by Jane Finnis
“And somebody fetch his father, please,” Quintus said.
They carried him carefully into the hospital and took him to the little room where Mallius had lain only this morning. The two bearers were slow and gentle, but the jolting of the stretcher must have been agonising for a man with a broken back, and as they settled him on the bed, he groaned and opened his eyes. “Father?”
“I’m here, Philo.” Mallius moved closer so his son could see him. “Keep still now. You’ll be all right.”
“Everything hurts, and I can’t move my legs or my arms,” Philippus muttered. “My back’s broken. Isn’t it, Pythis?”
“I’m not sure yet. Just lie still and rest for now.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” He smiled, but it looked more like a snarl. “I’m finished. And I’d rather die tonight, here, than be executed for killing a rat like Eurytus.”
Mallius was shocked. He hadn’t heard our report to Trebonius. “If that’s what they’re saying, Philippus, I’m sure they’re wrong. You had nothing to do with that.”
“I did. I stabbed him this morning.”
“Oh, gods,” Mallius moaned. “Why, Philo?”
“For money, of course. It was all arranged with Venutius. The Fall of Troy…should have been Terentius playing Achilles. But I managed to take the part over instead.” He laughed, but it turned into a groan. “Can’t you give me something to stop the pain? Where’s Niki? He’ll know what I need.”
“He’s not here just now. You’ll be better if you rest…”
Philippus swore. “I can rest in the Underworld. Get me a drink, if you can’t spare any medicine.”
Onion had come in carrying a flask of wine. Pythis poured some into a mug, and between them they raised Philippus’ head far enough to let him drink it.
“That’s better.” He caught sight of me. “It’s all your fault really. I knew you were a nosey little cow, I tried to stop you coming to Isurium. But I had to get the message through to Venutius. Terentius’ servant…he knew the message, but not what it meant.” He coughed and spat out blood, and accepted another long drink. “I delivered it, but I didn’t have the half-coin to identify myself. So they never paid the money. Cheating bastards. And I should have had more when I’d played the part of Achilles. A really big payment, they promised me. I could have given up trading. Or maybe not. I quite enjoyed it.”
“Enjoyed betraying the Empire?” Trebonius said.
“You old fool, you don’t see it, do you? I’m no traitor, but I’m poor, and I needed money, and that was an easy way. I knew the Empire would never fall just because of what I did. We can always beat the barbarians if we have to.” He surveyed us all as we clustered round his bed, and suddenly tears came into his eyes. “Tell Chloe and Vitellia I’m sorry. I forged that note to get Chloe down by the river. Venutius told me she’d be ransomed for money. And then I found he’d lied to me. He wanted hostages.”
“You did the honourable thing in the end,” Mallius said. “You rescued them.”
“No choice.” His voice slurred, and he closed his eyes for a few heartbeats, then opened them and looked directly at Mallius. “It’s over now, and I’m tired. Too tired to fight any more. Give me another drink, boy, for the gods’ sake.”
But before Pythis could get the beaker to his lips, he groaned and made a choking sound. His eyes were still open, but the life had gone out of them, and we didn’t need to be told it was the end.
Chapter XXXII
Tomorrow, the first day of September, is Lucius’ and my birthday, and we’ll be celebrating it together here at the Oak Tree. I haven’t wanted to go to any sort of celebration since my trip to see Jovina. I’ve been busy through the summer, and I needed to let the passing days put some distance between me and the terrible events at Isurium. Now at last I feel like a party.
My brother has come up from Londinium and brought his darling Vitellia with him. They still make sheep’s eyes at one another. But I don’t mind, because Quintus is here, too, so I can’t feel jealous of anyone else’s happiness.
Albia and Candidus are staying for a few days, with the twins. When I see the chaos those two cause at nearly five years old, I shudder to think what they’ll be like by the time they’re grown, and I realise again how much I like being an aunt and how much I’d hate to be a mother. But we all adore them, and no Aurelius family gathering would feel right without them.
We invited Mallius and Chloe to come and stay, but they’ve only just got settled in Londinium, so they reluctantly refused. Mallius has a new posting there on the governor’s staff, which gives them both the chance of a new start, far away from memories of Jovina and Philippus. According to Vitellia, who spends a large part of her time writing and receiving letters, Chloe swears she’ll wait for her soldier-boy for ever and a day, or until her father gives consent for them to marry, which may amount to the same thing. Gambax, presumably, swears the same.
Good luck to them, if they are really destined for one another. And whatever happens, at least Chloe won’t be spending her life with Statius. Vitellia has started to introduce Chloe to her own wide circle of young friends. As our grandmother used to say, there’s plenty of fish in the sea and it costs nothing to sail out and look them over. It’s if you do more than look that the trouble can begin. So we’ll wait and see.
One marriage that will definitely happen is my brother’s. He and Vitellia are more in love than ever. He still spoils her, and she still lets him. But she’s grown up a lot this summer and acquired a measure of independence. She’s still sweet-natured and of course stunningly beautiful, but no longer the biddable little girl he brought to Oak Bridges in June. He knows it and seems content, and so am I, because now she’s much more the sort of wife I’d hoped he would choose.
They’ve set their wedding date for April next year. We’re all invited to stay at her father’s villa. Albia and I are already thinking about what to wear.
About the History
The opening of this story, where Aurelia receives an invitation to a birthday party, is rooted in fact. The Romans did invite each other to their birthday celebrations, and there’s a charming example of such an invitation among the documents found at Vindolanda on Britannia’s northern frontier. What’s more the handwriting experts say the invitation (from Claudia Severa to Sulpicia Lepidina) was written by more than one person, the main part by a secretary and the closing words by Severa herself. There’s nothing sinister about this letter, but of course it set me thinking; a note written in more than one hand could have an altogether more disturbing cause.
Most of the places mentioned in the book are factual, except for the village of Oak Bridges and the Oak Tree mansio itself. The mansio’s location is at the bottom of a real hill with a steep road up to the Yorkshire Wolds—a road which still carries traffic today from York to the coast. York in Aurelia’s day was known as Eburacum; the more familiar Eboracum came later.
The remains of Isurium, such as they are, lie around and beneath the village of Aldborough, but the remnants on show now are of a later and more impressive town than the village Aurelia would have known. The Romans built and rebuilt their towns, and the original fort and village of Isurium would probably have been built mainly of wood. But they have left very few traces behind, because they were in due course overlaid by a larger town built mainly of stone, with a regular grid of streets and a forum in the centre. Isurium did become a tribal administrative centre for the Brigantes, and by the 300s AD was known as Isurium Brigantum. When it achieved this important status isn’t clear, but it must have been later than 100 AD, when the Romans still regarded pacifying the northern part of their province as a work in progress. So I’ve allowed myself to speculate about Isurium’s early history, and to picture it as small and usually quiet, with occasional native unrest. One day archaeologists may prove me wrong, or even right.
If you thought that the Vulcan’s Shield articles sold by Congrio were remarkably like asbestos, you�
��re right: that’s what they were. The Romans knew about asbestos and its fire-resistant properties. They called it amiantus, and Pliny the Elder, in his encyclopaedic work Natural History, mentions it more than once. He thought the fibres came from plants grown in the deserts of India. Table mats and napkins were woven from asbestos and were treated as novelty items because their owners could clean them by simply throwing them into a fire, where dirt would burn away, leaving the cloth unharmed and clean. When I learned, by pure chance, about amiantus, I was so intrigued that I was determined to include it in one of Aurelia’s mysteries. I wonder, did anybody actually think of making clothing from its fibres? Who knows? But they could have done.
It’s hard to imagine nowadays how enormous was the control of the Roman paterfamilias over the rest of his family. In theory he even had the power of life and death, though by Aurelia’s time this was only in theory. But Lucius could certainly have forbidden Aurelia to travel to Jovina’s party, ordering the mansio’s staff not to give her any help, and fully expected that everyone would obey him. Aurelia’s recklessness, or shall we call it courage, in disobeying him over something so important as a journey away from home would have shocked most of her contemporaries. It even worried Quintus, but not for long.
As with Aurelia’s earlier mysteries, I’ve done a great deal of research on the history. It’s no hardship; I love doing it, and I feel it’s important to get the historical facts right as far as I can. Where the history isn’t known or is uncertain, I’ve taken the author’s privilege of using educated guesswork plus imagination.
I’ll end with a list of some of the books I’ve found useful. I wish there was space for all of them.
Roman Authors
Tacitus. Agricola. Tacitus’ account of a general and governor who spent much of his career in Britannia, and of Britannia itself and its people.
Suetonius. The Twelve Caesars. A wonderfully gossipy account of Roman court and political life. Most of it was far removed from Aurelia’s provincial existence, but it makes fascinating reading.
Pliny the Younger. Letters of the Younger Pliny. Not about Britannia, but very much about the Roman mindset, and the life and opinions of an educated and likeable aristocrat.
Modern Authors
Guy de la Bedoyere. Roman Britain, A New History.
Peter Salway. A History of Roman Britain.
Alan K. Bowman. Life and Letters on the Roman Frontier (Vindolanda and Its People).
Lindsay Allason-Jones. Women in Roman Britain.
Barry Cunliffe. Iron Age Britain.
Andrew Dalby and Sally Grainger. The Classical Cookbook.
Philip Wilkinson. What the Romans Did for Us.
More from this Author
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