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

by Jane Finnis

  Once the guests had eaten, Albia and I took our own food—cold pork, vegetables, and a jug of Rhodian—into the bar-room, and Margarita and Gaius joined us for supper. The boy ate very little, having, as his mother said, made a piglet of himself in the kitchen. He soon fell fast asleep on the rug in front of the fire, and we chatted comfortably. Margarita was pleasant company, and the more I saw of her the more I liked her. But I urgently wanted a private talk with Albia, and I racked my brains for a ruse to get our watch-dog out of the way for a space.

  Eventually she put down her knife and said, “Aurelia, Lord Plautius told me what happened to Idmon, but he warned me to be discreet about it, so I didn’t say anything in front of the others. I just want you to know that I don’t think you two tried to kill him. It’s a ridiculous idea.”

  “Thank you, that’s a relief. But I can’t deny it must look suspicious, from Plautius’ point of view.” I helped myself to more leeks and carrots, and passed round the dish.

  Margarita wiped her plate clean with a piece of bread. “Plautius has talked about secret enemies before. I’m afraid we all thought it was just a case of an old sick man with an over-active imagination. He must feel vulnerable, being so ill and away from home. Only now I wish we’d taken it more seriously.”

  I finished my meat and helped myself to some walnuts, cracking them in my hand the way we did as children. “The guard Idmon can’t have thought there was any danger. He felt safe enough to fall sound asleep in his master’s nice comfortable room.”

  “At least it wasn’t Timaeus who was killed,” she said. “Or maybe if he’d been there in Lord Plautius’ place, he’d have stayed awake and caught the murderer.”

  “Timaeus? How do you mean?”

  “This isn’t the first time Plautius has put a decoy in his bed. He’s done it on several nights, especially lately. The slaves take it in turns. Idmon, a couple of the other guards, and even Diogenes once, though he made an awful fuss about it. Last night Timaeus had volunteered, but because Lord Plautius felt so ill after the journey here, Idmon took over.”

  Albia passed round the bowl of nuts. “There’s no more we can do now. Let’s just relax and enjoy a bit of peace and quiet. Margarita, are you and Gaius staying over in our part of the mansio tonight, or does Plautius trust us not to make a run for it when everyone’s asleep?”

  She smiled. “He didn’t exactly say what’s to happen tonight, but I think I can risk leaving you alone over here, don’t you? We’re all putting you to enough trouble already, and Sempronia will expect me to sleep near her.”

  That’s something, I thought, taking care not to look too pleased. “Whatever you think best. Is it still snowing?” I got up and opened the big main door, letting in a draught of cold air which made Gaius stir, half-awake on his rug. The storm had spent itself, and it was a still, starry night now, with a sliver of moon reflecting off the white ground. I shut the door again, and crossed the room to the fire. As I sat down, the hall door opened, and Diogenes entered. His sharp eyes focused on Margarita.

  “My lady sent me to fetch you, Margarita.”

  Margarita sighed and got to her feet. “I’ll come, if she’s sent for me, though it’s too early to go to bed yet. She wants me in her sitting-room, presumably?”

  He smiled at her, like a crocodile surveying a trapped fisherman. “No. I’m to escort you to your room. Now.”

  “That’s not possible,” I cut in. I’d caught the fleeting look of panic in her eyes, and it made me angry. It was only too obvious what was in his mind. It was equally clear that Margarita wanted none of it.

  “Margarita is sleeping over in our part of the house tonight.” I looked the Weasel straight in the eye.

  “Oh? That’s the first I’ve heard of it. Is this true, Margarita?”

  “Yes, it is. My lord told me to stay here till tomorrow.”

  “I thought everybody knew,” I continued. “Those are Lord Plautius’ strict instructions.”

  “She’s supposed to be keeping watch,” Albia added, “in case we decide to run away.” She managed a cheery laugh. “Yes, I know it’s hardly likely in this weather, but there it is, we all have to do as we’re told, don’t we? If you take her away now, we’ll all be in trouble with his lordship.”

  He didn’t miss the emphasis on “all”. “Lady Sempronia will be displeased,” he threatened.

  I produced an unanswerable winning throw of the dice. “Perhaps we’d better check with his lordship, Margarita, in case there’s been some sort of misunderstanding. We’ll all have to go and see him, as we’ve got to stay together, so will you come with us, Diogenes?”

  “No, if my lord has spoken, there’s an end of it.” His deferential mask, which he hadn’t bothered assuming for us, was back in place for a few heartbeats, but then it slipped again, and he cast a sulky look at Margarita. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  “All right.”

  “You’ll make sure Lady Sempronia knows that Margarita is with us tonight?” I said, in what Albia likes to call my “honey-sweet” tone. “And tomorrow morning as well, at least until Chief Councillor Silvanius gets here. I don’t know when that will be exactly. I hope he comes early, so Albia and I can get over to the Oak Bridges market in the morning. If we delay too long, all the best stuff will have gone.”

  “Oh, a market, eh?” Diogenes laughed softly, as if this was some private joke. “You’d better take young Gaius with you. He’ll enjoy that. Won’t you, my lad? A nice trip to the market tomorrow?”

  To my astonishment, Gaius let out a heart-rending wail.

  “You’ve done it now,” Diogenes remarked. “Sweet dreams, Gaius!” He banged the door behind him as the boy’s howls grew louder.

  Margarita picked him up in her arms and sat down with him on her lap. “It’s all right, love,” she soothed, stroking his hair. “I’m here, and there’s nothing to cry about. Hush now! He’s gone, and we’re safe.”

  “No!” he shrieked. “Not the market! I don’t want to go! Please, Mamma, don’t make me go!” He dissolved into loud sobbing.

  “Don’t cry, little one,” Margarita rocked him gently back and forth. “We won’t go to the market, if you don’t want to.”

  I gazed helplessly at the pair of them, trying to work out what had frightened Gaius so. A trip to the market? For a boy of his age, that would be exciting, surely, not alarming, especially with Saturnalia almost here. Any child as attractive as this one would get more than his share of treats and presents.

  When eventually she had calmed him down, she smiled at me and Albia. “Thank you. Thank you both. You’ve no idea what you’ve saved us from.”

  “I think we have,” I smiled back at her. “That man’s a pig.”

  “It was good of you, really kind. Usually I have to barricade my door so he can’t get in.”

  “Can’t you just tell him no and send him off with a flea in his ear?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not so easy. If it was just me, perhaps—but it isn’t. And my lady believes any spiteful tale he tells her, of course. Well, thanks to you, we’re safe for now. And if there’s anything I can do in return….”

  “As it happens there is.” This was just the chance I’d been waiting for.

  “Tell me.”

  “I need a quarter of an hour on my own. I give you my word I’m not running away, or planning to hurt anybody. But there’s a message I have to send to a friend.”

  “It’s time I put Gaius to bed.” She got to her feet a little clumsily with the child in her arms. “Albia, is there a spare room somewhere we can use? Or we can sleep in here, whichever is least trouble. It usually takes me at least a quarter of an hour to settle him down,” she added, and they went out together.

  I hurried to the kitchen and sent one of the maids to find Titch. “He’ll be in the tack-room playing dice with the other horse-boys, I expect. Tell him I want to see him straight away, please.”

  I sat down at the big table and wrote a quick note
to Chief Councillor Silvanius. I used ink and papyrus, to make it look more formal and official.

  Aurelia Marcella to Silvanius Clarus, greetings.

  We need your help urgently, and beg you to come to us as soon as you can. Albia and I are falsely accused of murder by our guests here, Lord Plautius and Lady Sempronia Metilia. They are people of power and importance. We need someone of power and importance on our side, to convince them we are innocent. They’ll listen to you, if you speak for us. Please help us.

  By the time I’d sealed the note Titch was standing watching me. “Victor, I’ve a favour to ask you.”

  He looked at me in surprise. Usually I just tell the horse-boys to do things, and they do them. So he realised I wasn’t giving him an order, and he could refuse if he chose. But he was always ready for adventure. I was relying on it.

  “What is it?” He ran a hand through his red hair, making it even more untidy than usual. “You know I’ll do owt I can.”

  “I need a man to take an urgent message to Councillor Silvanius’ villa at Oak Bridges. Someone who’ll get it there tonight and not blab about it.”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Aye, I’ll do that. The snow’s stopped, and it’s a grand night now. I’ll go on foot, it’s safer than riding when the roads are slippy.”

  “Good, thank you. But don’t go alone. Take one of the other boys. Two’s better than one on a winter night.”

  He nodded. “Castor will come. We’ll manage fine.”

  “Here’s the note. Make sure you give it to the Chief Councillor himself, or to his major-domo, or….”

  “Or someone who knows what they’re about. I will.” He hesitated. “The only thing is, if I get held up waiting to deliver it, or it snows again and I don’t get back here till daylight, can you make sure someone sees to Poppaea? She’s that hungry, feeding all her pups. I’ve moved them into the old cart shed, the one nobody uses now. Me dad complained that they were in the way in the tack-room.”

  “Don’t worry. If you’re not back, I’ll feed her myself, I promise. But you should get home easily, unless it snows again.”

  He tucked the note into his belt-pouch. “Is this to do with the feller that got stabbed?”

  “You heard all about that?”

  “Oh aye, the whole place is buzzing like a beehive. Their lads are saying you and Miss Albia murdered him, in mistake for their old master, cos he won’t let her marry Master Candidus.”

  “And what are our lads saying?”

  He laughed. “We all think that’s daft. You and Miss Albia wouldn’t murder a guest.”

  “Of course not.”

  “But if you did, you’d be too clever to get caught, wouldn’t you?”

  I decided it was best to assume this was meant as a compliment.

  CHAPTER XI

  As Titch was leaving by the kitchen door, I heard him talking to someone outside. He turned back into the room and said, in an over-loud voice, “Does anyone know where Mistress Aurelia is? Hold on, I’ll go and see.”

  He shut the door and crossed the room to me, saying softly, “There’s someone out there wants to see you. Big man with a black beard. Dressed like a native, but stands like a soldier. I don’t know him.”

  “Is he alone?”

  “He’s alone at the door, but while we were talking, his eyes flicked sideways once, just quickly like, as if he might have a pal standing guard in the dark.”

  “I’ll see him in my study. Probably just someone after a job, though it’s an odd time to come calling. You and Castor get on your way.”

  The black-bearded stranger was tall and broad, and dressed in a good wool cloak, like a prosperous farmer or merchant. But I agreed with Titch that he had the bearing of a soldier, in the way he walked and stood and glanced around the room. He also had stout army boots. So he probably wasn’t seeking a job, but trying to sell me something.

  He greeted me politely and held out his hand. “Mistress Aurelia Marcella? I’m sorry to come disturbing you after dark, but I’ve a bit of business I’d like to discuss with you.” He spoke good Latin, but with a slight accent. I’ve a good ear for accents, and this man wasn’t a local Brigantian tribesman, but originated from further north.

  We shook hands, and I answered in British. “Certainly. May I ask your name?”

  He smiled, showing a broken front tooth. “I’m Otus.”

  “Otus! I’m very pleased to meet you. It was some of your boys who helped to put out our haystack fire this morning, wasn’t it?”

  “It was, aye.”

  “We were extremely grateful. You must let me get you a drink.”

  “Thanks, I’ll take a glass of wine with you.”

  “Would your friend outside like a drink too?” It was an arrow in the dark, and I was pleased to see a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

  “I’ve come on my own tonight,” he answered.

  “Have you? Then I ought to warn you, my horse-boy saw somebody following you.”

  He laughed. “Your boy can see in the dark, seemingly. All right, I did bring a man with me, but he’ll do well enough outside without a drink, thank you. There have to be some advantages to being the boss.”

  I rang for one of the maids to bring wine, and he took a long swig and sat back in his chair.

  “I hope you don’t mind me asking, Otus, but am I right in guessing that you’ve got military connections? I’m a centurion’s daughter, and I can usually spot our brave lads, even off duty.”

  He nodded. “Used to be a soldier, yes, but I’ve done my time and come out, and now I prefer a peaceful life. I run a group of contract workers, doing a bit of this and a bit of that.”

  And a bit of thieving and a bit of extortion? Was Otus part of the gang Hawk had warned me about? I must play this carefully. “Well, your lads were in the right place at the right time this morning. Thank you.”

  “I’m glad they could help. A dreadful thing, fire.”

  “Dreadful. And hay is even more precious than usual this year, after the bad summer. We’ll only just have enough feed to see our animals through till spring. We can’t afford to be losing any.”

  “All the farmers round here say the same,” he agreed. “Hay and corn, they’re scarce now, and they’re going to be worth their weight in gold by April.” He put down his mug. “Which is why I think we can be of service to you.”

  “You’re a supplier of hay?” I knew that anyone with spare forage would be able to name his own price by the winter’s end and then double it, and still have buyers beating a path to his barn door. Especially a man with military contacts, who had access to army stores. But in that case, why was he making his offer as early as December?

  I sipped my wine and leaned forward, ready for a bit of hard bargaining. But he shook his head. “I’m not supplying it, no. You might say I’m preserving it.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Me and my lads, we’re offering a security service.”

  “Security? To stop our hay being stolen, you mean? You think things will get that bad?”

  He gave his broken-toothed smile. “We run watch patrols to protect farmers from the risk of fire. You do us the occasional small favour in return, and we guarantee that your barns and stacks will be completely safe.”

  With a shock, I grasped what he meant. He was threatening that if we didn’t do what he wanted—and who could guess what these “occasional small favours” would be—he and his men would burn down our barns and stacks. Only next time they started a blaze, they wouldn’t linger to extinguish it.

  I sat still, keeping my expression blank. Above all I mustn’t look as scared as I suddenly felt. I took another swallow of wine and said, “It’s an interesting offer, but I’ve got plenty of good men, and we can guard ourselves, if there’s any real danger. I can’t afford to be paying someone else to look after us.”

  “I’m not talking about money. Just a good turn sometimes. Give us a bit of help, like.”

  “Such as what? Free dr
inks for you and your men for the next hundred years, is it?”

  He laughed. “Well, for instance, sometimes when we’re out on patrol, me and my lads need a place to sleep at nights. Somewhere local and out of the way, like. I noticed a big old roundhouse near to your rick-yard. Doesn’t seem to be used at all these days.”

  “No, not now. It belonged to the family who had the farm until we took it over.”

  “Well then, if you was to allow me and my boys to use the place sometimes, just for the odd night, we could keep a good eye on your property and make sure no harm comes to it. As you said yourself, your winter stores are important. Can’t afford to lose them.”

  I tried to look as if I was thinking deeply, while in reality wishing I had the first clue what to do next. I’d never been faced with someone dealing in this sort of threat before. But I knew for certain I didn’t want to do business with him. It was all very well for him to talk about “the occasional small favour”. The favours would grow and multiply, and once I’d begun to co-operate with them, there’d be no going back. I’d have climbed onto a treadmill, with no hope of ever climbing off again.

  I gazed down into my beaker, maintaining my thoughtful expression, but my mind was racing. There was something else he wasn’t telling me. I’d no objection to a few local men using a building that we ourselves didn’t need, and he must know that. So why hadn’t he come openly and asked me about it? I’d have rented it to him for a few copper coins or the occasional deer carcass. I wished I could consult Lucius. I don’t often feel the need of a man to help me, but I was well out of my depth here. My brother, as a secret investigator, must have experience of this kind of situation…. Yes, of course, how naïve I was being. Secret was the clue. They wanted a place to hide where no questions would be asked and no answers given to anyone who came prying.

  “Well then,” Otus asked, “is it a deal?”

  “You left out something, I think. You’ll expect our little arrangement kept completely private. You’ll want to keep yourselves as secret as a wolf-pack in a den.”