Marcus nodded and grunted something to himself.
‘You look like you have had a shit day,’ the tavern owner said with a faint smile.
‘It could have been better,’ Marcus replied. ‘Civilian life is so complicated. Sometimes I miss the simplicity of the army.’
The tavern owner reached out and picked up the next dirty cup. ‘Well the news from the Dacian frontier is encouraging,’ the veteran said. ‘We’ve heard from all our cohorts on that front. They are being prepared for action. Lucky bastards. The loot and spoils that they will win will turn them into rich men. The Brigantes and Caledonians never did have many riches. That was our luck, to have to face those poor miserable fuckers. But Dacia is a different story. They have goldmines.’
Marcus sighed wearily as he suddenly thought of Fergus on his way to the front thousands of miles away to face an uncertain, dangerous future. And there was nothing he could do to help protect his son.
It was dark outside when Marcus realised that no one else would be coming. Grimly he rose to his feet and turned to look at the eight Batavian veterans lounging about around the tavern. He’d been hoping to get at least twelve men to come back with him to help protect his farm on Vectis but instead of twelve he had eight. The men, all of them retired soldiers stared back at him silence. All of them were sturdy, seasoned and battle hardened veterans with many years of military service. They were clad in simple grey travelling cloaks with hoods and they had brought their own weapons. Their travelling packs lay dumped on the floor in a heap.
‘Alright, listen up,’ Marcus said in a loud voice. ‘Thank you all for coming. I do appreciate it. The conditions will be as promised. I shall pay for your expenses and a small daily salary. My farm is well stocked with food and it is a pleasant place. You won’t go hungry. You are free to leave at any moment. The man who is trying to take over my land is called Priscinus. He is not going to succeed but he has been training men to fight and I think he may try and drive me and my family from my farm by force. If this happens I intend to fight.’
Marcus paused and looked around at the faces watching him. For a moment, the tavern remained silent. Then one of the veterans cleared his throat.
‘We are all with you Marcus,’ the retired soldier growled. ‘And if it comes to violence then we will protect your farm. Don’t worry about us. That’s why we are all here. But there is one other matter that we wanted to discuss with you.’
‘What’s that?’ Marcus frowned.
The veteran who’d spoken glanced round at his comrades who nodded at him.
‘In addition to what you have promised,’ the veteran said in a serious voice, ‘we want you to make a donation to the Batavian Veteran’s Fund which we have recently created to help our poorer and less well-off members and veterans. Do this and no fucker called Priscinus is going to take your farm from you.’
Marcus glanced around the tavern and then across the bar at the tavern owner. The owner nodded that he was in agreement with the men.
‘Alright, it’s done,’ Marcus snapped. ‘Now get some rest, we leave for Vectis at dawn.’
Chapter Fourteen – Hope in the Face of Despair
The eleven riders rode along the country track in single file, raising clumps of dirt and dust as they went. The flanks of the horses were heaving and streaked with sweat and around them, Vectis’s peaceful countryside looked a parched yellow and green. It was afternoon and in the clear, blue sky the sun was a glorious ball of intense light and heat. The thud of the horses’ hooves reverberated along the path and among the dry bushes and thirsty trees, the fresh grassy scents of summer filled the air together with a multitude of buzzing insects. Grimly, Marcus peered ahead along the track as he led the small, mounted-party towards his farm. Had he left it too late? Had Priscinus already made his move? Would he find a smoking, blackened ruin and his family’s scattered, decaying corpses? But on the horizon, he could see no towering column of black smoke nor had the boatman, who had ferried them across the water, mentioned anything about seeing a party of armed men crossing to the island. Riding closely behind him came Efa and Elsa, both looking tired after their long journey from Londinium, their faces stained with dust and sweat, as were those of the eight silent, stoic Batavian veterans who brought up the rear.
Tensely Marcus bit his lip, as at last, he caught sight of his farm in the distance. The golden wheat fields that surrounded his property looked magnificent and undisturbed. A new palisade of sturdy-looking, if rather amateurishly constructed, wooden tree-trunks and branches surrounded the main house and agricultural buildings, partially shielding them from view. A party of slaves were busy digging a V shaped trench around the outside of the new defences. Marcus grunted in satisfaction as he eyed the fortifications. At least Jowan had done what he’d asked him to do. The palisade would not be able to hold off a determined, experienced military force for long, but it should be sufficient deterrence for the men he’d seen at Priscinus’s farm. However, as he and his companions approached the main gate, a dog started to bark and Marcus’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he saw two figures hurrying towards him. From a distance, he recognised Jowan and Kyna. There was something about the way they moved that didn’t feel right. Reining in his horse at the gate he quickly slid to the ground just as Jowan reached him and as he saw his brother-in-law’s face, Marcus suspicion exploded into alarm. Jowan was not his usual placid, stoic, unshakeable self. Instead he looked ashen-faced, unsettled and in one hand he was clutching a spiked, war-club.
‘What has happened?’ Marcus cried out.
‘Marcus,’ Jowan called out in a strained voice. ‘Thank the gods you are back. Dylis has gone missing. We haven’t seen her for days.’
‘What?’
Shocked, Marcus stared at Jowan and then turned to look at Kyna, as she came hurrying up to the gate.
‘Dylis is missing,’ Kyna gasped. ‘We have searched everywhere for her. We have made inquiries with the neighbouring farms but no one has seen her. She went missing the day after she and Cunomoltus returned to the farm. She has been missing for days.’ Kyna paused to catch her breath, her cheeks flushed, her face creased with worry. ‘And there is more bad news. A messenger arrived from Reginorum with a summons. Priscinus is taking us to court. You are going to have to appear at court to defend yourself. The date has been set for ten days’ time. The judge is the town’s magistrate. He’s one of Priscinus’s friends, we are sure of it. And that is not all. Ninian came to us a few days ago. He told us that the priests of the Temple of Neptune and Minerva in Reginorum, the ones who Petrus insulted, have managed to persuade the local merchants to stop buying our produce. They have placed an embargo on us.’
The scowl on Marcus’s face deepened.
‘What about the army supply agents?’ Marcus snapped. ‘We sell most of our produce to the army. Have they too joined this embargo?’
Jowan shook his head. ‘We don’t know,’ he said in a weary, dispirited voice. ‘We don’t know what the army buyers think. None of us have been to Reginorum since Dylis went missing. Finding her has been our priority. She is my wife, Marcus. The children are badly affected by her absence.’
Marcus nodded and looked down at the ground. ‘I know,’ he muttered, ‘and we will find her, don’t you worry.’
‘What are we going to do about the summons?’ Kyna blurted out, her lower lip quivering as she spoke.
Silently Marcus glanced at Efa and Elsa. Then he turned to look at the eight Batavians who were still mounted upon their horses.
‘If we have been summoned then we will go,’ Marcus replied turning back to Kyna, ‘We have nothing to be ashamed of, nor do we have anything to hide. We have done nothing wrong. You all know what this is, a simple land-grab by a powerful man. It happens all the time, but make no mistake.’ Marcus’s face grew grim. ‘This is our land and we are not the kind of people who are easily frightened or driven away. No one is going to take this farm from us. In the end, you will see, all will be well.’
Turning to Jowan, Marcus placed his hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder and gave him a little encouraging smile.
‘I have brought these men back with me,’ Marcus muttered gesturing at the horsemen. ‘They are all old comrades, Batavian veterans; men who know how to fight. They are going to help us defend our home. See to it that they are given some hot food and that their horses are looked after. Have the slaves prepare quarters for them in the large barn. After that, I want the whole family gathered in the dining room. We are going to find Dylis, your children are going to get their mother back.’
‘My daughter is still alive,’ Efa exclaimed suddenly in a calm, confident voice. ‘I can feel it. She is alive.’
Jowan was staring at the eight, silent Batavians sitting on their horses. Then he turned to Marcus and nodded grimly before hurrying away accompanied by the farm’s hunting dogs. Marcus gave Efa a little appreciative glance. Then Kyna was at his side and as she embraced him. He felt the nervous tension in his wife’s body.
***
They were all there except for Dylis, his sister of course. Marcus stood at the head of the long dining table, grimly clutching the edge of the wood with both his good hand and his injured one. His family looked worried and nervous as they silently crowded around him and for a moment, Marcus wished that Fergus was with him, standing at his side, supporting him. But Fergus was far away and his son had no idea what was happening to his family. With a weary sigh, Marcus raised his head and gazed at the faces peering back at him. They needed a bit of hope. They were waiting for him to explain his plan, to show them a way out, but what little of a plan he’d been able to put together had been hastily done in the last hour, and he had his own doubts about wherever it would work.
‘So this is what we are going to do,’ Marcus growled, trying to sound as confident as he could, ‘The Batavians are here to protect our home. They will sleep in the barn and during the day they are going to train the male slaves how to fight. We need everyone who can hold a weapon.’ Marcus paused as he drummed his fingers on the table. ‘If Priscinus is so foolish as to come here in person with his men, we are going to meet him at the palisade. That will be our perimeter. There are not enough of us to defend the whole farm, so we shall concentrate on protecting the house. Everyone except the children are to be armed with whatever you can find, and I want two slaves on a permanent picket a mile down the track plus another on top of the roof with a bell which they are to use to sound the alarm. That way we should have some advance warning.’ Marcus paused again. ‘And in the unlikely event,’ he muttered, ‘that we are overrun, Kyna will lead all the children, including the children of the slaves, towards the beach and along the coast to safety with the neighbouring farm.’
‘It sounds like we are going to war,’ Efa muttered with a sigh.
‘I have collected a dozen or so hunting bows from my friends,’ Petrus interrupted helpfully. ‘They are in my room. I will give them to the Batavian’s.’
‘That’s good,’ Marcus said glaring at him. ‘But that doesn’t release you from the debt you owe to all of us. Your stupidity in insulting those priests has now turned the whole town against us. You are going to have to do better than that to make things right.’
Embarrassed Petrus looked down at the table.
‘What about Dylis?’ Jowan said sharply as two of his children clung to each side of him. The children looked scared.
‘Cunomoltus and I will go into Reginorum,’ Marcus replied looking at the children. ‘It is the one place where you say you have not searched for her. Maybe Ninian has news. Maybe someone in town knows something, maybe someone can give us a clue to what has happened to her. I am also going to have word with these merchants who are refusing to buy our produce.’
‘Shouldn’t you take some of the Batavians with you,’ Kyna said anxiously.
‘No, they will stay here to protect the farm. Cunomoltus and I can handle ourselves,’ Marcus said resolutely.
‘Priscinus has summoned us to court,’ Kyna said shaking her head. ‘What will happen if we go and the judge rules that our farm no longer belongs to us? What are we going to do then? We can’t fight against Roman law. We can’t disobey the law.’
The room fell silent and for a long moment no one spoke. Then Marcus stirred and suddenly his deep mellow voice was filled with confidence and strength.
‘I know that you are all anxious and worried,’ he said quietly. ‘But we are going to have to be strong. These are testing days but they will pass. Fortuna favours those who dare stand up and fight for themselves. And I want you to remember something. My father never lost faith in us. And we are not going to lose faith in each other now. Corbulo is watching us. This was his farm once. So, don’t let him down.’
***
Reginorum was not as large and grand as Londinium but it was undeniably Roman. As Marcus and Cunomoltus strode down the straight, main street of the small town, the tightly-packed rows of long strip houses, with their narrow frontages, workshops and stores, spilling out into the street, seemed to loom over him, trapping the pedestrians in a whirl of noise, smells and activity. Ox-drawn wagons rumbled down the street kicking up dust and the metallic hammering of a blacksmith dominated the chatter of the people in the street, and the advertising calls of the street-merchants. Wood-smoke rose into the air and down a side, narrow, street, a pack of feral dogs was barking and fighting amongst themselves. Marcus, clad in his wide-brimmed sunhat and carefully avoiding the piles of horse-manure in the street, cautiously glanced around him, as he and his brother made their way towards the Temple of Neptune and Minerva. None of the people in the street seemed to take any notice of them. As they approached the fine, stone-temple, a priest clad in his ceremonial robes appeared in the doorway and handed out some loaves of bread and a jug of wine to the ragged, miserable-looking beggars who sat clustered on the stone steps leading into the building. Ignoring the priest, Marcus headed straight for Ninian’s small office that butted up against the Temple.
Ninian was sifting through a pile of documents as Marcus and Cunomoltus stepped into his office. He gave Marcus a concerned look, as he quickly rose to his feet and silently extended his hand towards Marcus.
‘Dylis has gone missing,’ Marcus said gravely as he grasped Ninian’s hand. ‘She has been missing for several days. I was wondering whether you had seen her or heard from her?’
The broker nodded and looked down at his desk. ‘I heard about this,’ he muttered. ‘It’s worrying. But I have not seen her. If I do hear anything I will let you know at once.’
Marcus grunted his appreciation.
‘It’s not like her to go missing like this,’ Marcus said quietly. ‘It’s perplexing. My family have searched for her everywhere.’ Marcus paused. ‘You have heard about the court summons. I hope Dylis’s disappearance is not linked to this but if you hear anything, anything at all, do let us know.’
Ninian nodded again. Then he straightened up.
‘You have another problem,’ he said lightly. ‘The priest’s next door, they have persuaded your buyers to stop doing business with you Marcus. I tried to argue your case but the merchants do not dare go against the will of the priests. It’s troubling and its bad business for everyone but unless you can change the mind of the priests there is very little that I can do about it I’m afraid.’
‘I will deal with the priests,’ Marcus growled. ‘But what about the army buyers? Have they joined the embargo too?’
Ninian sighed in relief. ‘The influence of the priests does not extend to the army,’ he said with a little encouraging nod. ‘The soldiers must eat after all or else there will be a riot. But the priests are nevertheless going to put a big dent in your profits and they have also been whipping up sentiment against you amongst the town’s people. They are calling you a Christian. They are spreading the rumour that you don’t recognise the authority of the old gods and that of the Emperor.’ Ninian sighed again. ‘I think it may be wise if you and your fam
ily did not show themselves in Reginorum for a while, at least until matters have calmed down.’
‘A Christian?’ Marcus scoffed glancing at his brother. ‘The people are stupid and ignorant if they believe that I am a Christian.’
‘If the priests say it, they will believe it,’ Ninian replied.
‘We want to speak to the merchants, our buyers,’ Cunomoltus interrupted. ‘Where can we find them?’
Ninian turned to look at Cunomoltus. Then he shook his head.
‘They won’t listen to you. They are terrified of the priests but if you insist you will be able to find them all in the cattle market on the outskirts of town.’
Marcus glanced at his brother and then turned to Ninian.
‘Matters are coming to a head on the farm,’ Marcus said quietly. ‘Priscinus may make a move against us before the court date so if you hear of anything do warn us. It may still come to bloodshed.’
‘I will Marcus,’ Ninian said with a little respectful nod.
***
As he emerged from Ninian’s office and into the street, Marcus paused to look around him hoping perhaps to catch a glimpse of Dylis, but there was no sign of her. The main street was busy and on the steps of the Temple the beggars were devouring the free bread they’d been given.
‘Come on, let’s try and see if we can talk some sense into these buyers,’ Marcus muttered, as he turned and started to walk away down the street. He was closely followed by Cunomoltus. His brother too, was looking around, cautiously hoping to catch a glimpse of Dylis.
‘What are we going to say to them?’ Cunomoltus said as the two of them pushed on down the street towards the cattle market.
‘We are going to remind them that the benefits of business go both ways,’ Marcus snapped. ‘And that if they aren’t prepared to buy our stuff, we will find someone else who will.’
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