by Jane Finnis
“No. I will if I must, but I preferred to spend my time today with the living, not the dead.”
“I can’t say I blame you. The important point is, he had a serious stab wound in his neck, easily deep enough to have killed him. There were no cuts on his hands or arms, which means he didn’t try to ward off his attacker. In other words he was taken completely by surprise and killed immediately.”
“The oddest thing, to my mind,” Titch put in, “is that he was out on his own. He always had some of his bodyguard on duty outside Brennus’ house day and night, and he liked showing them off. Why weren’t they with him? They’re a pretty useless lot, but even they could have stopped him being ambushed and stabbed almost on his own doorstep. What was he doing out by himself?”
“I can only think of one reason why a vain man like that would venture out without his escort,” Lucius said. “He was on his way to see a woman.”
“You’ve got it, Lucius. That’s something I did discover today. He was calling on Chloe. He sent her a note.” I read them the note Selena had found. The freedman’s ridiculous attempt at a love-letter made everyone laugh.
“Gods,” Quintus said. “As a poet, he makes a very fine tax-man. ‘Be kind to your adoring and devoted lover when he comes to ask for your favour.’ Chloe saw this, presumably?”
“Selena found it among her things. She thinks, and so do I, that one reason Chloe left the house was to avoid having to meet him.”
They were all serious again. Quintus said, “That’s one puzzle solved, at least.”
“What about the weapon that killed him?” I asked. “This morning you mentioned a knife with a silver handle.”
“That’s another puzzle,” Quintus said. “The report from the soldier who found the body mentioned a knife, a small knife with a wooden handle inlaid with silver. He said he hadn’t seen one exactly like it before. But by the time I got there it had gone. I suppose somebody stole it.”
“Not very attractive to a thief, covered in blood,” Lucius pointed out. “My guess is the murderer realised he’d left it behind and came back for it.”
I opened my belt-pouch and drew out Congrio’s little knife. “Was it anything like this?”
“Merda!” Quintus exclaimed. “That’s it! No, wait, this one’s new, unmarked, it’s never been used in anger. But it’s very like the description we got of the original murder weapon. Where did you get it?”
“Congrio gave it to me as a present.”
Lucius groaned. “Oh no, don’t tell me he’s selling knives as well as those silly cloaks. That means everyone in the fort probably owns one.”
“Quite the opposite. He hasn’t sold any at all. He gave out two as presents to people he said had helped him sell the cloaks. One for me, and one for Philippus.”
“Philippus,” Quintus said thoughtfully. “He fits the description of ‘The Greek.’ And the other two people who fit best couldn’t have murdered Eurytus this morning. Mallius was in hospital, attended by Nikias.”
“But supposing it was Philippus,” Lucius wondered, “why did he do it?”
I said, “Either as part of the plan for the Fall of Troy, which means presumably for money, or just possibly because he didn’t like the way Eurytus was behaving towards Chloe.”
“Or both,” Quintus suggested. “Virtuous vengeance and naked greed combined?”
We got no further with this speculation, because Gambax came in. “The horses and the raeda are all ready, sir. And I’ve found some clothes for Mistress Aurelia. And…well, time’s running on, sir.”
Quintus nodded and stood up. “Yes, it is. Let’s move.”
“Wait now, Quintus,” I said. “I must look in on Mallius before we go. Tell him the news, such as it is. He has a right to know.”
“He has. And he can be a useful reserve for us here. If we don’t get back tonight, it’s up to him to come looking for us tomorrow, or at least get Trebonius to authorise a search.”
Mallius’ bodyguards went so far as to smile at me this time, and ushered me straight in to see their master. He was smiling too, and the smell of wine in the room made me fear he’d already forgotten his promise to me about not drinking too much. But he got up to greet me, steady on his feet, and his words weren’t slurred when he spoke.
“Aurelia, thank you for your help today. You disappeared before the very end, but Nikias is dead, and good riddance.”
“I couldn’t stay to watch. You military men may be able to take that sort of thing in your stride, but not me. Of course I’m glad we’ve got justice for Jovina, even though I know it won’t bring her back.”
“No.” His shoulders sagged. “And he spoke the truth about the cruel way I treated her.” With an effort he sat straight and smiled. “Will you have some wine…guaranteed poison-free?”
“I can’t stay, Mallius. I’ve come with some news of the girls, then I’m going out to help look for them.”
I explained briefly, and when I mentioned the ultimatum and Trebonius’ stubborn determination to continue with his reprisals, he looked stricken.
“I knew he was wrong to threaten the hostages. I knew it!”
“We all know it. The trouble is, he won’t change his mind now. We’ve tried to persuade him, but he won’t budge. So we’ve only got tonight to find the girls and get them back.”
“That’s hardly possible, is it?”
“Possible, though not necessarily easy. We’ve been given some information about a place the rebels have been using for hiding stolen goods, and we think the girls may be imprisoned there. It’s not far.”
“Where? Tell me.”
I told him about the place Gambax had described.
He nodded. “I know where you mean, and I agree, that’s a likely hiding-place.”
I shot an arrow into the dark. “We’ve also had information that Philippus has been storing goods there…goods that he’s selling to the rebels.”
I expected an outburst of denial, but he merely shrugged. “I’ve heard the same. The stupid boy is supposed to be involved in some shady dealing. Surplus stores, that sort of thing.”
“Supposed to be? You haven’t tried to check whether it’s true?”
“I confess I haven’t. His mother asked me not to.”
“Jovina knew about it?”
“Like me, she’d heard rumours. She asked me not to follow them up, she said Philo was being punished now and had promised her that he’d behave himself in future. I—well, it seemed easier to let sleeping dogs lie. No senior officer wants a scandal involving his own son.”
“I can see that. But you’re going to have to face it sooner rather than later. Whether we find the girls or not, we’ll have to tell Trebonius why we went looking in this particular place.”
“Let’s cross one bridge at a time, shall we? Who’s going in this search-party of yours?”
When I told him, he stood up, making a supreme effort to look energetic and fit for action. “I’ll come with you. Wait, I’ll get my armour and sword.”
“No, Marcus, absolutely not.”
“Don’t argue, my mind’s made up.”
“But it’s out of the question. Not possible.”
“What, you think I’m not up to it?”
That’s exactly what I thought, but I knew I’d get nowhere by saying so.
“We need you here. It’s vital you stay in the fort to watch our backs. There’s nobody else who can do it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think it’s pretty certain we’ll find the girls tonight, but we may not be able to bring them back here straight away.” Or at all, the fleeting thought went through my mind, but I suppressed it. “If for any reason we don’t come back to the fort tonight, it’s imperative that Trebonius sends out patrols to look for us tomorrow. It’s up to you to persuade him to do that.”
“He’s sending men out to help with your search, surely?”
“No, he insists he can’t spare anyone till his reinforcements come
. So there’ll just be the five of us, and if we have trouble tonight, we’ll need urgent help tomorrow. That’s what we want you to do. Please, Marcus. It could make the difference between life and death, for us and for Chloe.”
“Very well, I’ll stay. And I’ll make sure Trebonius wastes no time in sending out extra men to help you when the reinforcements get here.”
“But even if they don’t come,” I persisted, “if we’re not back here tonight, you must make him understand how critical the situation is, and send men out at dawn anyway.”
“I will, never fear. You can rely on me. And Aurelia…”
“Yes?”
“When you find Chloe, tell her…tell her I just want her home safe. I’m not angry with her, and it doesn’t matter what has been said or done in the past, we can sort things out. I just want her back safe and sound.”
“So do we all. And I hope you’ll be telling her that yourself by tonight.”
Chapter XXVIII
It was a stupid idea, of course. I can see that now. I could see it then, if I’m honest. I expect we all could, though nobody spoke the thought out loud. We knew there was no other choice, so we tacitly agreed not to admit that we were a party of fools, letting our hearts rule our heads.
We were full of confidence when we assembled just inside the main gate. We were a slightly odd sight, all wearing hooded cloaks against the cold wind, and three out of the five were Congrio’s Vulcan’s Shield garments. Lucius and I were the two exceptions, he in an old army leather sagum, I in a plain sheepskin travelling cloak. The men all had swords, and I stuck a dagger through my belt, as well as carrying Congrio’s little knife in my pouch.
The sentries knew where we were going and wished us good hunting. I stopped for a word with Centurion Ennius.
“You’ve had a long watch today, Ennius. What’s the latest news from outside?”
“Everything’s still under control,” he said, “though I’m afraid there’s been quite a lot of damage to Roman property. I wish the reinforcements would hurry up. Still, one of the patrols has just caught a couple of village youths setting fire to shops in the forum, and executed them on the spot. That should give the rest something to think about.”
It was easy travelling on the main road north, though we had to go slowly because of the accompanying raeda. Gambax drove it, while Titch led his horse. Once we were clear of the village the highway was deserted except for two ox-drawn wagons and a courier, all heading south for Isurium. After four miles, Gambax halted us beside a small turning that led left into thick woods.
“From here we need to take care,” he said. “This track leads to the big barn. There are twists and turns and it forks in several places, so keep close to me and stay under cover of the trees where you can. After about a mile the trees end and there’s the farm, the roundhouse, a couple of small outbuildings, and the barn itself. That’s bound to be guarded. So I suggest we follow this small track about half a mile, then dismount and hide the horses and raeda, and go on foot from there.”
We rode slowly and dismounted where the trees were still thick enough to conceal all the transport out of sight of the track. We walked on quietly and in single file, stopping frequently to listen. The men had their swords drawn, and I kept my hand on the dagger stuck in my belt. But the woods were quiet, with just the occasional bird-call or the scuffling of a small animal darting away as we approached.
Where the trees began to thin out, Gambax signalled us to halt again. He and Titch would reconnoitre from here, and without a word they set off.
“That’s far enough,” a deep voice called from the shadows, and six men armed with heavy cudgels rode out of cover and surrounded us. It was as simple as that. “Keep still, all of you, and you won’t get hurt.”
Of course all four of our men lunged at them, but they were at too much of a disadvantage, fighting on foot against horsemen. One of the riders had his leg cut, another received a minor slash across the arm, and a third was thrown from his horse when it reared up to dodge a blade aimed at its head. But their companions wielded their big sticks expertly. Titch and Lucius had their weapons knocked from their grasp with wrist-numbing blows, and were then flung to the ground when they tried to go on fighting. Gambax was hit on the head with a force that dented his helmet and laid him out unconscious. Quintus’ arm was struck hard enough to make him grunt with the pain, and stumble so that he went sprawling. I didn’t attempt anything myself, because I knew I’d no chance. One of our captors pulled the dagger from my belt but didn’t search my pouch, so my little knife remained unnoticed, at any rate for now.
So far the ambush had been conducted without a word after that original warning. None of us spoke, either. I looked the natives over to see if I recognised any of them, but I didn’t. They were all tall and muscular, with longish hair in various shades, fair, brown, and one red-headed. They wore good leather jerkins trimmed with iron, stout hide kilts and heavy boots. Leather from Cataractonium? I wondered. Very likely.
It was easy to tell which was their leader. His jerkin was trimmed with gold, and he wore a gold-decorated dagger at his belt, as well as an elaborate torc of twisted gold at his neck. And above all he had the bearing of someone used to being obeyed. The look of a prince, perhaps? Were we going to meet Venutius at last?
Whoever he was, he didn’t appear pleased by our arrival. “Someone’s betrayed us,” he muttered, more to himself than to his men. “Portius swore this place was safe.”
Portius…Did he mean Philippus?
The red-headed man beside him nodded. “Someone’s talked, Venutius. But not Portius, I’d stake my life on that. He’s got too much to lose.”
“And he’s just lost it,” the prince snapped. “By the Three Mothers, can you ever really trust a Roman?”
His men stirred uneasily and muttered together. One said, “What does it matter who talked? If one knows, they must all know.”
“True enough,” Venutius said. “But we can hold them all off for tonight, and we’ll move tomorrow.”
He looked at us the way a man inspects horses he’s thinking of buying. He asked his red-haired companion, “Are any of them the commander or the deputy commander from the fort?”
“No. That one is a soldier, but nobody important.” He nodded towards Gambax, who was now trying to sit up, rubbing his bruised head. “The other men are investigators from down south somewhere. The woman belongs to one of them, I think.”
“I don’t belong to anybody.” Oh, me and my big mouth! The words were out before I could stop them, and what’s more I’d spoken in British, the language they were using among themselves. How much more sensible I’d have been, I realised, to pretend I didn’t understand them, then they might have let something slip.
Venutius laughed. “You do now. You all belong to us. You’re hostages, and you’re just what we need. Your commander is threatening to kill some of the men from Isurium he has taken hostage today. I’ve told him that for every one of ours he executes, we’ll do the same to one of his people. But so far we only had a couple of girls…”
“The girls are here?” Lucius interrupted. “Are they alive? And unharmed?”
The prince nodded. “For now they are. They aren’t much use to us dead. We’ve told Trebonius we’ll do nothing to them until we hear that he has started his unspeakable executions, so unless he breaks his word, they’ll be all right till dawn at least. Perhaps longer, if he sees sense. But there are only two of them, and Trebonius has twenty. I was anticipating having to raid some Roman farms hereabouts tonight to even up the numbers, but the gods have sent me five more. I’ll be content with that for the present.”
One of his men said, “If we have to execute two a day, we can start with the men here. Keep the women for a treat later.”
“I’ve a much better idea,” Venutius answered. “They can decide among themselves who’s to be executed first. I’ll enjoy watching how a pack of Romans choose which among them is to be sacrificed.”
Venutius laughed again. “I don’t believe you can arrange any such thing, not with that madman Trebonius in command. He wants the murderer of Eurytus in his hands before he’ll release our people. But we didn’t kill the man, whatever you Romans think about it. So we’re not able to hand him over, and we’re not prepared to suffer for something we haven’t done.”
“And I don’t believe you,” Quintus retorted. “We know you planned to kill him at midsummer. We’ve seen the secret message sent from Londinium, about the Fall of Troy, and Achilles and Hector. That proves it.”
“It proves someone planned to kill him,” Venutius was smiling like a philosopher enjoying the cut-and-thrust of an argument. “I’m not saying I’m displeased that someone has finished him off. But it wasn’t my doing, or any Brigantian’s. One of you Romans murdered him. Personally I hope he gets away with it, but I’ll not stand by and allow any of my men to take the blame.”
“A nice defence,” Quintus replied, in the same casual tone. “If only it were true. But this murder was committed in the civilian village. It was done by a Brigantian, there’s no doubt of it. Maybe not by you or your immediate war-band, but by someone living near the fort. We Romans can’t let Eurytus’ death go unavenged. So if you have any influence in the village, why don’t you persuade the culprit or culprits to give themselves up to justice? If not, I can’t answer for the consequences.”
“Meaning what, exactly?”
“The whole fort is on battle alert. In fact the whole of this part of the province, because reinforcements are on their way from other bases, so the word has gone out. They know precisely when we set off to find the girls, and where we were bound. If we’re not back at the fort by tonight, the commander will take that as a signal for open war. He’ll have enough men to hunt down every last Brigantian between here and Eburacum. Is that what you want? To die yourselves, and have your women and children sold into slavery?”
