Get Out or Die

by Jane Finnis

  He smiled, a touch sheepishly. “Well, your sister’s too clever for me. I am Quintus Antonius Delfinus. But I’m travelling as Quintus Valerius Longinus at present, and it’s important they don’t find out who I really am. Promise me you won’t tell them. Please?”

  “You can be Quintus Valerius Caesar for all I care. But if these two officers know you already….”

  “They don’t know what I look like. So you could tell them I’m Valerius Longinus….I suppose you can’t stop them coming in here to look at me, if they insist. If that happens, I’ll pretend to be asleep. But they may try to kidnap me.”

  This was going too far. “Kidnap you? For the gods’ sake, why?”

  “Because I’m on their trail, of course. And if they do, I’m relying on you to prevent them. Understand?” He looked at me intently, and suddenly he wasn’t a wounded man talking to the woman who was nursing him; he was a battle commander briefing a subordinate.

  But we weren’t in a battle, and my irritation boiled over. “Understand? I don’t understand anything, and that’s a fact. So I’m going to see the two agents, and make up my mind when I’ve heard their side of this.” I turned round and grasped the door-handle.

  “No, Aurelia, wait. Please!”

  I paused and half-turned, but didn’t release the handle.

  “I suppose I’ll have to tell you a little more. What I’m investigating isn’t primarily the Shadow-men. The real danger just now isn’t the natives themselves. It’s Roman treachery.”

  “Roman treachery? You mean the military….”

  “And others. Please, no more now. Just help me by keeping those two from doing me any damage. Promise me you won’t let them touch me.”

  Roman treachery….Now that made more sense. Except that this man was a Roman too. Which meant he could just as well be a traitor as an investigator—or he could be both. How could I know?

  I couldn’t.

  There was a knock at the door. Quintus lay statue-still on his bed as I opened the door slowly, but it was only Baca.

  “Please mistress, Miss Albia says could you come. The two gentlemen are getting impatient.”

  “I’ll come.” I turned back to Quintus. “I’ll promise this much. I won’t let them take you away from here today. You’re not well enough to be moved anyway. After that—it depends on what they have to say for themselves.”

  “Thank you.” He relaxed, and smiled at me. “I know it’s a lot to ask. From now on, I’m asleep.” He snuggled down into the blankets, pulled a fold of one over his head, and began to snore loudly.

  “Don’t overdo it,” I warned. “Heavy breathing will be fine.”

  And I still couldn’t decide, as I crossed the courtyard, whether I believed a single word of what he’d told me.

  Chapter VIII

  Two men in short red cloaks got to their feet as I entered the bar-room. They had military hair-cuts and army boots and swords, but they weren’t ordinary infantry; they were unmistakeably the sort of charmless bullies that serve as military investigators. I disliked them on sight.

  But I gave them my most welcoming smile. “Good morning, gentlemen. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

  “Good morning, Mistress Aurelia,” they said pleasantly enough. The smaller one asked, “You’re the proprietor of the mansio here?”

  “I’m joint proprietor with my brother Lucius Aurelius Marcellus. But he’s away on military service at present.”

  He held out his hand. “I’m Nonius, and this is Rabirius. We’re agents from the Special Services Unit at the legionary headquarters in Eburacum.” They both smiled, looking like lions in the arena, about to take their first juicy bites of doomed criminals.

  “Military Intelligence, in plain Latin.” I smiled again, as I remembered that the army nickname for military investigators was Kickers and Punchers, reflecting their normal methods of interrogation. “What can I do for you? But first, have you had some breakfast?”

  “Thank you, yes.” He indicated plates and wine-mugs on their table. “Your girls have looked after us nicely. You keep a good drop of Gaulish red here.”

  Gods, Albia must have been panicking, serving the best Gaulish red at this time of day! I glanced at her, where she stood behind the bar counter, writing some list or other on a wax tablet. She looked up at me and said casually, “Relia, can you just check this list—I don’t want to miss anything out.”

  “Do sit down,” I said to the visitors, as I strolled over and examined the tablet. At the top she’d written: Something smells fishy. Take care. So she didn’t like them either.

  “Yes, that’s fine, Albia, thanks.” I went back to the table and sat down.

  “We hear there’s been some trouble locally, and we’re looking into it,” Rabirius began. “Tell us about the man who was attacked here.”

  I gave him as little detail as I could without sounding suspiciously unhelpful. “It’s all very worrying,” I added. “We’ll be glad of help from the military. Have you any idea who’s behind the killings?”

  Rabirius shook his head. “It’s early days, but we’re following up every lead, of course.” Which meant, “We haven’t a clue, and if we had one, we probably wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

  The short one, Nonius, took out a wax notepad. “Let’s get down to business. I’m sure Mistress Aurelia’s got enough to do without our taking all morning.” Presumably it was meant to be pleasant, but it came out as a threat. With every sentence they uttered, I felt more and more in sympathy with Quintus Antonius.

  “This man you found,” Nonius said. “What did you say his name is?”

  Oh no, you don’t catch me that easily, sunshine. “I’m afraid I’ve no idea. I haven’t had a chance to ask him.”

  “Oh? But your man tells me he’s awake.”

  Nice try, but I knew Taurus would have given him the revised version.

  “Not any more.” I sighed deeply. “He did wake up briefly this morning, and asked where he was, but didn’t seem to have any memory of what had happened to him. Then he tried to get up, but it gave him head pains and he said he felt dizzy, and the next thing I knew, he’d collapsed back into bed. He’s unconscious now.”

  “How bad are his injuries?” Nonius asked.

  “He’s had a hard blow on the head, and his face is badly bruised, his ribs too. And he must have been lying out in a heavy dewfall all night till we found him. But he looks quite tough. He’ll pull through.”

  “Has a doctor seen him?” Rabirius put in.

  I was about to say no, but then thought it might be better to tell yet another lie. “Yes, one of our friends sent his personal physician over yesterday. He prescribed rest, in fact he said it was vital in cases of concussion. He was afraid there might be damage inside his skull, and said we should keep him warm and still till he comes round naturally.” Not bad for the spur of the moment, Aurelia.

  The two men looked at each other, and Rabirius smiled his slimy smile. “It sounds like our man.”

  Nonius nodded. “I think so too. Quintus Antonius Delfinus.”

  I didn’t register any expression. “You know who he is?”

  “Oh yes. One of our people, helping us with some investigations. And if we’re right, the best thing is for us to take him with us to Eburacum so he can be properly looked after. These head injuries can be very tricky.”

  My mind was buzzing like a beehive. They wanted to take Quintus away with them. Was it genuine comradely concern, or an attempt at kidnapping?

  “Perhaps we can see him.” Rabirius made it a statement rather than a question.

  “Yes, of course.” As we stood up, young Titch came running in, panting and looking worried. “Please, Mistress Aurelia….”

  “Not now, Titch. I’m busy.”

  “But it’s the black stallion, Mistress. He’s sick, having some sort of fit, and Hippon doesn’t know what to do. He said to fetch you quick.”

 
“Holy Diana!” The black was our best stud horse. If anything happened to him….I’d have to see what was the matter.

  I turned to the waiting men. “Gentlemen, would you please excuse me? Sit down and have a drop more wine. I’ll be as quick as I can, but it seems one of our best horses is in trouble.”

  We hurried outside, and rounded the corner towards the stables. Then Titch stopped dead.

  “I’m sorry, Mistress, there’s nowt wrong with the stallion. I had to get you away from them two and it was all I could think of.”

  “What? What game is this?”

  “Not a game,” he said urgently. “Them two men, they’re up to no good. I’ve seen them before.”

  “They say they’re from Kickers and Punchers.”

  He shook his head. “They were here in the woods two nights ago, and they attacked a man. Beat him up, and killed his horse. I saw it. Now Taurus says that’s the sick man you’ve got here. So I thought I better warn you.”

  “You saw them? If you’re making this up….”

  “No, honest. I saw.”

  The boy was deadly serious. The words “Roman treachery” resounded in my head, and I couldn’t begin to deal with the implications of what he’d just said; the important thing was the sick man in the house, and I was convinced now that whatever his quarrel with the two investigators, it was Quintus’ side I was on.

  “You swear this is true?”

  “I swear.”

  “Right. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I raced back through the front door. And the bar-room was empty. The men had vanished.

  I began to panic. Where had they gone? Where was Albia? And what were they doing to Quintus Antonius?

  I ran into the courtyard, and that was empty too. I raced into the guest wing, along the corridor to Quintus Antonius’ room, and found them just inside the door, making for the bed. Nonius had his sword half out of its scabbard, but he pushed it back as I charged in, apologising fulsomely for having left them alone. I saw a look of annoyance pass between the two men, just for a heartbeat, then they were impassive again, but they still moved purposefully towards the bed. “Wake up, Quintus Antonius,” Rabirius shouted, loud enough to rouse the shades from the underworld. “Wake up, man! We’ve come to look after you!”

  “Please, Officer,” I protested. “The man’s unconscious, you can see that for yourself. He’s also very ill. There’s no call to make such a noise.”

  Quintus lay quite still, breathing heavily but regularly. The two men looked at the bed, and then Rabirius reached down and pulled back the blankets. Quintus didn’t move a muscle.

  Rabirius said, “That’s him all right. And he’s had quite a pasting.” He didn’t sound sympathetic.

  Deliberately I went and covered the still figure up with the blankets, and stood close to the bed, facing the two men. They read it, correctly, as a challenge, and both took a pace backward.

  “One of your men, you say?” I asked. “Was he on a case in this district?”

  “The details needn’t concern you, my dear.” Rabirius’ attempt at being soothing was unconvincing. “He’s one of ours, that’s all that matters, and we always look after our own. We must get him to Eburacum.”

  “As quickly as possible,” Nonius agreed. “It’s essential he has proper medical care. I know you’ve done your best, and we’re grateful, but we’ll deal with everything now. We’ll take him back there straight away. You presumably have suitable transport we can requisition?”

  You’re taking him nowhere, I thought. Roman treachery….But how was I going to stop them?

  “Well of course I appreciate your concern,” I answered, “but this man’s sick, and while he’s under my roof I’m responsible for him. I can’t let you move him till he’s recovered.”

  “You really mustn’t worry,” Rabirius said, still trying to be reassuring, and failing dismally. “I can promise you he’ll be very well looked after. The medical facilities at Eburacum are absolutely top class. Come now, let’s not waste any more time.”

  “No, I can’t agree….” I began.

  Nonius waved my objection aside. “Leave it to us now. Get your people to prepare comfortable transport, and we’ll be on our way. I’m sure you’d like to do the right thing for this poor man. I don’t want to have to make it an official order.”

  Refusing to let them move him would be a serious step. Once I’d taken it, there’d be no going back. For the last time, that nagging doubt struck me: what if they were genuine, and it was Quintus Antonius who was a criminal on the run? But in that case, surely they’d simply say so and arrest him. No, I’d come this far, and I’d go through with it.

  I took a deep breath and looked Nonius in the eye. “I’m sorry, but Eburacum’s a good fifteen miles away. The journey could kill him, and I can’t allow such a risk. He’s staying here till he comes round. I promise he’ll be well cared for, and when he’s conscious and it’s safe for him to be moved, he can decide for himself whether to go to Eburacum. Not before.”

  Rabirius said, “Now my dear, it does you credit that you’re so concerned, but this is state business. Men’s business. We know what’s best, so you can just leave it to us, all right?”

  Oh no! Now you’ve well and truly cooked your goose, my friend! Nobody tells Aurelia Marcella not to be concerned with “men’s business.”

  “Taking care of my guests is very much my business,” I retorted. “What would it do to my reputation here if the word got around that a poor wounded traveller had been taken out of his sick-bed against doctor’s orders, and died as a result? So I repeat, I won’t let him be moved till he’s well enough.”

  Rabirius’ face reddened and he took a step towards me, angry and threatening. I stayed where I was. “We don’t need your permission for this,” he almost shouted. “He’s coming with us, and that’s that.”

  Nonius advanced on me too, and snarled, “You’d better not dare to refuse military orders. You’ll be in real trouble if you go down that road.”

  His threat simply made me angry, and I stood tall, and threw my winning dice. “I’m not under military authority. I’m a free Roman citizen, running my own business and doing what’s best for my guests. So you can’t march in here throwing your weight around as if I’m some native in a mud hut. I have a brother in the army, so I’m fully aware of military procedures, and I don’t take kindly to threats. Either you leave my property now, or I’ll report this incident to headquarters myself as a case of military harassment of a Roman citizen. If you go straight away, I’ll put your heavy-handed style down to your zeal and sense of duty, and we’ll say no more. Is that clear?”

  “You are refusing my orders?” Nonius was now deadly calm.

  “I am not under your orders.” I was calm too. I was in the right. I knew it, and they knew it.

  “By the gods, you’ll regret this attitude,” Rabirius was shouting again now, but Nonius glared at him and he subsided. Nonius, it seemed, had realised what would happen if I did indeed report them. I hadn’t told them where my brother was stationed; they would assume it was Eburacum.

  “We’ll leave then,” Nonius said, attempting a dignified retreat. “I’m sorry you’ve adopted this unhelpful attitude, but as you say, when it comes down to it, we can’t force you to release this man against your will. Not yet. But consider this. If any harm comes to him because he hasn’t had proper treatment, if he doesn’t recover, or if he is so damaged when he recovers that he’s no longer fit for his work as an investigator, then you, and only you, will be held to blame for it. Meanwhile, I shall certainly be reporting to my commanding officer, and I can promise that you haven’t heard the last of us.”

  He turned to the door, Rabirius close behind him. I followed on their heels, and ushered them along the corridor, out through the door that faced onto the stable yard, and round to the front of the house, where their two horses were waiting for them. They mounted and left without another wo
rd.

  Then I summoned Titch, who was helping Hippon harness the ponies.

  “You were right about those two men,” I told him. “They were up to no good. I want you and the others to keep a sharp lookout for them, and if they come anywhere near the house again, I want to know at once.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “And Titch…well done. But what were you doing in the woods two nights ago?”

  “Sleeping. I didn’t have nowhere else.”

  “But why didn’t you tell us what had happened, when you began working here? Why in Jupiter’s name didn’t you mention you’d seen someone attacked?”

  “You might of thought I had something to do with it. Anyway, it wasn’t till today I realised the man I saw was the sick man you were looking after here.”

  I told him briefly what Hawk had made of the tracks. He said, “I reckon that’s right. I only saw the part in the clearing. They got him off his horse and then they killed it, and there was another man caught with him, but he escaped. This one fought like a madman. And there was a weird man in a mask, saying nowt and watching it all.”

  “Something interrupted them though. Did you see what it was?”

  His cheeky grin appeared. “Not see. Hear.”

  “Hear? Oh, Titch…not your bugle?”

  “It was all I could think to do.”

  I could have hugged him, but he’d hardly have appreciated it. “Good lad. But look, have you told anyone else about this?”

  “The other stable-lads. But I reckon they thought I made it up. Nobody else.”

  “Well don’t. Those men were going to kidnap our sick man, perhaps even kill him. They don’t know you saw them. Best if they don’t find out.”

  “They might want to shut me up, like?”

  “They might.”

  “Wow!” Suddenly he laughed. “I’ve never been that important before—for someone to want to kill me!” He went off, smiling hugely, and I had to smile too. You don’t meet many people who are pleased at the prospect of a death threat.