Buried Too Deep

by Jane Finnis

“I’m for the Otherworld, doctor, aren’t I?” he asked Timaeus.

  “No, you’re a strong lad, you’ll pull through this. But you must rest, let these wounds heal.”

  “I know the truth, don’t try to pretend. I haven’t got long to talk. Go away please, so I can finish my report. Please.”

  “Leave the syrup with me, Timaeus,” I said. “I’ll give him more if he needs it.”

  Timaeus and Phokas left the room, a sure sign that Timaeus too thought his patient hadn’t got long to talk. But between bouts of coughing, Belinus managed to gasp out his words in short bursts.

  “Make Lucius understand…the Gauls are working for someone else. Someone powerful, someone with a brain. There’s someone wants our land. Trying to drive us out, drive all the small farmers out. Wants the land for himself. Keeps threatening us, making our lives miserable. We can’t fight him on our own.”

  “Do you know who it is? There are laws to protect you.”

  “There are two it could be. Both rich, greedy, above the law.” He coughed noisily, and I gave him more syrup. If it had poppy in it, it should make him drowsy, but that would take time.

  “I’ll tell Lucius all this. But if you even suspect who it is, you must give me the name. Lucius will expect it.”

  He tried to answer, but no words came out, only more coughing. I piled more pillows under his head, but that didn’t seem to help. I waited, not sure what to do, only feeling I couldn’t leave him now.

  He took a deep breath and sat upright, as if gathering himself for a supreme effort.

  “When I’m in the Otherworld, you and Lucius must help my family fight him off. Illiana, the children….” His breath was coming in rasping short bursts now, with agonising coughing in between. I opened my mouth to call Timaeus, but then he said clearly, “Keep them safe. Promise me.”

  “I will.”

  “Promise! Swear it!”

  “I swear by Diana, and by Taranis and the Three Mothers.” I hoped that invoking the native gods would reassure him, and it did.

  “Thank you.” He flopped back onto the pillows. “Now I’ve done all I can.” His body jerked, then went slack, and his eyes closed. He let out a shuddering sigh, and lay quite still.

  “Timaeus!” I called.

  But even as he and Phokas hurried in, I knew there was nothing more they could do. Belinus had crossed to the Otherworld.

  We stood round the bed, none of us willing to break the silence. I felt sad, for Belinus and for Timaeus too, because I knew how discouraged he felt when his medical skills weren’t enough to save a patient.

  Phokas looked suitably solemn, but he was young and resilient, and he was the first to stir himself. He walked over to the window and pushed the half-opened shutters right back, letting in more of the thin morning light and a cold breeze. He looked at Timaeus. “Master, I’ll finish off here. You go and get something to eat. Mistress Margarita will have breakfast waiting for you.”

  “Good idea,” I said. “I’ll come too.”

  But Timaeus didn’t seem to have heard. “I thought he had a chance. It was a terrible leg wound, and with the gangrene, and the broken ribs as well. But he was young and strong, and I’ve seen worse than that heal with barely a scar.”

  “If you couldn’t save him, Timaeus, then nobody could. You’ve done the best any doctor could do. It was in the lap of the gods. If they didn’t want Belinus to survive…”

  He ran his hands through his chestnut hair. “I don’t know about the gods. I just know I’ve been taught how to heal people, and when I fail, that must be my fault…Sorry, I don’t mean to rant on. I’m just tired, and I hate losing a patient. I can’t help wondering if there was something else I could have done for him.”

  “I’m sure there wasn’t. You’re a fine doctor.” I touched his arm gently. I didn’t like to see him so upset.

  “I ought to have paid more attention to those broken ribs. Perhaps I should have opened up his chest to see what was wrong.”

  Phokas spoke up. “Master, that would have killed him for sure. He had a wound full of poison, and he was as hot as a furnace. He wouldn’t have had the strength for that kind of surgery.”

  The apprentice was talking very good sense, and Timaeus seemed comforted. “I suppose not. Once the four humours get too far out of balance…”

  “Try not to feel badly.” I cut him short, not being in the mood for a medical lecture on the four humours. “You know my father was an army man. He told me what the military doctors say about medicine. I expect you’ve heard it?”

  He shook his head. “Some hoary old saying of Julius Caesar, is it?”

  “I shouldn’t be surprised. ‘Patients are like battles, you win some and you lose some. Just make sure you win more than you lose.’”

  He smiled faintly. “You’re right, Aurelia. I shouldn’t let it upset me.”

  “I’m always right. It’s a well-known fact. Now why not do as Phokas suggests, come to the mansio and we’ll find you something to eat and drink. You look as if you need it.”

  As Timaeus and I walked out into the dawn, I felt my spirits lift in spite of everything. It’s my favourite time of day, when the rising sun makes all the world seem fresh and clean.

  But the doctor’s mind was still on his patient. “I wonder how he came by those injuries. Obviously he’d been in a scrap, which is no big surprise, those young natives are always getting into fights. Not usually with swords though. Fists and cudgels, that’s more their style.”

  “He mentioned the pirates, and some sort of threat to the small farmers. You heard it all, presumably?”

  He nodded. “The wold country’s so peaceful as a rule. But you know, I treated three more natives from near the coast yesterday, all fit enough to go home and not stay here the night. Three in one day—and normally I don’t see three weapon-wounds in a month.”

  “I saw one of them, Bodvocus’ man Coriu.”

  “Yes, his arm was broken, by an axe he said. Considering everything it wasn’t too bad. Both of the others said they’d had accidents with tools in the fields, but both had sword wounds, I’d stake my reputation on it.”

  We’d reached the mansio, and he turned aside to head for the kitchen door at the back of the main building.

  I stopped. “You go in and get breakfast, don’t wait for me. Tell Margarita I’ll be in soon, but first I’m going to get properly dressed for the day. By the way, that lad of yours is turning out pretty well, isn’t he? How long have you had him now?”

  “I bought him last June, so not even a year yet. I’m very pleased with him, though it doesn’t do to say so every hour, or else he’ll get too cocky. He’s learning fast, and he’s got a sensible calm head on his shoulders, which is half the battle in my trade. I’ve promised him his freedom as soon as he’s competent to treat simple cases without me, so he’s taking every chance he can to learn.” He smiled. “I was the same at his age.”

  I stood a little while in the fresh air, mentally listing the various practical tasks for the morning. Another note for Lucius was top of my list. Next, I must make sure Timaeus remembered to send for one of the temple priests from Oak Bridges to perform the cleansing rituals needed to purify the room where Belinus had died. Though he denied that the gods had much influence on his patients’ well-being, he still couldn’t afford to take chances where divine favour was concerned. After that I must make arrangements to send Belinus’ body home to his family. As one of my brother’s informers, it was the least he deserved, and I ought to write to his widow—Illiana, was it? And of course there were the usual chores of the day, because at a mansio life goes on, even with death close by.

  Gloom settled over me as I considered the morning’s tasks, and even the bright dawn light and the songs of the birds failed to dispel it. So I went inside, changed, and washed my face, which made me feel, if not happier, at least clean. Then I wrote to my brother, a short message as before, couched in words that woul
dn’t mean much to anyone else, except that the plea for him to visit us urgently was clear enough. I went straight out and asked Secundus to get Malchus to deliver it as soon as possible. The gods alone knew what good it might do.

  Doing something practical made me start to feel better. I also felt hungry, so I went to the kitchen, where Margarita was having breakfast, and joined her. She’d already heard about Belinus’ death, and lost no time in dispatching a messenger to the temple at Oak Bridges with a note and a purse of silver, asking one of the priests to visit us sometime today.

  “Good. I’m sending Belinus’ body home to his farm this morning. From what he said before he died, he was definitely one of Lucius’ informers. I’ll write a letter explaining what happened and expressing our condolences. I’ll have to word it carefully, because it’s possible his wife and family don’t know he was working for my brother.”

  “Mistress, this letter’s just come for you.” One of the maids bustled in, waving a small package. “A farmer on his way to Oak Bridges brought it in. He said your relatives on the wolds asked him to deliver it on his way.”

  “From my sister? Thanks, Baca, I’ll come through and thank him, but I’d better read it first. Gods, I hope there’s nothing wrong.”

  “He said he should have brought it yesterday but he’d been delayed somehow, and he was in a tearing hurry and wouldn’t even stop to see you. We gave him a drink on the house, but he just gulped it down and left again…”

  I’d stopped listening. I quickly unwrapped the cloth around the package, and found inside a note written in ink on a flat wooden tablet. It wasn’t from Albia, but from her husband Candidus.

  “Candidus to Aurelia Marcella, greetings. We have some trouble near here, caused by a band of sea-raiders who are picking on small farms, stealing animals and extorting money. They haven’t touched us so far, and we’ve enough farm boys to protect ourselves, but I can’t help worrying because of Albia and the children. If things get worse, could Albia and the little ones come to stay with you at the Oak Tree for a while?

  Do come and see us soon. You know you’re always welcome, and I’d value your advice about what we can do to protect the farm. You’re used to dealing with trouble.

  Albia doesn’t know I’m writing to you. I don’t want to alarm her.”

  I stared at the note. It might or might not have alarmed Albia, who’s a lot tougher than she looks, but it certainly alarmed me. The simple fact that Candidus had written it was worrying, and his comment, “You’re used to dealing with trouble…” I was overwhelmed by a sudden strong desire to see my sister and make sure she and her family were well. Candidus had written that they were safe. But for how long?

  “Margarita, I must ride over and see Albia today. Look at this.” I passed her the note.

  She read it and nodded. “Yes, I think you must. Candidus is normally such a calm man, and an optimist. If he’s worried, you need to take it seriously.”

  “I do. I can ride with the carriage that’s taking Belinus home, his farm’s on the way. I can even call in and talk to his family. It won’t be a very pleasant errand, but they’ll appreciate my going personally I expect. Then I’ll still have time to see Albia, and be back here tonight. Will you be able to cope without me during the day? If it gets busy again…”

  She smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll manage fine.”

  She would, too. I trusted her, and I knew she was more than capable of running the mansio in my absence. She’d been my housekeeper for two years now, and I suspected she enjoyed being in sole charge. She was looking thoughtful. “How far is it to Belinus’ farm?”

  “A bit more than twenty miles. Then it’s another three or four to Albia’s.”

  “And you’ll be slow for those first twenty miles if you’re with the raeda. So wouldn’t you be better staying the night at Albia’s, and coming home tomorrow? I don’t like the thought of you riding back in the dark, if there’s any chance of trouble.”

  “Yes, I will, if you’re sure. Thanks.”

  “You’ll want to take some food with you?”

  That’s one of the many reasons Margarita suits me as a housekeeper. She has a knack of knowing what I’m thinking, and she remembered I always like to take some provisions with me when I call in on my sister unannounced. “Yes, but I’ll be riding, not driving in the raeda with the—with Belinus. So I’ll be a bit limited in what I can carry. Some olives, I think, and sausage, and a piece of that goat’s cheese.”

  “If those greedy gannets haven’t eaten it all for breakfast. And Cook made some honey cakes yesterday.”

  “Ah, now that’ll make me doubly welcome. As many as you can spare, please.”

  She began making me up a couple of saddlebags of food to take, while I walked outside to finish my morning rounds. I’d already seen Secundus, and when I went back to the stables he assured me my message for Lucius was on its way.

  He was in one of the stalls now, smearing ointment on a horse’s back where the saddle had rubbed its hide raw, and muttering curses on the careless courier who had ridden the poor animal in such a state.

  “Could you tell someone to saddle Merula for me, and harness up a medium-sized raeda please? Make sure it looks smart and clean, because it’s for one of Timaeus’ patients who died this morning. I’m taking his body home to his family, then I’m going on to my sister’s place.”

  He nodded. “I heard that poor young farmer died. A sorry business, but if Timaeus couldn’t help, I doubt anyone else could. I’ll put two drivers on the raeda with the body, just for once. Some of the boys aren’t very happy about being too close to corpses, and they’ll be company for each other on the way home.”

  “Good idea, yes, if you can spare two. I’m afraid I’m leaving you a bit short-handed.”

  “No bother, everything’s well in hand. Now, there’s this talk of trouble near the coast. Are you taking a guard?”

  “Well…I don’t know.” Normally I’m happy to ride without an escort, especially on good Roman roads like the one I’d be taking today. But this morning, events were conspiring to make me nervous. I made up my mind. “Yes, I think I will. I’ll take Taurus.”

  Taurus is my handyman, and I’ve often used him as a bodyguard when I needed someone strong and reassuring. Besides being tall and powerfully built, he’s always been one of the most loyal of our slaves, more or less part of the family. And he loves children, so I knew he’d enjoy visiting Albia, and get a warm welcome there. I found him in the workshop, and he jumped at the chance of a trip into the wolds, even though it involved escorting a corpse part of the way, and possibly encountering trouble when we got there. “We’ll have a brilliant time, Mistress Aurelia. Such a lovely day too. And I can take along those toys I made for the twins’ birthday. And we’ll be staying overnight? Oh, that’s good!”

  I wished I could share his simple happiness, but the more I thought about the day to come, the more apprehensive I felt.

  I was almost back at the bar-room door when the sound of a horse cantering along the main road made me look up. A rider turned down our track, and as I recognised him, my gloom suddenly vanished. It was my brother Lucius, and he was waving joyfully.

  Chapter V

  “Lucius, this is wonderful!” I ran to him as he jumped down, and we hugged.

  “Now that’s what I call a proper welcome! Good to see you, too, Sis. You’re looking well.”

  “I’m fine, sir. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  “I’m extremely well, Sis. Never better.”

  “But how did you manage this? I thought it might be a month before you got my message.”

  He laughed. “I’ve had no message from you, so it probably will be. When did you send it?”

  “Yesterday, to Petreius. I’ve sent another this morning.”

  “I haven’t been to headquarters for quite a few days. I’m based on the coast at present.”

  “You’ve ridden all the wa
y from there this morning? You must have set off in the middle of the night.”

  “Nearly. But I’ve only come from Albia’s. I went to see her yesterday as nothing much is happening by the sea, and decided I’d take today off to come and visit my favourite twin sister.” He turned as one of the horse-boys came out to see who the new arrival was. “’Morning, Castor. How are you? Have you married that pretty girlfriend of yours yet?”

  “’Morning, Master Lucius. No, I can’t afford to get married, not on the wages I get here.” He grinned. “That’s what I tell her, anyway. It’s good to see you again. Are you staying long?”

  “Only a few hours, unfortunately. Long enough to sample some of Cook’s food and have a beaker or two of wine, and maybe a hot bath.” He patted his tall gelding. “Look after this old boy, he’s had a hard ride this morning. And pick me out one of our good black horses to take me to the coast. I’ll have to leave by noon.”

  He turned back to me, pushing his untidy mop of fair hair out of his eyes. “Well, what’s all the to-do, Sis? Two messages in two days? Actually I can probably guess. Are they about Belinus?”

  “You’ve heard he came here?”

  “One of my other informers told me he’d been hurt. Is it serious?”

  “Come inside and I’ll find you some breakfast, then we can talk.”

  “That means it is,” he said quietly, and followed me into the bar-room.

  Everyone was pleased to see him, and he kept up a cheerful banter with Margarita, Cook, and the servants, while I collected a tray of bread and cheese and watered wine. We took it into my private sitting-room, where he dropped his cheerful mask.

  “So what’s happened, Aurelia? Tell me the worst.”

  I poured the wine. “It’s bad news, I’m afraid. Belinus died this morning. Timaeus did his best, but the wounds were too serious.”

  Lucius sighed. “Poor lad. It’s sad, and it’s a blow, because I hoped he’d be one of my most useful sources of information on my present case. That’s why the Governor sent me up here, because I have quite a few informers scattered about near the coast.”