Buried Too Deep

by Jane Finnis

  I think Quintus felt as I did. Neither Ferox nor Rinacus were likeable, but Rinacus seemed the more reliable, and Vividus supported the guard’s word against his own brother. So eventually Quintus told Ferox formally that he was under arrest for Magnus’ murder. Since it was late in the day it wasn’t practical to escort him all the way to Eburacum, so he would be kept under guard at the Fort overnight, and taken to the town in the morning.

  Ferox roared like a cornered bull, and tried to break out of his office. It took Lucius and two men to hold him and march him off to the lockup, which was a small dingy room at the back of the main house. It had metal bars across the window opening and outside bolts on its shutters, and there was no furniture but a bench and a moth-eaten blanket. With some difficulty they shackled Ferox’ feet to a chain that was let into the stone wall, and left him there, still proclaiming his innocence and swearing that he’d been betrayed.

  “Well he would claim that, wouldn’t he?” I remarked to Quintus as we headed for our office.

  Quintus, as usual, was more cautious. “Does it seem to you that this is all a bit too convenient?”

  “Not really. I’ve never liked the man, and I’m not surprised he’s a murderer.”

  “Perhaps you’re right. It’s just…I don’t know. Well, he can appeal to Caesar, that’s his right as a citizen. The whole case will drag on for months, and his military record will stand in his favour.”

  “At least now we’ve an Emperor whose justice we can trust.”

  “They say he takes his duties very seriously…Look, that was lightning, wasn’t it?”

  A clap of thunder echoed round the Fort, and I swore at it, and at Jupiter, who, if you believe the priests, is responsible for such happenings.

  “Careful,” Quintus joked, “you’re insulting the King of the Gods.”

  “And he deserves it. But for this storm I could be on my way home to my sister’s. I expect he’s just making some bad weather to spite me, so I’ll have to endure the Fort’s food instead of Albia’s good cooking.”

  Oh, me and my big mouth! One should never insult a god, even as a joke.

  Chapter XXV

  In the pitch black middle of the night, something woke me. I lay in bed, less than half awake, feeling lazy and lethargic. I vaguely thought I ought to be curious about what had roused me, because it was something unusual, a noise that shouldn’t have been there in the dead of night. But I was warm and comfortable and very sleepy. I’d had a long day rounded off with a good dinner, and perhaps a beaker more wine than I should. And after all, I was in someone else’s house, and some of the night-noises were bound to be unfamiliar.

  The storm was still battering my window with pelting rain, and filling the air with rolling thunder now and then. Nothing unusual about those noises, and I was glad I’d decided not to travel back to Albia’s. Perhaps there’d been an extra loud clap of thunder? I was too fuddled with sleep to care. I yawned and let my eyes close.

  A flash of lightning made me open them again, and I froze, now fully awake. I wasn’t alone in the room. A man stood at the foot of my bed, looking down at me and smiling. He whispered, “So you’re awake at last, Aurelia Marcella?” Then darkness hid him again.

  “Who’s there? Whoever you are, get out of here.” But the words didn’t come out as a challenge, just an inaudible mumble. I tried to sit up, but in horror I realised I couldn’t. My body felt as heavy as lead, and my arms and legs refused to move. It was like the paralysis you get in the worst kind of nightmare. Was I drunk? Or sick? Or going mad? Only my mind operated at something like the proper speed, and I understood that I was in serious danger: there was a man in my room, and he could do whatever he liked with me, because I couldn’t stop him.

  My only hope was to scream for help, which I did, as loudly as I could. My cry didn’t last long. He growled “Quiet, bitch!” and threw himself on the bed on top of me, putting a hand over my mouth. With his other hand he reached under my head for the pillow and pressed it over my mouth instead, leaning his weight on it so that I couldn’t shift it. At least I could still breathe through my nose, but I felt stifled and trapped, unable to throw him off because my movements were as feeble as a child’s.

  “Keep quiet! Quiet and still!” he whispered. His words were slurred, and his breath stank of beer, which wasn’t comforting. I’ve had enough experience of drunks to be aware how dangerous they can be. So I lay as quiet and still as a stone.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” The whisper was almost conversational. “But I will if you act stupid. Here’s my knife, see?” I couldn’t see, but I could feel the way he moved his right arm, pulling something out of his belt, and then the touch of a sharp point pricking the soft skin of my neck.

  “What do you want?” I asked, and this time the words were more or less intelligible.

  “To give you a message, that’s all. A piece of good advice from a well-wisher.” He laughed softly. “Keep your nose out of Ostorius family business, or you’ll be sorry. Got that?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “I said got that?” The knife-point dug into my neck, not hard, but I felt blood on my skin.

  “I’ve got it.”

  “Go away from here tomorrow and don’t come back. Got that?”

  “Yes.” Gladly, I added silently. If I ever see tomorrow…

  “Good.” He eased his weight a little so that he lay alongside me rather than on top. It was a relief, but then he pressed his body hard against me, and I realised that giving me advice wasn’t all he wanted now.

  “You’re not bad looking, really,” he whispered. “Well all women are beautiful in the dark, I suppose.” He laughed to himself, and I had to lie there, knowing what he intended but completely helpless to prevent it. I was in a house full of people, with Quintus’ room and Lucius’ room only a few paces down the corridor. But in the dark, with a thunderstorm going on, nobody would be up and about to see or hear. And I was so tired and weak. Why was that? They must have put something in my food or drink at supper, some poison to prevent my moving. Perhaps they’d poisoned the others too.

  Panic engulfed me. Had they used hemlock? Was I experiencing the beginning of the paralysis that hemlock brings before it kills you?

  Strangely, the terror of this idea brought me strength, a sudden influx of energy that overcome my body’s weakness. I wasn’t dead yet, and I wasn’t going to die without a fight. And the man on my bed wasn’t expecting me to die either, otherwise why would he have come here to threaten me? So I could take control of this situation. I must. But how?

  The drunk himself gave me the answer. He began to run his hands over my body—both hands, I realised, which meant he’d abandoned his knife, and he wasn’t holding down the pillow over my mouth. I shook my head very gently, and the pillow slid away, but he didn’t even realise this as he moved to lie on top of me again. If I could muster the strength, I could take him by surprise and get away. But I must do it now.

  I took a deep breath and let out another scream for help, and this one was ear-splitting. At the same time I brought my knee up into his groin, and as the pain hit him, I twisted my whole body to the right and managed to wriggle out from under him. With a final push I flung myself off the bed.

  He cursed and grabbed at me with both hands, but he missed, and I rolled away from the bed just as he jumped off it, landing with a thud that shook the room. I stood up, feeling shaky still, but my strength was coming back. I seized the wooden stool from beside the bed and held it up high in front of me, its three legs pointing away from me into the dark. He lunged at me and I felt the legs smash into his face. He grunted in pain and grabbed at the stool, trying to wrench it free, but I hung on till the flimsy thing broke. So now we each had a weapon of sorts, and of course he still had his knife. But I was out of his reach, at least for now.

  I was still screaming “Help! Help!” as loudly as I could, and he was shouting in drunken fury, telling me what he’d do
when he caught me, which I knew he could still do unless I could get out of there. I stopped screaming and for a few heartbeats I had the advantage of knowing where he was while he couldn’t hear me, but then he fell silent too. I began to move softly round the edge of the room towards where the door must be, though I couldn’t be sure in the blackness. There was no sound now but the rain on the window. We were both holding our breaths, and stepping quietly enough not to be heard.

  Lightning filled the room with brightness and we found we were very close together, almost touching. He had his right arm raised, and one of the broken stool-legs in his hand. I dived under his raised arm and bolted towards the door.

  I stopped, because I saw the door was opening, and as darkness came again, someone rushed into the room. A peal of thunder split the silence, and Quintus’ voice rang out. “Aurelia, get into the corridor while I deal with this scum.”

  “He’s got a knife,” I called out, jumping to the right so my voice didn’t give my position away.

  “So have I.”

  I felt a flood of relief, but the fight wasn’t over yet. I began to move again, continuing my progress towards the door. At least now I knew where it was. Then I felt myself flung out of the way so roughly that I fell over, and the intruder gave a final curse and ran for the door himself. I shouted a warning and heard sounds of a scuffle, and then the rush of heavy footsteps running away along the corridor, followed by the bang of the outside door into the courtyard.

  “Aurelia? Are you all right?”

  “I think so. ” I picked myself up and groped for the bed to steady myself. “Are you?”

  “Yes.” He came close and put his arms round me. My legs felt as weak as water, I wanted to sink onto the bed and lie down. But I wanted still more to feel him holding me, so I just stood there for a while, resting my head on his shoulder, till I’d stopped shaking and my heartbeat had slowed down from a gallop to a fast trot. Then we both sat on the bed.

  “Better now?” he asked.

  “Yes.” I kissed him. “Thank you, Quintus. If you hadn’t been there…”

  “Don’t think about it. I suppose you didn’t recognise him?”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t even get a good look at him. But I hit him in the face quite hard with a stool. He’ll have a few bruises tomorrow, with luck.”

  “I’m sorry I took so long to come to you.” He kissed me gently. “Your screaming woke me up, and I knew you must be in trouble, but I felt dreadful and could hardly move. It was as if I was ill, or very drunk. I’m still half-drugged now, but it seems to be wearing off.”

  “Me too. I thought I was dying at one point.”

  “They must have put something in our food or drink tonight, so we’d sleep soundly.”

  I got up. “Before I do anything else, I’ll light my candle. I don’t like being in the dark. Thank the gods for sending the lightning!”

  “I know. I suggest we spend the rest of the night in my room. I’ve lighted my candle already, and anyhow there’s safety in numbers. We ought to take turns to keep awake.”

  I laughed. “Tired as I feel, there’s no danger of me sleeping another wink under this roof.”

  The corridor lamps were out, but Quintus’ door was only a few paces along from mine, and the reassuring strip of light shining under it made it easy to find. All the same I was nervous as we covered the dark space between, and relieved when we were able to step inside and sit down on his bed.

  “Some wine?” he suggested.

  “No thanks. I’m not eating or drinking anything till we’re safely back at Albia’s.”

  “This is wine from my own flask, the one I brought with me from Albia’s. It’s safe, and there’s enough for a few mouthfuls each.”

  “In that case, yes please.” He poured us each a small measure. It tasted like the nectar of the gods.

  “I wonder,” he mused, “who it was who wanted us to sleep so soundly tonight, and why?”

  “Perhaps they planned to kill us both in our sleep.” I shivered. “When I woke up and saw the man standing there by my bed…”

  “Just standing there? With a weapon in his hand?”

  “No, he drew his knife later to shut me up. Listen, I’ll tell it from the beginning.”

  When I’d finished, Quintus said, “That doesn’t sound much like the way a killer would behave. Surely he’d just enter the bedroom, stab his victim a couple of times, and get out as quickly as he could. And there’s one good thing about all this.”

  “There is?”

  “If somebody’s taken the trouble to drug us, and then to warn you off, it must mean we’re getting dangerously close to the truth. Perhaps we’ve even arrived there…”

  He stopped, as a series of loud yells echoed through the night. A man was shouting the single word “Run!” over and over again. It was coming from somewhere outside and fairly close by, and it wasn’t especially loud, but the terror in the voice made me jump up and look wildly round the room. “Quintus, that must be what woke me up tonight. I knew it was something scary, but I was so full of sleep…What does it mean?”

  “I’ll go and take a look.” He crossed the room and picked up his travelling-cloak. “Judging from the direction, it’s coming from the room where we’re holding Ferox. There’s a guard on the door there, but I’d better make certain nobody’s trying to take their private revenge on him. You’ll be all right here while I slip outside?”

  “Not on your life. I’m coming too…no, don’t argue, Quintus, I’m not staying by myself in this room. Just let me get my cloak.”

  Quintus knows me well, and he recognises those occasions when it’s pointless to argue with me. He lighted me to my room with his candle, and lit mine while I put on my heavy cloak. We left one candle burning on a shelf in the corridor, and tiptoed along till we came to the door that led out into the courtyard.

  It opened quietly, and we stood looking out onto the wet paving-stones, letting our eyes adjust to the very dim light coming from a scattering of wall-mounted torches around the courtyard. Quintus leaned close and whispered, “Follow me.”

  But before we could move, a flash of lightning showed us the whole courtyard as bright as day, and I almost cried out. Two men were standing there quite close to us, against the wall of the main building. Both were wearing thick hooded cloaks, and the taller one had his back to me. But I recognised the other, even though his face was mostly hidden. “Rinacus,” I breathed, and Quintus nodded.

  “Well?” Rinacus spoke softly, but we could hear easily. “Did you check?”

  “I did.”

  “And are they asleep?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Then get over to the gate and let him in and bring him here.”

  “Alright.”

  The man left, and Quintus breathed, “At least we know why they wanted us out of the way. Rinacus is expecting company.”

  Before long we heard footsteps, and the guard brought a third man to stand beside the wall. Rinacus waved the guard away, and another brief glare of lightning showed him exchanging a silent handshake with the newcomer. I saw that the new arrival’s leather cloak and hood were soaking wet. He’d been out in the rain for some time. If only we could see his face…

  Rinacus said, “I’m glad you’ve come. I wasn’t sure you would, in this weather.”

  “I didn’t exactly have a choice.” The man’s tone was surly. “He can’t come himself, and it’s urgent. Anyhow at least there won’t be anyone watching on a night like this. We’ve heard about these investigators you’ve got staying here, nosing around into everything.”

  “They’re sound asleep, we’ve seen to that. So let’s not waste time. What’s so urgent?”

  “Tell your boss there’s a change of plan. We’ll have a much better chance if we do it tomorrow.”

  Rinacus swore. “ Tomorrow? We can’t start messing the plans about at this stage! Listen, you’re not trying to tell me he’s b
acking out, are you? Because if he is, I…”

  “Of course he isn’t. Just the opposite. He says it’ll be much better tomorrow than in two days’ time, because folk will all be at the feast.”

  “But doesn’t he have to be there himself? Oh, I get it, he’s asking us to do all the work while he sits around at home drinking his beer…”

  “Close your gob and open your lugs, can’t you? He doesn’t have to be at the feast now. He’s supposed to show his face, but he can say he’s heard some rumour about a raid by the Gauls, so he can leave any time.” He laughed. “It’ll be true, in its way. You can use the same excuse on old Magnus.”

  “We won’t have to. Magnus is dead.”

  “Dead? What from?”

  “It wasn’t old age,” Rinacus sneered, “but more than that I don’t know, and I’m not asking. Vividus is master now, and he can do as he likes. He doesn’t even plan to be at the feast at all. He’s sending Aquilo.”

  “So much the better. Well then, the new plan is, we meet there as agreed, only change the time to tomorrow at noon.”

  “Somebody’s told the Gauls?”

  “Yes, and they’re up for it. So we meet, we do the job, we come away laughing. Laughing and rich. We’ll all be home well before dark. Probably nobody’ll even miss us. All right?”

  Rinacus sighed. “I suppose so. All right. It makes sense. I always said Beltane would be the best day. You’re quite sure they’ll be at the feast?”

  “Yes, they’re all planning to go, taking some of the guards as escorts. They reckon it’ll be a day of peace, so the farm’ll be safe.”

  “But they’ll leave a few lads behind, I suppose.”

  “Bound to, but they’ll be easy enough. They won’t be expecting us, and they’ll probably have a Beltane drink or two themselves when the bosses are gone.”

  “Then tomorrow it is.” Rinacus’ voice rose excitedly. “I’ll see you there, Vulso.”

  The man’s reply was drowned by another wild burst of shouting, “Fire! Fire!” this time, coming from somewhere to our left.