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

by Jane Finnis

  “I’ll see to it first thing.” She yawned suddenly. “Gods, I’m tired. Let’s try and get a bit of sleep in what’s left of the night, shall we?”

  But I don’t think either of us slept very well, and I was glad when morning brought other matters to occupy my mind. The guests woke up with the daylight, and Albia got busy organising their breakfast while I went out to do my rounds. The snow had stopped, but the sky was full of heavy cloud, so we weren’t done with it yet. I strolled over to the big paddock where Titch and Castor were feeding the horses and mules. I was pleased to see little Gaius with Titch, holding out bunches of hay on his small hands. I thought the poor brat would be happier with our people than under the eye of her ladyship.

  “Morning, boys,” I called out. “Have you recruited a new assistant today, Titch—er—Victor?”

  Titch ran over to me, and Gaius trotted after him.

  “Morning, Mistress. Aye, this is the latest horse-boy. Is it all right if he helps us for a while?”

  “Fine by me, as long as his mother doesn’t object. Well, Gaius, do you like helping Titch do the feeding?”

  The child said “Yes, thank you,” and looked shyly down at his boots.

  “He reckons he’s in trouble, aren’t you, kid?” Titch grinned down at him. “He thinks he’ll be safer out here with us till her ladyship calms down.”

  “That sounds sensible. What’s happened?”

  “I let Medusa out,” Gaius said, in a solemn tone that a tragic actor would have envied.

  “Who’s Medusa?” The name would have suited Sempronia, but anyone who dared to call her after a Gorgon wouldn’t live to tell the tale.

  “Yon fat yellow cat,” Titch said. “Gaius wanted to show it the snow.”

  “She’s never allowed out,” the boy explained. “I thought she’d like it. But one of the dogs chased her and now she’s up in the big oak tree. Lady Sempronia is very cross. So’s Diogenes. If Medusa doesn’t come down soon, my lady will make him climb up there and fetch her.”

  I laughed. “I’ve climbed that tree many times. It’s not hard. But Medusa will come down when she’s ready, and not before. That’s what cats are like. You can’t tell them what to do all the time.”

  “I wish I could be a cat,” Gaius remarked, “even if dogs did chase me sometimes.”

  “The cat wasn’t hurt,” Titch said, “she just had to run a few yards. She’s that fat, I don’t suppose she does much running.”

  Gaius said, “Victor took me to see the puppies in the stable. They’re very new. Their eyes aren’t even open yet. But they’ve got all their paws and tails and fur and everything.”

  “Shhh!” Titch ruffled the boy’s curly hair. “Don’t go telling the Mistress we’ve been skiving, playing with the dogs when we should be working.”

  “Shall I fetch some more hay?” the child asked eagerly.

  “Aye, go and see if Castor needs a hand. I’ve some business to discuss with Mistress Aurelia.”

  Gaius trotted off obediently, and I looked at Titch enquiringly.

  “That Diogenes,” he said quietly, “he’s a rude ’un, isn’t he? Can you persuade him to go for a ride on the old black stallion, then maybe he’ll get chucked off and buried in a snowdrift.”

  “Has he been giving you trouble?”

  “He was snooping around here just after daylight this mornin’.”

  “Was he now? Where?”

  “All over—the paddocks, the orchard, and the stable yard. He went into the stables and pretended to be making a fuss of the horses there. I asked if I could help him, but he told me to push off. I didn’t go far, and when he saw I was still watching him, he went back in the house.”

  “I don’t trust him, Titch. Keep an eye on him, will you? And anyone else in their party who seems to be sneaking around where they aren’t expected. Lucius—I mean in my dream the other night, I had a warning that there may be a troublemaker among the guests.”

  “I’d say there are several,” the lad grinned. “Well, I’d best be getting back to work, or me dad’ll play war.” He looked across to where Gaius had started building a snowman. “You coming to help me, Gaius? Or d’you think you ought to go inside now?”

  “May I stay out here?” He came over and gazed up at me with his beautiful blue eyes. “I don’t want to make my lady any more angrier than she is already. She gets so cross sometimes, and then she says—she says she’s going to….” He trailed off unhappily.

  “Going to what?” Titch grinned. “Going to give you a good beating? Well, I’ve had a few of them, and they’ve not done me much harm.”

  “No. I don’t want to tell.” His face crumpled, and he put a fist in his mouth and looked about to cry. “It’s something horrid.”

  Titch put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “People say things when they get angry, but they don’t mean ’em afterwards. And nobody’s going to do anything to you, while you’re with me. You know why?”

  “Why?”

  “’Cos my name’s Gaius too, just like yours. Gaius Varius Victor. Which makes you kind of my little brother. That means, if the mistress says it’s all right, you can stay out here for a bit.” He looked at me, and I nodded. “Fine. I’ll see he doesn’t get into any trouble. He’s good with animals. And he ’minds me of my kid brother Marcus.”

  I nodded again. Titch rarely mentioned his younger brother who’d died of a fever aged seven, but I knew he hadn’t forgotten. “Then I’m sure you’ll take good care of him. But don’t stay outside too long, Gaius. Your mother will be wondering what’s happened to you.”

  Presumably Albia had posted her lookout to intercept Candidus, because if the weather was no worse than this, he would certainly ride over to see her. What would he do when he heard her news? I suspected he’d ride straight home again, which was the sensible if rather tame course to take, and would delay his discovery for a while longer. But I couldn’t help hoping he would stay with my sister and face his mother’s wrath. This would show how much he loved Albia, even though it would cause a very disagreeable row.

  I warned Carina she might have to run the bar without Albia or me. If Candidus arrived, we’d both be too busy to pay attention to customers. Not that there would be many of those, perhaps the occasional courier, and a few natives looking in for a beer and a bite at midday. Then I reluctantly decided I couldn’t think of any more excuses to put off saying good morning to our guests.

  They were in the dining-room, eating bread and honey, apples preserved in ginger, raisins, and warm watered wine. Even before I opened the door, I heard raised voices. Sempronia and Horatius hadn’t lost any time in resuming whatever squabble they’d been having the previous evening.

  “Good morning, my lady,” I said brightly. “I hope you were comfortable and slept well?”

  “As well as I ever do in a strange place.” She spread some honey on a piece of bread. “At least the beds were clean, and there were no fleas.”

  “They’ve probably all frozen to death in this ghastly climate,” Horatius chipped in. I managed a smile, but it was an effort. Fleas indeed!

  “Well, please do tell me if there’s anything you need.”

  I turned to go, but she barked, “Wait, will you? Don’t go rushing off!”

  I waited while she spread more honey, took a couple of mouthfuls of bread, and had a sip of wine. Finally she deigned to transfer her attention to me.

  “You said yesterday that your sister’s young man intends to visit her here today?”

  Here we go, I thought—I must say as little as possible, without actually lying. “That’s right. Candidus, the man she’s engaged to. But with the weather being so bad, we’re not sure when he’ll arrive.”

  “If he hasn’t reached here by noon, I shall visit him at his house. I don’t propose to waste all day doing nothing.”

  Gods alive, that’s all we need! Horatius, predictably, objected. “Really, Sempronia, in this weather? Are you mad? Why in Hades can’t you just show a li
ttle patience?”

  Just as inevitably, she ignored him. “Our carriages are big enough to cope with a few flakes of snow.” (There was about half a foot of the stuff outside, but I let it go.) “You and your sister can accompany me to show me the way there. She will probably want to visit her intended if he doesn’t reach here, and I shall need you to come with me in any case.”

  “Me? Why? I mean what use can I possibly be?”

  She sighed irritably. “If this young man gives us any useful information, I may be forced to travel further afield perhaps, to make more visits, and I shall need somebody who’s familiar with the area.” She gave another sigh. “Do you approve of your sister’s choice of husband?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Then you’re fortunate. I only wish Decimus…ah well, never mind. If your sister’s fiancé can lead me to my son, I’ll be glad to show my appreciation by giving the pair of them a wedding present.” She stared at me for a few heartbeats, a token pause only—we all knew I wouldn’t refuse to make the journey. “Good, that’s settled. Mustela, order two carriages and the guards to be ready to set off at noon. We can always change the order later if necessary. You’ll come, Aulus, and you of course, Horatius. Margarita, there’s not much point in you and Gaius travelling with us, you can stay here for the day, and for the gods’ sake try to keep the boy out of mischief.” She glanced round, challenging us to demur. None of us did.

  But I decided to assert a small measure of independence. “We won’t need to take up space in one of your carriages, my lady. Albia and I will be riding on horseback. We enjoy the exercise, and the horses need it.”

  She shrugged her bony shoulders. “As you wish. We shall only need one carriage then, Mustela.”

  Suddenly I thought about Silvanius Clarus, who would be sure to want to help. “May I suggest something else that might help your search?”

  “Well?”

  “I think I mentioned that the Chief Town Councillor of Oak Bridges is a good friend of ours. I’m sure he’ll wish to pay his respects to you when he finds out you’re in the district. Shall I send him a message, letting him know that you’re here, and asking for his help?”

  She thought about it. “I don’t know. These native politicians can be a trial. I don’t want to waste time being entertained, and having to be gracious to the locals.”

  The idea of Sempronia being gracious to anyone made me want to laugh, but instead I nodded and said, “I realise you’re busy, but Clarus can provide entertainment fit for a consul. He has the best chef north of Londinium.”

  “Really? But he is a Brigantian native, I presume?”

  “Born here, yes, but Roman educated, and prides himself on being a citizen and living a thoroughly Roman life.”

  “H’m. What sort of establishment does he have? Two roundhouses and a herd of pigs?”

  “He has a large villa just outside Oak Bridges. It was designed by a Roman architect, and it’s very fine. His rooms have some of the most beautiful floor mosaics I’ve ever seen. He’s a widower, and his sister Clarilla keeps house for him.”

  “Does he have any decent wine?” Horatius put in. “Or does he drink beer, like most of them?”

  “He loves good wine, and prides himself on having only the best.” I would say that, of course. All his wine was supplied by us.

  “Very well.” Sempronia actually smiled. “You may inform this Silvanius Clarus that we shall be pleased to receive him. It can’t do any harm, and it might even be useful.”

  After the meal they dispersed, except for Priscus, who hung back, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. His sandy hair was untidy, and he looked tired. “May I have a private word, please?”

  Merda, I thought, someone didn’t enjoy his night’s rest. “Of course. What can I do for you?”

  “Is there somewhere quiet where we can talk?”

  This sounded more serious. “Yes, certainly.” I led him through to my study. “We won’t be disturbed here.”

  We both sat down, and he sat staring at the floor, as if he didn’t know how to begin. I hadn’t got all day to wait, so I grasped the bull by the horns.

  “Is everything satisfactory, Priscus? I hope you were comfortable last night?”

  “Oh, yes, thank you, quite comfortable.” Another pause. “It’s just—I’m not very happy about Mother’s plan to go and visit your sister’s fiancé.”

  You’re not the only one, I thought. “I don’t think it’ll be necessary. He’ll come to the mansio if he possibly can.”

  “May I speak in confidence?”

  Holy Diana, not another confidential chat! But I could hardly refuse. “Yes, of course.”

  “If Mother decides to go in search of this young man, I’ll have to go too. But I don’t like to leave Margarita unprotected here. My mother’s maid, you know? While I’m away trailing around the countryside, anything could happen.”

  “She’ll be safe at the Oak Tree. Our staff wouldn’t dream of laying a finger on her.” Well they might dream, but they wouldn’t do it, unless she encouraged them.

  “Oh, no, of course not! It’s Mustela—Diogenes.”

  “Ah. But won’t he be accompanying your mother on her travels?”

  “That’s just it, he’s told her he’s not well, and asked to stay here today. He says he has a stomach complaint. I don’t believe it—he seemed healthy enough at breakfast. I think he means to—to pester Margarita. She doesn’t like him, but she may find it hard to stop him if I’m not there.”

  “Couldn’t you take her along with you then?”

  He shook his head. “Mother’s already told her she’s not wanted on the journey.”

  “Not wanted by your mother, no. But if you want her to travel with you, what’s to stop her? Especially if Diogenes isn’t going. You two could have a little time to yourselves.” Yes, I know, I shouldn’t interfere in the guests’ business like that. But I felt sorry for Margarita, and there was no doubt she’d be safer with Priscus than at the mercy of the Weasel.

  He looked at me in surprise. I think it was the first time he really saw me properly. “Against Mother’s wishes? I mean—that is, she wouldn’t be very pleased.”

  I mimicked the famous line in the comedy about the forty sailors. “And do you always do everything your mother tells you?”

  He smiled as he recognised it, and gave me the next line in a comic falsetto: “Oh yes, sir, always, unless I don’t want to.”

  We both laughed, and I realised I was seeing a different side to Priscus. Maybe what I’d taken for haughtiness was just shyness, and all he needed was a bit of encouragement to stand up to his dreadful mother. “You’re right, of course. I can take Margarita with me. I will take her. Though the gods know what Mother will say.”

  “If you don’t manage it,” I put in, “I’ll tell my senior barmaid to keep an eye on her, and make sure she’s not on her own. She can help with the Saturnalia preparations, something like that.”

  “Thank you. Oh, but what about Gaius? Mother really will object if we take him as well. After all it may be better if she stays behind. You’ve probably noticed, my mother has no patience with small children. She likes the idea of having a page-boy, because it’s the fashion, but she forgets he’s—well, just a small boy.”

  “He can stay here on his own, if you like. One of my horse-boys has made friends with him—a good lad, he’ll keep Gaius amused. And quite safe, I promise.”

  “Thank you. I expect you think I’m making a great deal of fuss about a couple of slaves. But I’m very fond of her. Of both of them.”

  “Really?” I prompted.

  He smiled. “I love them, if you want the truth. And I hope that some day we can all be together as a family. But we need to be patient for now, and it’s not easy.”

  “Couldn’t you buy their freedom?”

  “My parents won’t hear of it. Mother says Margarita’s far too useful, but the real reason is that she and Father want me to make a political marriage. And even
if Margarita were free some day, I could never marry her. You know the silly laws about who senators’ sons can and can’t marry.”

  “I do, yes. But you could take her as your concubine—a wife in all but name. You’d be together then.”

  “It’s what I dream of. Some day.” He looked at me wistfully, and then got to his feet. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be burdening you with all this.”

  “That’s all right. You can trust me to be discreet. And you can trust me to help keep Diogenes away from Margarita, whether you’re here or not.”

  “Thank you. And, as you say, if your sister’s fiancé comes….”

  “He’ll come. Love’s a wonderful thing, isn’t it?”

  “It is.” The smile he gave me lighted up the whole room.

  After he left, I found myself thinking over what he’d said, especially his remark about wanting to live with Margarita and Gaius “as a family”. He’d given the impression that he and Margarita had been fond of one another for years. Could Gaius be his son? They didn’t look much alike, but they both had blue eyes, and the child’s golden hair might turn sandy as he grew older.

  I shook myself out of these romantic ponderings, and remembered my conversation with Albia about being on our guard against spies. We’d even joked about it, but I didn’t feel like joking now. Sempronia’s party could well include the spy Lucius had warned us about. Not her ladyship or Plautius of course, but almost any of the others—perhaps Diogenes, who’d already been observed doing a little snooping. I couldn’t easily protect my everyday papers and notes, not without considerable inconvenience anyway. But I could at least be warned if anyone searched them. I laid a single hair across the hinge of my small oak document chest. The hard part now would be remembering to check it from time to time.

  I went to the front door to look at the weather. I was glad to see that the sun was doing its best to burn away the clouds. Candidus would surely be here soon. I stood quietly, breathing in the good air and savouring the peace and quiet which I knew would be shattered once he arrived.

  I remembered I’d a job for Taurus, mending a rickety bar-stool, and I stepped out onto the forecourt, which some of the farm boys were busily clearing of snow. As I got to the workshop, I almost collided with the big man as he came hurrying out, looking worried.