s staying here just now, and I need to see him. But your barmaid won’t go and get him for me, or tell me where he is.”
“It’s a little complicated,” I said. “Let’s get you a drink, and I’ll explain. Come and sit down over here.” I led him to a corner table out of earshot of the other customers. He followed with a bad grace, but despite his bandaged head he moved easily and didn’t seem to be in any discomfort.
I gave him my brightest smile. “Now, what will you have? If you don’t mind my saying so, from the look of those bandages, you could do with something to revive you.”
“What? Oh yes, my wretched horse threw me. And I’ve a sore chest too.” He gave another loud cough. “I’ll take a beaker of red, thank you.” He sat down, and I signalled Margarita to bring it. “Meantime, can you send someone to fetch Terentius for me, please? It really is important. He has property of mine, a small box which he’s due to hand over to me. We were supposed to meet yesterday, and he’ll be as anxious to see me as I am to see him.”
Something wasn’t right here. I caught Margarita’s eye as she brought the wine over, and knew that she sensed it too. Then Secundus came in, unusually for the middle of the afternoon, and he strode straight over to me.
; “Sorry to interrupt, Aurelia, but I’d like a word when you can. It’s about Moon-cloud. I think we’re going to have trouble.”
“Really? I’ll be with you as soon as I can, Secundus. Get yourself a drink, I won’t be long.”
He nodded, and I was glad to see him lounge against the bar with a beaker of beer. I’m not afraid of any customer as a rule, but this stranger was making me nervous, and Secundus’ presence was reassuring.
Portius took a drink of his wine. “Well? Are you going to send for Terentius?”
“No. I’m afraid he’s not here now.”
The stranger frowned. “Not here? Where’s he gone then?”
I hesitated, wondering how much to tell him. There was something threatening about him, a kind of tension, like a ballista about to hurl a stone. I decided to be cautious.
“I’m afraid,” I began, “that there’s been a—well, an accident here. Terentius is dead. It happened sometime in the night. His servant has run away. I’m sorry to have to give you such bad news. If you’re a friend of his….”
“Dead? Oh, I see.” His reaction surprised me. I could have expected him to be sad, or angry, and certainly to have asked how Terentius met his end. But his next question was, “What has happened to his possessions?”
“We have them here. We’ll be sending them to Eburacum with his body tomorrow.”
He looked relieved. “Ah, that’s all right then. If you’ll just give me his box? He was supposed to hand it over to me when we met.”
I decided to move from playing cautious to playing ignorant. “Box? I don’t know anything about a box.”
“But you must! I know he was travelling with it, and I presume he gave it to you for safekeeping. It contains something of mine, something I need urgently. That’s why we’d arranged to meet here, so I could take charge of it.” He was leaning forward eagerly and staring into my eyes. “Just a small box, but very valuable, vitally important. Are you sure he didn’t give it to you to lock away overnight?”