A Bitter Chill: An Aurelia Marcella Roman Mystery (Aurelia Marcella Roman Series)

by Jane Finnis

  “I’ve no quarrel with the old gods,” Hawk said seriously. “I hate Druids though, as much as you do.”

  He had every reason, but I didn’t want to dwell on the horrors of the past. I took a good swallow of wine. “Then if not the Druids, what’s wrong? I hope we haven’t upset one of the neighbours?” We always try to get on well with the native Brigantian farmers. “We’re on good terms with all of them. Or I thought we were.”

  “You are, as far as I know. This is something different. I suppose you weren’t out and about in the woods last night?”

  “Not me. I was safe and snug in front of a log fire.”

  “Then you didn’t hear a wolf howling?”

  “No,” I said, surprised. “I wouldn’t expect to. There aren’t any wolves left in these woods now, they’ve all been killed by hunters from Eburacum. That’s what you’re always telling me, isn’t it?”

  “Quite right. So when I heard a wolf-howl, clear and distinct and not far away, I went to investigate. I found it came from a two-legged wolf prowling around your farm buildings down-river, and presumably signalling to another of his kind.”

  “Did you see him?”

  “No, only his tracks, but that was enough, because I’ve seen them before. There’s a gang of Brigantian lads, young toughs who’d rather steal than work. They’re supporting themselves by thieving and intimidating farmers, and they call themselves the Wolf-pack, of all silly names. The man signalling last night was one of them.”

  “The Wolf-pack? Now you mention it, I’ve heard of them. They caused a bit of trouble east of here in the wold country earlier this year. I remember last June the army at Eburacum sent out a couple of foot-patrols to try and catch them, but of course they hadn’t a hope. They might as well have sent an elephant to chase a shoal of fish.”

  He nodded. “A gang like that always has the advantage over the army. They know every yard of the countryside, and every hiding-place for miles. Catching them is a job for a proper investigator like your brother. How is he, by the way?”

  “He’s fine. You can see for yourself in a day or two. He’s coming home for the holiday.”

  “Excellent! Tell him I know where there’s an interesting wild boar, if he fancies a spot of hunting.”

  “I will.” Lucius would jump at the chance of going after a wild boar that an experienced huntsman described as interesting. “But go on about this gang, the Wolf-pack.”

  “They’re moving down off the hills for the winter, which means they’ll be around Oak Bridges for a while. They won’t go much nearer to Eburacum, because a couple of ex-army types have joined them lately, and they won’t want to risk being recognised near the fortress. I’ve seen their tracks. They’re still using their hobnailed army boots, though I assume they’re wearing Brigantian clothes otherwise.”

  “Ex-army? That’s bad. From the Ninth Legion, I suppose.”

  “No. One of the auxiliary units.”

  “Gods, how in Hades do you know that? You’ll be telling me next which unit, and who commands it.”

  “It’s not so hard to tell auxiliaries from legionaries by their tracks. Their boots are slightly different in design, that’s all. But as to the name of the commander, I didn’t think to check. Perhaps I should go out and take another look?”

  I laughed. “Well, I appreciate you coming to warn us. But I honestly don’t think we have much to fear from that sort of band. They’ll pick on easy targets, small hamlets and isolated farms, and single travellers on foot. We’ve got a big complex of buildings here, and plenty of men. They surely wouldn’t try to steal from us?”

  “They might during holiday time.” He sipped his beer. “You said yourself, everything stops for Saturnalia, and they know that as well as you do. They may try to catch you napping, or at least over-indulging.”

  “You’re saying, be on our guard. Thanks, we will.”

  He nodded. “You’re a harder nut to crack than a family of Brigantians in a roundhouse, but that just makes you more tempting. You’ve got valuable horses and mules that would fetch a good price, and farm animals if they fancy a free meal or two. You can’t keep all the stock in barns for the whole winter.”

  “No, but we can keep them well protected, and we will.”

  “Make sure you do, especially just now. Enjoy Saturnalia, but don’t relax too much.”

  He went away soon after, leaving me to work out how we could keep a reasonable guard on the mansio and farm, while still letting ourselves and our household enjoy the holiday. I shared the problem with Albia, and we decided to warn the senior servants in the morning, and draw up a rota of men who would take it in turns to patrol round outside during the dark night hours.

  “Oddly enough,” I said, “I’m not too bothered about this. If anything, I’m relieved.”

  “Relieved? You mean you were expecting something worse?” She looked at me keenly. “Because of the mistletoe?”

  “I don’t know. But if I have annoyed the old gods, a gang of outlaws trying to disrupt a Roman festival is exactly the sort of spiteful revenge they’d throw at us, isn’t it? Unpleasant, but not catastrophic.”

  “For Juno’s sake don’t put that idea into the slaves’ heads! Anyhow, I still think you’re taking the mistletoe too seriously.”

  “You’re right, I’m making far too much out of a trivial incident. This Saturnalia will be wonderful, and nothing is going to spoil it.”

  I was never cut out for a prophetess.

  CHAPTER II

  The night brought a heavy snowfall, and my brother arrived in the middle of it.

  I was dreaming about my old home in Pompeii. It was sixteen years since I’d seen the place, but in my dreams it’s as real as if it still basks in the Campanian sunshine.

  I was lazing on a cushioned couch in our sunny secluded roof-garden. Below me I could see the sparkling blue bay, and the town streets spread out like a coloured map under a perfect summer sky. The garden was beautiful, with tubs of flowers scenting the air, and best of all, it was hot. The blissful southern sun burned into my bones, and I loved it.

  “Aurelia! Let me in! Aurelia! Let me in!” My peaceful solitude was broken by a man’s shout, and a fist hammering like a drum. The noises didn’t belong in my dream, so I ignored them. If I keep quiet, I thought, they’ll go away.

  “Aurelia! Let me in! Aurelia! Let me in!” The voice was familiar, and it seemed to be coming from the street door below. I should go down and see who was there, but I wanted to stay in the sun, and I knew that outside the door it would be icy cold. Reluctantly I walked to the low parapet and looked down over the roof’s edge, trying to glimpse the importunate pest who was disturbing my peace. I clambered onto the wall for a better view, and then I felt myself falling…

  Disappointment washed over me as I woke up and realised where I was. Not in summery Pompeii, but in my freezing December bedroom in Britannia, in the middle of a pitch-black night. I pulled the blankets over my head and shut my eyes tight, trying to return to the warmth of Campania, but the dream was gone. Pompeii was gone too, buried deep by an erupting mountain. The only way that I or anyone could ever visit it again was in dreams.

  “Aurelia! Let me in! Aurelia! Let me in!”

  So that at least wasn’t a dream. Someone was out there, yelling and knocking and presumably freezing in the snow. Still half asleep, I wondered who in Hades it could be. We get very few travellers arriving after dark in winter. And even fewer who know where to find my bedroom window at dead of night.

  I came fully awake, flung off the blankets, and reached for my heavy wool cloak and warm sheepskin shoes. Lucius! It was my brother Lucius out there. I hadn’t seen him for three months, and it was typical of him to arrive at the least convenient time.

  The hammering and calling were still going on. Well, if it was unpleasantly cold in here, it must be icy outside. “Hold on, Lucius!” I shouted. “I’m coming! Go round to the garden door!” There was a muffled answer, and the noise stopped. I pi
cked up the candle I keep by my bed. It was about half burnt away, which meant there were six hours or so till dawn. I walked along the passage to the door that leads from our private wing into the garden. I put down the candle and shot the heavy bolt back. Lucius stood there, alone and covered with snow.

  “Aurelia! Thank the gods!” He hurtled in, bringing a blast of cold air and snowflakes. I bolted the door again quickly, and gave him a big hug. We’ve always been close, because we’re twins.

  “What time do you call this?” I grinned at him, stepping back as I realised I was getting covered in snow from his cloak. “Do you think we’re running some fancy Londinium wine-shop, with a door slave on duty all night long to let the late revellers in?”

  “Terrible service at this mansio, Sis!” He laughed, his green eyes sparkling in the candle-light. “A man could freeze to death waiting for the lazy innkeeper to open up. I thought I was going to have to sleep in the stables.” He began to stamp the snow off his boots.

  “Serves you right for arriving when all sensible folk are tucked up in bed. But it’s good to see you, Lucius. Really good. We were only saying today, it’ll be an extra special holiday, having you here with us.”

  “I’m glad to be home, believe me. I’ve had a bad journey.”

  “You must be mad, travelling in such foul weather in the dark. Couldn’t it wait till morning?”

  “It’s a long story. Let’s go through into the kitchen where it’s warm.”

  “Good idea. Wait though—what about your horse? Shall I wake one of the boys? Or have you seen to it?”

  “I haven’t got one. I walked from Eburacum.”

  “Now I know you’re mad! But come and get warm.”

  He followed me along the corridor. “I didn’t want anyone to know I’d come here, and it’s no distance really, you can do it in four hours. It isn’t snowing there, at least it wasn’t when I left.” He sighed. “It probably is by now. The storm started when I was about five miles from here, and I just had to push on and get through as quickly as I could. It was quite bad. I’d a job to see my hand in front of my face, let alone the road under my feet. It’s a good thing I was coming home, on a road I know well.”

  “You’ve walked five miles in this weather?”

  “Not a carriage to be had,” he joked. “It’s why I’m so late.”

  Our large kitchen never gets cold even in winter, because we keep one brazier going all night, damped down with turf, to make it easier to get hot food and drink ready in the morning. Sure enough, it was quite reasonably warm, and Lucius relaxed as he took in the familiar room, with the cooking hearths and store-cupboards, pots and pans hanging along one wall, the enormous scrubbed wooden table, and the fresh tangy scents of bunches of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. He stripped off his travelling cloak, boots, and leggings. The thick wool tunic he was wearing underneath the cloak was damp, and he was shivering, chilled to the bone. I stirred the brazier into life, made a small fire on one of the cooking hearths, and put a bronze pan of wine on a tripod to heat.

  He went to warm his hands over the brazier. “Is Albia at home? Or staying with Candidus?”

  “At home, at least till after Saturnalia. Candidus will come here and have a few days with us.” I unlocked the cupboard where our precious spices were kept, and found a couple of cloves, which I dropped into the wine. I added a pinch of ginger and some honey and began to stir it, and a good rich smell wafted through the room. “She’ll be thrilled that you’ve arrived. We’ve both been looking forward to having you here for the holiday.”

  “There’s something I want to tell you before she comes.”

  A fierce voice called out from the hall, “What in the gods’ name is going on here? Oh, Lucius!” and Albia herself rushed in. He got another warm hug.

  “I heard noises,” she explained, “and I thought it must be some of the slaves messing about in here. I might have known it was our wandering boy.” She looked him critically up and down. “You’ve gone thin. Don’t they feed you properly in Londinium?”

  “Not as well as you would, Albia. But I’m fine, or will be when I’ve managed to get warm again. And you’re looking terrific. Being engaged to be married obviously agrees with you. How’s Candidus?”

  She began to recount their latest doings, and I kept quiet, concentrating on stirring the wine. Eventually when there was a lull, I said, “Lucius, your bedroom will be as cold as ice. I mean literally—there’ll be ice on the inside of your window, like there is on mine. I’ll wake one of the slaves, to put a brazier in there. We’ve already nailed up your Saturnalia greenery, so it’ll feel like home.”

  “I can only stay for tonight,” he said. “I shouldn’t even do that, but I’ll wait here till daylight, as the weather’s so bad. Then I must be off again. I’ve got to be back in Eburacum by noon, snow or no snow. So I’ll sleep in here, where it’s warm already. I just need a couple of good thick blankets.”

  “Only tonight?” Albia asked. “But you’re coming back for the holiday?”

  He shook his head sadly. “No, I’m not. I’ve got to lie low. I’m sorry,” he added, seeing our disappointed faces. “I was looking forward to it, but there’s been a change of plan. This is the only chance I have to see you at all, then I’m going invisible in the Eburacum area for a while, maybe a month or two.”

  “Going invisible” meant he’d be on an undercover assignment. I opened my mouth to protest, but shut it again, because there was no point. We knew Lucius’ secret investigations often interfered with his personal plans, but we’d wanted so much to make this Saturnalia a real family occasion.

  Albia, ever practical, broke the sombre silence. “Well, at least you’ve time to get warm and dry. Are you hungry?”

  He laughed. “Does Caesar win all the chariot-races?”

  She crossed over to one of the store-cupboards. “Bread and sausage all right? And a few olives?”

  “Food for the gods! And are there any of Cook’s honey cakes?”

  “I expect I can find some.”

  “Then while you’re eating,” I said, “you can tell us what’s so important it stops you coming home for Saturnalia, but brings you into freezing cold Brigantia in a snowstorm. One of the usual reasons, I suppose—either you’re in trouble, or you want something. Or perhaps both?”

  He nodded. “You know me too well, Sis. I’m afraid it’s trouble, and not just for me. Gods, I’m still frozen! Let me go and change into dry things, then I’ll tell you.”

  He went off to his bedroom, where he always kept a good supply of clothes, even though he was hardly ever at home to wear them. Albia and I didn’t trouble to speculate about what his news might be. Lucius had been an agent for the Governor for years, and if his work was bringing us trouble, it wouldn’t be the first time. She put out a plate of food, while I lit some lamps and hung up the cloak and leggings my brother had left in a soggy heap on the floor.

  Soon the three of us were sitting at the big pine table with steaming beakers of spiced wine, and Lucius was eating as if he hadn’t seen food for a month. I found I was hungry too and helped myself to a few black olives, while he got through a doorstep-sized hunk of bread thickly covered with sliced sausage. Finally I said, “Come on then, what’s this all about? What are you investigating in this part of the world? I thought you were permanently based down south these days. We all know you enjoy loitering about in Londinium, spending every afternoon at the baths and every evening in a tavern.”

  He didn’t smile. “Londinium isn’t a good place for me just now. Titus has sent me up here.” Titus was Lucius’ immediate boss on the Governor’s staff. “There’s been some trouble, and before I go invisible, there’s something I have to tell you. I couldn’t risk a letter. I haven’t told anybody except Titus I’d be coming here, and if anyone asks, you haven’t seen me since I was home in September.” His green eyes flashed, giving him the look of a child who’s about to reveal some clever piece of mischief he’s just perpetrated. A
nd suddenly it was as if we were all children again, sharing with each other the misdemeanours we could never tell the grown-ups. I found myself asking a familiar question.

  “Lucius, what have you done?”

  “Nothing.” His answering grin was familiar too, an absurd mixture of sheepishness and defiance.

  “What sort of nothing?” That was the next question in the time-honoured sequence.

  “Have some more wine.” He offered me the jug.

  “Don’t change the subject. What have you done?”

  “Well…I’ve been a bit of an idiot. I had an affair with the wife of somebody rather important in Londinium, and he found out.”

  “Is that all?” I scoffed. “I thought that was what you young officers spent your whole lives doing. What’s so different this time?”

  “This time, the man I’ve offended chose to make an issue of it. He complained to the Governor, and as a result I’ve been dismissed from government service.”

  I couldn’t believe it. “Dismissed? For something like that? Surely there’s more to it?”

  “No, not really. The woman’s husband is an imperial freedman, one of the Emperor’s hand-picked officials. He threatened to report the whole thing to Caesar if the Governor didn’t get rid of me. So he’s sent me back north in disgrace, with my tail between my legs.”

  “You’re right, you have been an idiot!” I snapped.

  “That’s putting it kindly,” Albia exclaimed. “So what happens now?”

  Lucius began to laugh, and he laughed till tears filled his eyes. Albia and I sat staring at him, not knowing what to say or do. Our brother had lost his career as an investigator, the job he enjoyed and did supremely well. With it had gone his favoured position in official circles, his good name, his monthly pay—and all he could do was laugh?

  Finally he spluttered into silence. “That’s exactly the reaction I was hoping for.” He drew a deep breath, and I thought he was going to start laughing once more, but he controlled it. “I’m sorry, but you should just see your faces! And you two know me better than anyone else in the world! Yet you believed me when I said I was in disgrace. That’s excellent!”