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

by Jane Finnis

  We halted in the centre of the clearing and sat our mules, gazing around and listening.

  “There’s nobody here.” Diogenes sounded a trifle petulant, as if even kidnappers should have been waiting respectfully for him to arrive. But to do him credit, he looked relaxed and unafraid, surveying everything with his usual haughty expression.

  I matched his air of confidence, but said softly, “I assume we’re being watched though.”

  We waited a while in silence, but still there was nothing to see apart from game-tracks in the snow, and nothing to hear but the wind sighing through the leafless trees.

  “Let’s have some action. I haven’t got all day.” I shouted out, “Hello? Is anybody here?”

  A noise made us spin round to face the old house, and six men came out of it. They were dressed like native Brigantian peasants, and all heavily armed with swords and daggers. At least three of them looked like soldiers, including Otus, the tall black-bearded army veteran who had visited the mansio. He led the group as they walked towards us.

  Then we heard someone call out from the old house. “Help! Help us, please!” There were two different voices, a man’s and a woman’s—Priscus and Margarita, I was sure of it! But they only managed those few words before one of the natives walked back into the roundhouse, snarling a warning to be silent. Margarita gave a stifled scream, and we heard the wail of a terrified child as the native came out and barred the door. The sounds made me shiver, but at least it meant our friends were all here.

  Otus walked up to me, while his henchmen stood in a group a few paces away, waiting for orders. “Aurelia Marcella! We meet again!” His tone was almost conversational, and he spoke Latin as before. “You’ve taken your time. I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up. And I said only one messenger. Why have you brought him?” He gestured towards Diogenes.

  “Good morning, Otus.” I was pleased to find my voice was strong and confident. Dealing with natives is like dealing with wild horses—if you show any fear, you’re done for. “The fact is….”

  “The fact is,” Diogenes cut in, “that I’m the one handling this business. The innkeeper is here only as a guide. I’m Diogenes, Lord Plautius’ confidential secretary, and I’ve a message for you from his lordship.” Just for once I approved of his arrogant tone and the way he looked down his nose.

  “Is that so?” Otus glanced at Diogenes, and growled at me, “Then get out of here while I talk to him.” He beckoned two of his men. “Take her to the main road and keep her there till we’ve finished with this one. Stay out of sight. Usual signal if there’s anything suspicious.”

  I couldn’t stop them removing me, but I could try to distract their attention and give Quintus more time. “I’m staying here. Do you think I’d leave him with you, and trust you to bring him back safe to the road? You’re just as likely to cut his throat, or else turn him loose somewhere in the woods miles from anywhere, hoping he’ll freeze to death.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll treat him like the consul’s mother,” the giant jeered. “I need a messenger, don’t I? So I’ll keep him safe and use him. But I don’t need an innkeeper, so if you’ve come here with some daft notion about spying while we negotiate, you can forget it.” He nodded to his two men. The shorter one, little more than a boy, seized my mule’s bridle, and began to walk back along the track, but the taller one drew a long dagger and pointed it towards me. “Wait. Get down off that mule.”

  “Certainly not!” I blustered. “And don’t come too near, this animal kicks.”

  “I said get down!” The man jabbed his dagger into my leg, tearing the thin fabric of my trousers and drawing a few drops of blood. Reluctantly I slid from the saddle and let them march me away. There was nothing else I could do.

  When we reached the main road, the lad said, “Which way’s this mansio of hers then?”

  “Towards the Long Hill.” The taller native jerked his head to the left. “Not a bad place, but I doubt we’ll be welcome there now.” He laughed, then abruptly stopped laughing. His eyes were fixed on the cleared strip of ground between the trees and the highway. There on the snowy surface, as clear as day, were three sets of mule-tracks crossing from the road into the woods. Two were close together—Diogenes’ and mine—and they continued along the game-track. The third set headed into the woods in a different direction. The natives didn’t need to be exceptional trackers like Hawk to draw the obvious conclusion.

  “Someone came with you,” the taller man accused. “Who?”

  “One of Sempronia’s bodyguards,” I improvised. “She wanted to make sure the message got delivered. She thought her slave might be tempted to come part-way and then go home again, saying he couldn’t find you.”

  He raised his dagger. “Where’s this man now?”

  “At the mansio, I suppose. He had orders to escort us as far as this, and then go straight back.”

  The native swore. “I’m not stupid! There’s no tracks going back up the road, is there?” I silently cursed the snow, which was giving away far too much information for my liking. “Stay here,” he barked at the boy, “and don’t let her go, else I’ll have your guts for catapult-springs.” He followed Quintus’ tracks into the trees, and before long appeared again leading Quintus’ mule.

  He threw the reins to the lad and lunged at me, grasping my hair with one hand and pressing the dagger to my throat with the other. I gasped, but managed not to cry out. His expression was angry, and he frightened me. I’d been foolish to involve myself in this business. I’d wanted to impress Quintus, I realised, and that was stupid. How impressed would he be if this cut-throat killed me here and now?

  “I’ll ask you again,” he snarled, “where is this man now?”

  I was too terrified to answer straight away, but a shred of common sense in my head told me he wouldn’t kill me without a direct order from his leader. So I took a deep breath and said with a show of casualness, “How should I know? Gone behind a tree for a leak, I expect.”

  “We better tell Otus,” he muttered. “Come on.”

  About halfway along the track to the clearing, the tall native halted us and gave a shrill howl, very like a wolf’s. When we finally reached the open space, we found two men on guard by the house, while Otus and two more natives were standing in the middle with Diogenes. They were all holding beakers, and appeared to be drinking a toast. They looked comfortable together, much more like conspirators than enemies. I felt cold inside as I contemplated what sort of treacherous deal Diogenes had concluded, that allowed him to share a drink with men who should have been his enemies.

  “You back again?” Otus’ hand dropped to his sword. “What’s up?”

  “They came with a bodyguard,” the tall native answered. “We saw his tracks in the snow, and this is his mule. He’s somewhere nearby, trying to spy on us I should think.”

  Otus shrugged. “Just one man?”

  “Aye, just the one.”

  “One man can’t do us much harm. And we’ve finished anyway, haven’t we?” He turned to Diogenes.

  The Weasel nodded and smiled. “I’m sure my lord will agree we’ve come to a very satisfactory arrangement.”

  “Good.” The tall native beside me smiled. “So you’re releasing the prisoners now?”

  “All in good time. There’s a little matter of completing the payment first. The young lord can go today, but we’re keeping the slaves for a while. Valuable property, those two. And no trouble, neither.”

  Anger made me incautious. “You scum! Let them go straight away! If you’ve hurt either of them, I’ll….”

  “You’ll what?” He stepped close to me and slapped me across the face, hard enough to make my head ring and my eyes water. “We’ve done nothing that won’t mend. Like I say, they’re valuable, a good-looking pair like that. Worth a lot of money, so I don’t intend to spoil their beauty. Or yours!” Suddenly he reached out and gripped my arms. “Tie her up,” he ordered my two captors.

 
I was taken completely off guard. I kicked and struggled to pull free, but they were too strong, and soon had my arms roped behind my back. I was helpless, and my anger melted into bitter misery.

  I turned to Diogenes, and saw he was smiling. “Don’t just stand there, Diogenes. Tell them to release me at once!”

  “As Otus said, all in good time.” The secretary looked down his nose at me. “You’re to stay here for now. Don’t worry, you won’t come to any harm as long as you behave.”

  “But that’s outrageous!”

  “You surely didn’t imagine they would let Master Priscus go without some security in exchange, did you? I’ll come back with the rest of the gold as soon as my lord can get it, then you’ll be free.”

  “Plautius has agreed to this?” I couldn’t believe the way I was being betrayed.

  “Of course. I hope it won’t take him too long to raise the rest of the ransom. That house doesn’t look anything like as comfortable as the Oak Tree.”

  “No, Diogenes, this is nonsense. Get me released at once. I’m not part of this deal, I’m just here as a guide!”

  “Maybe so,” Otus interrupted, “or maybe you thought you’d do a bit of snooping, you and your bodyguard who’s mysteriously vanished in the woods. I said no tricks, and I meant it. You didn’t listen, so now you’ll learn your lesson.” He gestured to my two captors, and followed them as they marched me unceremoniously towards the roundhouse. He unbarred the door and leaned into the dark interior, calling, “Lord Priscus, you can come out now.”

  I heard Priscus say, “Thank the gods! Come along, Margarita, Gaius, it’s going to be all right!”

  “Not the others,” Otus barked. “Just you.”

  “I’m not leaving them here,” Priscus protested, but Otus simply went into the house and dragged him out, as my two captors steered me towards the door. I got a fleeting picture of his white face covered in bruises, and the way he staggered and blinked in the white snow-light. Then the natives pushed me inside the house and banged the heavy door shut behind me. I heard the bar slide across. I stood still, trying to accustom my eyes to the near-darkness, and my mind to being a prisoner.

  From the shadows at the far side of the room, Margarita spoke. “Who is it?”

  “Aurelia.”

  “Oh, Aurelia! What’s happening? What are they doing to Priscus?”

  “Releasing him, I think. Are you and Gaius all right?”

  “Yes, give or take a few bruises.” She sounded weary and miserable, and looked unsteady on her feet as she came towards me. Her hands were tied, and she was pale and dishevelled. Gaius trotted by her side, his hands tied too. His golden curls were matted and his tear-stained face had a purple bruise on one cheek. In spite of it all, they both smiled at me.

  “It’s good to see you,” Margarita said. “What are you doing here? And Priscus—you say they’re releasing him?”

  “I think so, yes. I’m his replacement, as surety that the rest of the ransom will be paid.”

  “You put yourself in danger for us? Oh, Aurelia, that’s wonderful of you!”

  Not all that wonderful, I thought. I’d much rather have been on my way back to the Oak Tree with Priscus.

  “Did you hear that, Gaius?” Her voice was full of relieved happiness. “Master Priscus is being taken home now, and he’ll arrange for you and me to go back very soon.”

  “Hooray!” the child cheered, and I hadn’t the heart to cast any gloom on this version of events. But if Diogenes had arranged some deal of his own, would the two of them be going back soon? Or ever? Diogenes knew Sempronia wanted Margarita out of the way. But no, I would look on the bright side. I must.

  “Let’s try and be comfortable for a bit.” I began to move towards where they’d been sitting. “It’s bound to take Priscus a while to get things organised.”

  “There’s some fairly clean straw at the back.” Margarita led the way. “It helps to keep out the draughts, so it’s not too bad.” Together we all sank down, leaning our backs against the wall.

  “Better than nothing,” I agreed, “and it’s quite warm, considering there’s no fire. But I can hear some rather disturbing rustling noises. Have we got mice?”

  “Yes, and fleas,” Gaius announced proudly. “Hundreds and hundreds of them! I’ve been bitten all over, and the bites itch like anything, only I can’t scratch with my hands tied up.”

  We laughed, and the boy sat huddled close to his mother while I told her about the message brought by Titch, and how Plautius and Sempronia had sent Diogenes to negotiate, but it would take a day or two to collect the full amount of the ransom. I tried to make it sound hopeful, despite my own serious suspicion of what Diogenes had been up to, drinking a toast with the kidnappers. And I was careful not to mention Quintus or Hawk. I knew they’d bring us help if they could, but if there was a guard outside our prison, we might be overheard.

  Margarita was delighted with Priscus’ release, and pleased to see me. If she had any darker thoughts, she kept them to herself, and I knew we must both stay cheerful for the boy’s sake.

  “I’m hungry,” Gaius announced. “Will they bring some food soon?”

  “I expect so, love.”

  “The food’s awful,” he told me cheerfully, “but Mamma’s promised we can have some animal cakes when we get home, like we had yesterday. Oh—is Victor all right? They made him go back by himself in the snow and dark.”

  “He’s fine, Gaius. You’ll see him again soon.”

  “And Poppaea and the puppies?”

  “They’re fine too. I saw them this morning. They’re growing fast.”

  “Good.” He stood up. “I need a wee. I’ll go over in that corner, where I went before.” He turned away, and I smiled in spite of everything. Margarita had done well to keep his spirits up like this, so that he regarded the whole dreadful experience as some kind of adventure.

  I leaned close and whispered to Margarita, “We must find a way to loosen these ropes. Then if there’s any chance to break out, we can get our hands free quickly.”

  “I’ve looked round,” she whispered back, “to see if there’s some sharp spike, or a nail, so I could try to rub the knots against it. But there’s nothing.”

  “Hey!” Gaius gave a squeal of mixed excitement and fear. “Mamma, there’s a mouse in the straw! I almost wet him! He won’t bite me, will he?”

  “No, darling, he’s more frightened of you than you are of him. He’s sheltering from the snow, just like we are.”

  Thinking of the mouse started me pondering how we could escape. Maybe we could bite each other’s ropes loose? No, that would take too long. Well then, maybe we could make ourselves a way out of the house, our own version of a mouse-hole?

  As if in answer to my thought, Gaius called, “I’ve found the mouse’s hole, Mamma. It’s in the wall. He ran out into the snow through it. If you lie down and put your eye there, you can see the snow outside, and a few trees. It’s here under the straw.”

  I went to look. It was quite a large hole, big enough to get a hand through, if any of us had had a hand free. The mud that had been used to plaster over the woven wood structure was flaking off, and the wood itself was flimsy and loose. Well, if I didn’t have the use of my hands, how about my feet? I sat down and stretched out my right riding-boot. Yes, my big toe fitted into the gap, and by wriggling it around, I could enlarge the hole a little. It would be slow work, but maybe I could make it big enough to crawl through.

  Margarita came over and watched me, half questioning and half amused. I nodded and whispered “Shhh!” as I settled down to the laborious process of enlarging the gap, inch by painful inch.

  I saw Margarita bend close to Gaius and whisper something, and the boy grinned and nodded. “I’ll be as quiet as a mouse,” he said, in his normal shrill voice. I managed not to laugh, and she whispered to him again. This time he simply nodded.

  I kept at it for what seemed like hours, till I was tired and chilled from the cold wind blowing into
the house from the enlarged hole. Margarita took over for a while, and then it was my turn again. I’d just got the gap large enough to slide one leg through up to my knee and begin pushing with my other foot, when close beside me, but outside the roundhouse, a man’s voice shouted, “Hey! They’re trying to break out!”

  There was an answering shout, and the sound of running feet. The door was unbarred and flung wide, and Otus burst in with two natives on his heels. By that time we were all three sitting demurely among the straw, well away from the hole, but they weren’t fooled.

  “That settles it,” Otus growled. “We can’t wait till dark to move them to the safe house. We’ll have to do it now. Up you get, you three. We’re going for a nice walk in the woods. And shut that brat up,” he added, as Gaius began to cry.

  We were a sombre little procession, three pathetic-looking prisoners shambling along, surrounded by six grim-faced natives, all mounted and armed to the teeth. Two were riding our captured mules, and the others had quite reasonable mounts, presumably also stolen. I sent a quick silent prayer for help to Diana, my special goddess, that Hawk and Quintus were still in the vicinity watching us, and would be able to carry word to the Oak Tree. I remembered that Hawk prayed to Epona the horse-goddess, so I asked for her aid too.

  Depression settled over me along with the cold as we took the track towards the main road, the three of us walking slowly, the mounted men surrounding us in a travesty of a bodyguard. The light was beginning to fade, and the trees pressed in close. Their roots across the path were hard to see beneath the snow, so we kept tripping and stumbling. Gaius was sobbing almost continuously, complaining that his feet were hurting. Mine weren’t too comfortable either, shod in boots designed for riding, which let in the snow like sandals. Our progress got even slower, till any slug or snail not sleeping away the winter could have followed us with ease.