Buried Too Deep

by Jane Finnis

  He pointed down at the group on the beach. “Look now, they’re doing it the way I suggested.”

  Two soldiers unrolled a fishing net and spread it on the sand. They lifted the box onto it and tied the net’s edges together. One of the sailors came forward and ostentatiously pulled at the soldiers’ knots to test them, then added a couple of short rope loops for handles at either end of the long box.

  “That’s a good idea for a heavy load. I’m sure they appreciate it.” I was also sure they’d have managed to come up with it all by themselves, but as our grandmother used to say, it costs nothing to be civil, and makes you feel good.

  He sucked his teeth. “We’re used to bringing things up cliffs. It’s amazing, what the sea brings ashore round here. Gifts from the gods, we call ‘em, and we’re glad to have ‘em mostly, even the sad ones, like the drownded bodies. But this is the first time I’ve ever known any gods to send a chest of money.”

  I felt a growing excitement as the two soldiers picked up their burden and made for the cliff path. But I had time to wonder whether Lucius had told the fishermen what the box contained. “Money? What makes you think its money?”

  “Stands to reason, surely. You think there’s money in there, don’t you, else why would you have come? And so does your brother, otherwise why would there be all these soldiers? Not to mention them sailor-boys out there.”

  Why indeed? I glanced across at the Liburian, and realised the sailors in the bay had already launched their small boat and were rowing out towards their ship. Lucius waved them off, took a last look around the bay, then turned and began to climb up the cliff path. Not very far ahead of him, his two soldiers were hauling the unwieldy chest up the narrow, zig-zag track. Lucius caught up with them and followed close behind. He paused for a heartbeat, glanced up to where I stood, and gave me an exuberant wave.

  “Be careful!” I called. “Don’t drop it!” Even as I shouted, I thought, don’t be silly, Aurelia, of course they won’t. And yelling like that will just distract them.

  But it didn’t seem to. They continued toiling steadily upwards, giving no sign that they’d heard me. The old fisherman laughed. “They’ll not drop it, Mistress. Save your breath, I should.”

  “But that path is steep, and it’s all bare chalk underfoot. It must be as slippery as ice.”

  “It is. But they’ve got good hobnails on their boots.”

  “Well I wish they’d hurry up. The sea makes me nervous.” I shivered as I watched them, not with cold but with anxiety. They were going as fast as they could, I supposed, but they looked as slow as tortoises.

  “Why?” the old man seemed genuinely surprised.

  “It’s so unpredictable, yet the waves and winds have such power. And I can’t stand the way the tide comes in and goes out again every day.”

  “Twice a day,” he corrected. “But what’s wrong with that? It’s natural.”

  “Not to me. The way it changes the whole look of the coast, it’s scary. It’s completely different from our sea in Italia. When I was a child I used to love the beach at Pompeii.”

  He looked blank. “Where’s that? Down south somewhere, is it?”

  “It’s in Italia. I mean, it was. The sea was always blue there, and calm. And warm enough to swim in, which it certainly isn’t here.”

  “’Course it is. We swim in the sea here, and it don’t do us no harm. It’s just a question of being used to it. But I didn’t think you was born here. You’ve got a Roman accent. Mind, you speak our language quite well, for a Roman.”

  “Thanks. I’ve lived in Britannia a long time. Since I was a girl.”

  “Some Romans who come here never bother to learn our language, however long they stay. They talk to us in Latin, and if we don’t understand, they just speak slower and louder.”

  I laughed. “More fool them.” Barbarians know more than enough tricks to play on us settlers, without the added advantage of being able to chat among themselves in a Roman’s presence, knowing they can’t be understood.

  “If that big box has got money in,” the old man mused, “how much will there be?”

  “I don’t know.” Lucius had said there was a large amount of gold coin. I tried to work out how many aureii would fit into a chest that size, but I gave it up. It looked reassuringly heavy, and the two soldiers had all they could do to lug it up the treacherous track. Their boots slithered and slipped on the chalky surface, and I sent a silent prayer to Diana that they wouldn’t let the chest tumble back into the bay. I’m as religious as the next woman, but I wasn’t in the mood to make an offering to Neptune.

  Perhaps the sea god heard this impious thought, because even as I prayed, one of the men stumbled and fell to his knees, leaving the other perilously supporting the whole weight for what felt like an hour. Lucius moved forward quickly to help, till the fallen man scrambled up, rubbing his ankle, and took his place again. I heard the fisherman mutter something under his breath, but I couldn’t catch the words. I sent another prayer to Neptune, promising him an offering of gold if he’d let us bring the box ashore.

  I turned away from the sea to look at the blazing fire where Taurus and Otho still stood, with a younger fisherman, presumably the son of the greybeard beside me. They all seemed uninterested in what was happening far below, and were tucking into bowls of stew which the fisherman ladled out. I caught the faint aroma of fish, and the tangy smell made me hungry. But I couldn’t bear to leave the cliff edge till the chest was safely at the top. I watched as Taurus lifted another pot onto the fire, probably warming up some wine.

  Beyond the fire stood our wagon, and the various animals, their coats all golden in the low sun. Further back still, the soldiers we’d seen as we came down stood ready, eyes alert and swords drawn, to warn us if anyone approached from inland.

  When I turned back to peer over the cliff again, the men and the chest seemed hardly to have moved. “I wish they’d hurry up,” I said for the second time.

  The old man shook his head. “You need a bit of patience when you’ve dealings with the sea. That’s something you learn, if you’re a fisherman.”

  “Very likely. I’m an innkeeper, and I’ve never been good at being patient.”

  “An innkeeper? That sounds like a nice comfortable job. All the beer and wine you can drink, and folk paying you money just to stay under your roof.”

  “It has its good points. Next time you travel the road to Eburacum, you’ll have to drop in at the Oak Tree. The drinks will be on the house, after the help you and your son have given us.”

  “Eburacum? I’ve never been there. Not likely to, neither. We don’t see the need to gallop all over the countryside like you Romans do. You’re forever rushing here, rushing there, never stopping. We take life a bit slower.”

  “Yes, we can move fast when we have to.” Which is why Romans rule the world and barbarians don’t, I could have added.

  “Except when you’re climbing up cliffs.” I had to admit he had a point.

  At long last Lucius’ men reached the top of the cliff, and with a final heave, manhandled the heavy box onto the short grass, and dragged it back till it was several paces from the edge. Lucius was close behind them, looking extremely pleased with himself, as well he might.

  I walked over to the chest, and tried to lift one end by the thick rope handle, but I could barely raise it off the ground. If that dead weight were really all gold coin…

  “Well done, lads,” Lucius said to the soldiers, who were standing panting, letting us know what a tremendous effort they’d made. “Get yourselves a drink while we see what we’ve got here.” He took a knife from his belt, and began to cut the ropes and the fishing net. “Taurus, come and get the lid off this thing, will you?”

  “Right you are, Master Lucius.” Taurus left the fire and came to stand over the box, then he too tested its weight by lifting one end. “Heavy, that is. Is it really full of money?”

  Lucius grinned. “I
’d say it’s full to bursting, from the weight of it. But there’s only one way to find out.”

  “Saturn’s balls!” Taurus gazed at the box in reverent silence. “I’ve never seen so much money all in one place.”

  Nor have I, I added silently, as he went to rummage about in the wagon and came back with a large crowbar. “This ought to do it.”

  The top of the box was of solid-looking planks, and was tightly nailed down all round the edges. With some difficulty he got the point of the crowbar under the lid at one corner, and began to lever it up, grunting with the effort. Gradually, with a high rending noise, some of the nails wrenched free, but most of them held firm. Taurus is as strong as two ordinary men, but he was struggling, and as he continued to force the box open, the planks began to split. With one final Herculean heave he prised a good section of the lid off. As it fell to the ground, we all craned forward to see inside.

  In the middle of the box was a round wicker basket containing a man’s head. Packed all around the basket, filling the chest to the brim, were thousands of small blue-grey pebbles.

  But no gold. Not even any small change in copper.

  Chapter X

  We all stood like lumps of rock, unable to move or speak. The shock of finding the gold had been stolen was bad enough, but the sight of that head, its eyes open and staring up at us, was like the worst nightmare. Violent death always makes me queasy, and I feared I was going to be sick. It wasn’t that the head appeared bloated or decayed. It was remarkably normal, if you can say that about a bodiless head in a basket, which made it much worse.

  It had belonged to a man in his late twenties or early thirties, pale skinned and clean-shaven, but with a day’s growth of stubble. His eyes were blue, his eyebrows were pale, and his fair hair was unusually long. He’d have been easily recognisable, except I didn’t recognise him at all.

  Taurus broke the shocked silence. “The poor man. Who was he, I wonder?”

  Nobody answered. I glanced at Lucius, and got another shock. He was white and trembling, looking as if he’d seen a dead man’s shade. Was he scared? My brother? No, he couldn’t be, not of the head itself, appalling as it was. He’s used to dealing with violence and death in his job, and it would distress and horrify him, but not scare him. So presumably he must recognise the dead man, and it must be someone important. “Do you know him?” I asked softly.

  “No.”

  He was lying, and we both knew it, but I let it go for now.

  He addressed the fishermen. “He must have been one of the crew. Were any other crew members seen when the boat hit the rocks? Or have you found any bodies since?”

  The old man replied, “No, sir, nobody at all.”

  “Voltacos’ men must have killed them then, and left us just one. Just this one…but that means they had this chest ready to put into the boat in place of the real cargo. How did they know? Gods, I don’t understand this.”

  I didn’t either, but the old fisherman grasped the drift of Lucius’ thought. “You’re thinking maybe the cargo was stolen before ever the boat got here?” He scratched his beard. “And then the Sea Horse was set adrift without a crew, and that’s how it finished up as a wreck? Could be so, and that’s a fact. There are pirates further south, they say, but they don’t come here, they leave Voltacos alone.”

  “The warship would have prevented anything like that,” Lucius growled. “No, Voltacos and his Gauls have done this. They must have.”

  “Let’s see what we can see.” The grey-haired fisherman walked to the chest and extended his hand palm downwards over the head, intoning a short prayer for forgiveness from the gods of the bay. I soon saw why. He bent over the basket and gently moved the long hair back from the head.

  “No, I doubt this is Voltacos’ doing.” He gently re-arranged the hair and straightened up again. “He always cuts one ear off anyone he kills. It’s his mark, his sign. He lacks an ear himself, see, from an old battle wound. This poor fellow has both ears on him.”

  I felt my stomach start to heave, and walked quickly away, turning my back on them all and gazing resolutely out beyond the bay. The quiet blue sea sparkling gold in the sun calmed me a little, and I managed not to be sick.

  By the time I felt strong enough to go back to the others, my brother was moving to confront the two fishermen, and anger radiated out of him like the heat from the camp-fire.

  “You’re just making excuses to cover up the fact that you didn’t guard the boat properly. You told me you watched it carefully from the evening it landed here, to the next morning when my men came. You’re lying.”

  “We did watch,” the old man answered stoutly. “From the time it was driven on the rocks almost at dark, the day before yesterday. Like I told you.”

  “And you stayed on guard here all night? All night long, in the storm?”

  “Yes. We was on top of the cliff, sheltering in them trees, but we never left.”

  “Then you couldn’t have seen if anybody was below in the bay tampering with the cargo, could you?”

  “No, but we’d have seen anyone going down the cliff path,” the son protested. “They’d have been fools, mind, but we’d have seen ‘em, and we didn’t. And nobody came in by water, neither, they’d have been smashed to splinters for sure. The waves were crashing into the cliffs like a hammer on an anvil.”

  “And in the morning?”

  “We were here all the time,” the young man insisted. “The storm’d blown itself out by dawn, and we sent my brother off to your camp to tell you about the wreck, so’s Father and I could stay on watch here.”

  The old man added, “And all that time there was nobody else here, and no sign anyone ever had been.”

  “I still say you’re lying,” Lucius snapped.

  “We are not,” the old fisherman replied. “Look, sir, see it from our point of view. We were hoping for a reward when you got the box ashore. Your young officer promised us a finder’s fee for telling him where the boat was, and a share of the cargo if it turned out to be valuable. Which we thought it was, so we kept a good eye on it.”

  “Well you’re not getting a copper coin out of me today.”

  “But that’s not fair! Me and my son reported the wreck as soon as we could, and we’ve spent ages here looking after it.”

  “Looking after it? Merda, you’ve got a nerve, expecting to be paid for letting Voltacos’ Gauls steal the cargo, kill a man, and put him…” He stopped, too furious to continue. “Just think yourselves lucky I don’t have you thrown in prison for helping them.”

  “But we didn’t help them!” The old man was angry now. “We brought your men news of the boat, and we guided them to it. Why would we have done that if we’d pinched whatever was inside it?”

  “He’s got a point, Lucius.” I spoke in Greek, which I was pretty sure the fishermen wouldn’t understand. “I’m not saying they aren’t capable of looting a wreck, but they wouldn’t have told your boys about it afterwards. Besides, if you go back on your decurion’s promise of a finder’s fee, you’ll never get any useful informers on this stretch of coast ever again.”

  “But if I reward them for not keeping a proper lookout…”

  “You still owe them the usual finder’s reward, whatever that is. Pay it and let’s get out of here.”

  Lucius considered, then nodded. “You’re right, Sis.” He turned to the two natives and spoke in British. “I’m sorry. Of course you’re entitled to the finder’s reward, and you’ll have it. It’s just…well… it’s all been a shock.” He took six denarii from his belt-pouch and handed them to the old man.

  “Thank you. A shock for us all, it is.” He tucked the coins away in his own pouch. “I’m sorry you haven’t found what you wanted. And think on what I’ve said. Voltacos may be an evil bastard, but he didn’t do this. Now we’ll be on our way.”

  “And if you need us again, you only have to ask.” The young fisherman winked at me. He understood Greek
after all.

  They left us, and Lucius walked to the cliff edge and gazed out to sea just as I’d done. I went to stand with him, and touched his arm gently. “You recognise that head, don’t you? Who was he?”

  “His name was Rollus.”

  “Rollus? Not the same…”

  “Yes. The man I told you about, our half-brother.”

  “That’s dreadful. I’m so sorry.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in his existence.”

  “But you do, and you’re upset. What was he doing on the Sea Horse?”

  “The gods alone know. I suppose he must have volunteered to join the crew. To impress me, perhaps…I don’t know, Relia. But to find a brother, and then to lose him again so soon, it’s a sorry business.” There were tears in his eyes.

  “At least we can give him a proper burial. Shall I tell Taurus and Otho to start making a pyre?”

  “Here? No, certainly not. We’ll take him home to the Oak Tree.” He lifted his head, and recovered some of his usual decisiveness as he started planning the next few hours. “You and I will ride on ahead, and call in on Albia as we planned. We’ll take a couple of my lads with us as escort, the rest can stay here and get back to searching for Voltacos. The wagon can follow at its own speed.”

  He turned to Taurus and Otho. “You boys load the basket into the wagon and bring it home as quick as you can. Bring the chest too. You can leave the pebbles.” If that was meant as a joke, it didn’t raise the faintest smile.

  Taurus glanced unhappily at the head. “You’re not leaving us with….with…him?” Taurus is Italian born, but he’s as superstitious as any barbarian when it comes to encountering unexpected death. “What if his shade is here now, looking for revenge? Suppose it thinks we killed him? What’ll it do to us?”

  “It won’t do anything,” I said. “It’ll know that we weren’t to blame for this, and you’re taking him home to give him an honourable funeral. The important thing is, we must treat him kindly and with respect. Cover him up now, and guard him carefully on the way back to the mansio.”