Buried Too Deep (17 page)

We were all silent a few heartbeats. The others were perhaps thinking of Pompeii. I was reflecting that Brutus had known father, and that might mean he knew…well, there was only one way to find out.

“Brutus, when you knew Father…”I stopped, suddenly realising as I formed the next few words how odd they were going to sound. “That is…we’ve had a bit of a surprise in the family lately. We’ve heard that Father had a son born here in Britannia, a half-brother to me and Albia and Lucius, that none of us knew anything about. It’s hard to believe a thing like that after all this time, and we can’t help doubting the truth of it. I don’t suppose Father ever mentioned…”

I paused, because Brutus had lost his smile and was staring at me as if I’d just thrown a pail of cold water over him. “Well…that is…yes, he did, as it happens. But it’s difficult, because I took an oath not to say anything to a living person until your father had told all of you about it.”

“But he never did, Brutus. And he never will now.”

“What have you heard about this brother?” Brutus asked.

“Father knew a native girl called Huctia in Glevum when his legion was based down there. They saw a lot of each other, but then Father’s cohort was moved to Lindum, and he lost touch with the girl. She had his baby but he never knew about it, until he found out by pure chance years later. By that time the son was a grown lad called Rollus, and father wrote to Huctia saying he planned to bring them both up to Brigantia, because he was just setting up the mansio at Oak Bridges. He died soon after. So he never brought them up north, and he never mentioned anything about Huctia and Rollus to us.”

Brutus scratched his chin thoughtfully. “It can’t hurt to tell you now what I know, as you’ve found out so much already. When we were together in Pompeii, Aurelius told me about Huctia, and that he had a son born to her over here. He said more than once that he planned to settle in this province to be near the boy. ‘Course, I’ve never met him. Have you?”

“Lucius has. Albia and I have only seen his dead face.”

“He’s dead? That’s sad. Your dad was proud of you three children of his marriages, and of the boy Rollus too. He’d have liked you all to meet. I remember he joked about Rollus being the only one of his children who looked like him.”

“But that’s not right,” I said. “He didn’t…”

“He resembled Aurelia’s father?” Quintus interrupted sharply, startling me because I’d forgotten he was there. “What did Aurelius senior look like? I never met him, you see.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. Well, he had brown hair and grey eyes, a high forehead, and of course a great big nose, and a heavy jaw. And Rollus took after him. A chip off the old marble.”

“That sounds like Father,” I agreed.

“But not the man in the box,” Quintus said.

I felt excitement rising inside me. “Brutus, you’re sure about the description? After all it’s a long time ago.”

“’Course I’m sure. Why?”

“Never mind, it doesn’t matter.” But it did matter, because Brutus’ description in no way matched the man who’d claimed to be our brother, with his fair hair and eyebrows, thin nose, and blue eyes. So he wasn’t our brother after all! He was a traitor, but not an Aurelius traitor.

Suddenly I realised what a burden I’d felt our half-brother’s treachery to be, even though Quintus had reassured me that Lucius was safe from suspicion. And the burden had just fallen off my back. My heart was lighter than it had been for days.

Chapter XVI

We left at the first cock-crow, before it was fully light. There were four of us: Quintus, Titch and I, and Taurus, who insisted on coming too. And if you think a slave can’t insist on anything, you’ve never owned a servant like Taurus, who’s not only completely loyal, but has been with us so long he’s more or less family. I tried to dissuade him, but he was adamant. “I can look after the children while everyone is busy. They know me, they won’t be so frightened with me there. You and Master Quintus and Master Candidus probably can’t be at the farm all the time. I can. Please don’t say no.”

So I said yes, and was glad of his presence as we rode up the Long Hill and along the highway.

Nothing of note happened till we got to Belinus’ farm turning. Here Quintus called a short halt, and said he’d like to see the farm for himself, so he and I rode slowly down the rutted track towards the farmhouse. Taurus and Titch followed along out of curiosity, or perhaps to show that if
we
didn’t need a rest, then neither did they.

The place looked more forlorn than ever now it was empty, with not even a few poor fowls scratching about among the weeds. Taurus dismounted and went towards the well, but I stopped him, remembering that Esico said it had been poisoned. When we looked over its side an indescribably unpleasant smell drifted up to us.

“Listen! I can hear someone round the back.” Titch whispered suddenly. He jumped from his horse and began to run towards the rear of the house, pulling out his knife. Quintus and I did the same, moving fast but quietly, and when we reached the open ground behind the building a very odd sight confronted us.

In a field some distance away four men were digging a deep trench in the ground, about five paces long, under a group of tall trees. They were singing as they dug, and facing away from us, so we couldn’t identify them, but at least we had time to watch them before they noticed us. They were dressed in the usual serviceable scruffy clothes that any peasant, or for that matter any sailor, might wear.

One of them must have heard us or sensed our presence, because he looked round, dropped his spade, and called out, “Visitors, boys! Let’s go!” The others dropped their spades too, and they bolted away across the field. We couldn’t catch them, they had too big a start.

We all stood gazing at the trench, until Taurus said, “Quite good spades, these. I’ll take these along to Mistress Albia’s.”

We made a quick search of the house and barns, but found nothing amiss. It seemed the men hadn’t gone inside at all. We re-mounted and resumed our journey, speculating about what the men had been doing.

“They must have been burying something,” Titch said. “A dead sheep, or a cow?”

“The trench is the wrong shape for that,” I objected. “It’d be about right for a body or two.”

“Aye, that’s it! They’re Voltacos’ men, and they’re disposing of someone they’ve killed.”

“They hadn’t a corpse with them,” Quintus pointed out. “Perhaps they were sinking a new water-channel, or a pond? But if they were doing something as useful as that, why run away?”

“They might be digging an underground hiding-place for weapons,” I suggested. “Maybe Bodvocus has been collecting arms and wants to store them well off the beaten track.”

Taurus said, “You know what I think? You’re looking at this from the wrong side of the gate. I don’t think they were burying anything. I think they were looking for something that was buried already.”

I laughed. “You mean like Caratacus’ gold?”

“Yes, why not?”

“Well then, they haven’t found it.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, “but we interrupted them. It could still be there. Perhaps it’s buried too deep.”

“Perhaps it isn’t there to find.”

We were still arguing when we reached the sheep pasture, We couldn’t see either Cattos or Balca, but everything was reassuringly calm, the sheep grazing quietly and the lambs eating or playing. When Titch gave a piercing whistle, the two youngsters came out from behind the wooden hut.

“Good morning, Aurelia.” Balca smiled at me, and cast an appraising glance over the rest of the group. “Have you brought us more reinforcements? We saw the men come up here yesterday.”

“Yes, we’re here to help too, and we’re going to be staying with Albia and Candidus for a while, till the trouble here blows over. Brutus and his men, who came yesterday, will give everyone more protection, including the sheep pasture here, and they’ll patrol down as far as Esico’s farm.”

“Thank you,” Balca said. “That’s excellent.”

I made the introductions. I described Quintus as a government official who’d come to investigate the raiders, and she greeted him with formal courtesy. I said Taurus was one of our most useful guards, and she nodded politely. But when I presented Titch as Quintus’ assistant, she responded with a warm smile and a flash of eye that he didn’t miss, though he pretended to.

“Have you seen any more of the Long-hairs since we were here last?” I asked them.

They both shook their heads. “I expect they’ve heard we’ve got sling-shots now,” Cattos suggested.

“Slings are fine for emergencies,” Titch said. “But you could do with some bows and arrows here.”

“Just what I’ve been thinking,” Balca agreed. “I’d love to learn to use a bow, and I’m sure I could, I’m as strong as any lad my age. But Father says it isn’t a proper weapon for a woman. I’ve asked a couple of the boys in the guard to teach me, but they’re all too scared of Father to risk it.”

“I can teach you, if you like,” Titch offered.

“Would you? Would you really?”

“If Quintus Antonius can spare me for an hour or two. It’s not the teaching that’ll take the time, it’s practising hard.”

“I’d practise all right. Are you a soldier then?”

Titch nodded. “I enlisted in the cavalry, and I learnt to shoot a bow there, because we were quartered next door to a squadron of Syrian archers. I’ve transferred to a more important unit now,” he added loftily. “But I still keep up my weapons practice, naturally.”

The girl’s obvious admiration must have pleased him. I managed not to smile, and avoided looking at Quintus, who had developed a sudden coughing fit and turned away.

“That’d be all right, sir, wouldn’t it?” Titch asked Quintus. “I can spend some time here, giving Miss Balca archery training? I’ll be well placed to keep an eye out for any trouble, and I can ride back to the empty farm every now and then and let you know if anyone unauthorised goes there.”

“You can stay till noon,” Quintus answered. “Then ride up to Albia’s farm. I’ll want you with me this afternoon when I go to visit Ostorius Magnus.”

Balca exclaimed, “You’re going up to the Fort? Whatever for?”

“Part of my enquiries about the sea-raiders. I’ll be visiting several people with land near the coast in due course. But I’m intending to go to Ostorius’ house, not to any fort.”

Balca laughed. “That’s what we all call his house, because it’s built like a fort. Well on the outside, anyway. I’ve never actually been in it.”

“Like a fort? How extraordinary,” Quintus said. “You’d think after years and years in the army, the last place he’d want to live would be a building that reminded him of army life.”

“He and his nephews are all ex-army,” she said. “Except the poet. I wish you joy of the lot of them.”

Quintus smiled his most dazzling smile. “That sounds as if you don’t like them much.”

She said nothing.

“I’ve never met any of the Ostorius family, so you can give me some advance briefing, if you will. What’s Magnus like?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know him well.”

“But what you do know, you dislike?”

“Oh, if he was just a typical greedy settler, I could put up with him. But I think he’s somehow conspiring with the Gauls. I’m sure he was behind the attack on Belinus, though it was some of Voltacos’ men who actually did the dirty work. And my father had his arm broken when he was caught out on his own at night by a couple of them. He’s pretty sure that was on the orders of Magnus, or maybe Vividus or Ferox. One’s just as bad as the other.”

“That’s a serious allegation,” Quintus said, as if considering it for the first time. “Have you any definite evidence that the Ostorii are making trouble?”

“I’ve never actually seen them,” she admitted. “But for one thing, they’ve never been troubled by any raids themselves. They have pastures on the Headland, you’d think the bastards would help themselves to a sheep or a goat now and then. And second, the folk that are getting attacked are all our men from the Parisi tribe, never Romans. Like poor Belinus. And now they’ve killed Nertacos, one of the oldest men of the tribe, even older than the Chief…”

“Nertacos?” I stared at her. “Nertacos the huntsman?”

“That’s right. He used to be, years and years ago. He’s been too old and blind lately, except in his dreams, poor old man. But now he’s in the Otherworld, so he’ll be hunting again. Did you know him?”

“An old friend of his at Oak Bridges was telling me about him just the other day, and I promised to visit him and bring him greetings. But you say the raiders have killed him? What happened?”

“His daughter found him, quite close to their house. He was lying at the bottom of a steep bank, where the ground drops down almost sheer. His neck was broken. He’d been pushed over the edge, everybody says so.”

“He couldn’t just have fallen?” Quintus asked. “You said he couldn’t see.”

She shook her head. “He knew every inch of that land, with his eyes or without them. And his body was covered in bruises, and a couple of his fingers were broken. His daughter didn’t know what to make of it, she’s a simple girl. But Father says he must have been beaten and tortured.”

I felt cold inside. “Tortured? But why?”

“Perhaps,” she said slowly, “they thought he knew something important that they wanted him to tell them. But I bet he didn’t. He could be a stubborn old mule.”

“I’ll miss him,” Cattos put in. “I used to love the wonderful stories he told us when we went round there.”

Balca smiled. “We never knew if they were true, but while he was telling them, we believed every word.”

“Did he have a story about buried treasure?” I asked.

Cattos looked at me in surprise. “Why yes, how did you know that? It was about Caratacus’ gold, he said he knew where it was hid. Mind you, he didn’t ever tell the exact spot, just that one day he’d go and dig it up, so he could be very very rich.”

“I never believed that one,” Balca said scornfully. “Everybody between here and the Humber has searched for Caratacus’ gold for years, and never found any…” She stopped suddenly. She had seen the same connection I’d made. “You think that’s what the Gauls are looking for?”

“There’s a rumour that they are,” Quintus said cautiously. “If you don’t mind a bit of advice, I wouldn’t go around repeating Nertacos’ old story about it, except to people you know you can trust.”

She said gravely, “No. No, we won’t.”

“And now we should be moving,” Quintus said. “You’ve been very helpful. I expect we’ll meet again.” He darted a quick sideways glance at Titch.

“Are you coming to our Beltane feast?” she asked. “The Chief keeps open house for everyone in this whole area.”

“Beltane?” I never can remember when these native festivals are. “Isn’t that quite soon?”

“Yes, the first day of May—the Kalends, you’d call it. Only two days away. It’s always a wonderful party. Do come if you can. If you’re staying with Albia and Candidus, you can come with them, they’re bound to be there. Or if you stay with Ostorius Magnus, come with him,” she added with an air of disgust. “Chief Bodvocus has invited the Ostorii too, though the gods know why. He says it’s traditional to include everyone, especially the neighbours, and Ostorius’ land adjoins ours on the Headland, so he has to. But I bet he’s hoping they won’t turn up.”

“I’ve never been to a Beltane feast. What’s it like?” Titch asked. “Would I be able to come as well?”

“Oh, you must!” Her eyes lit up. “It’s one of the best days of the year. It starts at dawn with the fire-lighting, and then we all watch the Mother-gift ceremony in the big bay south of the Headland. The priests dedicate a gift to the sea, the Mother-gift. It’s a special boat with offerings in it to bring good fortune for the year—corn and a honeycomb and a lamb, and two rag dolls made like a mother and child. When the tide is halfway out, they launch the boat into the water and let the sea gods take it away on the ebb. They say in the old days they used to put real people in the boat, but of course they don’t now.” She sounded almost regretful. “And after that we all eat and drink as much as we like. There are roast oxen, and deer, and piglets, lambs, fowls, and beer and wine and mead, more than we can possibly get through, and it’s there all day long. By the afternoon some of the lads are always drunk, and Father’s men have to drag them into the sea to sober them up and stop them fighting. It’s terrific fun. And then in the evening we go up on the cliff and there’s a huge fire, and the bards take turns to tell stories and sing songs. Do say you’ll come.”

“It sounds grand. I will if I can.” His look said he’d make certain he could.

“And so will I,” I said, “if you’re sure the Chief won’t mind strangers being there.”

“No, it really is open house. Candidus and Albia will tell you. And they’ll be bringing the twins this year, I expect. Grand little tykes, considering. Not that I’m all that keen on children as a rule myself.”

“We’ll give them your best wishes,” Quintus said. “Now we must push on to their farm, they’ll be expecting us. Thank you for your help.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Quintus Antonius.” But we could all see it was Titch she was pleased to have met. As we made our way back onto the road, the two of them were talking and smiling, too absorbed to wave us good-bye.

“Well!” I said when we were out of earshot. “So Titch fancies the guard captain’s daughter. She’s certainly a lively youngster. Isn’t love a wonderful thing?”

“Wonderful. But if he’s not ready to leave for Magnus’ with me, I’ll have his guts for catapult-springs.”

“This Beltane feast,” I mused. “If Magnus and his nephews can be persuaded to go to it, what would be the chances of getting them and Bodvocus to make some sort of public declaration of peace?”