Buried Too Deep (9 page)

Could it really be true that during all those years, we’d had a brother in a faraway province, and father had been dreaming of going back to see him? I still couldn’t take it in.

“Do you know for sure,” I asked Lucius, “that father met this so-called son of his while we were all in Lindum? He never breathed a word about it.”

“I know for sure. For two reasons. First, he has an Aurelius ring which he said Father gave him.” He glanced down at his own left hand, and Albia and I involuntarily did the same. We all had identical rings of twisted gold. “He lent it me, so I could show it to you.” He fished in his belt-pouch and produced a thin twisted-gold ring identical to our own.

That, I must say, impressed me: not only that this Rollus had a ring like ours, but that he was prepared to trust Lucius with it.

“But what really convinced me,” my brother said, “was a letter he has, from our father to his mother Huctia. And I have a copy of that with me too. Rollus wanted me to show it to you.”

He brought out a small roll of papyrus. “The original was on a wooden letter-tablet, and the ink was quite faded, but easy enough to read. This is an exact copy, except it’s in my writing, not father’s. It’s quite short, listen.” He flattened out the papyrus and read:

“Aurelius Marcellus to his Huctia, greetings.

My dearest, all is going well here in Brigantia. We’ve started building work on the mansio, and the twins and Albia are taking to the life like ducks to water. So I’m almost ready to fetch you and Rollus up here to join us. Soon I shall tell them all about you, and I know they will make you welcome. First though I must complete the other business I told you of. Money is shorter than I should like, but Caratacus’ gold is waiting. You laughed when I said I would bring you and your son a fortune. You’ll see. But I’m not going to reveal its whereabouts even to you. It lies buried in a pit in the noontide shadow of a tall tree, and if you climb the tree you can see the sea. That’s all I’ll say for now, except that once I have it, all my worries will be over. So be patient for just a little longer, and tell Rollus he will see his papa again very soon.”

Lucius passed the papyrus round, and we all took turns to read it.

“It’s hard to say from a copy who wrote it,” I said, “but you say you recognised father’s handwriting, Lucius?”

He nodded emphatically. “I’d swear to it. I’d know his writing anywhere. The odd way he always made the letter R, remember? And how he wrote his own name, with the extra flourish on the A and the M.”

Albia said, “Isn’t it sad, to think of that poor woman waiting and waiting in Lindum with her son, expecting that every day she’d have another letter from her man, arranging for her to be with him. But Father died, and so the letter never came.”

“I wonder what he meant by this reference to Caratacus’ gold?” I handed the papyrus back to Lucius. “He writes as if he knew where it was, but he never said anything to us. Now that would be truly sad, to have a father who knew where to lay his hands on a fortune, but died before he could dig it up.”

Albia and Lucius laughed, and Albia said, “Remember how the customers in the bar were always talking about it when we first came here? If I had a denarius for every man who told me that he knew where it was hidden, I’d be richer by now than ever Caratacus was.”

Candidus was puzzled. “Is this some ancient legend? Caratacus lived in the south of Britannia, surely. He was king of the native tribes there when old Claudius invaded. How could he have left gold in Brigantia?”

“He ran away,” I said. “He came up here looking for protection from Queen Cartimandua, only she had the good sense to hand him straight over to Caesar. That much is fact. As for his gold, that part of the story is what our grandmother would have called round objects. Balls, in plain Latin.”

“Not necessarily,” Lucius put in. “It’s possible he buried his treasure to keep it out of Cartimandua’s hands.”

Albia passed round the wine-jug. “I’ve never understood why Caratacus came north at all. Why didn’t he just jump in a boat and sail over to Gaul? He’d have been much safer there.”

“Ah, but Queen Cartimandua had promised to protect him,” Lucius said. “Only she’d made a secret deal with Caesar, so when Caratacus came to her, she captured him and handed him over.”

“Not very honourable,” Candidus commented.

“But necessary.” My brother sipped his wine. “It made a stink in Brigantia, of course. The royal household and the warriors were split down the middle. The old men still go on about it even now.”

“And just before he was captured,” I said, “he was suspicious of Queen Cartimandua, so he sneaked out one night and buried his royal treasure in a basket, hoping to come back for it later. He was carted off to Rome as a prisoner instead, and never told anyone where it was.”

Candidus looked thoughtful. “So it could still be in its original hiding-place.”

“No it couldn’t,” I objected. “The whole thing’s just a silly dream. There’s no treasure, there never was any. If Caratacus had so much warning about being betrayed, why didn’t he escape, and take his treasure with him?”

“That’s easy, Sis. If he was escaping on horseback, he probably couldn’t carry it. He’d have needed a wagon. Only he didn’t have a helpful sister who could lend him one in his hour of need.” He grinned at me. “His only hope would have been to bury his gold and run.”

I saw his point, but I still wasn’t convinced. “People have been hunting for Caratacus’ treasure for the last fifty years, and never found as much as a handful of copper coins.”

“Father thought he had,” Lucius said seriously. “And Rollus believes it.”

“I daresay he does, but I don’t.”

“You’ll be able to judge better when you’ve met him,” Lucius agreed. “He plans to come north and search for the gold, but first he wants me to bring him to meet you. He wants all of us to have a share in the treasure if he finds it.”

“Will he put that in writing?”

“Don’t be so sceptical, Sis. He wants to share his good fortune—doesn’t that tell you he’s genuinely our brother? Otherwise why wouldn’t he just come north by himself and hunt for Caratacus’ gold on his own?”

“Because he’ll have a much better chance if we help him,” I said. “If it’s a matter of searching for people who knew our father, we’ll be more likely to find the facts than a complete stranger with a very tenuous claim to be an Aurelius.”

“So here’s the question I want you two to answer.” Lucius looked first at me and then at Albia. “Will you agree to meet Rollus and make him welcome? Will you treat him as our brother, and help him look for this treasure? It may or may not exist, I accept that. But I for one think that we should acknowledge him and help him. Aurelia?”

“There are several questions there, brother. Will I meet him? Yes. Will I make him welcome? Yes. Will I acknowledge him as our brother? I can’t say till I’ve got to know him a little. Will I help him look for this ridiculous treasure? I suppose if I’m convinced he’s our brother, then it’s a family duty.”

“And you, Albia?”

“I’ll answer yes to the first two, and reserve judgment on whether I acknowledge him, and whether I join in his treasure hunting. But even if he turns out not to be our brother, I’ll be tempted to help him look for the gold. As long as he promises me a share, of course.”

“Thank you.” Lucius smiled. “I hoped you’d agree. I very much want you to meet him, and I can get him assigned up here to help me search for the Gauls, so he should be in the area quite soon.” He got to his feet. “But now I really must push on to the coast. There’s a real box of gold waiting for me there, and a handsome reward when I’ve taken it safely back to Eburacum.”

So he left us, and we chatted on for a while about our mysterious possible brother. Then we played with the children, and strolled round the farm to see the various new projects Candidus and Albia were embarking on. I remember Candidus showing me his new bull, a huge red-and-white animal with enormous horns, which let him walk up and feed it like a well-behaved horse. Albia took me to what she called her “miniature forest”, a row of tiny oak saplings, less than a foot tall, growing in a sheltered spot near the woods, and lovingly protected by their own special square of fencing.

“I grew these from acorns I brought here from the mansio. I miss the oaks round the mansio, and there aren’t many big trees here on the farm. There used to be some huge ashes, and you can still see some of their stumps, but they’ve all been cut down. I shall replace them with these.” She smiled. “It may take a year or two, but we’re not moving anywhere.”

In no time at all the sun was sinking low, and I helped Albia prepare supper. April is a hungry time of year in Britannia, when the winter stocks of vegetables are running low, and the spring crops haven’t started to come through in any quantity. But Albia’s store-room held leeks and onions, and even a few of last year’s carrots, and she picked a young cabbage from her garden. Soon we had a huge pot of chicken stew simmering.

By dusk there was still no sign of Lucius or his men, so we ate a hearty meal and went to bed early. I dreamed pleasantly of gardens, and trees, and baskets of gold.

Chapter IX

A thin morning mist hid the sun as I rode Merula east from Albia’s farm. She’d insisted I took two of her farm boys to escort me to Lucius, and I was glad of their company, because they knew the coast well, even shrouded in mist. I don’t like the feeling of steering blind through unfamiliar country, especially in an area where there are outlaws about.

Fortunately the mist thinned as the sun rose, and by the time we left the Roman highway and followed the small native roads, mere tracks mostly, that crossed the Headland itself, we could see around us clearly enough. With the sun to guide us, we easily found the north side of the promontory and rode along the edge of it. We kept the sea to our left, and before long we saw the small bay where the ship had been wrecked, and two soldiers on guard, facing to landward, not out to sea. I hailed the nearest one and explained who I was.

He saluted smartly. “Your brother said to expect you, Mistress Aurelia. He’s probably down on the beach by now, but we’ve had to wait for the tide to go out. You can get a good view from the cliff top—there look, beyond the fire.”

I thanked him and dismissed Albia’s slaves, who looked disappointed despite my giving them a few coppers for their trouble. I gathered they’d been hoping to stay awhile, and suggested that I’d need escorting back to their farm later in the day, but I assured them that Lucius and his men would take care of me. I thought my brother wouldn’t want strangers hanging round watching. After they’d trotted away I walked my mare over towards a cluster of horses, mules, and oxen which were hobbled in the shelter of some scrubby trees near our covered wagon. A big camp-fire burned not far away, and gathered round it were Taurus and Otho, and a couple of fishermen.

“Taurus!” I called, and he turned and came towards me.

“’Morning, Mistress Aurelia. You found us all right then.”

No, I’m still looking for you, I wanted to answer, but of course I didn’t. Taurus has always had a tendency for stating the obvious. “I did, yes. How are things here? Did you enjoy camping by the sea?”

“Not much. It was cold when the mist came in, and the sea’s a scary place. But it’s better now. And the fishermen are making us breakfast.”

“Good. Where’s Lucius?”

“Just gone down to the beach. The tide’s nearly out at last, so he can get the treasure up from the boat.” He grinned. “He says it’s a big box of gold, and he’s promised Otho and me a gold piece each when we get it back to the Oak Tree.”

“Let’s see what they’re up to.” I walked to the very edge of the cliff and gingerly peered over. The sea looked a long way down, but what I saw in the bay was interesting enough to make me forget my anxiety.

The wreck lay at the base of the cliff. Even from this distance the damage looked bad. The ship was almost broken in half, the middle section submerged and resting on rocks, the whole framework tipped askew. The sand was still under a couple of inches of water, but the sea was going out, and a group of men clustered round the wreck, Lucius among them. Nearby a small sturdy rowing-boat was pulled up on a high bank of shingle, with more men near it. They were military in appearance but weren’t wearing standard army cloaks. They must be sailors from the Britannia fleet, because beyond the beach, the comforting, graceful shape of a Liburian warship lay anchored about five hundred paces out. The mist had vanished and the sea was blue now, reflecting the sky, and the early sun made a golden path across the water. For once I didn’t find the seascape frightening, but beautiful.

“Are you going down to join Master Lucius?” From his smile it was clear Taurus knew the answer. He doesn’t like the German Ocean either.

“I will if you will, Taurus.”

He laughed. “I’m sure they can manage fine without me. Ah, now they’ve seen you.”

The men on the beach were looking up at us, and Lucius waved and pointed to something on the sand beside the boat, an oblong box about the length and the width of a man lying on his back, but deeper. He beckoned me to go down, calling out “This is it, Aurelia, come and look!”

I called back, “You must be joking!” Even if I didn’t find the ocean scary, the path down the cliff was. It appeared pretty well vertical, and I was more than happy to wait for Lucius to bring the box up to me.

An old fisherman with a bushy white beard and whiskers left the fire and came to stand beside me. He looked from me down to Lucius.“ Good day to you, Mistress. You’re that officer’s sister, ain’t you?”

He spoke in British, and I answered in kind. “Yes, I’m Aurelia Marcella. I see they’ve found the cargo safe and sound.”

“That’s thanks to me and my son,” he answered. “We were the ones sent the message to the soldiers about the boat being wrecked, and carrying this big wooden box. We saw how it smashed onto the rocks just at sunset the night before last. There was a bad storm, fierce wind. The ship came up from the south, got round the Headland all right, and then the skipper must have decided to pull into the north bay here for shelter. Daft, of course, shows they were strangers. No local crew would have tried that, not in a storm. In the morning we found one of the soldiers, and he said he’d fetch his officer, and there’d be a reward for us if we kept other folks away till he brought his mates. Which we did.”

“You did well. My brother says it’s an important cargo.”

“Must be, to have a warship hanging round out there.” He jerked a thumb towards the Liburian. “Well, we’ve done as we was bid, not touched it, and kept it safe for you. So we thought we’d just stop by to collect the reward money we was promised, and see what was in the chest. We’re curious to know what all the fuss is about. So we’re making breakfast for everyone while we wait. Nothing like a good fish stew to start the day.”

I said casually, “That box looks an awkward shape. I wonder if it’s heavy?”

“Aye, it’s heavy, and not easy to lift. Flat sides, no handholds.”

So they hadn’t completely followed instructions about not touching it. Not surprising really. We should thank the gods they hadn’t stolen it.

He pointed down at the group on the beach. “Look now, they’re doing it the way I suggested.”

Two soldiers unrolled a fishing net and spread it on the sand. They lifted the box onto it and tied the net’s edges together. One of the sailors came forward and ostentatiously pulled at the soldiers’ knots to test them, then added a couple of short rope loops for handles at either end of the long box.

“That’s a good idea for a heavy load. I’m sure they appreciate it.” I was also sure they’d have managed to come up with it all by themselves, but as our grandmother used to say, it costs nothing to be civil, and makes you feel good.

He sucked his teeth. “We’re used to bringing things up cliffs. It’s amazing, what the sea brings ashore round here. Gifts from the gods, we call ‘em, and we’re glad to have ‘em mostly, even the sad ones, like the drownded bodies. But this is the first time I’ve ever known any gods to send a chest of money.”

I felt a growing excitement as the two soldiers picked up their burden and made for the cliff path. But I had time to wonder whether Lucius had told the fishermen what the box contained. “Money? What makes you think its money?”

“Stands to reason, surely. You think there’s money in there, don’t you, else why would you have come? And so does your brother, otherwise why would there be all these soldiers? Not to mention them sailor-boys out there.”

Why indeed? I glanced across at the Liburian, and realised the sailors in the bay had already launched their small boat and were rowing out towards their ship. Lucius waved them off, took a last look around the bay, then turned and began to climb up the cliff path. Not very far ahead of him, his two soldiers were hauling the unwieldy chest up the narrow, zig-zag track. Lucius caught up with them and followed close behind. He paused for a heartbeat, glanced up to where I stood, and gave me an exuberant wave.

“Be careful!” I called. “Don’t drop it!” Even as I shouted, I thought, don’t be silly, Aurelia, of course they won’t. And yelling like that will just distract them.

But it didn’t seem to. They continued toiling steadily upwards, giving no sign that they’d heard me. The old fisherman laughed. “They’ll not drop it, Mistress. Save your breath, I should.”

“But that path is steep, and it’s all bare chalk underfoot. It must be as slippery as ice.”

“It is. But they’ve got good hobnails on their boots.”

“Well I wish they’d hurry up. The sea makes me nervous.” I shivered as I watched them, not with cold but with anxiety. They were going as fast as they could, I supposed, but they looked as slow as tortoises.

“Why?” the old man seemed genuinely surprised.

“It’s so unpredictable, yet the waves and winds have such power. And I can’t stand the way the tide comes in and goes out again every day.”

“Twice a day,” he corrected. “But what’s wrong with that? It’s natural.”

“Not to me. The way it changes the whole look of the coast, it’s scary. It’s completely different from our sea in Italia. When I was a child I used to love the beach at Pompeii.”

He looked blank. “Where’s that? Down south somewhere, is it?”

“It’s in Italia. I mean, it was. The sea was always blue there, and calm. And warm enough to swim in, which it certainly isn’t here.”

“’Course it is.
We
swim in the sea here, and it don’t do us no harm. It’s just a question of being used to it. But I didn’t think you was born here. You’ve got a Roman accent. Mind, you speak our language quite well, for a Roman.”

“Thanks. I’ve lived in Britannia a long time. Since I was a girl.”

“Some Romans who come here never bother to learn our language, however long they stay. They talk to us in Latin, and if we don’t understand, they just speak slower and louder.”

I laughed. “More fool them.” Barbarians know more than enough tricks to play on us settlers, without the added advantage of being able to chat among themselves in a Roman’s presence, knowing they can’t be understood.

“If that big box has got money in,” the old man mused, “how much will there be?”

“I don’t know.” Lucius had said there was a large amount of gold coin. I tried to work out how many aureii would fit into a chest that size, but I gave it up. It looked reassuringly heavy, and the two soldiers had all they could do to lug it up the treacherous track. Their boots slithered and slipped on the chalky surface, and I sent a silent prayer to Diana that they wouldn’t let the chest tumble back into the bay. I’m as religious as the next woman, but I wasn’t in the mood to make an offering to Neptune.

Perhaps the sea god heard this impious thought, because even as I prayed, one of the men stumbled and fell to his knees, leaving the other perilously supporting the whole weight for what felt like an hour. Lucius moved forward quickly to help, till the fallen man scrambled up, rubbing his ankle, and took his place again. I heard the fisherman mutter something under his breath, but I couldn’t catch the words. I sent another prayer to Neptune, promising him an offering of gold if he’d let us bring the box ashore.

I turned away from the sea to look at the blazing fire where Taurus and Otho still stood, with a younger fisherman, presumably the son of the greybeard beside me. They all seemed uninterested in what was happening far below, and were tucking into bowls of stew which the fisherman ladled out. I caught the faint aroma of fish, and the tangy smell made me hungry. But I couldn’t bear to leave the cliff edge till the chest was safely at the top. I watched as Taurus lifted another pot onto the fire, probably warming up some wine.

Beyond the fire stood our wagon, and the various animals, their coats all golden in the low sun. Further back still, the soldiers we’d seen as we came down stood ready, eyes alert and swords drawn, to warn us if anyone approached from inland.

When I turned back to peer over the cliff again, the men and the chest seemed hardly to have moved. “I wish they’d hurry up,” I said for the second time.

The old man shook his head. “You need a bit of patience when you’ve dealings with the sea. That’s something you learn, if you’re a fisherman.”

“Very likely. I’m an innkeeper, and I’ve never been good at being patient.”

“An innkeeper? That sounds like a nice comfortable job. All the beer and wine you can drink, and folk paying you money just to stay under your roof.”

“It has its good points. Next time you travel the road to Eburacum, you’ll have to drop in at the Oak Tree. The drinks will be on the house, after the help you and your son have given us.”

“Eburacum? I’ve never been there. Not likely to, neither. We don’t see the need to gallop all over the countryside like you Romans do. You’re forever rushing here, rushing there, never stopping. We take life a bit slower.”

“Yes, we can move fast when we have to.” Which is why Romans rule the world and barbarians don’t, I could have added.

“Except when you’re climbing up cliffs.” I had to admit he had a point.

At long last Lucius’ men reached the top of the cliff, and with a final heave, manhandled the heavy box onto the short grass, and dragged it back till it was several paces from the edge. Lucius was close behind them, looking extremely pleased with himself, as well he might.

I walked over to the chest, and tried to lift one end by the thick rope handle, but I could barely raise it off the ground. If that dead weight were really all gold coin…

“Well done, lads,” Lucius said to the soldiers, who were standing panting, letting us know what a tremendous effort they’d made. “Get yourselves a drink while we see what we’ve got here.” He took a knife from his belt, and began to cut the ropes and the fishing net. “Taurus, come and get the lid off this thing, will you?”

“Right you are, Master Lucius.” Taurus left the fire and came to stand over the box, then he too tested its weight by lifting one end. “Heavy, that is. Is it really full of money?”

Lucius grinned. “I’d say it’s full to bursting, from the weight of it. But there’s only one way to find out.”

“Saturn’s balls!” Taurus gazed at the box in reverent silence. “I’ve never seen so much money all in one place.”