by Jane Finnis
“Except they keep falling out all the time. I wonder if maybe one of them is trying to persuade the other to join the conspiracy.”
“Or not to, perhaps. Yes, that could very well be it. Merda, I wish we could contact Lucius. I spent some time yesterday trying to find anyone who’d had a briefing from him, but he works alone, and never confides anything to anybody.”
I said, “How very inconsiderate of him,” and Quintus had the grace to look sheepish.
He ran his hand through his fair hair. “Were you able to recognise any of the attackers?”
“No, it was too dark. Except…I can’t be certain, but I think I saw someone in a skull mask. Unless it was a trick of the shadows. And the one we killed is familiar, Balbus’ foreman.”
“So Balbus himself is involved too, you think?”
“It rather looks like it, but there’s no solid proof.”
The outside door opened just then, and my farm foreman came in.
“’Morning, Ursulus,” I said. “How are things going?”
He stood on the doormat shifting nervously from foot to foot, a big, powerful man who looked at ease in a field and awkward in a room.
“Sorry to interrupt, Mistress. I thought I’d better tell you. Something bad’s happened.”
“Gods, what now? Spit it out.”
“Two of the field-hands have run off. Two of the free ones, I mean, the slaves are all present and correct.” Ursulus himself was a freedman.
“Which two?”
“Cimber and Ardan,” he said unhappily. “Cimber had his own house, with a woman and kids. Ardan lived with his parents. They’ve both gone, and nobody knows where.”
“Run off to join the Shadow-men, do you reckon?” Quintus put in.
“Maybe. Or got scared and didn’t want to stay here. You’ve heard the rumours about how the Druids have put a curse on us all? I don’t believe in that stuff, but some of the men are frightened.”
I managed to smile. “Try to reassure them, Ursulus. This won’t go on for long now. Master Quintus went to Eburacum yesterday, to get us help.”
Well that was what he went for. I didn’t say he’d actually got any.
“Good, sooner the better.” But the big man still didn’t make a move.
“Has something else happened?” I prompted.
He nodded glumly. “I went out to the paddock, to sort out them dead mules. Shocking mess, they are, but I’ll see to them. The thing is…while I was there I checked the old round byre. They’ve wrote on the wall again. I mean painted.”
“What does it say?” Quintus asked.
“There’s a skull, and three lines of writing. The first two are like on the stable wall the other day. And then at the bottom it says ‘Greetings from Messapus.’”
“Messapus! Gods alive! Well, thanks for telling me. Send a couple of men to clean the paint off, and make sure they do a thorough job.”
“Very good, Mistress. One more thing….” He shuffled his feet.
“Yes?”
“Me and the lads think, well, we all think you did real well last night. And we want you to know we’re all with you. We won’t let them Druids drive us out.”
“Thank you, Ursulus. That’s good to hear. You and the men fought like gladiators. Is anyone too seriously hurt to work today?”
“Only Otho, and he’ll mend. Even the ones who’d normally have tried it on aren’t complaining overmuch. It’s just those two that have gone missing.”
“Right. Thanks, I’ll come and do the rounds in a while.” He went out.
“Two runaways,” I muttered. “After last night, I suppose I should be glad it’s not more. If there are rumours about being cursed by the Druids—Holy Diana!” I didn’t want to think about what we’d do if the men deserted in droves.
Quintus was looking at me curiously. “Who’s Messapus?”
“A character in the Aeneid. I thought everybody knew that!”
“And what’s he doing sending you his greetings?”
“It’s a password. I told you we agreed on one at Silvanius’ secret meeting the other day.”
“So you did. Gods, how very literary! It’s a more elegant class of password than we humble investigators go in for.”
“That wouldn’t be difficult. Lucius always picks something really silly. Like Aunt Julia and an elephant.”
He nodded. “My usual one is beans.”
“Beans! As in, ‘Here are the secret orders, and I thought you’d like my cook’s recipe for bean stew’?”
“Something like that. But I take it,” he said more seriously, “that only the people at the secret meeting knew about Messapus?”
“That’s right.”
“And Vitalis wasn’t at the meeting?”
“Right again.”
“Then our traitor was one of the men at the meeting, or someone working for him. This latest bit of wall-painting confirms it. And I’d say the evidence points to Balbus as the most likely.”
“Because his foreman attacked us?”
“Yes. The foreman would have been his second-in-command, doing the actual fighting and leaving Balbus to do the planning and organising. He must be a good organiser—all successful businessmen are. We know he has money enough, and he’s proud of his friendship with the natives, including the anti-Roman ones. He travels about a good deal, ostensibly on business.”
I couldn’t deny that it fitted. “And he’s the original source of the green paint. He must have used it because he thought we’d all assume he was the one man who wouldn’t use it! Gods alive, how devious can you get?”
“When it comes to being devious, he’s a mere babe in arms. Look how he’s played right into our hands,” Quintus said.
“By betraying all our plans?”
“By boasting about it, of course. He couldn’t resist showing off. ‘Look, aren’t I clever, I know all your secrets?’ He presumably meant to frighten you, but the whole thing will recoil on him like a badly made catapult. If you’re doing secret work, the first rule is, stay secret, and the Shadow of Death has broken it. He’s shown himself to be a complete amateur. Whereas I’m a professional!”
“Now who’s boasting?” But what he said was true. We had a traitor among the trusted inner circle, and it was better to be aware of it.
“What’s the next step? Arrest Balbus?”
“Not yet, no.” He finished his wine. “I want more tangible proof, if I can get it. Balbus could afford the best lawyers in the Empire, and they’d make short work of my case as it stands. And I’d also like to be completely sure he’s the only Roman traitor in this area. We’ll give him a day or two more.”
“That’s far too risky,” I objected. “Another attack….”
“…is likely to go ahead in any case, I’m afraid. The young rebels won’t stop now. If their leader is captured, they’ll want revenge.”
“But I must get a message to Silvanius. He needs to know that the password isn’t secure. So do the others.”
“I suppose that can’t hurt,” he agreed. “In fact their reaction might be useful. We can ride into town this morning.”
“We? You want to come too?”
“Yes, I do. It’s time I met the famous Councillor Silvanius Clarus.”
“Then let’s go on horseback—it’s quicker than the carriage. Well, don’t look so surprised, Quintus! In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not some mincing lady of fashion who has to go everywhere on wheels.”
He surveyed me with an air of amazement. “That’s where I’ve been going wrong with you, Aurelia. I had you down as definitely the mincing type!”
It was nearly noon by the time we set off. First we had to wait till Albia was up and about. She came in, looking more or less awake, about two hours later. I gave her some breakfast, and we told her about the password on the byre wall.
“Balbus,” she said gloomily. “I suppose this proves it. Relia, I feel as if there are traitors everywhere we turn. And…poor Ennia!”
/> Her remark reminded me of the tribunes. They were still sleeping, but if they went out later, I wanted to find out where, so I sent one of the horse-boys to ask if Hawk could come over. While we waited, we saddled a couple of the good black horses, and told Taurus to saddle up too and come with us as guard.
The tribunes finally appeared, looking remarkably fresh; they sat down to a large breakfast and announced they were going hunting later. I said they deserved some relaxation, and wished them luck, but I didn’t feel inclined to chat. Knowing that one or both of them had tried to get us all killed last night put a definite damper on conversation.
Hawk appeared, with his red-haired boy, the one who reminded me of Titch. After the usual brief play-acting concerning bottles of medicine, they followed me to my study.
“You had a bad night,” Hawk said. “I couldn’t get close, but I saw the attack from a distance, and the man in the mask too. Are you all right?”
“Just about, but we’ve got a problem. We’ve discovered one of our tribunes is helping the rebels, or it might even be both of them.” I briefly reported last night’s events.
He didn’t seem surprised. “I’ve noticed they seem to do more courting than hunting. And they sometimes split up and go separate ways.”
“They’re going hunting today, or so they say. Could you follow them for me, find out where they go, who they meet, and come and tell me tonight? We’ve got to know for sure if either of them can be trusted.”
“If only one of them is a traitor, they’ll probably separate. But Teilo’s not a bad tracker, if I need a second pair of eyes.” He indicated the boy.
I must have looked dubious, because he added, “He’s quite good, and you’re only wanting them kept under observation, after all. It’s not as if he’ll have to follow tracks that are days old. I should hope any of my older children can track an unsuspecting hunter without being seen.”
“Fine. Take care, though, won’t you? And while you’re out and about,” I added, “could you keep an ear open for news of young Titch? The new stable-boy. He disappeared last night during the fight, but he’s a smart lad. I think he’s much more likely to have been driven off and got lost somewhere than got himself killed. All the same, I’m worried about him.”
“Oh, we’ll be looking for him, never you fear. Teilo’s been on at me about it already. The two of them have made friends, I gather.”
I looked at the lad more closely. “Are you teaching him to be a tracker too?”
He grinned. “Yes, and he’s teaching me to play the bugle.” He touched his belt, and there was Titch’s old bugle hanging from it. “Good, isn’t it?”
“Wonderful.” Hawk winked at me over the boy’s head, and I tried not to think about somebody learning to play a bugle in a one-room roundhouse.
I went into the kitchen to tell Albia we were on our way, and found her shouting at Cook, something she never does as a rule. “Just get on with it, and stop arguing!” she finished, and turned to me, flushed and angry.
I looked at her enquiringly, and she managed a smile. “Don’t mind me, I’m just edgy today. I’ll feel better when the customers start arriving. The trouble is, it’s too quiet. The Campaign of Terror is starting to work. There should be more people on the road by now.”
She looked strained, and had dark circles under her eyes. I realised she was as exhausted as I was, with the added burden of anxiety over whether Junius was a traitor or not. And now the latest news about Balbus….I gave her a quick hug and said, “Try not to worry. We all did brilliantly last night. We’ve shown the natives we aren’t an easy target. And Lucius will be home soon.”
“Yes. I only hope there’s still a mansio for him to come home to. Now you and Quintus be careful on the road, won’t you?”
It was a pleasant day for a ride, breezy and sunny, drying out the soaking woods and fields after yesterday’s deluge. We urged the horses into a gallop, enjoying the wonderful feeling of motion and freedom.
As we slowed down on the outskirts of Oak Bridges, Quintus glanced at me and said, “You ride like a man.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It is one. Most women perch uncomfortably on a saddle, but you ride as if you’re part of your horse….What’s the matter? You keep looking up and down the road.”
“I’m just wishing there was a bit more traffic on it. This is the middle of summer, a good fine morning, yet there’s hardly a man or a beast stirring. The Campaign of Terror is beginning to bite.”
With this depressing thought we rode through Oak Bridges, which seemed almost deserted, and trotted along the country road towards Silvanius’ villa.
“It’s still too quiet for my liking,” I commented.
“Here comes someone now,” Taurus said suddenly. “Hoof-beats behind us, coming up fast. Listen!”
We turned as we caught the sound, and all instinctively looked about us. We’d just rounded a bend, and were hemmed in by trees on either side. We could hear two sets of hooves, but the riders would be on us before we could see them. If these two meant trouble, this was the kind of place they would choose for it. Quintus drew his sword, and Taurus and I drew our daggers.
Chapter XXI
But as the riders rounded the bend, we recognised Felix with his giant bodyguard. They slid to a halt, their horses panting.
“Felix!” I exclaimed. “Jupiter, you gave us a fright. What in Hades are you doing, galloping about like the Parthian cavalry?”
“Aurelia, my dear! The gods be thanked! You’re safe? We heard there was trouble at the Oak Tree last night.”
“You could say that, but yes, we’re safe. We’re just on our way to see Clarus. Let me present one of our guests, Quintus Valerius Longinus, bridge engineer. Quintus Valerius, this is Cornelius Felix, one of our town councillors, and a patron of the theatre.”
They acknowledged one another courteously. I noticed that Felix looked tired and drawn. Had anyone in Oak Bridges had a decent night’s sleep? But he gave us his most charming smile. “Are you here to survey our splendid oak bridges? Are they going to collapse one dark night and deposit some unwary traveller into a watery grave?”
“I hope not,” Quintus smiled back. “But I haven’t started my inspection yet. If I find anything amiss, I’ll make sure the town council is informed straight away.”
I began to walk my horse along the road. “Let’s not waste time. We need to see Clarus urgently.”
“So do I, so do I! Something quite dreadful has happened.”
“What?”
“I feel I’ve been assaulted…violated….”
“Whatever is it? Have you been attacked?”
“Not personally, no. But my beautiful statue of Nero. My Apollo. Someone broke into my garden last night in the storm, and smashed it to pieces. Into a million tiny pieces!”
If this had happened to anyone else, I think I’d have wanted to laugh. I’d spent the night trying to avoid being killed, and he was lamenting the loss of a statue! But I knew how he valued this particular work of art, and whoever had broken it must have done it to hurt him.
“Oh, Felix, I’m sorry. It was a beautiful piece. And something you really valued. Was it the only thing that was damaged?”
“Oh yes. They knew where to find my most precious possession. It’s irreplaceable, quite irreplaceable….”
“It was the Shadow-men, presumably?” Quintus asked.
“Who else? The barbarians at our gates.”
“Quite literally, in our case.” I told him about the attack, and the betraying of the password. He was still exclaiming over this as we turned our horses into Silvanius’ drive. We were dismounting at the main door when the Chief Councillor himself emerged from the house. He looked haggard and harassed, and he wasn’t wearing his toga.
“Thank the gods!” he exclaimed when he saw us all. “I was about to send for you, Felix, and you too, Aurelia. And this—” he glanced at Quintus—“if I’m not mistaken, must be your bridge sur
veyor, who survived the Shadow-men?”
“Quintus Valerius Longinus, at your service, Chief Councillor,” Quintus answered, and they shook hands.
“What’s happened, Publius?” Felix asked. “You were going to send for us? Don’t say you’ve got more bad news. Aurelia and I are both the bearers of terrible tidings….”
“Dreadful news, yes. Old Vedius was killed last night.”
“Gods, no!” I was never one of Vedius senior’s keenest admirers, but that didn’t mean I wished him dead. “Was he out on patrol?”
“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?”