One Virgin Too Many

by Lindsey Davis

  Petronius had come up behind me, almost silently. He gave no greeting. He made no jokes. He walked to the far side, looking down from above us. He whistled once, very quietly to himself; then he stood still, assessing the problem. Some of his men lined up with him. Aelianus appeared too. He passed me more rope, which I knotted onto the torchline. I continued lowering it slowly while the others watched.

  “Stop there,” ordered Anacrites, now flat on his face again.

  I stayed my hand. He scrambled even nearer to the edge, leaning out as far as he dared. Petro muttered a warning. Aelianus bent to a crouch, ready to grab hold of Anacrites by his belt if he slipped. Anacrites shifted, splayed on the ground. Foolishly perhaps, he reached out across the shaft and supported himself against a side wall.

  “I can see something.” I paid out a couple more inches of rope. “Stop—you’ll hit her.”

  “Pass it this side,” said Petro. I pulled the rope back up slightly and leaned over to give him the free end, keeping one hand on the taut length. When Petro had taken hold, I let go gently.

  “Whoa—it’s swinging madly—wait! Right. More slack—yes, she’s there. She is not moving. The boarding has lodged, and she’s clinging on.”

  “All right, Gaia—we can see you now!”

  “No. Too late. The torch has gone out.”

  Anacrites pushed off from his suspended position, and we hauled him back. He scrambled to his feet, white-faced. He looked around the group of us and shook his head. “It’s a miracle she stuck at that point—and that she has managed to stay there. One false move and the whole lot will slip down further. I couldn’t see how deep it goes.”

  Petronius came to life.

  “We have to try—is that agreed?” He did not, in fact, wait for an answer. He was going to make the best attempt, whatever anyone else felt. “Right, lads; this is a bearer-and-brattice job.” He was talking to his men. “We want anchor points for the ropes, and the head of the shaft will need lining too. I’m not sending anyone down there only to have the hero and the girl both swept away by shit and rubble from up top. Time we spend stabilizing the head of the shaft won’t be wasted.”

  The problem was physical, logistic, a teamwork task. It was natural that the vigiles took over. They had the expertise for reaching inaccessible places in a hurry. They dealt with fires and with collapsed buildings. I had labored in a mine once, in Britain, but it had been surface worked. Even there, proper experts had designed and installed the props in the seams.

  Various materials had been turning up from the moment Petro himself appeared. Without fuss his men set to, planning how to tackle the work, fetching gear from beyond the wall, sending off for more. Anacrites, who had now made himself legate in charge of lighting, said he was going indoors to look for covered lanterns. That would keep him out of our way. I started measuring the length of the ropes the vigiles had brought, and testing their strength. Aelianus watched, then helped me.

  “Sailcloth!” one of the vigiles exclaimed. “Quicker than woodwork for lining the shaft.”

  “Got any?” asked Petro, rather scathingly, I thought.

  “In the stores. Easy to fetch while the balks are being fixed at the shaft head.”

  “If not, just bring esparto mats,” Petro decided. He had always been receptive to ideas and quick to adapt. “We only have time to cover the first few feet in any case. And we can’t risk disturbing too much loose material that may drop on the child.”

  From time to time, everyone halted. Silence would descend. One of us would stand above the well and call down encouragement to Gaia. The little girl had stopped answering.

  When Anacrites came back, I heard women’s voices with him. Bad news. He had been forced to bring Caecilia Paeta, who was demanding to see where her daughter was. Terentia had come with her, and the nurse, Athene. Without anybody needing to issue orders, those of the vigiles who were not involved in the immediate task of building a braced platform above the shaft, moved into a discreet cordon, keeping the visitors back. The vigiles were used to gawpers getting in their way. Their response could be brutal, though when occasion called they could fend off the interest with surprising tact.

  I went over to the women. “It’s all right, Caecilia Paeta is very sensible.” For once this ploy worked. At my announcement Caecilia, who had been growing hysterical, decided to quieten down. “Listen. I’ll take you near, and you can call out to tell Gaia that her mother is here. Try not to sound frightened. Try to reassure her. But keep her calm. She really must not become agitated, in case she moves about—do you understand?”

  Caecilia drew herself up. She nodded. Her estranged husband had just been exposed as a murderer; her mad sister-in-law was beyond help; she was trapped in the house of a tyrannical father-in-law; even Terentia, the other force in her life, was a bully. Gaia Laelia was all the poor woman had to console her. I would not blame her if she lost her nerve and wept and wailed, but I could not risk allowing her to do so.

  I kept a tight grip on her. The men paused, though it was clear they hated to be held up. Caecilia stood where I told her, a spot where she could really see little of the well. She trembled slightly. Maybe she had more imagination than I would once have given her credit for. She called Gaia’s name. After one feeble attempt she tried again, more loudly and firmly. “I am close by, darling. These kind men will soon have you out of there.”

  She forced herself to maintain a strong voice, though tears were streaming down her face. Forget exalted birthrights and religious callings. At least what we had now was a real mother fearing for the life of a real small child. If we could, by some miracle, rescue the child alive, things in future might be better for both of them.

  One of the men at the edge of the shaft raised an arm to us. “I heard her! Keep still, little one! We’re coming. Just keep still.” He and his colleagues immediately returned to their work.

  Caecilia Paeta turned to me. Her eyes showed that she understood just how slim were our chances of removing Gaia safely. Too horrified to ask my opinion, she made no sound. I would have preferred her to plead and twitter. Silent bravery was hard to take. I led her back to Terentia.

  “Go to the house. This is bound to take some time. We are being careful at every stage; you can see why. We will tell you if anything happens.”

  “No,” said Caecilia. She folded her arms, pulled her stole tight around her, and just stood. “I will stay near Gaia.” Even Terentia looked surprised by this unexpected determination.

  I stood with them for a moment. “Everything all right at the house now?”

  “My niece and nephew have both been sedated and put under guard,” Terentia reported quietly. “Ariminius had his wound dressed, and the doctor is waiting here in case he is needed again.”

  “Hadn’t the old man collapsed too?”

  “As usual, Laelius Numentinus managed to recover as soon as the crisis was over,” said Terentia with asperity.

  “You have everything in hand, I see.”

  “But you will have to do what’s needed here!” commented the ex-Vestal, nodding towards the well and politely acknowledging that she was not all-competent.

  I left the women and rejoined my colleagues.

  A basic platform had been thrown up across the wellhead. We could work off it safely. It would not give way. Boots would grip on the wood. Heavy timber beams had been set up to act as anchors for the ropes. More ropes had been brought and woven through the edges of mats made of esparto, the thick grass material that the vigiles used to smother fires. These had been hung down inside the shaft where the sides were most unstable and where there was bound to be most disturbance once the rescue got under way.

  I noticed that more and more members of the Fourth Cohort kept coming in over the boundary wall. This was the current big event. Hard men have notoriously soft hearts where young children are concerned. They stood back, very quiet, with the patience of those who understood what they were watching, and who knew that the outlook was
grim.

  A rope sling had been created. Petronius, who had stood aside while his experts arranged the framework, now took command. He would supervise the actual drop. I knew he would have gone down himself if possible. We all looked at him.

  “I’m too big.” It was a call for a volunteer.

  I had been a silent observer, but I stepped forward now. “I’ll go.”

  “This is for us, Falco.”

  “It’s just a job for an idiot,” I answered. “Somebody tough but not too heavy or too large.”

  “Are you fit?”

  “I’ll do.” Besides, I owed Gaia something. I slapped his arm. “I’d like to know you are on one of the ropes.”

  “Naturally.” Lucius Petronius offered me the harness, but first he said, “There is something you may not have thought about.”

  I sighed. “No, I do realize. The shaft is too small. The boarding she is lying on blocks the shaft anyway. It is impossible to be lowered past her. If I am to stand any chance of grabbing her once I’m close enough, I have to go down headfirst.”

  “Bright boy!” Petro began fixing straps around each of my ankles. “Well, Marcus, my old friend, I hope you are wearing a loincloth, or when we turn you upside down you can prepare yourself for some very bawdy jokes.”

  “Dear gods. Send one of your rankers then to make the ex-Vestal move further away! I haven’t worn a loincloth since I was a year old.”

  I pulled my tunic well between my legs and made a flap to tuck into my belt. I thought about pinning it, but sticking a crude brooch pin in that sensitive area somehow failed to appeal to me.

  “Right.” Petro spoke quietly. I had seen him in this character before; outwardly, he ignored how bad the situation was, but I trusted him. “This is the plan. We put the lantern down first, so you should have light ahead of you. It won’t be much, but a torch would probably set fire to you. The air may be bad; we don’t want to add smoke. We think three ropes should hold you. The third will be around your waist for safety, fixed to the harness, and will be kept loose. All the ropes will be anchored. We have plenty of men to hang on to the slack ends.” He gripped me by both shoulders. “You will be safe. Trust me.”

  “Isn’t that what you say to all those girlfriends of yours?”

  “Stop playing about. We’ll try not to drop you.”

  “You had better not,” I said. “If you do, you can explain everything to Helena.”

  “In that case, I’ll jump down the bloody hole straight after you, I think.”

  “You always were a pal.”

  “Your arms will be free, but let us do the work to start with. Save your strength for when you reach the girl. The blood will have rushed to your head by then. Just grab her, shout to tell us, then hang on.”

  Aelianus came forward and asked to be on rope duty. So did Anacrites. Well, well. Always be nice to your partners. One day you may find yourself suspended upside down over a bottomless hole, with three of the friendly fellows hanging on to the ropes and controlling your fate.

  LVII

  I HAVE ALWAYS hated wells.

  The worst part was being first positioned. Upright, I could have climbed in, easing myself gradually into the shaft. Head down, there was a moment when I just had to drop. Had I not already collected quite enough nightmares to haunt me, this would have been the one that woke me screaming for years afterwards.

  They did their best to maneuver me safely over the edge. After I was fed past the timbers, the bad moment came when I felt the helping hands let go of me, and my weight tensing the ropes around my ankles. I swung out of control as they first took the weight. I would have screamed with terror but I was too busy stopping myself being scraped against the side wall. I heard a lot of desperate noise above me, then they regained control. I had my arms out to brace myself and control lateral movement. I kept trying to move my feet apart too, forgetting they were taking my weight. The descent was fairly smooth, but if they let me slip unexpectedly, my palms were badly grazed. I swore. In my head. We should have brought in stevedores for this part. At this rate, I was about to find out how a sack feels when it has been carelessly spilt open on the docks.

  They steadied. Thank the gods for that. They were learning. I might have been learning too, learning to trust them. In that position, frankly, you never do.

  Slowly now they let me down.

  Despite the light we had sent down first, it was virtually pitch black. I felt like a trussed goat, but without the support of a spit. Petro was right. The blood had drained from my feet and legs. I was far too hot. My ears throbbed. My eyeballs were straining. My arms felt swollen. My hands felt huge. Sweat began to trickle down my chest inside my tunic and down my face, straight into my eyes.

  It was difficult to look down. I kept my head level, except for occasional attempts to see whether I was near the child.

  The ropes felt as if they were stretching. Best not to think about that. I tried not to think about anything.

  I was so far down, those above had no chance of controlling me. Frequently I bashed against the sides. I used my hands as best I could, but that sent loose material skittering below me. The atmosphere was dank, and sometimes my palms slipped on slime. If there was any sound from Gaia, I was too preoccupied to hear her.

  They had stopped lowering. I was stuck. Panic rose, as I hung motionless. I forced myself to keep calm and still.

  “Falco!” Petronius. “If you shout, call ‘Down’ or ‘Up!’ ” His voice seemed muffled, yet it echoed around me. My anxiety increased. Soon I would be so frightened I would be absolutely useless.

  “Down!” Nothing happened. They had not heard me. After a moment they started to drop me further anyway. Thanks, lads. If I ever yelled “Up” would they hear that?

  Suddenly I thought I heard a whimper. Faint light glimmered at last. I knew they had managed to position the lantern right opposite Gaia. As I tipped my head back, my skull hit something. Dear gods—the boards!

  I reached out blindly. My hands found something. I clawed into cloth; pulled; felt weight; was kneed in the eye; clung on.

  Around me noise roared. I had dropped right into the fallen boards and dislodged them. They were now tumbling down the shaft. For a moment, I felt as if I was going with them. Dirt and timber showered down below us. Noise thundered. I thought I heard water splash. Shouts came faintly from somewhere I could not place. Of course the light went out.

  Everything settled. I stopped spinning, more or less. My left leg felt half dragged from its hip where Petro and the others must have been trying to help still me. The harness was by now cutting deep into my shoulders and waist; they must have used the safety rope. I was in agony—but now hard against my chest was the weight of a child. I had felt cold limbs. Her hair had brushed my cheek. I gripped her clothing fast, forcing my hands inwards to keep her tight against me, sticking out my elbows to protect her from being crushed against the rough sides of the well.

  “Up! Up!”

  If the descent was ghastly, the ascent was even worse. It was the longest few minutes I had ever lived. The lads must have pulled as hard as possible. They must have raised me as fast as they dared. It seemed endless. I was unable to brace myself, but repeatedly swung against the stony shaft. It was unbelievably painful. I could feel that the ropes were now definitely stretching.

  “Stop!”

  She had moved. I lost my grip.

  As she slipped, somehow I regained my hold on her. But she was now much lower, held against my neck and not my chest. No way could I move her. Any moment I would lose her. I dared not adjust my grip in case she fell again. I just clung on, even sinking my teeth into her dress where I felt cloth in front of my face.

  I could not shout now. The others decided to start pulling me up again anyway.

  From above, I heard Petronius—nearer—speaking quiet but tense reassurance. Perhaps he could see me now. It sounded as though he was soothing the child. He may have been calming me. I fixed my attention on his voice
and waited for death or rescue. Either would be suitable. Either would be a relief.

  When hands grabbed my ankles, I jumped so much it nearly ruined everything. Rough timber scraped my spine. Suddenly I was jerked so fast I would have lost Gaia for certain, only by then other people had taken her. I remembered to unclench my teeth. All parts of my own body were being gripped ferociously, lest I fell back down.

  I must have been safe because I heard Petro grunting, “Full moon below!” Yes. The worst had happened. I was now being tortured by my tunic, which had worked free, stifling me and exposing all my nether parts.

  The jokes started coming thick and fast. “Is that what all the fuss has been about? A lot of women have been very loyal, I must say—”

  “You’d shrink a bit if you’d been through what he just has!”

  I didn’t care. They had brought me out. These strong, insulting bastards were wonderful. I was swung like a sandbag, caught, hauled sideways, dropped gently onto earth. Air hit me. Bright June sun blinded me. The ropes loosened. The pain grew worse as my blood returned too fast to its accustomed channels. I could near Nux barking hysterically; then she must have escaped from whoever was holding her because next minute a hot tongue was passionately licking my face.

  I wrenched violently sideways—and, yes, glimpsed the child. She was white-skinned, her clothes filthy, her dark hair tangled. The vigiles were rubbing her limbs furiously; then they bundled her into a blanket. One swept her up, and he set off at a run towards the house—so they thought she was alive.

  They had laid me down on my side. Somebody was violently massaging my own shins and calves. Suddenly I became aware of my agony. I was so cold I had lost all feeling below my waist. My feet were free. People were dragging my boots off to attend to the entrenched weals made by the supporting ropes.