Buried Too Deep

by Jane Finnis

  “You ought to say a prayer, though, just to be sure,” Taurus insisted, looking at my brother.

  “Yes, perhaps we ought.” Lucius stepped close to the box and invoked the gods of the Underworld, asking them to protect the dead man. Taurus fetched a blanket from the wagon, and Lucius laid it carefully over the basket, which he carried to the wagon. Taurus followed with the empty chest.

  We all felt relieved, and as the tension ebbed away, we realised how cold and hungry we were. Everyone walked to the fire, and I began handing out beakers of warm wine.

  Lucius took his mug in both hands and drank its contents down in one go. “Now, boys, get that fire out and the wagon packed, and let’s be on our way.”

  Otho went to fetch the oxen, while Taurus stowed away his tools and the cooking gear. As he was dousing the fire, one of the soldiers on guard called out, “Men coming from the south, sir. Three mounted, with cudgels. I don’t think it’s a welcome party.”

  A tall black-haired Roman followed by two natives came riding quickly towards us on quite decent horses. The lookout was right, they were not pleased to see us, and while they were still some distance away the leader yelled, “What’s going on here?”

  The soldiers quietly formed themselves into a defensive ring surrounding us and our wagon and animals. Lucius took up a position facing the newcomers just outside the ring, and without thinking I went and stood beside him. We waited quietly till the riders came up.

  They didn’t dismount, but the Roman barked, “I said, what’s going on? Who are you, and what are you doing on my uncle’s land?”

  Lucius smiled amiably. “I’m Lucius Aurelius Marcellus, on the staff of the provincial Governor, and I’m here on His Excellency’s business. Who wants to know?”

  “Ferox, estate manager for my uncle Ostorius Magnus. And he doesn’t care for trespassers on his property.”

  Lucius ignored his surly tone and continued to smile. ”I don’t blame him, but this isn’t his property. This section of the Headland belongs to Chief Bodvocus of the Parisi tribe. Your uncle’s lands start beyond that boundary-marker there.” He gestured towards a big white boulder standing some way from us. “And I have Bodvocus’ leave to be here, so there’s no question of trespass.”

  Ferox snorted. “Bodvocus claims this bit of land, but legally it’s ours. The boundary stone is there.” He pointed inland to where an even larger white rock stood. “Bodvocus is a typical native peasant, always trying to scrounge a few more yards of settlers’ property. That’s why, when I saw you and your men, I thought I’d better come and take a look. And I still want to know what you’re doing here.”

  Lucius and I glanced at each other. We both knew Bodvocus, and he was no peasant, but a powerful chieftain, and friendly to Rome. Still, quarrels over boundaries are common enough among farmers, and the last thing we wanted was to get involved in one. Lucius said, “We came to salvage some government property from that wrecked boat down there.” He nodded towards the bay. “We’ve finished our work now, so we’re leaving.”

  “What property?” Ferox demanded.

  “I can’t talk about that, I’m afraid. It’s confidential. As I said, I’m here officially, on the Governor’s behalf. That’s all you need to know.”

  “Officially? Really?” Ferox sneered down at us. “Looks to me as if you’ve just come for a nice day out by the sea. Brought the girl-friend along, I see. She’s here officially too, I suppose?”

  “Yes, she is. May I present Aurelia Marcella. She runs the Oak Tree Mansio, west of here on the road to Eburacum. I requisitioned a wagon and some men from her, and she wanted to come along to see the salvage. As she’s my sister, I saw no objection. Do you?”

  “Whether I object,” Ferox snarled, “depends on whether you’re telling the truth. But if you’re leaving now, I haven’t time to waste finding out. So get on your way, and don’t let me see you snooping round here again, all right?”

  Lucius took a step forward, at the same time pulling something small and shiny from his belt-pouch, and holding it out towards Ferox. “I suggest you look at this.”

  It was his Government pass, a bronze medallion, the symbol of his authority to act in the name of the Governor of Britannia. He rarely produced it, since mostly he was involved in undercover work. But its effect, when he did show it, was always powerful, and Ferox’s expression of consternation was very satisfying.

  “I see. Well of course my uncle would want me to do anything I can to co-operate with the Governor’s officers.”

  “I’m sure he would,” Lucius answered. “I expect to be meeting him quite soon in the course of my investigations. I’ll be sure to tell him how zealously you look after his interests, even on other people’s land.”

  Ferox dismounted and stopped scowling, though he didn’t go as far as a smile. “I’m sorry,” he said sourly. “As you know, we’re new arrivals, and we’re still learning our way around.” He held out his hand to Lucius. “I meant no offence, and you’ve taken none, I hope.”

  “None at all,” Lucius said, and they shook hands.

  “And no offence to your sister.” He turned to me, but didn’t deign to shake my hand.

  “Certainly not. You were just doing your job.” But I didn’t like this man’s rudeness, nor the way he was laying claim to his neighbour’s land.

  “You see I have to be on watch the whole time,” Ferox said, “and not just because of Bodvocus’ tricks. We’ve been having trouble with raiders on the coast this year.”

  “So your uncle mentioned,” I said, “when I met him the other day. He told me they’re becoming quite a problem.”

  “They are. Well, for the Romans in the area, anyway. They seem to leave the men of the Parisi alone. If you’ve really got any influence with the Governor, Lucius Aurelius, I wish you’d persuade him to get this coast protected properly. We need more naval patrols along here. Gods, we all pay our taxes to support the so-called British Fleet, but what do we ever see of it?”

  “Surely you saw it this morning,” Lucius said. “They sent a Liburian to keep an eye on the wreck down there.“

  “Well yes,” he admitted grudgingly. “I did spot the warship. It was there yesterday too. And you arranged that?”

  “I arranged for it to escort the Sea Horse. I didn’t foresee the wreck.”

  “Let’s hope it scares the Gauls off for a bit. But somehow I doubt it.”

  Lucius said, “I’m here to investigate them. So perhaps you can give me some first-hand information about them. How many are there? And how many boats?”

  “About twenty, with two small boats. Opportunists, if you like, and they’ve got plenty of scope. The farms are all scattered about, and the fishermen’s houses too. Easy meat for any kind of outlaws, and if they’ve got sea transport, there are small bays and caves where they can hide.”

  “And they’ve been picking on farmers inland too, I hear.”

  “They have, but only now and then. Usually they operate near the shore, and it’s settlers they prefer to go for, not natives.”

  “Do they ever interfere with ships at sea?”

  “Like that Sea Horse boat?” He shook his head. “I’ve never heard of them boarding ships on the water. But they’ve been known to set up false guiding-lights on land, especially in bad weather. Unwary captains see the lights and think they’ve reached harbour, until they find they’re on the rocks, with a band of cut-throats waiting to finish them off and take their cargo. I suppose that could be what happened to the boat down there in the bay. Except they didn’t take the cargo, seemingly.” He looked enquiringly at the wagon, then at Lucius.

  But my brother didn’t rise to the bait. Instead he said, “Thank you, that’s useful. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we must be on our way. No doubt we’ll meet again. I expect to be in this area for a while, until I’ve dealt with Voltacos.”

  Ferox wished us a more or less civil good-bye and rode away. Lucius gave final instru
ctions to his men, while I had a word with Taurus and Otho, and then we set off ourselves. I for one was glad to be leaving the place where our high hopes of the morning had vanished as completely as the sand beneath the tide.

  Chapter XI

  It was a gloomy ride back to Albia’s, despite the blue sky and the sunny, open landscape. I suggested that Lucius send his two soldiers ahead to warn Albia we were on our way, thinking it would be easier to talk if we were private. I suppose it was, but all we did was try vainly to answer a series of questions that we knew couldn’t be answered.

  Who had stolen the gold from the Sea Horse? Could the fishermen just possibly be correct in their suggestion that the theft took place earlier in the voyage? If that was the case, was the theft part of the tortuous negotiations with the Caledonians? Suppose the boat hadn’t been wrecked, but had reached the northern chieftain who was expecting a lavish gift from Caesar, and he’d discovered only stones and a head? Why was Rollus sailing aboard the Sea Horse? Where was the gold now? Was there any chance of recovering it?

  That final question was the only one we could safely answer. There was no chance.

  “I’ll go through the motions,” Lucius said. “I’ll have to. But it’s lost for good. And I suppose I’ll get the blame,” he added glumly, “even though it wasn’t my idea to send the gold by water, and it certainly wasn’t my fault the boat was wrecked.”

  “You’ll be able to explain it all to the Governor. You’ve had worse setbacks than this before, and come through them. To me, the saddest thing is that now we’ll never know for certain who Rollus was, or whether there was an ounce of truth in the story of Caratacus’ gold. I suppose some secrets are buried too deep ever to be uncovered.”

  “I wish it hadn’t been kept such a secret. Why couldn’t Father have told the rest of us about Rollus and his mother? No, no, don’t say it, Relia: because Rollus’ whole story was just a web of lies.”

  “I wasn’t going to say that. I don’t know whether it was or wasn’t. One thing did strike me, though, when I saw the—when I saw him in the basket. He didn’t look in the least like Father, did he?”

  “No. But then neither do you or I or Albia.”

  We rode on in silence for a while. I wondered if, like me, Lucius was picturing our father in his mind, tall and handsome in his fine chain armour and centurion’s crest. He had a thin face, thick brown curly hair, grey eyes that missed nothing, a high forehead, and a prominent nose and jaw. He had a ready smile, or sometimes a sudden frown that threatened trouble like a clap of thunder. I still thought of him often, and always with pride. I was only a girl when he left the army, but not too young to be aware that he finished his career in a blaze of glory. And the years afterwards, when we lived all together as a family, had been happy ones.

  “Father always loved Britannia, didn’t he, Lucius? Even when we were in Pompeii, he used to reminisce about the time he spent out here.”

  Lucius nodded. “And we’ve inherited his love of the place. Well, I have. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else now. I wouldn’t go back to Italia even if I could. Would you?”

  “Not to live, no, my home’s here. But I’d love the chance to visit Italia again. I’ve never even been to Rome, and I’d like to.”

  “Some day we’ll go together.”

  We looked up sharply as hoof-beats sounded ahead of us, and a mounted man came flying along the highway from the west. Lucius’ hand dropped to his sword, but we soon recognised the rider as one of his own troopers.

  “Ollius, what in the gods’ name are you doing here?”

  “Trouble, sir,” the soldier panted as he pulled up beside us, “bad trouble. At your sister’s place. It’s been raided, looks like the Gauls. We got there in time to stop them, but…”

  “Tell me as we go,” Lucius answered. We set off at a gallop.

  “Is my sister safe? And the children?” Lucius called to the trooper over the pounding of hooves.

  “Yes, sir, they’re safe. Scared though.”

  “Did you catch the raiders?”

  “We killed two. Three got away. It might have been nasty if we hadn’t shown up. The men drove a flock of sheep and lambs out of their field and all over the garden. Your sister and her children heard the din, seemingly, and went outside to see what was going on. When we got there, the Gauls had all three of them cornered in the garden, but they hadn’t touched them.”

  “And Candidus—her husband?” I asked.

  “Don’t know, ma’am. He wasn’t there, she said he’s working in some outlying bit of the farm today. All the slaves too.”

  “So they’re on their own again?” Lucius asked.

  “Severus is with them, sir. He’ll guard them till we get there.”

  They picked a good time for a raid, I thought. It was almost as if they’d been watching the place. I spent the rest of the ride planning what I’d do if I caught any of Voltacos’ men alive.

  As we came in sight of the farmhouse, my stomach tied itself in knots. Trooper Severus stood on the track leading from the highway, his sword drawn. Behind him the garden, Albia’s pride and joy, looked like a battlefield, except it wasn’t soldiers but terrified sheep that were milling about, churning the ground into a quagmire. My sister sat on the bench by the pond, clutching her children tightly as they cowered on her lap. They were both howling piteously, alternatively burying their faces in her tunic, and staring around in wide-eyed terror. Albia herself sat still, blank-faced and outwardly calm, but I knew that look. She was thoroughly terrified too, only managing to keep control of herself for the sake of the children.

  “Albia!” Lucius and I jumped from our horses before they’d stopped, and ran to her, embracing her and the twins. They all looked up at us, and the children’s wailing lessened a little.

  “Lucius! Aurelia! Oh, thank the gods!” She smiled for a heartbeat, and then began talking softly to the children, trying to soothe them. Gradually their tears subsided, and she wiped their eyes and turned to Lucius and me. “It’s so good to see you. Can somebody fetch Candidus and the boys? They’re mending a fence over in the far pasture, the other side of the valley. That’s why we’re on our own.”

  “I’ll send one of the troopers,” Lucius said, “just as soon as I’ve got all the facts.”

  “Your troopers were wonderful, Lucius. I don’t know what would have happened if they hadn’t arrived. Those horrible men…There, don’t cry now, little ones. We’re safe, all safe.” She hugged the twins more tightly than ever.

  Lucius put his arm round her shoulders. “Yes, you’re safe now, and we’ll make sure you have no more trouble. Severus! Ollius!” The trooper loped over to us. “Aurelia, while I’m hearing Severus’ report, why not take them inside and find some wine, and maybe a bite to eat? We could all do with something. Ollius will come with you as bodyguard. I’ll join you very soon.”

  But Albia shook her head. “Not inside, no, I’d feel trapped. Anyhow I want to hear the report too. Hush now,” she put the children gently down to stand on the ground in front of her, but kept her arms round them. “It’s all over, and Uncle Lucius and Aunt Relia are here to look after us.”

  “At least let me fetch Lia. Their nursemaid,” I explained to the soldiers. “Have either of you seen her? Is she inside, Albia?”

  She shook her head. “She ran away when the men came. I suppose she thought if they caught her, they’d…well, you know.” She stopped, remembering the children. “I can’t blame her really. She’s only a child herself.”

  Child or not, she deserves a good whipping, I thought, for leaving her mistress like that. But I didn’t argue. It was typical of Albia not to blame the slave, and when the girl came back, if she ever did, there’d be time enough for punishment.

  Trooper Severus made a brief, workmanlike report. The men had arrived just as the raid was beginning. At first when they saw three horsemen driving a flock of sheep and lambs out of a paddock, they took it for some n
ormal farm activity, even though the animals were running amok. But then they realised that two of the band was standing over Albia and the twins in the garden, daggers in hand, and they charged straight in to the rescue. When they saw the soldiers, the raiders all fled, but only the three mounted ones escaped.

  “They’re not locals,” he finished. “Gauls, I’d say. They were all well armed, swords and daggers, and decently mounted.” He nodded to where two horses stood tied to the nearest fence. “Once we were sure we’d got them all, Ollius came to fetch you. Now you’re here, shall I go and find the lady’s husband?”

  “Look out! Behind the house!” Ollius yelled, and we all spun round. I couldn’t see anyone but I heard horses coming closer fast. I knew they were far too near for safety, because the racket the sheep were making had masked their approach. Surely the Gauls hadn’t dared come back?

  Albia clutched the children close. Lucius and his two men drew their swords and ran forward towards the sound. I pulled out the knife I always carry when I’m travelling, and stood alongside Albia. A big sheep-dog came and crouched protectively in front of us. We felt very vulnerable and alone as our three men disappeared behind the farmhouse.

  Then the dog began barking excitedly, and round the corner of the house came Candidus and four slaves.

  “Look, here’s Daddy!” Albia jumped up from the bench, still clutching the children, and ran into Candidus’ arms.

  For the next couple of hours we were busy. With Candidus home, Albia calmed down quickly and was able to persuade the twins that we were all truly safe. Lucius sent Severus to the coast to bring the rest of his small detachment to the farm for the night. Candidus and his farm boys set about restoring the place to some sort of order, while Lucius, Albia, Nasua, and I took the twins into the kitchen and warmed a pan of wine for everyone. Nasua found some bread and honey, because Lucius declared he was starving, and I was fairly hungry myself. Little Decimus, seeing the food, decided he was hungry too, but Albia couldn’t persuade Marcella to eat anything, and she herself only managed half a mug of wine.