Danger in the Wind

by Jane Finnis

  Portius and Philippus were one and the same.

  I lay back on my pillows and shut my eyes. At first sight it seemed so unlikely as to be impossible. Philippus, that handsome, charming rascal, who loved his mother and enjoyed playing with his children…a murderer?

  And yet it wasn’t impossible. Quite the contrary; it explained a number of facts that so far hadn’t been explicable. He’d spent the last few days away from Isurium in secret, so he could have reached the Oak Tree. He’d known Terentius, and far from being his friend as he claimed, had become his enemy. He wore his hair long not only to defy army custom, but to conceal a damaged right ear, injured in a fight with Terentius. And I suddenly remembered the doctor’s question at the mansio last night. “Did you patch up your slave all right?” And Philippus joked that he’d enough bandages to put a poultice on an elephant. They must be the bandages he’d used to make his disguise.

  It had taken me long enough to recognise him. Now that I had, what in the gods’ name was the best thing to do?

  Quintus would know. But Quintus wasn’t here, and there was no way I could see him until we met at noon. I thought about driving over to the fort, but dismissed the idea as impractical, and even if I could manage it, it would cause far too much comment.

  My body gradually relaxed as I lay there, but my brain whirled as I thought things out. At all costs I must behave normally, however frightened I felt inside. I must concentrate on Jovina, because helping her would help me to stay calm too. Above all I must avoid Philippus if I possibly could. If I had to see him, I mustn’t betray by a look or a word that I knew his secret, because if he realised I’d discovered it, I’d be in real danger.

  Selena meanwhile had fetched some wine, and I drank a little because she and Vitellia insisted it would do me good. “What hour is it?” I asked. “Is it time to get up and dress?”

  “It will be soon,” Selena said. “It’s getting light, look. The bath-house will be ready when it’s light. You ladies can have your baths before breakfast if you like, then you’ll have lots of time to get ready for the party.”

  Oh gods, the party! The realisation of what lay ahead of us all today hit me like a pail of water in the face. I was going to a party, and there’d be a murderer among the guests.

  I don’t know quite how I got through that long morning. It helped when I found out that Philippus, who’d stayed overnight with friends in the fort, wasn’t coming back to the house but would go direct to the party.

  By the time we’d all had breakfast, everyone had got to know about my nightmare, and they were all sympathetic, but I made light of it as well as I could and tried to keep my thoughts on getting bathed and dressed, having my hair nicely arranged, and keeping Jovina company while she did the same.

  She, too, I supposed, was struggling to put on a cheerful face, and she did it very well. We talked only about happy things, including several birthday presents which had come for tomorrow, but she decided to open them a day early. A large bunch of beautiful pink roses had arrived, bearing a note saying “with all my love”, but containing no indication of who had sent them. We all assumed they were from Mallius. Our gift of table mats was appreciated and caused great interest, especially when Jovina insisted on going into the kitchen and throwing one into a cooking brazier to prove it didn’t burn. It survived unharmed, and she was so delighted that when she learned Congrio was staying in Isurium, she sent one of the servants over to the mansio to invite him to her party.

  Chloe and Philippus had bought their mother a beautiful silk scarf in a delicate mixture of cream and pale apricot shades which went perfectly with her party clothes. Statius presented her with a pair of gold brooches which she also planned to wear with her new outfit. There was no present from Mallius, apart from the roses, or Trebonius, or the Greek doctor. I could only assume they were bringing their offerings to the party itself.

  We all, of course, put on our favourite finery. Jovina’s new tunic and over-tunic were an elegant peach colour, perfect for her fair hair. She used make-up to mask her pallor, but it was well done, and after all everyone knew she’d been ill. Vitellia looked stunning in cream, (she’d have looked stunning in a grain-sack, of course,) and Chloe chose a rich rose-pink for her tunic and sandals, and ear-rings with pink stones. Even old Statius was resplendent. His toga positively gleamed, and the stick he leaned on was a silver-topped cane. And I don’t mean to boast, but my best peacock-blue outfit didn’t look out of place either.

  Eventually, about an hour before noon, the carriages came to take us to the river, and I was glad to be on the way, even though it meant I’d soon be seeing Philippus again. I debated whether to warn Vitellia not to let him pay her too much attention, but decided against it. If Philippus got the slightest inkling that I, or anyone, was suspicious of him…no, I didn’t even want to think about it.

  I don’t particularly enjoy picnicking in the middle of nowhere. Give me a nice comfortable dining-room with cushioned couches, polished furniture, and a decorative mosaic floor. And the open air is especially unpredictable in a province like Britannia where the gods send more rain than sunshine. Today the weather was still, warm and humid, and I expected to see clouds creeping over the horizon soon. Whether they’d hold off from soaking us all till the end of the celebration, only the gods themselves knew.

  But I had to admit Trebonius had chosen the party location well, and spared no expense or effort to make it comfortable. Couches and tables were set out on the grass in the middle of a large open space which had trees around it, except where the land sloped very gradually down to the river. Off to one side a huge fire blazed, with a pig and a lamb roasting on it, giving out the most mouth-watering aromas. On the opposite edge of the clearing were open-fronted tents of different sizes, army issue of course, but decorated all over with garlands of leaves and flowers to give them a festive air. Three of them were laid out like rooms, with rugs and couches and tables, in case we needed shelter from the elements. The others were mostly kitchens or food stores, where a cohort of servants were getting the rest of the meal ready.

  Vitellia and I wandered round the main area, then down to the river, which was only a hundred paces or so off across the grass. I looked along the bank wondering if I could spot Titch, but of course I couldn’t—he was much too professional to let himself be seen. We strolled back up to the clearing where the other guests were arriving. Philippus was among them, and he came to wish us good-morning and to ask whether we’d had a comfortable night at Jovina’s house. I answered “yes” firmly, and chose a safe subject.

  “This is impressive, Philippus. Did you have a hand in designing it all?”

  “Well, I made one or two suggestions, but it’s mostly the commander’s work. He’s really done an excellent job. Mother will enjoy herself, I’m sure. And,” he said, lowering his voice, “I have high hopes for myself today. Now that the Mallius family seem to be in favour again, I hope he’ll take pity on me and call off my exile in Cataractonium. I don’t know how much longer I can stand being stuck away there. It’s a horrible dump; it really is. Still, I mustn’t be gloomy on a day like this. Vitellia, you must cheer me up. Let me show you the river. There’s a deep pool where the kingfishers come sometimes. We might be lucky and see one.”

  I felt a small stab of alarm as they went off together, but suppressed it. I’d already been through all that, I told myself sternly. Vitellia was safe, we were all safe, as long as Philippus didn’t suspect we knew he had a secret to hide.

  A horseman appeared in the lane at the top of the field: Quintus, looking immaculate in his military gear. He rarely wore it, but at Isurium he was ostensibly inspecting bridges, so it was appropriate. He dismounted and strolled down towards us.

  I must seize a chance to talk to him alone. I went to stand near Jovina, who was smiling brightly, though I sensed she wasn’t completely relaxed. Quintus came up to greet her, and they chatted briefly.

  “I thought you’d be arriving with the contingent
from the fort,” I said. “Are Trebonius and Mallius on their way?”

  “They’re close behind me,” he said, and as we all glanced towards the lane, a big raeda drew up. Jovina’s tension became more apparent as Trebonius and his wife Fulvina stepped onto the grass, but there was no sign of Mallius.

  “Gods, where’s Marcus?” she said, more to herself than to me. “Don’t say he’s not coming. He promised he’d come.”

  As if at a signal, Mallius appeared on horseback and cantered right down to where Jovina was standing. He dismounted and threw his reins to a servant. Seeing him smartly dressed and apparently sober, Jovina relaxed.

  “Sorry I’m late, my dear,” he said. “Business is brisk at the fort today.”

  “I’m glad you’ve come,” she answered, and they exchanged a kiss. “Thank you for the bouquet of roses.”

  For a heartbeat or two he looked blank, then he nodded. “I’m glad you liked them.”

  Trebonius stepped forward. “Aurelia, Quintus Antonius, let me present Fulvina, my wife. These are the guests I told you about, my dear. Lucius Aurelius’ sister Aurelia, and his fiancée.”

  She was a large woman, taller than her husband, strong-boned and while not exactly ugly, certainly nobody’s idea of a classical beauty. But her mouse-coloured hair was well styled, and her hazel eyes were sharp. She was smartly dressed in a pale sea-green tunic, with brooches that looked like small emeralds. In contrast to Trebonius, who was urbane and easy-going, she exuded an air of toughness and determination. She could probably quell a mutiny at a hundred paces with just one look.

  I enjoy the company of strong women, I find them refreshing rather than frightening, and that’s how Fulvina struck me. As we stood together she pointed out some of the guests I didn’t know, officers from the fort and one or two of the Brigantians, describing them all with a dry wit that made me smile. A likeable woman, but not a person to cross.

  Old Statius limped over with Mallius, which made it easy for Quintus and me to slip away. As we turned towards the river I heard the old man say, “I wish you’d change your mind, Marcus. You promised me you’d announce my betrothal to Chloe today, and now you’ve gone back on it.”

  I paused in mid-stride, not wanting to miss Mallius’ reply. “Look, Quintus…isn’t that a kingfisher?”

  He stopped too, long enough to hear Mallius say, “I’m sorry, old friend. It’s just not possible for a few days. Chloe needs longer to accept that it’s time for her to settle down.”

  “Longer to accept? She’s only a child. You must make her do as she’s told. Make her accept!”

  “Easier said than done. She’s threatening to run away if the marriage is announced. She’ll come to see how foolish that is, but…”

  “You’re not having second thoughts about the marriage, I hope?”

  “Of course I’m not. I just need a breathing space, that’s all.”

  We’d heard enough, and I realised that now, with everyone mixing and mingling, might be our only chance for a private word. I continued scanning the river for nonexistent kingfishers and said very softly, “I’ve got something important for you. Before it all starts.”

  He gave no sign of having heard, and then exclaimed, “Yes, I saw something, but I’m not sure…”

  “Definitely a kingfisher,” I said loudly. “Come on, let’s go closer.” We walked slowly towards the river. Nobody seemed to notice.

  When we were out of earshot of the rest, I said, “You remember the man Portius who came to the Oak Tree?”

  “Of course. Terentius’ murderer.”

  “He was in disguise, as we thought, and now I know who he really was. Philippus.”

  Again, he didn’t give any indication that he’d taken in what I’d said, except to look at me sharply, and I saw the excitement in his eyes. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does he know you’ve realised?”

  “No. I only found out this morning, and I’ve hardly seen him since.”

  “Good. I’ll tell Titch to watch for him. You and I must try to keep him under observation here.”

  “Can’t you just arrest him? I’ll feel much happier when he’s under guard.”

  He shook his head and almost whispered his answer. “If he’s involved in whatever’s supposed to happen tomorrow, he’ll be making final plans today. He could lead us to some of the other conspirators.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “I know. But at least now we’re on our guard. You’ve done well.”

  “It begs one important question, though…why is he encouraging a rebel plot?”

  “Better leave it for now. Listen, I think the show’s about to start.”

  Faint notes of a bugle came to us on the breeze, the call for “Salute the Commander.” But the commander was already present, standing with Jovina, Fulvina, and Mallius. Everyone else was scattered about in small groups, and they all had an air of expectancy, like actors on stage just before something dramatic happens.

  Then Eurytus’ bodyguard came in sight, followed by his open carriage. The driver jumped down and unfolded a set of steps, then opened the door. The bugle-call sounded again, and Eurytus stepped down, with the air of a general come to survey a conquered province.

  “Eurytus,” a voice hissed beside me. It was Statius, and if looks could kill, the taxman would have dropped dead before his feet touched the ground. “Nobody told me he was invited. If I’d known, wild horses wouldn’t have dragged me here. Gods, it’s too much. Too much!”

  “You’re right,” Fulvina answered angrily. “As if this whole ridiculous party wasn’t grim enough, we have to have a freedman as guest of honour.”

  “I don’t think he was Jovina’s first choice,” I said.

  Statius stalked away, turning his back. Fulvina laughed shortly. “I wish I’d pleaded a bad headache and stayed at home. Brennus’ wife has managed to escape, it seems.”

  Trebonius and Mallius led Jovina to meet him, and she smiled graciously and welcomed him with elaborate politeness. He was certainly the most ostentatiously dressed person present; nobody, men or women, came close. The soldiers were impressive in their polished parade armour, and we women were as colourful as a bouquet of flowers, but Eurytus’ tunic was shot through with silver and gold thread, and with his gold sandals and a huge gold chain round his neck, he sparkled in the sunlight whenever he made the slightest movement. You never saw anything so vulgar.

  He stood glittering there in solitary state while we were all presented, lining up for our turn as if we were awaiting an audience with Caesar. The men were received first, and I noticed Eurytus acknowledged them mostly with a nod or a short greeting, except for Statius. I couldn’t hear what passed between them, but it was plain to see that Eurytus said something which made the old man angry. After a couple of exchanges Eurytus waved him away, and Statius limped off. while the freedman smiled, as if he had just put down an enemy.

  We ladies were vouchsafed a few words each, and the younger the lady, the more words she got. Chloe in particular seemed to be having quite a conversation with him. Fulvina and I got only a short sentence apiece. To me he said, “Ah yes, the innkeeper.”

  I nodded and answered, “That’s right. I run the Oak Tree Mansio, east of Eburacum.”

  “I don’t stay in any kind of mansio these days.”

  And far be it from me to change your mind, I thought as I moved off.

  Quintus came to join me, and we walked a few paces away from the crowd. “By the gods,” I said, “the man must be a superb tax auditor. Caesar certainly hasn’t employed him for his charm or diplomacy.”

  Quintus laughed. “Never mind. The food looks good. I asked the major-domo if he could arrange for us to share a couch, and do you know what he said?”

  I smiled. “That I’d bribed him already to keep you at a safe distance?”

  “Something much more surprising. He said Jovina told him there is no prearranged seating plan for the guests, we all just do as
we please.”

  “That’s unusual. I assumed we’d all be shown to our places. But that means you and I can definitely sit together. I know you’d rather share with Chloe or Vitellia, of course.”

  “Definitely. About as much as you’d prefer to share with Eurytus.” We made our way to a couch on the opposite side of the clearing from the more elaborate seating that was presumably intended for the guests of honour. We couldn’t sit down before they did, but everyone was moving towards the couches now, and there were plenty of them, so with luck we’d have one to ourselves. When the first of the roast meat was brought to a central table and carved up. I realised I was hungry.

  “I hope your cousin knows what she’s doing,” Quintus said, as a slave brought us wine.

  “She’s always been eccentric. I remember a dinner party she gave when they were in Eburacum, when we didn’t recline on couches at all, but everyone sat on chairs round a long polished table. It felt just like the dining-room at the Oak Tree on a busy night.”

  “Being eccentric is one thing. But not organising who sits where, with the present selection of guests, could cause unpleasantness. Look at the Great Man.”

  Eurytus was seating himself next to Jovina, and it would have been usual for Mallius to join them, or perhaps Trebonius as the giver of the party. But the freedman beckoned Chloe to the third place on his couch. We could see how this annoyed both Mallius and Trebonius, and Statius turned as red as an erupting volcano. If any of them could have altered matters, they would have done. But they couldn’t, and he knew it.

  Trebonius took the adjacent couch, and signalled Mallius to join him and his wife. I saw Mallius say a quick word to Philippus, who was deep in conversation with Vitellia. He took her across to where Statius waited, and the three of them sat down. The other guests sorted themselves out without trouble, and then everyone simultaneously realised that Brennus, the most important of the Brigantian guests, was standing alone near Jovina’s couch, and he had no dining companion.