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

by Jane Finnis

  “Of course not. Absolute discretion.”

  She pushed the cat gently onto the couch beside her and held an imperious hand out to Horatius. “Pass me the letter, will you. The quickest way to give her the facts is to read it.”

  The lawyer picked out a slim scroll and tossed it to Diogenes, who got up and brought it to her ladyship.

  Sempronia cleared her throat as she unrolled the papyrus. “This is from my elder son Decimus. Now, let me see….” She paused for a couple of heartbeats, making sure she was the focus of everyone’s attention. She needn’t have worried, we were all ears. Even the cat looked interested.

  Decimus Plautius Curio to his dear father and mother, greetings. I have some marvellous news, which I hope will make you both happy for me. I’ve decided to settle here in Brigantia for good, because I’ve met the most wonderful girl, and have asked her to marry me. She’s the kind of girl I’ve always wanted, beautiful, intelligent, and practical too, ready and willing to help me make a success of my new life in the north. We are both so happy, and plan to be married next year. Do say you’ll come to the wedding and give us your blessing.

  She gave a contemptuous snort. “My blessing, indeed! Does he seriously think I’ll give my blessing to the marriage of my son to a native peasant girl?” She turned to me. “So you see the problem, don’t you?”

  “I see that you don’t want your son making a marriage that you consider unsuitable,” I said carefully.

  “‘Unsuitable’ is putting it mildly. Decimus is well aware of his duty. He must make a marriage that will help his political career. We’ve already arranged a future wife for him, as he knows full well, a girl from the Fabius family. Most of the Fabii still live in Italia, and he’ll join them in Rome. With their influence and money he’ll get into the Senate as a matter of course, as his father did.”

  I wanted to say, maybe the poor boy doesn’t fancy a political career, if it means leaving Britannia and having his life, and his wife, organised for him by his mother. But apart from that not being my business, everyone knows that with these rich senatorial families, the marriages are nearly always arranged by the parents, often when the prospective bride and groom are mere children. What those children might or might not want didn’t count.

  “Well, Aurelia Marcella,” Sempronia barked, “you’ll help us, I trust? You’ll tell me where my son is?”

  So the runaway hadn’t given his dear mama his new address. I didn’t blame him. “He’s in this district somewhere?” I asked.

  “Obviously. That’s why we’re staying here.” She absently stroked the cat’s head. “He’s got a house between Eburacum and some obscure little town—Stone Bridges, is it, Horatius?”

  “Oak Bridges?” I suggested. “That’s our nearest town. About a mile from here.”

  “Yes, yes, that’s right. I’m told it’s a small place. Nothing there.” Oak Bridges isn’t a bad little town, but if you’re a grand lady from Londinium, that’s how the place would strike you, I suppose.

  “He says he’s going to start trading!” She almost spat the word out. “He says—where is it now? ‘Eburacum is an expanding town, with a lot of new property going up. I’m sure there’s a fortune to be made in trade, and I hope to move there….’” She threw down the scroll violently, making the cat twitch its ears. “I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous. Members of this family do not go in for trade.” She made it sound like the worst kind of abomination, treason, or cannibalism, or maybe both at once. “So we’ve come to find him and forbid this whole ludicrous enterprise, and insist that he returns home with us, and does his duty.”

  “That’s where I come in,” Horatius added. “Forbidding and insisting are always more effective when they’re backed up by the majesty of the law.”

  Now I saw why Sempronia had brought her lawyer and her ailing husband with her. The classic way to persuade a runaway son to do his duty would be to threaten that if he didn’t obey his parents, he’d be disinherited, cut out of his father’s will without a copper coin.

  “What I don’t know,” she said, “is exactly where to find Decimus. It’s near here, so presumably you do. You’ll give me directions to his house, if you please, and we’ll go there tomorrow.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know anyone called Decimus Plautius Curio.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! Or are you being deliberately unhelpful?”

  “No, I’ll help all I can. But I don’t recognise the name.”

  “Surely you’re aware what Roman settlers are buying property in these parts?”

  “Many of them, yes. Especially if they’re unusually successful, or if they’re in trouble. But I haven’t a complete list. If an ordinary young man is quietly setting up as a trader, courting a native girl, and not attracting any special attention, I may not hear of him for years.”

  She looked ready to explode, but said only, “That is most annoying. I’m extremely disappointed.”

  “I told you this was a fool’s errand,” Horatius commented.

  She ignored him and continued to glare at me. “Well then, if you haven’t the information yourself, you can make enquiries for us, can’t you?” Her sharp eyes bored into mine. We both knew she wasn’t asking a question, she was giving an order.

  “Yes, I can ask around, certainly. My sister’s fiancé lives a couple of miles from here, beyond Oak Bridges. He’ll be likely to know about new settlers arriving between there and Eburacum. Of course it would help if you could offer a reward.”

  “Pay for information that leads me to him?” She sighed. “Very well. I suppose the days are gone when people will do one a service because it’s their duty.”

  Gone and good riddance. But I just said, “I’m sure your generosity will produce results. We’ll begin the search tomorrow. Albia’s young man is intending to visit us then, and if he doesn’t know of your son, I’ll send to the Chief Town Councillor.”

  “You have a town council here? I’d assumed you would come under the military administration at Eburacum.”

  “Oak Bridges has its own council. The Chief Councillor is Silvanius Clarus, and he’s a good friend of ours. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to help if he can.” He would, too, I was certain. As an important local magistrate with an eye to his town’s future, he’d do anything at all to earn the gratitude of people related to the Governor.

  “If the worst comes to the worst,” Sempronia said, “I’ll go out and search for him myself. We’ve come this far, and I can endure a few extra miles of travel, if the journey leads me to Decimus.” She rolled up her son’s scroll with a snap, and contemplated me sourly. “Oh well, I suppose that’s the best we can do for now. Thank you. That will be all.”

  CHAPTER V

  We gave them a good dinner. I’d told the maids to arrange the private dining-room so that the guests could recline on couches with their food on small tables, as they would at home. I thought it suited them better than our usual arrangement of one long table with chairs and stools round it. The big table remained in the centre of the room for carving and serving. Once our slaves brought the food in, the guests’ own servants waited on them during the meal.

  They had smoked oysters and cold sausage to begin with, then roast pork with sauce made of apples, and a variety of winter vegetables including some delicious white carrots. The dessert course was fruits marinated in wine, and some of our own goat’s cheese. It was richer fare than we’d normally have had on a snowy winter evening, but luckily we’d just killed one of the pigs, which meant there was plenty of meat to go round, and the smoked oysters and preserved fruit were in the larder in preparation for Saturnalia.

  Despite the good food, washed down with some of our best Campanian red wine, it wasn’t a happy meal. The guests were no ruder than we’d come to expect, but they indulged in bouts of quarrelling, broken up by long tense silences. I was beginning to realise that Sempronia and Horatius argued almost as a habit, or a game, which neither of them took very seriously. But Horat
ius disliked Diogenes—and who could blame him?—and the nasty little weasel had some sort of grudge against Priscus. Whenever he addressed him his words were outwardly servile, but subtly contemptuous, like a peach laced with vinegar. Priscus ignored the barbs, either through arrogance, or because he wasn’t sharp enough to realise what Diogenes was doing. Timaeus might have livened things up, but he took his meal in old Plautius’ room. The sick man himself kept to his bed and ate nothing but a bowl of thin porridge. Margarita and Gaius were cheerful, the little boy full of questions and unconcerned by the preoccupations of the adults, but his childish chatter soon annoyed Sempronia and she ordered him to be quiet.

  After it was all over, I went to talk to Albia and Cook in the kitchen about making sure we’d enough suitable food for the next few days. Nearly a score of extra mouths to feed at this time of year might pose a problem for some establishments, but Albia’s a brilliant organiser, and Cook is inventive and resourceful. And if you’re an innkeeper faced with feeding an unexpectedly large party without warning, then you’re lucky if they descend on you in the few days before Saturnalia, when there’s a bigger than usual store of fancy food and drink.

  Albia had as usual stocked up with enough to feed a legion, and we intended to visit the Oak Bridges market in two days’ time for vegetables and cheese, so our shopping list could be easily expanded. Meanwhile, I’d have a word with Hawk about bringing us extra game from the woods. Deer and hare would supplement our own animals and fowls nicely.

  As we finished our discussion, Timaeus came looking for me. My pleasure at the prospect of his undivided personal attention was short-lived though. “My lord Plautius would like to see you in his room, if you can spare a little time. He apologises that it’s so late, but it’s taken him a while to regain his strength after the journey.”

  Plautius was sitting up in bed, propped on a mound of pillows, with a wool shawl around his shoulders. He was thin, and his face was lined and almost as grey as his wispy hair. Yet the impression he made wasn’t of a pitiable invalid. His grey eyes were intelligent and full of life, and held mine in an intense gaze. He may be sick in body, I thought, but the mind behind those eyes is clear and formidable.

  “Sit down, Aurelia Marcella. Thank you for coming so promptly.” His voice was steady, but soft. I perched on a stool near his bed, and waited.

  “I believe Lady Sempronia has talked to you about the purpose of our journey here?”

  “Yes, my lord. She has asked me to help find your son Plautius Curio. I’m afraid I’ve not heard of him, but I’m going to make enquiries.”

  “Yes, yes, I’m sure you will do your best. And if and when you find any information about him, I want you to bring it to me first.”

  “First?” I was puzzled, and it must have shown in my face.

  “I’m not saying you shouldn’t tell Sempronia,” he continued quietly. “You’ve undertaken to do that, and I don’t want you breaking your word. What I do want is to be the first to know about whatever you find, before you report to anyone else. Just bring me word quietly, without troubling the rest of my household. And,” he continued, not giving me time to comment, “if you should find Decimus yourself, I want you to bring him to me. I’d like the chance to talk to him alone. This is important, and I should like your promise.” His bright grey eyes stared into mine, and for the second time that day, I realised I was being given an order, not a choice.

  “You don’t want much, do you?” The words flew out before I could stop them. Oh, me and my big mouth! Why couldn’t I have just said “Yes, my lord”?

  He didn’t seem offended. “You consider my request difficult?”

  “Well, yes. Lady Sempronia—what I mean is….”

  Suddenly he laughed. “Just promise me that you’ll do the best you can.”

  I didn’t like it much, but couldn’t think of any way of escape. “I promise.”

  “Good.” He moved slightly on the pile of pillows, still watching me intently. “My wife can be very determined sometimes. It’s a quality I admire in her, even though it doesn’t always make for an easy life.” He laughed once more, and then without warning his laughter changed to a fit of coughing, and he seemed to be having trouble breathing. He gasped several times, and put both hands to his chest. He was in pain, and I felt a sudden panic.

  “What is it? Is there anything I can do?”

  He pointed to a small earthenware flask and cup on the table next to his bed. “My medicine,” he said between gasps. “Pour me some, will you?”

  I did so, and held it to his lips, and he drank it down and waved away my offer of more. “Can’t take too much. It’s powerful stuff.” He lay back on the pillows. He’d stopped coughing, and his breathing was easier. “Don’t be alarmed. I get these bad turns now and then. My chest hurts, and I can’t breathe properly. They’re a nuisance, nothing more.”

  “Shall I fetch Timaeus?”

  “There’s no need. I’m over the worst. He’ll be here soon anyway, to bring my sleeping-potion.” He coughed again once, but was now breathing more or less normally, and my panic receded. Clearly he was more used to this than I was. He paused, and then asked, “Have you ever been in the situation of feeling yourself surrounded by enemies, and yet not being sure exactly who they are?”

  The unexpectedness of this made me answer simply and straight out. “Yes, I have. It was dreadful. Having an enemy is bad enough, but having to suspect everyone around you makes it a nightmare.”

  He nodded. “Exactly. Now, there’s just one more matter that needs to be clarified. My doctor insists I must be extremely careful about my diet. It’s imperative I stick to the foods he has prescribed. Tell your kitchen staff that I do not want anyone other than Timaeus preparing my meals. Not anyone at all. I’ll only eat food that Timaeus has got ready with his own hands. Please make sure that is understood.”

  What in Hades was going on here? It almost sounded as if he thought someone was trying to poison him.

  “I’ll make sure. I promise.”

  “Good. And my dietary requirements are the only part of this conversation that will ever be referred to outside this room.”

  “I understand. But….”

  “Yes?”

  “Please don’t think me presumptuous, but my brother is an investigator for the Governor, and as I’ve said, I’ve had some experience myself of dealing with secret enemies. Is there anyone in particular who should be watched?”

  A mischievous twinkle appeared in his eyes, making him look twenty years younger. “Secret enemies? Whatever brought that into your head? I’m just an old man, rambling on about nothing in particular.”

  “Of course. But whoever your enemies are, I’m not among them.” I don’t know what made me say that, but it was true. I liked the old man, though I was slightly afraid of him too, and in any battle between him and Sempronia, I knew which side I would support.

  “This son of ours,” he mused, more to himself than to me. “The trouble is he’s not living out the dreams we’ve always had for him. Especially his mother. But I must confess that in a way I envy him. Well, no matter. I won’t keep you any longer. Good night.”

  I found Timaeus waiting just outside the door. He put a finger to his lips and walked with me to the end of the corridor. I beckoned him through into the hall.

  “Can your patient spare you for long enough to have a glass of wine?”

  “Thanks, I’d like that.”

  The bar-room was empty, and we made ourselves comfortable on a bench by the fire, with beakers of spiced wine to hand.

  “Gods, it’s good to be away from them all for a while.” He stretched his long legs to the warmth, and moved closer to me than bar-room etiquette usually dictates. But I remembered a saying of our grandmother’s: a girl should never let etiquette interfere with enjoyment.

  “I sympathise. Looking after an invalid must be very tiring.” We were finding the healthy members of the party hard work after just one afternoon.

&nb
sp; “Oh, he’s not such a bad old boy.” He hesitated, as if deciding how much of his thoughts to reveal. “It’s the rest of them. They can be a little, well, argumentative.”

  “You’re a master of understatement. Are they always like this?”

  “Pretty much, though the journey has brought out the worst in them. These cold winters are enough to make anyone bad-tempered.”

  “I gather you haven’t been in Britannia long enough to get used to the weather?”

  “I’ve been away for five years, in Crete. That’s my original home.”

  “Crete? Where the archers come from?”

  “That’s it.” He laughed. “Where all the boys want to grow up to be famous bowmen. Luckily most of us grow out of it. But I still hunt with a bow when I can.”

  “So what made you become a doctor?”

  “I’d always dreamed of being one, and when I was fourteen I heard of an old Greek physician who was looking for a lad to help him because he was going blind. I offered to be his assistant. It was a wonderful chance for me, but it meant going to Londinium, because he was moving there with his patron. I was just a boy then, and leaving my parents and my sisters was very hard. But he was a brilliant physician—he taught me a great deal. We lived in Londinium for several years, and I got to like it. That’s when I first encountered the Plautius family.”

  I refilled his beaker. “Was Plautius a friend of your patron?”

  He nodded. “Some kind of distant relation, I think. My master was sent to look after Plautius once or twice—even in those days he didn’t have very good health. And after my master died, I was the one who was sent to treat Plautius.”

  “But then you went home to Crete?”

  “I got word that Father was seriously ill, and I thought I should go back to take care of him. And it coincided with a bad time for me here…I lost my girl. She was a slave, and a rich man bought her and wanted her all to himself. Without her, Londinium wasn’t the same. After Father died, I stayed in Crete for several years. But doctors are as common as cats in those parts, so I came back to Londinium last summer to find work. In September Plautius hired me as his personal doctor. By then he was really ill.” He shrugged. “I had a good idea what I was getting into. Compared with an arena full of lions and tigers, they’re not so terrible.”