Buried Too Deep (25 page)

“One of our own people?” He shook his head. “Not very likely. What’s your evidence?”

“Niobe overheard a quarrel in the bath-house only a short while before she found your uncle there. He wasn’t dead when she discovered…”

Ferox barked, “Niobe found him?”

“Yes,” I said. “She says she went to join Magnus in the bath-house, heard an argument in progress and went away again. When she came back, Magnus was almost dead, and she heard his last words.”

“Heard them? Or made them up?”

“You don’t like Niobe?” I asked.

“Oh, I like her well enough. She’s beautiful, and she knows how to make a man feel like a man. And she’s been kind to me sometimes…But if she found my uncle, isn’t it likely she killed him, and made up a story to cover herself? What does she claim my uncle said to her?”

“‘He’s finished me, Niobe. After all I’ve done for those boys, they betray me. Even Aquilo…too late now.’”

Ferox’ expression was of complete astonishment. “Aquilo? Aquilo couldn’t hurt a fly. He certainly couldn’t kill a man, even in a quarrel. And what would he be quarrelling about anyway?”

“Perhaps you can tell us,” Quintus invited. “We’ve heard already that there were several disagreements among the family yesterday.”

“Oh yes, we were arguing all day long. About whether any of us should go to the Beltane feast. Bodvocus sent Uncle Magnus a message suggesting they should meet and publicly declare they wanted to live at peace and join forces against the Gauls. I thought it was a trap, and thought we should refuse to have anything to do with it. Vividus wanted Magnus to go and promise peace, but he said we should be prepared to go on defending ourselves because he was sure Bodvocus’ men wouldn’t keep to their side of it. Aquilo wanted peace at any cost, and agreed that my uncle should go and make an agreement, one that we’d all have to stick to. So if Aquilo quarrelled with my uncle, it can’t have been about that. And as I’ve already said, Aquilo hasn’t got it in him to be a killer…”

“We know it wasn’t Aquilo who killed your uncle,” I interrupted him. “He stayed at my sister’s house last night. I was there, and I can vouch for that.”

“Then who…?” He stopped, realising the answer. “You think I killed my uncle?”

We said nothing.

“You must be mad! You’re not seriously accusing
me
of murdering my uncle?”

“We haven’t got as far as accusing anyone yet,” Quintus answered. “What we’re doing is checking the movements of anyone who could possibly have killed him. That’s anyone who was known to your uncle and familiar with the routine of the household.”

“And,” I added, “anyone who wouldn’t have been afraid to visit Magnus while he was at his bath, even though, as we understand it, he disliked interruptions when he was bathing alone or with Niobe.”

“That’s what Niobe said, I take it,” he exclaimed scornfully. “She’s always made the most of her position with Uncle Magnus, pretending he’d prefer to be with her rather than discussing family matters. The truth is, Vividus and I quite often took the chance of a chat with the old boy first thing in the morning, before we all got too busy with our day’s work.”

“So if you weren’t with your uncle in the baths this morning,” I said, “Vividus could have been there?”

“He could, I suppose. But—no, it’s ridiculous to suggest he’d kill Uncle Magnus. None of us would. As I said to start with, this is an outsider’s work. One of the Long-hair raiders, or one of Bodvocus’ young men. That’s my view, and I suggest you stop wasting your time on fanciful theories based on tales made up by a concubine, and start hunting for the real killer.”

And we couldn’t get any more out of him. I didn’t like the man any more than I had before, but his story seemed convincing, as did his shock at the news of his uncle’s murder. We’d no choice but to accept his account of events.

Just as we were leaving I asked him casually, “By the way, Ferox, we’ve been picking up rumours that there’s some kind of secret way in and out of the Fort that the men use at night. One of the gates, which is supposed to be kept locked, but there are spare keys in circulation…”

He grunted. “If you mean the so-called Achilles gate, it’s true. The lads use it sometimes when they want to slip out and see girls. They think I don’t know, but I’m prepared to let it go as long as they don’t start bringing girls in here, or any other strangers, and they aren’t such fools as to try that.”

“Does anyone else know?”

He scratched his head. “Vividus, probably, he’s pretty observant. Magnus didn’t know, he’d have been upset by something so undisciplined.”

“Thanks, Ferox,” Quintus said. “We’ll leave you free to get on with your work. Spring’s a busy time for farmers.”

Ferox growled something we couldn’t hear, but its meaning was clear enough: he felt he was busy enough without having to answer our unnecessary and foolish questions.

Chapter XXIII

“The more we learn, the less we know,” Quintus remarked irritably, leaning back in his chair. We were in his office again, having sent a servant to bring us some refreshment. The sky had clouded over so we had no sunlight to show us what hour it was, but our stomachs told us it was more than time for our midday meal. Now we were eating stale bread and ancient cheese, washed down with sour wine.

“Better than nothing, though not by much.” I cut away a mouldy crust from the bread, and took an unenthusiastic bite. “Jupiter’s balls, if this is the usual standard of food at the Fort, I’m surprised there aren’t more murders. But there is one good result already. The report we take back to Clarus and Clarilla will convince them both that the Ostorii aren’t the sort of family that Clarilla should be marrying into.”

“That’s true.” Quintus nibbled at the cheese. “This takes me back to my army days, except I think our rations were better. Perhaps we should be encouraging Clarilla to take over the housekeeping here and improve the cuisine. She could bring her wonderful chef.”

“He’s Clarus’ chef, and whoever Clarilla marries, her brother won’t let her take him.” I washed down the bread with a swallow of vinegar pretending to be wine. “Clarilla was right to be worried about Elli, though, wasn’t she? We got her away from Bodvocus’ just in time.”

There was a soft knock at the door and Quintus called “Come in.” Aquilo entered the room, looking calm but tired. I remembered he hadn’t had much sleep the previous night, and offered him the stool, and a beaker of wine.

“Thanks, I’ll have some wine. But…where on earth did you find that revolting-looking food?”

“We asked one of the slaves for refreshments,” Quintus said.

“And they gave you yesterday’s leavings? That’s outrageous! Wait, I’ll get you something better.”

He went out again despite our protests, which in truth weren’t very loud, and soon returned followed by the same slave who’d served us before, carrying a tray with fresh bread, cold mutton, and even some lettuce leaves, and a flask of white wine.

“Get this muck out of here,” Aquilo told the man, “and if I catch any of you treating our guests like this again, you’ll all be eating mouldy bread and water for a month. Understand?”

The slave nodded, picked up the rejected tray, and left. If he’d had a tail, it would have been between his legs.

“I’m sorry,” Aquilo said.

“Don’t worry. This is a feast.” I cut up the new bread and cheese and we ate it gratefully.

“How are your investigations going?” he asked. “Do you know who killed my uncle?”

“Not yet, but we’re close,” Quintus answered, and I nodded agreement. A lie like that needed all the support it could get. “At least we’re certain it wasn’t you. But there’s a strong possibility it may be someone within your family.”

“So I gather. Ferox has been bending my ear about how you accused him. But I don’t see it being old Ferox, or Vividus for that matter. We all had our differences with my uncle from time to time, but we all owed him a great deal, and we’ve never forgotten it. He took us all into his house and brought us up when our parents died. They both contracted some dreadful fever, and died within days of each other. Our nurse got us away from the house and brought us to Magnus, and he didn’t hesitate to make us welcome.”

“Do you think he’d have given consent eventually for you to marry Elli?” I’ll be honest: this was nothing at all to do with our enquiries, but a girl can’t help being curious.

He ran his hands through his untidy mop of hair. “I don’t know, and now I never will. Perhaps.” He sighed. “My brothers aren’t happy about it. I’ve just had yet another row with Vividus, this time about my future.”

“You told them about your baby?” I asked.

“Not yet. That has to stay secret till after Beltane. I daren’t risk word getting back to Bodvocus about it. No, I just told them that I’m in love with Elli, and intend to live with her, whether we’re legally married or not. So if they feel that would bring disgrace on the name of Ostorius, that’s just too bad. But I’m trying to make Vividus see that the best thing is for him to give his formal consent as head of the family, it’ll cause much less of a scandal. We’ll be married, and I’ll have my share of the inheritance, and take Elli to live somewhere I feel more at home. Londinium perhaps, or even another province, Italia or Greece.”

“What did Vividus say to that?”

“He blustered and ranted, but he didn’t say an outright no. He’ll agree in the end, especially after tomorrow when we’ve made formal peace between ourselves and Bodvocus. Because surely once we’ve made peace, Bodvocus will give his consent, and Vividus won’t want to appear less generous than a native.”

Neither of us commented on this hopeful prophecy, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I’m going to the feast to represent the family, did you know that? So I’ll be the man making the pledge of peace with the Chief. Neither of the others want to go, but they’ve agreed that I’ll attend, and we all hope that once Bodvocus and I have shown everyone publicly that we’re no longer enemies, then these destructive quarrels will stop, and we can all put our minds to getting rid of the Gauls. You’ll be coming to the feast too, won’t you?”

“We plan to, if we’re sufficiently far on with our work,” Quintus said.

“Then I hope to see you there.” He stood up. “I’m off back to Albia’s now, to be with Elli and my son. I’ll see to it that Elli gets to her father’s house in plenty of time for the festivities tomorrow. But she won’t be needed to perform the ceremony where the boat is launched on the tide. Coriu’s daughter is doing it in her place. You know, I’ve dreamed of being able to bring peace back to this district. Tomorrow we’ll make a start.”

Once again I threw in a final irrelevant-seeming enquiry. “Going back to your uncle’s death, Aquilo. Did you know there’s a secret way in and out of the Fort that some of the men use at night, after the main gates are locked?”

“The small back gate in the corner? Yes, I did, in fact I’m the one that named it after Achilles. It’s harmless enough, some of the wilder lads sneak out that way on summer nights and go courting. I went that way myself a few times last year, when I visited Elli.”

“You don’t think an outsider could have used it to enter the Fort, and attack your uncle?” Quintus asked.

“Gods, no. Getting through the wall is one thing, but moving about among the buildings, especially near the baths…no, that has to be someone familiar, someone in the household or close to it.”

“It’s the same story from everyone,” I remarked to Quintus after Aquilo had gone. “We seem to be going round in circles.”

Quintus stood up and stretched. “Gods, I feel like a lion in a cage. Let’s go outside for a walk, and breathe some fresh air.”

We strolled towards the back of the Fort, and out of the main rear gate, which stood wide open. Beyond the walls was a cleared strip of ground, and then fields stretching away to the sea. In the nearest one I spotted the four black horses Magnus had bought from me, and I walked over to the fence. They came to me for a bit of attention, and I talked to them and rubbed their glossy necks.

“Ah, Aurelia! Saying good-day to your horses?” Vividus asked, as he emerged from the Fort and came to join us.

“Yes. I hope they’ve settled in all right?”

“They’re fine, just what we wanted.” He hesitated, then gave me his most charming smile. “I’m glad I’ve caught you. I wanted to ask you something—oh, not about your investigations, that wouldn’t be proper at all.” He’d recovered his flirtatious manner, so I decided to play up to him.

“Not proper at all, no. But I’m sure there are plenty of other things you can ask me.”

Quintus ambled off along the fence towards another bunch of horses, apparently completely absorbed in looking them over.

“I wondered if you’ve seen Silvanius Clarus lately.”

“Yes, only a few days ago.”

“Did he mention…I mean, did my name come up in conversation at all?”

I smiled, both outwardly and inwardly. It was as well he couldn’t see the thoughts in my mind. “Yes, indeed it did. You’ve made a proposal of marriage to his sister, I understand.”

“I have, but I’m still waiting for their reply. Silvanius said he wanted time to think about it, which is natural enough, of course. I suppose he didn’t give you any idea of whether…that is, what…I mean, d’you think he’ll accept?”

“They both talked about it,” I answered, “and to be honest, I think they were still undecided. May I speak frankly, Vividus?”

“Please do. But that sounds ominous. Wasn’t he in favour of it?”

“He was, but Clarilla was a little less certain. I think she found your uncle a little—er—direct in his speech.”

“I was afraid of that. He can, I mean could, be quite insensitive sometimes. Just his way, you know, but he believed in plain speaking, no nonsense, and if it offended anyone, that was too bad. Did he say something to offend her?”

I nodded. “She was a little disturbed by one or two of your uncle’s disparaging comments about natives, and his implication that all the native-born Britons are still barbarians at heart. Of course perhaps your uncle didn’t realise Clarus comes from the old Brigantian aristocracy, and has never been ashamed of it, though he’s proud to be a Roman citizen. His sister feels the same, so your uncle’s comments were rather unfortunate.”

Vividus sighed. “He was always making crass mistakes like that. I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but sometimes I used to wish he’d think before he spoke.”

“He was used to dealing with barbarian enemies, so he tended to treat inhabitants of a new province in the same way?” Gods, why was I making excuses for the old man’s rudeness? But my instinct told me this could be important.

Vividus looked relieved. “You understand very well. Do you think now that Uncle’s not here, they might look on my proposal more favourably?”

Not if I have anything to do with it, I thought. “It’d certainly be worth approaching them again, if you haven’t had an answer in a month or two. You’d need to allow a decent interval to pass after the funeral, I think.”

“Of course. I’ll do whatever it takes. I want that marriage, Aurelia. It’s important to me.”

His vehemence surprised me. “May I ask why? You don’t know Clarilla, so it isn’t a love match. And you’re an eligible bachelor, if ever I saw one. You could take your pick among the wealthy families of Britannia. Or anywhere else in the Empire,” I added for good measure.

“Thank you. We’ve good reasons for wanting to be in this part of the province now…”

I gave him my merriest laugh. “Oh, of course. Caratacus’ gold?”

Did I detect a flicker of surprise on his face? His loud answering laugh came so quickly that I couldn’t be sure. “Ah, so the secret’s out! And I thought nobody suspected that all those little holes in the ground, and the newly-turned patches of soil, were my doing.” He laughed still louder. “Sad to say I haven’t found it yet.”

“But there’s still hope. Neither has anyone else.”

“Luckily my future plans don’t depend on it.” He became serious. “But they do depend on an alliance with a powerful Brigantian like Silvanius. I want to make my way into public affairs. In this province, I mean, I’m too old to dream of Rome and senatorial purple. So marrying Clarilla is of great importance to me, and I’ll do it, whatever it costs. Nothing is going to stand in my way.” He stopped, looking self-conscious. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t rant on like this. Thank you for listening, and for your encouragement.”

“I’ve enjoyed our chat.” Well perhaps enjoyed wasn’t quite the right word, but I’d certainly found it interesting. It had made me aware that Vividus had a motive for wanting his uncle dead.