Buried Too Deep

by Jane Finnis

  “Ah, Aurelia! Saying good-day to your horses?” Vividus asked, as he emerged from the Fort and came to join us.

  “Yes. I hope they’ve settled in all right?”

  “They’re fine, just what we wanted.” He hesitated, then gave me his most charming smile. “I’m glad I’ve caught you. I wanted to ask you something—oh, not about your investigations, that wouldn’t be proper at all.” He’d recovered his flirtatious manner, so I decided to play up to him.

  “Not proper at all, no. But I’m sure there are plenty of other things you can ask me.”

  Quintus ambled off along the fence towards another bunch of horses, apparently completely absorbed in looking them over.

  “I wondered if you’ve seen Silvanius Clarus lately.”

  “Yes, only a few days ago.”

  “Did he mention…I mean, did my name come up in conversation at all?”

  I smiled, both outwardly and inwardly. It was as well he couldn’t see the thoughts in my mind. “Yes, indeed it did. You’ve made a proposal of marriage to his sister, I understand.”

  “I have, but I’m still waiting for their reply. Silvanius said he wanted time to think about it, which is natural enough, of course. I suppose he didn’t give you any idea of whether…that is, what…I mean, d’you think he’ll accept?”

  “They both talked about it,” I answered, “and to be honest, I think they were still undecided. May I speak frankly, Vividus?”

  “Please do. But that sounds ominous. Wasn’t he in favour of it?”

  “He was, but Clarilla was a little less certain. I think she found your uncle a little—er—direct in his speech.”

  “I was afraid of that. He can, I mean could, be quite insensitive sometimes. Just his way, you know, but he believed in plain speaking, no nonsense, and if it offended anyone, that was too bad. Did he say something to offend her?”

  I nodded. “She was a little disturbed by one or two of your uncle’s disparaging comments about natives, and his implication that all the native-born Britons are still barbarians at heart. Of course perhaps your uncle didn’t realise Clarus comes from the old Brigantian aristocracy, and has never been ashamed of it, though he’s proud to be a Roman citizen. His sister feels the same, so your uncle’s comments were rather unfortunate.”

  Vividus sighed. “He was always making crass mistakes like that. I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but sometimes I used to wish he’d think before he spoke.”

  “He was used to dealing with barbarian enemies, so he tended to treat inhabitants of a new province in the same way?” Gods, why was I making excuses for the old man’s rudeness? But my instinct told me this could be important.

  Vividus looked relieved. “You understand very well. Do you think now that Uncle’s not here, they might look on my proposal more favourably?”

  Not if I have anything to do with it, I thought. “It’d certainly be worth approaching them again, if you haven’t had an answer in a month or two. You’d need to allow a decent interval to pass after the funeral, I think.”

  “Of course. I’ll do whatever it takes. I want that marriage, Aurelia. It’s important to me.”

  His vehemence surprised me. “May I ask why? You don’t know Clarilla, so it isn’t a love match. And you’re an eligible bachelor, if ever I saw one. You could take your pick among the wealthy families of Britannia. Or anywhere else in the Empire,” I added for good measure.

  “Thank you. We’ve good reasons for wanting to be in this part of the province now…”

  I gave him my merriest laugh. “Oh, of course. Caratacus’ gold?”

  Did I detect a flicker of surprise on his face? His loud answering laugh came so quickly that I couldn’t be sure. “Ah, so the secret’s out! And I thought nobody suspected that all those little holes in the ground, and the newly-turned patches of soil, were my doing.” He laughed still louder. “Sad to say I haven’t found it yet.”

  “But there’s still hope. Neither has anyone else.”

  “Luckily my future plans don’t depend on it.” He became serious. “But they do depend on an alliance with a powerful Brigantian like Silvanius. I want to make my way into public affairs. In this province, I mean, I’m too old to dream of Rome and senatorial purple. So marrying Clarilla is of great importance to me, and I’ll do it, whatever it costs. Nothing is going to stand in my way.” He stopped, looking self-conscious. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t rant on like this. Thank you for listening, and for your encouragement.”

  “I’ve enjoyed our chat.” Well perhaps enjoyed wasn’t quite the right word, but I’d certainly found it interesting. It had made me aware that Vividus had a motive for wanting his uncle dead.

  Chapter XXIV

  As Quintus and I walked slowly back from the horse field, we realised how the weather had changed. A north wind had risen and was pushing big dark clouds across the blue sky. As we reached the wall of the Fort, a scattering of raindrops fell, and we heard the faint roll of thunder in the distance.

  “I hope we’re not in for a storm,” I said. “I don’t mind a few splashes of rain, but I don’t fancy riding back to Albia’s in a downpour. Only I do want to get home tonight.”

  “Must you go?” He smiled at me. “I had dinner with the Ostorii last night, but I doubt if Vividus will invite me to join him tonight, with the funeral and all. So I’ve a long solitary evening ahead. But if you stay…”

  “Aurelia!” We looked round to see Niobe beckoning us from her sitting-room window upstairs. “This isn’t an afternoon for going walking. Come up to my room and have a glass of something to warm you.”

  The rain was getting heavier with every pace we took, so we accepted her offer and hurried inside to join her. Quintus paused outside the office. “Let’s make sure we’re not being spied on,” he murmured. He plucked a long hair from his head, and positioned it high up on the hinge side of the door. If anyone opened it, the hair would break. Then we climbed the stairs and Niobe welcomed us in, smiling warmly at Quintus.

  “Now tell me how your enquiries are going,” she said as she handed round glasses. “Or is it all a deadly secret?”

  “Most of it is,” Quintus returned her smile. “But you never know, after a glass or two of wine we may not be able to stop ourselves telling you everything.”

  “Oh good, that’s what I’m counting on.”

  Her room was comfortably warm and smelled of rose perfume. We sat down near the window, which was closed now against the rain. We parried her questions about our enquiries, and she flirted outrageously with Quintus, who enjoyed himself being charming and amusing for her benefit. Eventually she turned to me with a mischievous smile.

  “Aurelia, I hope you’re not thinking of riding back to your sister’s in this deluge. Listen to it!” Indeed the rain was now lashing at her window out of a sky as black as ink, and the rolling thunder-claps were almost continuous.

  “I was hoping to,” I answered, “but it looks and sounds pretty awful out there.”

  “Then you mustn’t even dream of it. We’d be delighted to put you up here, I’ll tell the servants to get a bedroom ready for you. It’ll be in the guest wing, where Quintus Antonius’ room is.” I avoided Quintus’ eye. “I’ll get them to serve you dinner too. I’m afraid it won’t be a family meal. The boys and I will be attending Magnus’ funeral.”

  “In this weather?”

  “Oh yes. Most sensible people would put it off, I expect, but my two tough ex-centurions have told me in no uncertain terms that Magnus wouldn’t have been deterred from his duty by a mere storm, so we mustn’t be either.” She made a wry face. “Sometimes I think young Aquilo has the right idea, you know, even though he is a silly little idiot. But I’m sure poets and musicians wouldn’t insist on braving the elements. Anyway I don’t imagine he’ll come back now, do you?”

  “No.” I hadn’t imagined he’d come back at all tonight, but I suppose he’d had to tell his brothers he would atten
d the ceremony.

  “Well then, have I persuaded you?” She smiled at me. “Will you stay overnight? You’ll have plenty of time to get back to your sister’s tomorrow, if you want to change into something special for the Beltane feast. Or you can go direct from here, if you’d rather.”

  “When tomorrow comes, we’ll decide what we’re doing. But thank you, I think I should like to stay tonight.”

  We heard a footstep outside the door, and Vividus came in without waiting to be asked.

  “Sorry, Niobe, but I need to see Antonius. I wonder if I could have a word with you please?”

  “Of course. We’ll go down to my office.”

  “Oh, there’s no need to trouble Aurelia. I need to talk to you alone, if possible.”

  “I’d prefer Aurelia to be with me. Since she’s helping me in this matter, it’s best she hears what you tell me direct from you, not at second hand afterwards.”

  “But I need…I want…I must be able to rely on your complete discretion. Both of you.”

  “You can rely on it. You have my word.”

  “And mine,” I put in. “Discretion is one of the most important of an innkeeper’s qualities. Our customers may gossip, but we can keep quiet when it’s necessary.”

  “Very well.” Vividus looked at each of us in turn and heaved a loud sigh. “Then we’ll go into my office.”

  “Thank you for the wine, Niobe,” I said, as we left. Though I’d have insisted on being present at Vividus’ talk with Quintus, all the same I felt reluctant to leave her warm, pleasant room.

  “This isn’t easy for me, or pleasant,” Vividus said when we were all seated in his room. “But I must do my duty.” A flash of lightning made me realise that the sky was growing even darker, though it wasn’t yet night-time.

  Quintus said, “What’s the trouble?”

  “I’ve been talking to my men, especially the guards, because they are trained to observe people’s movements around the Fort, and I felt sure one of them must have noticed something unusual this morning. It turns out one of them did.”

  “Good,” Quintus said. “Who, and what was it he noticed?”

  “My chief guard, Rinacus. I’d like you to hear his account for yourselves.” He rang a small silver bell, and sent the servant who answered it to fetch the chief guard.

  I thought, this will be interesting. I wonder if he knows we’ve interviewed Rinacus already?

  “Has he been with you long?” Quintus asked.

  “About two years. Since before we came to Britannia, anyway. He’s ex-army, and Uncle Magnus took him on as a bodyguard in Gaul shortly after he left the service. He was a good soldier, and he’s been extremely useful here, especially since we began having trouble with the natives. As chief guard he’s in charge of the day-to-day security here. A top quality man.”

  The guard captain knocked, came in, and stood to attention. He looked ill at ease, more like a legionary who was expecting a reprimand than an officer with important information to deliver. His relaxed pose of the morning had deserted him.

  Even when Vividus told him to sit down he was still as stiff as a spear, and made his report in terse military style. “I was on early duty this morning, and just as it was beginning to get light I noticed Master Ferox going in the direction of the stable yard, and I followed him for a few paces, to make sure he was all right.”

  “Why shouldn’t he be all right?” Quintus asked. “Has he been ill?”

  “Well, no, sir, not ill. But sometimes he has bad dreams, and even walks in his sleep. If he’s seen around in the night or the very early morning, we’re under instructions to keep an eye out for him.”

  He glanced at Vividus, who nodded. “My poor brother does suffer very badly with nightmares, I’m afraid.”

  Rinacus cleared his throat. “This morning he was fine. He waved to me as he went to the stables, and a short while later I saw him come out with a saddled horse. I expected he’d head off for the main gate, or go and get some breakfast, but he didn’t. He left the horse tied up and went to the bath-house.”

  He paused, and now I saw why he was so uneasy. He was about to accuse one of his masters of murder.

  “Did you follow him there?” Quintus asked.

  “No, I didn’t. The master—the old master, Lord Magnus—liked to take his bath early in the morning, and hated any of us to disturb him while he was at it, except for Niobe of course. I thought Master Ferox must have had pressing business with his uncle, to go in and interrupt him, but that wasn’t any affair of mine. So I went on my way.”

  “You didn’t linger just for a short while, to make sure all was well?” I asked. “Nobody could have blamed you for being conscientious.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “So you didn’t happen to hear voices raised inside, some sort of quarrel going on?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Did you see Ferox come out of the baths again?”

  “No. Like I said, I went on my way.”

  “Did you see Niobe?” I asked.

  “I saw her crossing the courtyard, and assumed she was going to join the master, but I didn’t actually watch her enter.”

  “And that was after you’d seen Ferox go in there?”

  “Yes, ma’am, well after.”

  “You know what your statement implies, Rinacus?” Vividus asked him. “You’re quite sure of your facts?”

  “I’m quite sure, my lord. I know what I’m saying, and I’m very sorry to have to report something so…something like this.”

  “Any more questions for him, Antonius?” Quintus asked.

  “Just one. Rinacus, we spoke to you this morning and you didn’t mention any of this. Why not?”

  He looked down at his feet, a picture of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I know I should have spoken out, and I wanted to. But it seemed sort of disloyal, to inform on Master Ferox. I wanted a chance to talk to Lord Vividus first. He advised me that whatever the consequences I must tell you everything.”

  “And you’ve told us everything now? There’s nothing else you’d like to add?”

  “No, sir.”

  Vividus dismissed him, ordering him to stay inside the Fort in case he was needed later. “A sound man, that, very loyal and honest. I trust him, and, sad though I am, I believe what he’s just told us.”

  “You’d take his word against that of your brother?” Quintus asked.

  “I’m afraid I would. Ferox has been acting strangely these last few months. As Rinacus said, he’s not exactly ill, but he has these recurring nightmares, about something that happened to him on his last campaign—a fire at a camp where several of his friends were killed. The bad dreams come most nights, often more than once, so he doesn’t have much sleep.”

  “A man can get used to going without sleep, though,” Quintus pointed out. “It happens for days on end in the army. Men on long, difficult campaigns, or on siege work….”

  “But this has been going on for months. We’ve done our best with him, kept him busy, let him know that we sympathise with him. He’s a very competent farm manager, and he believed in all the new ideas for this place that our uncle brought with him to Britannia. But he’s become too wrapped up in our quarrel with Bodvocus, and with the raiders. He thinks of little else now.”

  “I still don’t see how that could make him responsible for your uncle’s death,” I said. “When we spoke to him earlier, he was saying how much your uncle did for you three brothers, taking you in as boys after your mother died.”

  “I know. But I think this whole idea of making peace with the natives was too much for him to accept. He spent most of yesterday arguing with Magnus about it. He wanted no part of any peace-making initiative, he said it was a trap being laid for us by Bodvocus, and that if we went to the Beltane feast we’d all be massacred. They rowed for hours about it.” He turned to Quintus. “You heard some of it, Antonius, didn’t you, when we were all having dinner last nigh
t?”

  Quintus nodded. “I did, but I have to say, Vividus, that I heard you rowing with your uncle too.”

  “I admit it!” he exclaimed. “I was worried about the dangers of accepting, yet I didn’t want to refuse Bodvocus’ offer outright. I agreed that Magnus should attend the Beltane feast and even go through some kind of formal peace-making ceremony if it was unavoidable. I hoped that would at least quieten them down for a while, so we could deal with the Gauls. The gods know that nobody else is having any success controlling them. Young Aurelius…I know he’s your brother, Aurelia, and I’m sure he’s done his best, but he’s got nowhere so far. How can he? Half-a-dozen men coming in from outside aren’t anything like enough.”

  “I’m inclined to agree with you about that,” Quintus said. “But let’s keep to the matter in hand. You’ll allow me to arrest Ferox then, and send him under guard to Eburacum for the authorities to deal with? If he confesses to the murder, he’ll be exiled, but if he protests his innocence still, there’ll probably have to be a trial, with Rinacus and yourself as the principal witnesses.”

  Vividus nodded. “I know all that. Believe me it gives me no pleasure. But I want my uncle avenged.”

  “If we need to hold him prisoner, have you a suitable room where we can keep him securely under lock and key?”

  “We have a small lockup. Rarely used, but if any of the lads are caught brawling, or drinking too much too often, a spell in there brings them to heel.”

  “Then we’ll interview Ferox straight away,” Quintus said. “You’ll come with us, Vividus, please.”

  We talked to Ferox for some time, but it can all be summed up in a couple of sentences. Vividus accused him of murdering Magnus, and brought in Rinacus to give his account of seeing Ferox enter the bath-house. Ferox vehemently denied laying a finger on his uncle, called Rinacus a liar, and insisted he’d left the Fort before dawn. It was one man’s word against another.