‘I reckon we might have found a Roman town,’ said Mike, when they all stopped for bacon sandwiches one wet, freezing morning, and sat in a little huddle round the camping stove in Janet’s van.
‘I think you may be right, mate.’ Anna sipped her coffee. ‘This could be a big colonia.’
‘A what?’ Susannah asked, sensing their excitement, but too cold to feel much herself.
‘A settlement for legionaries who’d done their active service, but wanted to stay in Britain. They often married British wives. There were dozens of coloniae in Britain.’ Anna got out of the van and stared around. ‘Why don’t we dig some test pits, a few feet from the wall?’
‘Maybe tomorrow.’ Janet glanced up at the darkening sky. ‘I reckon it’s going to rain again. Let’s go to the Green Man.’
‘That’s the best idea you’ve had all day,’ said Mike, and grinned. ‘Suke and Anna, get the trowels and stuff. I’ll go and load up the van.
‘Look out, it’s very slippery there,’ said Janet as Anna ran along a trench, stumbled over a lump of masonry, lost her footing then fell. She caught her head a crack on a cornerstone, and by the time Susannah and Janet reached her, she’d passed out.
‘Anna?’ Janet slid into the trench. Frantically, she rubbed at Anna’s hands. ‘Oh, God – what’s she done? Anna, sweetheart, talk to me!’
Anna groaned. But then, to everyone’s relief, she opened her eyes again. Gingerly, she touched her head, and found her hand was red with mud and blood.
‘I’m going to be sick,’ she whispered, rolling sideways and vomiting bacon sandwiches all over Mike’s new boots.
‘I think we ought to get her to a hospital,’ he said.
Chapter 10
‘I’m sure it isn’t serious. But we’ll keep her in tonight, in case.’ The tired young doctor turned to a nurse. ‘I expect there’ll be a bed on Hartley Ward.’
‘Anything we can get you, love?’ Relieved that Anna wasn’t badly hurt, Mike was grinning now. ‘Grapes, some chocolates, flowers? Woman’s Own?’
‘Just piss off,’ growled Anna, ‘and let me sleep.’
‘Nothing much wrong with her,’ laughed Mike. ‘But then, she was always one to swing the lead.’
‘For God’s sake!’ Anna lay back on her pillows. ‘Suke, do me a favour and get this ginger halfwit out of here?’
‘Come on, Mike.’ Susannah led him away. ‘The Lamb and Flag will be open now. I’ll buy you a pint of Parker’s.’
* * * *
Anna was discharged from Marbury Royal the following morning, with seven stitches in her head. ‘They told me to come back if I felt dizzy, and to take a week off work,’ she told Susannah. But a day later she was back on site, carefully cleaning a section of the wall, then taking lots of photographs. ‘There’s something special here,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what, but while I’m in the trench I’m getting these amazing vibes – ‘
‘I think you’re getting ‘flu, as well,’ frowned Janet. ‘You look awful, pale and ill.’
‘I’m okay,’ said Anna.
‘No, you’re not. You ought to be in bed. Susannah, take her home.’
‘I’m just a bit tired, that’s all,’ protested Anna. ‘Perhaps I’ll stay in the van a while and have a little nap. Stop fussing, Jan –I’ll be as right as rain.’
‘She’s scared she might miss something,’ said Susannah, after she and Janet had taken Anna to the van.
‘I know the feeling.’ Janet slipped into the trench. ‘Last spring, I was working on a site in Jordan. It was supposed to be a Roman graveyard. We dug for a month and didn’t find a thing. No urns, no bones, no artifacts, sod all.
‘Then, on the last day, this middle-aged woman teacher, this amateur from Essex, starts to squeal her head off. She’s only found a gorgeous golden bangle, in a heap of spoil, would you believe?’
‘So then you found loads of amazing things?’
‘So then we got a time extension, spent another tedious fortnight digging in the dust, found damn all, and came to the conclusion that about two thousand years ago some rich woman travelling with a mule train dropped a bracelet.’
‘Dammit, Janet,’ grinned Susannah.
‘Yeah, it was well annoying.’ Janet shrugged. ‘But that’s the way it goes.’
Later on that day, a couple of workmen came to see them, bringing planks and duckboards on a lorry. ‘You idiots want your heads examined, working in this mess,’ said one. ‘We’re going to shore this bit up for you, all right?’
‘It’s asking for trouble, going this far down without steps or ladders,’ said his mate.
‘We don’t have any money for little luxuries like ladders.’ Janet smiled at him. ‘Actually, I was wondering – could you have a rummage round your cabin for any spare hard hats?’
‘Go on, Trevor, do as the lady says.’ The workman grinned. ‘There’s half a dozen in the hut.’
‘We’ll look like Irish labourers in these stupid bloody things,’ objected Mike, scowling at his yellow helmet with its red Trent Weston logo prominently displayed.
‘Well, it’ll make a change from looking like English dickheads. But you don’t have to wear one.’ Janet stepped back to check her morning’s work. ‘This bit of wall’s not very stable. It’s like the stuff you’re cleaning now. But don’t let me stop you bringing the whole lot crashing down, and splitting your skull wide open – if that’s what you’d prefer.’
* * * *
Mike made friends with the workmen, borrowing fags from them and buying them pints to settle up. ‘I’m going to the Green Man with the lads,’ he said, one Thursday lunchtime. ‘Anna’s coming. What about you and Suke?’
‘I’ve got a headache,’ Janet told him. ‘I think I’ll give the Parker’s Special Brew a miss today.’
‘Time of the month, eh?’ nodded Mike, and grinned.
‘Oh, shut up, smackhead.’ Anna kicked him.
‘I’ll stay here with Janet,’ said Susannah. ‘Tell Jim and Trevor they needn’t hurry back. We’ll guard the site.’
‘Didn’t you want to go to the Green Man?’ demanded Janet, as the others wandered off across the frozen fields. ‘I know you like a pint or two of Parker’s.’
‘Yes, I do.’ Susannah grinned. ‘But it makes me want to pee, and it’s so cold today. Women aren’t well designed in that respect.’
‘I expect you’re getting bored?’
‘Oh no, not really,’ said Susannah. ‘I want to see what else is here.’
‘There might be bugger all.’
‘Or there might be something wonderful.’ Susannah traced a circle on the ground, making a pattern with a stick. ‘Gavin rang last night, to ask me how we’re getting on. I told him there was nothing new. But I’ve got a feeling – just like you and Anna, I suppose – that there’s something here.’
‘You mean in my professional and well-informed opinion there might be something here.’
‘I do beg your pardon.’
‘He looked quite nice, your Gavin.’
‘God, he’s not my Gavin!’ Susannah blushed, and stared down at her pattern. ‘When we were at college, he had a different woman every week. I think he means to sleep with every girl in England.’
‘Well, he is attractive, in an English sort of way. I’d take him round the block.’
‘If I got involved with Gavin, I’d be one of many,’ said Susannah. ‘I couldn’t stand it.’
‘Ah, you’re scared,’ said Janet.
‘I’m not!’ Susannah cried.
‘You are, you’re the sort of girl who’s scared of taking risks. You’re the archetypal frozen virgin.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I think you know. But listen, perhaps he’s done his serial shagging? Maybe he thinks it’s time to settle down? Suke, you’ve gone bright red.’
‘It’s the wind.’ Susannah rubbed her cheeks. ‘So anyway, what about your love life?’
‘I’ve gone off men,’ said Ja
net. ‘Last year, I was having an affair with a married man. It was fine at first, but then it all got very boring. His wife complained about his working hours, his children missed their Daddy, and all that sort of rubbish. I was thinking, time to pack it in. But then I found out I was pregnant.’
‘What did you do?’
‘What could I do?’ Janet brushed one hand across her cheek. ‘I’ve got no money, my job isn’t secure, I have no proper home. My parents are quite ancient, and they’d have been disgusted. I felt I had no choice. Now, of course, I can’t walk past a pram or look at other people’s children. I do wish I were gay. It must make life much simpler.’
‘I don’t suppose it does.’ Susannah met Janet’s gaze. ‘You’re always very mean to David.’
‘Oh, it’s just a game.’
‘Sometimes he looks quite hurt.’
‘It’s nothing heavy. I’ve known David ages. He was a junior lecturer when I was a first year undergraduate. He’s one of my best friends.’
‘He was a lecturer, you said?’
‘Yes, a brilliant one. He had a very promising career ahead of him. But then he got involved with – can you credit this – the man who was engaged to the vice-chancellor’s daughter.’
‘What happened?’
‘She found out. Oh, she knew her bloke was just a little bit AC-DC, but she made a really awful fuss. She threatened suicide and everything. So Dave was more or less obliged to go.’ Janet rubbed her eyes. ‘We tend to fall for the wrong men. It’s a bond between us.’
‘I thought Dave was Francis Parker’s friend?’
‘Yeah, he’s one of several. Poor David, he’s so jealous of the rest! But now he’s got his eye on Julius Greenwood – hasn’t he?’
‘Perhaps,’ agreed Susannah. ‘Although I’d guess old Julius could have anyone he wanted, and I dare say he does. Living in Oxford, he must meet so many pretty boys.’
‘Poor David.’ Janet sighed. ‘Life’s such a bitch! I think Freud was right when he said that we all long for death.’
‘Did Freud say that?’ Susannah frowned. ‘I thought it was Keats. Now more than ever seems it rich to die. To cease upon the midnight with no pain. That’s in Ode to a Nightingale – I think.’
‘Poets usually get there first. Who needed Freud, when Keats and Shakespeare knew it all already?’ Janet yawned, then stretched. ‘Christ, aren’t we intellectual today! Time to get back on the job, I think.’
They chose a sheltered spot, then started to clean a section in which soil discolouration suggested rotted wood. Perhaps a timber building, thought Susannah, as she trowelled away, perhaps a Saxon mead-hall, or a church, had once been here?
Perhaps.
For here, the various differences in texture and in colour were as clear as layers of sand in seaside souvenirs. The soil was damp, the sun was bright, and so the contrasts were very obvious today.
‘We might be on to something here,’ admitted Janet. ‘When Anna comes back from the pub, we’ll get her to take some photographs.’
Janet had just begun to grumble about people skiving off when human shadows fell across the trench. ‘About time too, you idle buggers,’ she muttered, not looking up. ‘I was wondering if and when you’d get your lazy arses over here.’
‘Such a warm welcome, for a poor old man.’ His grey hair blowing in the wind, his camel coat thrown casually around his bony shoulders like a poet’s cloak, Julius Greenwood looked the perfect gentleman and scholar – except for the green wellingtons on his feet.
‘Julius!’ Susannah beamed up at him. ‘What a nice surprise! But how did you find us?’
‘These kind gentlemen drove me here.’ Julius turned to the two men behind him. Equally smart in business suits and worsted overcoats, they also wore green wellingtons. ‘Mr Clark you know. But I don’t think you’ve met Sir Alec Fletcher, whose rolling acres we presently survey.’
‘Or not, as some of us are in a pit.’
‘Then, dear child, you’d better come out and introduce yourselves.’
Sir Alec, a smooth, plump capon of a man, offered a well-manicured paw, which Janet took in her muddy one. ‘You must be Miss Collins. I’m looking forward to hearing about your splendid work,’ he said.
‘You haven’t come to warn us off your land, then?’ Janet asked him, smiling sweetly.
‘My dear young lady, what a strange thing to say.’ Sir Alec Fletcher chuckled, then peered into the pit. ‘I see you have uncovered some extremely solid masonry. Perhaps you would explain its provenance, to Mr Clark and me?’
As Janet and Susannah stood shivering in the wind, talking to Sir Alec, Julius and Gordon Clark, a mini-bus came trundling across the mud and ruts. A dozen people in jeans and boots and donkey jackets got out.
‘Here are your reinforcements,’ Julius said. ‘My dear Miss Collins, you will find work for them?’
Janet stared at him.
‘They are very willing and able, this I promise you. All very keen to help.’
‘Come on, Julius,’ said Susannah. ‘What are you up to now?’
‘What ever can you mean?’ Julius Greenwood smiled inscrutably. ‘A miracle was required, if you remember? So God performed the first, then I performed a second. But all you can say is, what am I up to now!’
‘Where did those people come from?’ asked Susannah.
‘I placed an advertisement, of course. Susannah, they are mostly labourers, who are unemployed. But many of them have worked on excavations in the past.’
‘But who is going to pay them? Where are they going to live?’
‘Sir Alec will give them a small wage, and he has made a couple of cottages available, at a low weekly rent.’ Julius was pouting now. ‘My dear Susannah, how you frown and scowl. I thought you’d be so pleased!’
‘I am pleased! I’m delighted!’ Then, impulsively, Susannah hugged him. ‘I was just a bit surprised, that’s all.’
Sir Alec seemed to be getting on like a house on fire with Janet. ‘This is all so fascinating,’ he said. ‘I could happily spend the winter working here with you.’
‘Perhaps he’d like to do a bit of trowelling,’ murmured Mike, for he and Anna had come back from the pub and now they’d ambled over to see what was going on. ‘I see he’s got his wellies.’
‘Mike, belt up,’ hissed Anna.
But Sir Alec had started talking to Susannah and didn’t hear Mike. ‘I knew your father well,’ he told her, as he peered down into the excavation. ‘Miller Associates did some work for me. I was so sorry to hear about his death.’
Susannah willed him to shut up. But he trundled on and on, a human juggernaut. ‘Such a waste of life,’ he said. ‘I wrote to the minister concerned, drawing his attention to the appalling consequences likely in that type of collision. It may interest you to learn that as a result of that particular incident, safety standards for petrol tankers are now under review.’
Susannah felt the tears well up, spill over. ‘Sir Alec?’ Gordon Clark came to her rescue. ‘It’s almost three o’clock. We must get on.’
‘We must.’ Sir Alec beamed all around. ‘This has been most interesting,’ he said. ‘Be sure to keep me abreast all developments.’
‘Of course,’ smiled Janet.
Gordon Clark shooed Julius and Sir Alec into the waiting car.
‘Wankers,’ muttered Mike.
‘Sukey?’ Anna went up to Susannah. ‘You look awful. What did he say to you?’
‘Just that he knew my father,’ said Susannah, blinking hard.
‘Why are you so upset?’
‘My parents were killed on the M4, last May.’
‘Oh, Suke!’ Unlike Sir Alec’s, Janet’s sympathy was clearly real. ‘You never said! God, I’m so sorry!’
‘I’m getting over it.’ Susannah dabbed away a last stray tear. ‘It was very quick. They can’t have known what hit them. Come on, we have to find all these new people things to do.’
* * * *
The following evening, j
ust as she got home from the excavation, Julius rang Susannah at the Dean’s House.
‘My dear girl,’ he began, ‘how lucky to find you in! I’m sure you’re tired after your day’s hard labour, so I shan’t keep you long. The thing is, I was having a little potter in the Bodleian today. You know the Bodleian Library, in Oxford?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘I was in the manuscript room, looking for something that doesn’t concern us now, when I had a sudden inspiration. I asked the young lady at the desk to fetch me a particular codex, which is a precious treasure of the place.
‘This book is called the Codex Coloniensis. Many years ago, it was in the chapter library of the great cathedral in Cologne. I began to turn the pages – and suddenly, there it was!’
Susannah was hungry, cold and tired. She’d wanted to eat her supper, have a bath and go to bed. But suddenly, she was wide awake again, and shivers of excitement were racing up and down her spine. ‘What did you find?’ she asked.
‘The story of the Lady and the Counsellor, of course!’ Julius sounded jubilant. ‘Do you not know this Saxon text? My dear child, this particular document was copied by the man who wrote that passage in your Henry Codex!’
Susannah felt ghosts were all around her now, whispering and jostling, and their breath was cold on her warm face. ‘Julius,’ she whispered, ‘are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure!’ cried Julius. ‘When I was in Marbury, David gave me a photocopy of the document in the Henry Codex. I compared it with the page in the codex from Cologne. The writing is identical. What do you think of that?’
‘I – I’m very impressed,’ Susannah said. She glanced down at a cut on her right hand, which was full of grit and needed cleaning, she must do that tonight. ‘How old is the document?’ she asked.
‘I don’t really know – tenth or eleventh century, I’d guess. Of course it is a copy of a copy. The language is ninth century, and I have a feeling it’s a form of Mercian. It’s certainly not West Saxon, anyway. My dear Susannah, maybe you could get the train to Oxford this weekend, and see it for yourself?’
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