by Jane Finnis
“Good, because I think you’re worth something more. But we’ve really got to get moving. If you don’t want to drive us today, that’s all right. Secundus, could you spare one of the other lads please? We mustn’t be late for our meeting with the Chief Councillor. You know what he’s like.”
The meeting wasn’t at a fixed hour, and I opened my mouth to say so, but fortunately realised in time what Quintus was doing, and held my peace.
Secundus nodded. “Of course. I’ll get Malchus to harness up for you.”
“There’s no need,” Titch said. “I’ll do it, if you’re stuck. Only if I make a mess of it, don’t complain.”
“If you can’t handle a couple of mules, then I’m the Queen of Brigantia.”
He brightened a little. “There was a tavern girl in Eburacum used to use that expression. It reminded me of you whenever I heard it. I mean…no offence, like.”
“None taken. As long as she was pretty, of course.”
“She was that all right.”
“We haven’t got time for the story of your love life, Titch—er—Victor,” Quintus grinned. “We’ll be ready as soon as you’ve harnessed up.”
The lad actually smiled. “You know, in the squadron I couldn’t get me mates to call me Victor, any more than folk here. It was always Titch. So I don’t mind if you want to call me Titch as well.”
We didn’t wait to watch how easily Titch managed to prepare the carriage and mules, but his driving was as good as ever, and the journey to Silvanius’ villa was uneventful. As we trotted through the centre of Oak Bridges we passed various acquaintances and gave them a wave or a few words, and Titch received as many greetings as we did. He answered them barely politely at first, but then it must have begun to dawn on him how many friends he had who were pleased to see him, and he visibly relaxed.
We trotted up the long drive that led to Silvanius’ huge villa. The gardens on either side were bright with spring flowers and new leaves, and as we came near the house we could hear noises of hammering and sawing. Quintus exclaimed, “By the gods, this place gets bigger every time I come. Is that another wing of rooms he’s adding at the back?”
“He’s re-designing his bath house,” I said. “He says it isn’t big enough. He must be expecting to entertain several cohorts of visitors at once.”
“Mebbe his guests are just very dirty,” Titch suggested, and I didn’t have the heart to rebuke his impudence. It was so good to see his cheeky smile, and the way he held his head high as he led the raeda off to the stables.
Chief Councillor Publius Silvanius Clarus was waiting for us in his library. It was a big room, like all the public rooms in his villa, and pleasant in the mornings, when a large open window let in the sunshine. Most of the other three walls were covered in book-pockets, each containing several scrolls neatly rolled and labelled. Clarus prided himself on owning all the books a Roman gentleman should possess. I’d never seen him reading any of them, but then many Roman gentlemen take the view that actually perusing a library’s contents isn’t essential.
Being Roman had always been very important to Clarus. He was unswervingly loyal to the Empire, and he was a citizen, as Roman in his ways as any patrician with ancestors who were present at the foundation of the Republic. Yet he was born in Britannia of one of the old native aristocratic families, and he was a typical Briton in appearance, tall, square, and fair. He was about fifty, with traces of white showing in his hair, but he was as vigorous as ever, a man of power in Oak Bridges, physically and politically. Of course he was wearing his toga, even for this informal meeting. He delighted in proclaiming his Roman-ness in every way he could.
As we came in he was dictating to a secretary, but he broke off and welcomed us with his usual mixture of warmth and pomposity. “Aurelia, my dear, thank you so much for coming. It’s always such a delight to entertain you in my humble abode. And Quintus Antonius, what a pleasant surprise. You are indeed welcome. I think you may very well be able to help with the matter that concerns us today.” He turned to his slave. “Ask my sister to join us, and then get on with making fair copies of those letters. I want them sent out today.”
“I hope you don’t mind my coming with Aurelia,” Quintus said. “I only arrived in Oak Bridges yesterday, and when she said that she was visiting you, I couldn’t resist the chance to come too. I’m afraid it’s not quite the done thing, but we’re old friends.”
“I should have been mortified if you hadn’t come,” Silvanius smiled. They began exchanging small-talk, while I gazed out of the window at the garden. I knew Clarus would be pleased to see Quintus, not only because he’d helped the Chief Councillor in the past, but because of Quintus’ important government connections, which made him exactly the kind of friend Silvanius liked to receive.
His sister Clarilla came in, smart and well-groomed as always. She was wearing a fashionable pale blue tunic secured with fine silver brooches, and her fair hair was piled up on her head in a style I hadn’t seen before, under a silvery net studded with small blue stones. She greeted me and Quintus affectionately.
“I wish I’d known you were coming, Quintus Antonius. I’d have organised a dinner party for you. Are you staying long at the Oak Tree?”
“No, unfortunately, just a day or two. I have to go over to the coast to see Aurelia’s brother.”
“Ah, the coast.” Clarus said. “I heard that Lucius is pursuing these wretched pirates. More power to him. I’m told the situation in those parts is deteriorating rapidly.”
Clarus’ stately major-domo brought in refreshments. Clarilla kept the best table in the district, as well as the most lavish. We drank our white wine from silver goblets, and the food arrived on silver platters: a selection of mouth-watering pastries, and some pears in spiced syrup served in individual silver bowls.
While we ate, we exchanged news. When our hosts heard about the attack on Albia’s farm they were both horrified, and I had to reassure them several times that my sister and the children hadn’t been harmed, just very frightened.
“That is an appalling thing to happen,” Clarus exclaimed, “though I cannot say I’m surprised. We’ve been hearing disturbing reports of trouble in the wold country. To be frank, that’s why I asked you to visit me, Aurelia. I thought you might have up-to-date news of the state of things there from your sister. But I never expected such grim happenings. Has Candidus enough men to protect his farm? Is it safe for Albia to remain there?”
“Not really, and I tried to persuade her to stay with me at the Oak Tree for a while, but she won’t budge. I’ve been wondering about going over to Eburacum to buy some bodyguards for them all.”
“There’s no need for that. If Candidus will allow me to help, I should be glad to lend him half-a-dozen strong lads to guard him and Albia.”
“Clarus, that would be wonderful, thank you. Are you sure you can spare them?”
“Indeed yes, I’ve more guards than I need here, and my man Brutus will be pleased to lead them. You know he’ll do anything to help you and your family.”
“Brutus will be in charge of them? He’s worth three legionaries all by himself! That would be such a weight off my mind.”
“Brutus?” Quintus asked. “The ex-soldier who helped you out at the Oak Tree a few years ago? He’s an excellent man.”
“He is, and if Candidus and Albia have him to guard them, I’ll know that they are safe whatever happens.”
Clarus smiled. “Good. It shall be arranged then. I’ll send them over to the Oak Tree this afternoon.”
I thanked him again from my heart. For all his pomp and pride, he’d repeatedly shown himself a good friend to our family.
“Might you be visiting your sister again soon?” Clarus put the question diffidently, but I sensed it was important to him. Could I have stumbled on the reason for his generous gesture of help for my sister?
“I expect so, yes. I’m worried about them all, and if Albia refuses to come to Oak B
ridges, I’ll have to go to her. Why? Is there some errand I can do for you while I’m there?”
“I confess there is, yes. Nothing onerous, just collecting information and impressions. Oh dear, this is a somewhat delicate matter. I should hate what I’m about to ask you to become widely known.”
“Then it won’t, Clarus. You can rely on us.”
“Of course, of course. Well, let me explain a little. My late wife was a cousin of Chief Bodvocus, and we still keep in touch with him and his family, even after all this time. The roots of kinship run very deep, you know. And Bodvocus has considerable local power among the Parisi.”
“As you do among the Brigantes.”
Clarus acknowledged Quintus’ compliment with a smile. “Exactly so. I’ve always felt that we who have been chosen to hold positions of responsibility in the Empire must work together, especially when it comes to preserving the Roman peace. And until this year there has been peace in the coastal areas, more so than here in Brigantia. I’m sure Bodvocus must take credit for that. But now I fear things have changed.”
“Because of a couple of boatloads of Gauls?” Quintus raised an eyebrow. “Are they really such a menace?”
Clarus took a long drink of his wine. “Not on their own, no. But a serious dispute has arisen between two powerful estates, and the pirates, bandits, whatever one should call them, are taking the chance to cause trouble at the same time. Bodvocus is one party to the dispute. The other is a settler called Ostorius Magnus, who’s bought a big parcel of land near the Headland. Do you know him, Antonius?”
“I’ve heard of him, but we haven’t met yet. What’s the dispute about?”
“Oh, not one particular thing, a score of minor issues. Boundaries, and livestock straying or disappearing, and farm boys getting into fights when they have drunk too much beer. All the usual rural problems, and individually each cause of contention is very small. Taken together they mean that the two men and their households are at daggers drawn most of the time. And I’m worried for Bodvocus’ safety. Not so much his physical well-being, I’m sure he can protect himself. But if he were to allow himself to be drawn into some long-running feud, and the Roman authorities got to hear of it…”
He has, and they have, I thought, but I left the talking to Quintus.
“Who started it, do you know?”
Clarus smiled. “That depends upon whose account you believe. Bodvocus says the Ostorii are behaving badly, throwing their weight about among their less powerful neighbours, who are merely retaliating when they go too far. Ostorius is apparently claiming the exact opposite. he says Bodvocus’ people are harassing his, because the Parisi are hostile to Roman settlement.”
“They never have been before,” I pointed out. “I can imagine a dispute between two rich farmers, that happens everywhere, but I simply don’t believe the Parisi have suddenly decided they don’t like Romans. Do you, Clarus?”
“I don’t know what to believe, Aurelia. I certainly hope you’re right. Bodvocus has written to me asking for my help, but I don’t in all honesty know what I can do. Intervening from this distance would be a major step to take. Before I decide, I’d like more information about the Ostorii, and indeed whether the situation is as serious as Bodvocus represents it.”
I could see where he was driving. He found it hard to believe that Roman settlers would disturb the peace, yet the people whose peace was being disturbed were his own kin.
“So you’d like me to go and stay with Albia, and while I’m there, ask around a little? Try to decide whether Magnus or Bodvocus is to blame for the trouble, or whether the whole affair is just an argument between powerful men that has got out of hand, and allowed a band of raiders to operate undisturbed?”
“My dear, as always you hit the mark exactly.”
“I’ll be glad to find out what I can, Clarus. If you’re helping keep my sister safe, that’s the very least I can do for you. And Quintus will be able to form his own opinion too, while he’s in the area. Won’t you?”
“Certainly. And you’re right not to rush into action without more information, Clarus. You show good judgment. Mind you, your judgment is always sound in matters like this.”
Clarus beamed. “Oh, thank you both, that’s excellent. I find it painful even to contemplate taking sides with either of them against the other. But if I must, I want my actions to be rooted in fact, not rumour. Magnus is a well-respected Roman, just the sort of man we need to make his home in this province. But Bodvocus is my kinsman. We visited him this time last year, you know, for the feast of Beltane. A splendid occasion, wasn’t it, Clarilla?”
Clarilla had remained silent throughout all this. At mention of her name she stirred in her chair and said “Oh yes indeed,” reminding me of the way I’d answered the talkative trader Curtius when my mind was fully occupied elsewhere. I hadn’t long to wait to find where her thoughts had been taking her.
“Aurelia, I believe you had a visit from Ostorius Magnus recently, didn’t you?”
“I did. He and his nephew Vividus came over to buy horses. And Vividus had a bad tooth, poor man, which Timaeus pulled out for him. They were talking about their ambitions to make their farm bigger and better, and they mentioned that they’d met with some local hostility, but didn’t go into much detail.”
“What did you think of them?”
“They seemed very pleasant, especially Vividus, who’s a real charmer. Magnus was civil enough, inclined to be a shade grumpy, but I don’t think it was anything personal. Vividus was very good company. I’d say they’ll be an asset to the area, although I’d guess they would make bad enemies if one got on the wrong side of them. But I don’t know them well, they were only at the mansio a few hours. They visited you here, didn’t they?”
“Indeed they did,” Clarus answered, “but as you say, it is impossible to form a true impression in just a few short hours.”
“Do you think they’ll really take to life in this part of the Empire?” Clarilla asked. “They’re both ex-army, and they’ve only recently moved north into Britannia.”
“I don’t see why not. They seem efficient and determined to make a go of their land. A bit raw, perhaps, like so many Romans when they first arrive to live in a new province. What did you both make of them?”
“I liked them both,” Clarus said.
“But I did not like them,” Clarilla said firmly. “I didn’t take to either of them, though I agree they tried their best to be likeable. I thought that Magnus was an overbearing bully, and Vividus was too much in love with himself to have time for anyone else.”
This unfavourable assessment surprised me. Clarilla was usually easy-going and tolerant, and enjoyed making friends with everyone. But I couldn’t deny she’d unerringly picked out the two men’s major faults. “I do agree that Vividus fancies himself as the gods’ gift to women. He tried out his charms on me, but it was all very gentlemanly, just harmless flirting.”
“I’ve no objection to a little flirting,” she smiled. “That wasn’t what worried me.”
“Then what?”
“They both struck me as too greedy, with all their talk of enlarging their property by buying out the smaller farmers. There was a ruthlessness there that made me wonder how far they would go to get what they want.”
Quintus said, “Surely there’s nothing wrong in wanting to expand one’s farm? One man’s greed is another man’s healthy ambition.”
“Indeed, that was my thought. And ambition is what has made our Empire great,” Clarus declared.
Clarilla frowned. “That’s as may be. But they don’t care what they do to other people, they’ll just roll over any opposition and crush it. They’re powerful, and rich, and they can use the law to get their own way.”
This was so like what Divico had said that it made me sit up and look at Clarilla closely. There was more to this than met the eye.
“Clarilla, they’ve obviously upset you in some way. I agree t
hey’re a bit rough-and-ready, but they’ll calm down when they’ve lived here a while.”
“I’m not so sure. They made some very disparaging remarks about people here. For instance Magnus told us he’d encountered hostility from the tribesmen near the coast, but it didn’t worry him, he said, because ‘the natives in northern Britannia are all barbarians, even if they don’t wear blue paint nowadays.’”
“Ouch! That was wrong of him, as well as stupid,” I said, and Quintus nodded in agreement. I picked up my goblet and took a drink of wine, to give myself time to think. Privately I couldn’t help agreeing with Magnus to some extent: many of our natives are still barbarians under the skin, but by no means all, and certainly not Clarus and his sister. They were examples of how people born in Britannia can become completely Roman. And the Ostorii had taken them for Romans from Italia, or at least from one of the older provinces, Spain maybe or Gaul. In one sense that should be a source of pride to them, because they strove to be Roman in everything. But their family in Britannia was an old and aristocratic one, relatively civilised even before our legions came, and they’d made it clear already that they weren’t in the least ashamed of their origins.
“I suspect they’re not used to civilian life in a frontier province,” Quintus said. “That’s the most likely explanation for such rudeness. As Aurelia says, they’ll settle down and learn to behave themselves. Forgive me for asking, Clarus, but I get the feeling that your interest in the Ostorii goes a bit beyond what they may or may not be doing to your kinfolk on the coast. Have they offered you some kind of business proposition?”
Clarus smiled. “They have, Antonius. Magnus has proposed a marriage between his nephew Vividus and Clarilla.”
Clarilla wasn’t smiling. Her grim expression told its own tale.
“I’d offer congratulations, Clarilla,” I said, “but you don’t look exactly happy abut this.”
“I’m not.” She pushed back a strand of fair hair that had escaped from the elaborate silver net. “I know that marriages in a family such as ours are, as my brother says, business alliances. If I marry again I’m not expecting to fall in love like a silly slip of a girl. But if I take another husband, I want someone I can at least like and respect.”
