Paelignus’ grimace cracked into a full-scale leer. ‘Ah! Well, I thought that the easiest way to make the other creditors pay up was to use force; which, as I knew they were not citizens, seemed perfectly legitimate. So I had them arrested for plotting treason and, as Urban prefect and the highest-ranking Roman official here, I tried them myself.’
Vespasian felt the blood pound in his head; he gaped at the man he hated probably more than anyone else in the world, looking so pleased with himself, as he recounted what Vespasian was sure to be the most stupid thing that any magistrate could do.
‘Of course, they were guilty and their estates forfeit. So I now have all the money that you came to collect for Seneca waiting back at the Governor’s residence for you. Therefore, my …er … friend, perhaps we could forget all that has passed between us; take the money and go with my blessing.’
Vespasian felt sick as he looked back at the bodies hanging from the crosses. ‘Are those the men, Paelignus?’
‘Of course; I gave them a taste of good Roman justice.’
‘No you didn’t, you crooked little cunt; they were innocent as you yourself as good as admitted. What you’ve given them is a taste of good Roman injustice and in doing so you’ve managed to execute four men who were most probably held in respect by the rest of their people and you’ve therefore managed to piss off the entire Trinovantes tribe.’
CHAPTER XI
VESPASIAN SCREWED UP the letter he had just read and tossed it over the terrace balustrade of their rented villa, onto the muddy shoreline of the Tamesis – the place was an expensive luxury but better than running the risk of seeing the procurator, Catus Decianus, every day had they decided to stay at the official residence. ‘Well, it was inevitable, I suppose.’
‘What was inevitable?’ Magnus asked, throwing a piece of meat high in the air for Castor and Pollux to fight for.
‘Cerialis has written to say that Governor Suetonius Paulinus has ordered him to direct his attentions to the Brigantes in the north this coming campaigning season, rather than worry about the Iceni.’
Magnus lobbed up another hunk of pork. ‘Why’s that inevitable?’
‘Because since Prasutagus’ death last month, Paulinus doesn’t consider the Iceni a threat seeing as they have a queen now rather than a king and she isn’t officially the queen until Nero confirms her as such, which at this time of year will take a while.’ Vespasian pointed at the dogs scrapping over the meat. ‘Why are you feeding them just before we go out hunting?’
‘I’m trying an experiment to see if they refrain from ripping the kill apart if they’re not so hungry; it’d be nice, for once, to come back with a deer that’s reasonably edible rather than something that looks like it’s just had the starring role at the circus, if you take my meaning?’
Vespasian did and thought it not a bad idea, as Magnus’ dogs had proved to be very enthusiastic hunters and seemed to build upon that enthusiasm with every succeeding hunt.
Magnus chucked another lump at the dogs. ‘I suppose Paulinus is worried about the Brigantes taking him by surprise as spring approaches seeing as he’s chosen to winter up there in the north.’
‘He didn’t choose to, he’s been forced to; with Myrddin still unaccounted for and the few druids who escaped with him from Mona still at large somewhere up there, he had no choice. Add to that the new development of Venutius going back on his word to Seneca and stirring up trouble with the Carvetii to the north of the Brigantes then it makes sense for Paulinus to want Cerialis concentrating in that direction rather than towards the currently leaderless Iceni.’
‘They do have a leader,’ Caenis said, walking out onto the terrace with Sabinus, both dressed warmly, as were Vespasian and Magnus, in hunting clothes. ‘Boudicca. Just because Nero hasn’t confirmed her in her position doesn’t mean that her people won’t follow her; she’s a very strong woman.’
‘But even so, there would be nowhere to follow her to,’ Sabinus pointed out. ‘Assuming that Prasutagus’ will is ratified and she can inherit, which according to Britannic custom she can but to Roman law she can’t, she would be stupid to do anything provocative towards us once she’s paid off her debt and the threat of having it collected by force has disappeared. If she lives peacefully then she’ll wake up one morning later on in the year to the news that Rome is withdrawing and Caratacus is coming back to be king of the eastern client kingdom, which the Iceni would nominally be a part of but in practice will remain independent. If she does make a nuisance of herself then that event could well be delayed.’
‘But she doesn’t know that and nor can we tell her for obvious reasons.’ Vespasian looked up at the low grey cloud laden with drizzle. ‘Well, nothing’s going to happen until what passes for spring in this damp shithole arrives, by which time we should be well away, provided she does turn up in Camulodunum in three days’ time with Seneca’s money.’
Magnus chucked the last piece of pork at his growling dogs and wiped his hands on his fur-lined cloak. ‘Right, let’s get going. Where’s Hormus? Ain’t he coming?’
‘No, he’s doing some business for Caenis and me with the Cloelius Brothers, now that they’ve returned from their trip to see Cogidubnus,’ Vespasian said, heading for the steps down from the side of terrace, at the bottom of which their horses waited. ‘We’ll get going as he’ll be a while.’
The road leading northwest out of Londinium was, as most roads were, straight as an arrow-shaft and cleared of trees and scrub for a hundred paces to either side. The hunting party clattered along it at a good pace, heading for a wooded hill just to the west of the road some three miles from the town. Castor and Pollux lolloped ahead, playing canine games of rough-and-tumble on the short grass to the side of the road. The all-covering cloud had begun to give up its ample store of moisture, but Vespasian, for once, did not feel gloomy in the miserable conditions as he knew that within a few months he could be back on one of his estates, having stopped off to see Titus in Germania Inferior on the way – provided the sea stayed calm enough for the short crossing to the mainland. But even if they were forced to wait until the end of April or beginning of May when the sea routes properly opened up, he would be happy to, in the knowledge that he would soon be away, never to return. And then, once back in Italia he would wait on his estate at Cosa for news as to how he stood with Nero and whether it was safe for him to return to Rome.
As the hill came into view they left the road and cut across country, past a couple of farmsteads where slaves struggled behind plough-horses tilling the thick clay soil in preparation for the season that, unbeknownst to them, would see an end to Roman rule in Britannia. Vespasian still thought it to be a move of the utmost stupidity, politically, but he could see that the economic arguments for it were beginning to stack up, especially bearing in mind Nero’s increasing profligacy. In the three months that they had been waiting in the relative comfort of their riverside villa, it had become more and more obvious that, although the small corner of the southeast of the island was peaceful and reasonably pro-Roman, the rest most certainly was not. The Cloelius Brothers had arrived and immediately begun to send their agents around the province calling in their loans and causing massive resentment amongst the indigenous tribes. This, in turn, had led to a few beatings and a couple of murders of colonists and merchants; with the four legions in the province wintering on the frontiers to the north and the west and the auxiliary cohorts in the main garrisoning the series of forts along the roads that connected the four legionary camps, there was not much in the way of protection for Roman citizens and Romanised Britons.
The situation had worsened when the rest of the other Londinium bankers had realised what the Cloelius Brothers were doing. Then, when the rumour spread that Seneca had already called in his loans and the largest of these, the one to Prasutagus, was to be repaid without the full interest, a rush to get their money out of the province had begun in earnest, sucking the life out of the economy already damaged by war on the fringes
of empire. Building work on the amphitheatre had ground to a halt due to lack of cash flow and local tradesmen who had provided the materials for it, and other stagnated projects, went unpaid. This, naturally, filtered down through the economy as coinage became increasingly hard to get hold of. Those that had it hoarded it, and those that did not have it fretted for it. Now it had reached the stage whereby those bankers who had not acted with alacrity were unable to recall their loans because there simply was not enough coin in ready circulation for the debtors to pay.
No one was letting their money leave their strongboxes and what was already a cold, damp winter had become even more miserable: unless a tribe or community had a reasonable amount of supplies they would start to go hungry as they would not have the cash to purchase more, and even if it had there was nothing to buy as no one would risk selling their winter surplus during a time of economic crisis.
Thus the new province of Britannia had come to an economic standstill. Many of the merchants had already left but there was another class that held too much of a stake in the province to be able to do so: these were the colonists, military settlers who had been rewarded with their own piece of land after serving under the Eagles for their allotted twenty-five years. If they were to leave where would they go? Back to their birth-towns to find work as a labourer or to beg? With no chance of being able to save enough to buy land elsewhere in order to keep themselves and their new families in dignity, they had no alternative but to stay and farm the land that they had been given. Therefore, in amongst the growing discontent of the local people was a large community that could be seen – wrongly – as being directly responsible for all the woes being visited upon them.
And it was this that Vespasian and his companions now saw direct evidence of; as they passed the second of the two farmsteads they plunged into a copse at the base of the hill, urging their mounts up the steadily rising ground. Castor and Pollux had ceased their play and now followed their noses, their pace increasing as a scent freshened. On they went, bounding up the hill swerving around the trees, following the path of their prey. Vespasian drew a javelin from the leather holster attached to his saddle as he kicked his mount forward, the thrill of the chase growing, once again, within him. Caenis, just behind him, let out an unladylike whoop, causing Vespasian to smile at the way she had taken to hunting in the last few months. The hounds cleared the trees and came out onto the heathland that covered the rest of the slope; in the distance, on the hill’s crest, could be seen the three deer whose scent had attracted Castor and Pollux’s attention. With deep-throated barks the dogs sped away.
But it was not the sight of the quarry that caught Vespasian’s eye as he cantered onto the heath nor was it the scent of the trail that caught in his nose; it was a far more acrid smell, the smell of the pillar of dark smoke rising from a point about half a mile to the north.
Vespasian pulled up his horse, swinging it round in the direction of the fire; its source could not be seen, screened, as it was, by another copse. ‘Call the dogs back, Magnus!’ he ordered as Sabinus and Caenis pulled up next to him.
‘Not much chance of that,’ Magnus shouted as he sped after his hounds, which were by now brim with canine enthusiasm for the hunt.
‘What do you think it is?’ Caenis asked, shading her eyes so that the drizzle did not impede her vision.
‘It’s a veteran’s farmstead,’ Sabinus asserted, controlling his skittish horse. ‘I’m positive; last time we were up here we went back that way chasing that doe which the dogs managed to dismember.’
‘You’re right,’ Vespasian agreed. ‘Let’s take a look in case they need some help; perhaps their barn’s caught fire.’
All three urged their mounts into a canter, traversing the hill; Magnus could be heard shouting at Castor and Pollux, now far in the distance, to desist.
Skirting around the top of the copse they started to descend until heathland gave way to pasture; but its scent was not sweet and it was not just the acridity of the smoke, there was another smell in the air, a smell that both Vespasian and Sabinus knew only too well: the stench of burnt flesh.
They came across the first body lying not far from the plough that he had most likely been using; of the horse, there was no sign. Nor was there any sign of the man’s head. What could be seen from this position, though, was that it was not just the barn that was aflame; the whole complex was burning: barn, farmhouse, outbuildings, everything, including a couple of trees.
They approached with caution, on foot and using their horses as shields should whoever had done this prove to be still present and thirsting for more blood. More bodies lay closer to the buildings, all having fallen in the act of running away, lying on their bellies facing in the direction of the farmstead, if a headless man could be said to be facing anywhere.
‘They’ve all been killed by sword slashes,’ Vespasian pointed out, examining a couple of the dead.
‘So?’ Caenis asked.
‘So they weren’t killed from a distance, otherwise there would be spent javelins and arrows. It would seem that either their attackers approached them on foot and were right in amongst them before they started killing …’
‘Which is unlikely,’ Sabinus said, kneeling down and examining the ground.
‘Which is unlikely,’ Vespasian agreed. ‘Which leaves a sudden, mounted attack.’
‘Which it was; look.’ Sabinus pointed to what were unmistakeably hoof-prints.
‘So, we have a mounted attack by men who would have to be good cavalry to be able to kill from the saddle this efficiently; and, what’s more, they were using swords, long swords that should all have been melted down under the terms of the peace agreement. They killed everyone in the fields and then took the house and set it on fire before coming back to remove the heads.’ Vespasian looked in the direction of the conflagration. ‘We’d better see what they’ve done with the colonist and his family.’
It did not take long to find him and his wife; they were not amongst the score or so of bodies, some on fire, some just smouldering, that littered the farmyard but, rather, they had been singled out for special treatment. For it was not two trees that blazed next to the buildings; it was two crosses. The crackling remains of the man and his wife hung, contorted and blackened, on the crosses, side by side, eyes, hair, noses and lips burnt away to give them rictus visages of pure horror staring out from the flames. At the foot of each cross lay sizzling chunks of meat that may once have been the bodies of an infant and a baby before they were dismembered.
Caenis put her hand over her mouth but it did not prevent the vomit from squirting out to either side.
‘Come,’ Vespasian said mounting up. ‘There’s nothing we can do here. We’d best be going as whoever did this is not long gone. I’m afraid that we’re obliged to report this to the official authority.’
Vespasian knew that it would be an onerous task as it meant going to see Catus Decianus.
There had been no sign of those responsible for the atrocity as they had made their way back to the road, once Magnus had rejoined them. On the way through they had warned the other two farmsteads; the colonists had pulled their slaves in from the fields and had sent messages to all the nearby settlements.
By the time they reached Londinium, the short winter day was beginning to fade and it was in the half-light that they came to Catus Decianus’ residence. As their status was known to the guards, they were admitted without question.
‘We must see the procurator immediately,’ Vespasian informed the steward who met them in the atrium.
‘Alas, master,’ the man said, smiling with oily regret and bowing his head, ‘the procurator is indisposed.’
‘Well, un-indispose him then!’
‘Alas, master, would that I could but his indisposition involves him not being here.’
‘Well, where is he then? Send a messenger to have him brought back here right away.’
The steward paused for a sigh and an apologetic hunching of the s
houlders. ‘Alas, master, but by not being here I mean that the procurator is not in Londinium.’
‘Where’s he gone then?’
‘Alas, master, I am not privy to that information; all I know is that he left yesterday morning soon after dawn with an ala of auxiliary cavalry. He didn’t say where he was going, just that he would be back in seven or eight days.’
Vespasian wanted to hit the man but knew that would get him nowhere. ‘Then find out as soon as you can; someone will know in the auxiliary camp. And tell me once you know.’
‘It’s so typical of a man like Decianus to go missing just when he might be of some use,’ Sabinus complained as they reached their villa. Torches blazed to either side of the steps leading up to the front door. Slaves scuttled down to them to take their horses around to the stables as they dismounted.
‘It’s why he wanted to take an ala of cavalry with him that puzzles me,’ Vespasian said as he climbed the steps. ‘Almost five hundred men is quite a bodyguard.’
‘Perhaps he had already heard about some unrest and had gone to suppress it,’ Caenis suggested. ‘What we saw this afternoon must have been a part of it.’
‘No, if there was any danger involved you can be sure that Decianus would have sent a junior officer; he’s not the sort to put himself in harm’s way. No, what he plans to do might cause unrest so he thought it would be better not to take any chances.’
That moment Hormus came into the atrium to greet his master.
‘Did the business with the Cloelius Brothers go well, Hormus?’ Vespasian asked.
‘Indeed, master.’ He handed Caenis two scrolls. ‘These are the bankers’ drafts redeemable with the Cloelius Brothers back in Rome, mistress; the fee was twelve per cent of the total; Tertius Cloelius said that they had added a premium because of the growing tension in the province and the dangers of transporting cash over the sea.’
The Furies of Rome Page 22
