Get Out or Die (16 page)

“Well yes, I’d be safe physically, I suppose, but I’d still feel like an outsider, only half a man. Even if I could persuade some distant branch of my family, which managed to hang onto its lands, to help me out, everyone would start telling the old stories again. That I ran away, that I….Anyway, Nero’s friends are no better loved now, a generation later, even though we’ve got another tyrant on our glorious imperial throne these days. And this one’s got no redeeming features whatever!”

Gods alive, first I get Felix’s life story, then he starts spouting high treason! Just pretend you didn’t hear it.

“You’re too sensitive. These things blow over. Everyone will have forgotten.”

“Perhaps. But
I
can’t forget. When they destroyed Nero, they made the arts seem somehow contaminated, defiled, just because he had championed them. A city which does that is no place for me.”

“So here you are in Britannia, bringing Roman arts to people who’ll appreciate them better. That’s why you’re trying to get a theatre built in Oak Bridges?”

“It would be wonderful. I think Publius is quite keen, but of course it would need a great deal of money.”

“How about the other big fish in the Oak Bridges pond? Wouldn’t some of them chip in a few aurei in the name of culture? Balbus, maybe?”

“Balbus spend his hard-earned gold on a theatre?” He laughed. “Balbus wouldn’t recognise a good play if it jumped up and bit him! But listen, Aurelia, that’s reminded me of something I noticed outside just now. I didn’t want to say anything in front of the servants, but….” The dramatic pause was irresistible.

“Go on, what?”

“That graffito on your stable wall. It gave me quite a shock, and I don’t just mean because of the horrid message. Do you know who did it?”

“The Shadow-men, presumably.”

“Yes, but
who?
You haven’t seen that particular shade of green paint before?”

Something in his excited semi-whisper made me look at him keenly. His eyes glittered and he sat forward, tense as a cithara-string.

“You mean you have?”

“Yes. In Balbus’ shop.”

“
Balbus’?
” No wonder he was so excited. “Are you sure?”

“Dead certain. Oh dear, an unhappy phrase. Quite certain, yes. I complimented him on it.”

“But look, who’d use the kind of paint you decorate pots with for daubing words on a wall?”

“Ah no, it’s not his special pigment for making glazes. It’s the colour of his big display alcove, the walls and shelving. Don’t you remember? He had a whole new tier of shelves built and everything painted pale green, to show off that lovely dinner-ware he imported from Gaul, the white with the vine-leaf design.”

I did remember, and I thought he was right. “It’s very similar….It would be easy enough to check. But I can’t believe Balbus would help barbarian rebels. Can you? He lives for his business, and his business needs peace and prosperity. I know you’re not one of his bosom pals, but….”

“Perhaps it’s not him personally, but one of his workers.” Felix scratched his head. “He employs a lot of natives, of course, including his foreman, who lives behind the shop now. And then you see, there’s something else. It may be too trivial to bother with. I wouldn’t even have thought of mentioning it, if it wasn’t for the paint.”

“Well now you have thought of mentioning it, spit it out!”

“I’ve heard our dear potter is on rather good terms with some of the Brigantian aristocracy. The anti-Roman ones, I mean. Especially the older generation, who, as Publius puts it, haven’t accepted the finality of the Roman conquest. He visits them at home, that sort of thing.”

“Does he? How in Hades do you know that?”

He smiled slyly. “I pick up snippets of gossip here and there. From my friends, and my theatre chums at Eburacum.”

True, he had plenty of friends everywhere, and he made no secret of his love of gossip.

“But still….No, Felix, you can’t assume that just because he sells pots to natives, he sympathises with the Shadow-men. I agree he’ll trade with anyone, because he’s a businessman first and last, and he might not be too choosy about who he deals with. But he’s a Roman citizen. Which means he’s at risk like the rest of us.”

“Except that if he’s in league with the rebels, he’s at no risk at all, is he?”

“I can’t fault the logic, I suppose, but…surely not Balbus! I’d as soon believe it was Silvanius. Or you.”

Felix laughed and finished his beaker. “Yes. Of course you’re right as ever, my dear. I mustn’t let my prejudices get the better of me, must I?”

He departed soon after, leaving me with some unpleasant thinking to do. Prejudiced or not, he could have stumbled on something important.

I found Quintus Antonius in the garden, bathed and dressed, and looking almost back to normal, except that his bruises would still need a few days to disappear completely.

“Albia brought me breakfast in my room,” he explained. “Now I’ve had a breath of fresh air, and I’m ready for anything. Shall we walk around the garden?”

“Why not? I need something to calm me down. The morning hasn’t started well.”

I gave him the latest bad news, and when I told him about the torn-up bloodied remains of my cloak, he repeated Hippon’s question, “Are you all right?”

“I’ll survive. It’s getting a bit too personal, though.”

“I’m sorry,” he said seriously. “I’ve got you into this mess. I wish there was more I could do to get you out of it.”

“The words on the wall were painted.” I described them, and added Felix’s theory about Balbus.

“The pottery shop?” Quintus said. “I’ll maybe ride into town and buy a nice tasteful jug for my aged grandmother in Lindum. But as your young lad said, someone else could be using the paint to throw suspicion onto Balbus.”

“I’ll find an excuse to visit his shop soon, if I can. It needs checking. But I still find it a pretty unlikely thought.”

“As I’ve said before, there’s no such concept as ‘unlikely’ when you’re looking for traitors. Who else was at your meeting yesterday?” With everything that had happened since, I hadn’t had time to tell him.

“I’m under oath of secrecy,” I said. “Will you swear not to pass any of this on?”

“I swear.”

I tried to give him quick sketches of the five people: Silvanius the ambitious chief councillor, desperately worried about any threat to Roman people or property. Vedius the old soldier, organising night patrols even if he had to do it on crutches. Balbus the rich businessman, anxious about what would happen to trade. Felix the dandy, declaiming Virgil and lamenting the death of Nero. And of course Vitalis, envying his wild Brigantian relatives and yearning for the good old days. I told him as much as I could remember of the conversation, including my chat with Vitalis over dinner.

“An interesting group,” he remarked. “Leaving aside Vitalis, who wasn’t at the meeting, Silvanius presumably chose you all because you’re the most prominent Romans in Oak Bridges. You have most to lose if the Romans are expelled from this area, so you can be trusted to take strong measures.”

“That’s about it. He probably wouldn’t have included me in the group, but as the meeting was my idea, he couldn’t very well keep me out.”

“I imagine he didn’t dare try.” He smiled at me.

“Vitalis was the one person in the house who was openly anti-Roman. At the temple site he came fairly close to blasphemy, and then fairly close to treason over dinner.”

“And he spent the afternoon out riding. Had he come back by the time you left Silvanius’ villa?”

“He could have done. I don’t remember actually seeing him, but it’s a huge place.”

“You told me last night that the leader of the ambush party called you by name.”

I nodded. “But I didn’t recognise him.”

“It means the men were waiting for you, though, doesn’t it? Not just any unfortunate traveller. You personally. So who knew you were going to Silvanius’ house? Everyone at the Oak Tree?”

“Hardly anyone. Albia knew, and of course Titch and the two slaves who came with me. Nobody else. I come and go as I like here, and quite often drive into town, so it wouldn’t cause comment.”

“Did all the people at the meeting know beforehand you were going to be there?”

“Vedius certainly didn’t, and probably not Balbus either. Felix did, because he was there when Silvanius asked me.”

“But once you were there, they all knew, and all their servants did too. Did everyone leave for home at the same time?”

“No, Felix stayed on a while. Balbus and Vedius and I all left in a group. Balbus lives quite close to Silvanius. Vedius and I travelled through Oak Bridges together. The old fool offered to escort me all the way to the mansio. Gods, I wish I’d let him….”

“So do I. It was reckless of you to be out in the dark like that….”

“I know, I know. I don’t need a lecture. You’re saying that someone at the villa arranged to have me ambushed as I went home?”

“I don’t see how else it could have been done. Do you?”

“Then Vitalis must have been there, I suppose.”

Our pacing about had brought us round to the door into Quintus’ room, and we went in and sat down on the couch. “This Shadow of Death,” Quintus mused, “must be a master of disguise. It could be Vitalis, but any of the people at the house, especially the ones at the meeting, could be just as anti-Roman, only concealing it better. Look, there’s something I want to show you. If I do, can you promise to keep it just between the two of us?”

“Of course. Only, if I need to, can I tell Albia? You’re going to need her help as well as mine, if you’re here for long.”

“Well…I suppose as she’s your housekeeper….”

“She’s my sister, more to the point. We’re very close, which is why we make a good job of running this place.”

“Your sister? I thought she was just your assistant.”

“She’s both! Father used to say that I was a centurion, and Albia was my optio, my second-in-command. It’s not a bad description. She’s a brilliant organiser, and I’m afraid I take her for granted sometimes. And if we’re in for trouble, she must know everything there is to know.”

“Does she mind you being her centurion?” he asked, amused.

“No, she’s happy having someone else to make the big decisions. And she doesn’t see herself spending the rest of her life running a mansio. If you want to bet on whether she or I will be first to marry and start having babies, don’t bother wasting your money on me. She’ll win hands down.”

“Don’t you want to get married?”

“Perhaps, one day. But it’s Albia we’re talking about, not me. Take my word, she’s one of those people who’s a born second-in-command.”

“Whereas you’re a born dictator!” He smiled. “All right. You can tell Albia if necessary, but nobody else.”

“I promise.”

“Then could you fetch my money-belt from your strong box, please?”

I went to get it from my study, and I felt a thrill of excitement as I thought of its contents, especially the papyrus and its puzzling coded list. Now I was going to find out what it meant. But more important, at last, at
long
last, Quintus was taking me into his confidence.

Chapter XV

He held out the papyrus for me to see, and I gazed at its confusion of jumbled letters.

L’s list

PGATT

SSFCV

CVBFS

“L’s list,” I read. “Does L stand for my brother Lucius, by any chance? “

“It does.”

“But I can’t make anything of the rest. Is it in code?”

“Just sleight-of-hand really. Try reading the letters from top to bottom, not left to right.”

I spelled them out, mentally re-arranging them on the page. They still didn’t make words, just five groups of three letters.

PSC

GSV

AFB

TCF

TVS

Groups of three letters. What can you list using just three letters? Of course! “Initials!” I exclaimed. “Each group stands for someone’s full name. So it’s a list of five people.”

“Five suspects, yes. Your brother sent me the list when he heard I was coming up here. He said, if he was asked to put money on who would make a good rebel leader, these would be his choice.”

“So they’re people I know.” I looked at the first name. “PSC. Publius Silvanius Clarus?”

He nodded.

“That’s why you were so insistent that Silvanius could be the Shadow of Death—because Lucius put him top of the list.”

“And I haven’t changed my mind. I still think he’s ideally placed. He has money, power, easy access to Roman government circles, and yet good contacts with the natives.”

“But his foreman was killed yesterday,” I objected. “Would he kill the man he was relying on to get the temple finished for the inauguration ceremony? It’s only four days away now. Without Casticus, there must be a risk it won’t be ready in time.”

“Suppose Casticus found out somehow what Silvanius is up to? But let’s go through the whole list first. You’ll agree with the second name, I think.”

“GSV, Gnaeus Silvanius Vitalis. Oh yes, I do. The only problem is that Vitalis is so open about his anti-Roman feelings. From what you’ve said already, I expected someone more devious.”

He laughed. “Spoken like a true investigator!”

“Number three,” I said, “is AFB—Aulus Fannius Balbus. This business of the green paint—but he’s no fool. He wouldn’t use a colour that everyone knows he possesses.”

“Not even as a sort of double bluff?” Quintus smiled. “Or would you consider that theory too devious even for me?”

“I don’t think there’s anything that’s too devious for you. But more likely one of his household might have used it from sheer thoughtlessness. Or as Titch suggested, somebody could be trying to incriminate him.”

“And he certainly has the wealth, and the good contacts everywhere.”

“Who’s the fourth name? TCF. Well, that must be Titus Cornelius Felix. Can you see Felix master-minding a gang of murderers?”

“Stranger things have happened. He’s not rich, and maybe that’s why the first rebel ambushes weren’t aimed at individuals, but at the pay convoys. He travels a lot, going to theatres all over the place.”

“He has access to influential Romans too, through Silvanius,” I agreed. “And there was that sad story he told me earlier today about being misunderstood by all true Romans because of treading the boards with Nero. All the same, Felix is one of the most truly Roman people in this town!”

“He
appears
to be. But he’s admitted to being an actor.”

“Well, yes….” I tried my best to picture Felix as the Shadow of Death. I couldn’t, so I considered the final suspect.

“TVS. Tiberius Vedius Severus? I wonder why Lucius included him? An old soldier, with a string of military decorations as long as your arm, and living a life of old-fashioned Roman virtue that would have impressed the elder Cato!”

“He’s got first-class military training,” Quintus said, “and good contacts at Eburacum. Of the five of them, he’d be the most likely to be able to organise the ambush of the pay convoys. But he’s there because of his murky past, of course.”

“Gods, I can’t imagine Vedius ever doing anything even slightly murky. Wait though…I do remember some bar-room talk about his first wife being murdered, and someone wondering if he’d had a hand in it. People love to make malicious rumours up in a situation like that. And it was a long time ago, before he moved here….He served in the Twentieth Legion, I think. And won some sort of bravery award when they put down Queen Boudicca’s rebellion thirty years ago.”

“That’s right. By then he was a centurion, and a good one apparently, with just a year to go till he got his discharge. The general respected him, and his men would do anything for him. He had a woman and children, and was all set to marry when he left the army. He must have been looking forward to retiring and living a prosperous life as a respectable hero.”

“He sounds like my own father. What happened?”

“His woman fell in love with someone else—one of the young military tribunes. It wasn’t just a discreet flirtation either, it was a full-blown public romance. She abandoned Vedius, which was bad enough, and humiliated him in front of his men, flaunting herself with her new protector. Vedius was devastated, but he couldn’t persuade her to come back to him, and after a month everyone thought he’d accepted it. Then one morning the tribune was found in the woman’s house, which was outside the fort of course. He’d been murdered in the night.”

“By Vedius?”

“Everyone assumed so, but it was impossible to prove. His woman had run away, and his two best friends swore he’d been with them all night long, getting roaring drunk in a bar.”

“Perhaps he had, and then killed the tribune in a drunken rage.”

“That’s what most people thought at the time. And the tribune wasn’t popular, he was an arrogant little show-off, and everyone felt he’d been asking for trouble, and took Vedius’ side.”

“So they hushed it all up.”

Quintus nodded. “He asked for a transfer to another legion, which would have been the sensible solution, as he only had a year to go. But unluckily for him, the tribune had powerful relatives, some of them at Nero’s court, and they wanted Vedius out of the army. So he was discharged a year early, ‘on medical grounds,’ which was a complete invention, and everybody knew it. There was no official stain on his character, but he hated having to slink away under a cloud of suspicion, when he should have been marching out in a blaze of honour.”

“Yes, he’d have felt the disgrace.” As a centurion’s daughter, I could imagine it only too well.

“He moved to Oak Bridges, where nobody knew him, so he could start afresh as a retired hero who’d lost his wife in a tragic accident. He built a house, married a local girl, became popular with the settlers…and now he’s an aedile.”

“How did you find all this out? Did Lucius tell you?”

“He warned me about the rumour that Vedius might be hiding some kind of ancient scandal. I made contact with some of his former comrades from the Twentieth, and got the full story. After all this time, they’re still saying Vedius was badly treated.”

“And he could be bearing a grudge against the army, and helping the rebels as a kind of revenge?”

“Lucius thinks it’s possible, though not very likely. That’s why he’s at the bottom of the list. But you see what I mean, it could be him. It could be any of them.”

“That’s an awful thought….” I trailed off unhappily. I was realising fully what life would be like now, if I had to go around suspecting everyone—every native and every Roman settler, including my friends. But the alternative, doing nothing and letting the Shadow-men continue their savage campaign, was even worse. Because in that case I might be their next victim.

As I was digesting this, Albia knocked and came in with bread and cheese, and some wine.

“I think we need a council of war,” she said. “And Relia hasn’t had breakfast yet.”

Good old Albia. She always gets her priorities right. I hadn’t the heart to tell her I’d eaten already.

While she passed me a plate and poured wine for all of us, I told her what Felix had said about the paint, and about Balbus being on visiting terms with the old tribal aristocracy. “You’re right, Albia, we do need a council of war. We’d better include Cousin Junius too.”

“The young tribune?” Quintus said. “He’s a bit inexperienced for this sort of work, I’d have thought.”

“Don’t you believe it. Junius is a contact of my brother’s. Lucius specifically asked us to help him.” I explained about the letter, and the recognition code.

“Aunt Julia and the elephant! I wondered what all that was about yesterday. I should have realised it was an identification signal.”

“To begin with we thought you were the mystery cousin,” Albia said.

“No. I’m not a cousin.”

“But you’re part of the family though?” Yes, I realise I’m not supposed to ask that question direct, ever. Too bad—I wanted to know where we all stood.

“In a way,” Quintus said. “I’m a colleague of Uncle Titus, if that helps.”

“Then why didn’t Lucius tell us you were coming?” Albia asked.

“He didn’t know the exact details. Nobody did. I prefer to keep my movements unpredictable. But to get back to the matter in hand. I’d rather we didn’t involve Junius in our discussions. Planning our tactics is an excellent idea, but the fewer people who are in on it, the better.”

“But surely,” Albia objected, “anybody Lucius recommends is one of us. We
must
include Junius.”

“I agree,” I said. “He’s a soldier, his advice will be useful.”

Quintus ran a hand through his fair hair. “It seems so. But…I told you we’re investigating the help the Shadow-men are getting from the military.”

We both nodded, and I said, “Yes. Those two bent investigators.”

“I also told you those two are small fry who could lead us to a bigger fish. Now supposing….”

“You can’t mean Junius?” Albia looked like a new bride being informed that the bridegroom is ravishing her sister behind the temple. Her astonishment would have been funny, if it wasn’t so serious.

“I don’t know, Albia,” Quintus answered. “Probably not, if he’s a contact of your brother’s. But there’s a traitor reasonably high up in the Eburacum garrison, all the evidence points to it. It could be either Junius or Marius. After all, they’re staying here, very conveniently, in the centre of all the unrest. I can’t overlook the possibility.”

“Junius is no traitor,” Albia declared.

Quintus said gently, “I can’t rule him out, just because of your personal feelings. I wish I could.”

“Who’s talking about feelings? I’m talking about facts!” She drained her beaker and thumped it down on the table. “I’ll tell you what
I
think. We’ve only got your word for who you are, and what you are up to. But Junius—we can be certain of him, because Lucius vouches for him.”

“You can’t use a word like ‘certain’ when you’re talking about treachery,” he answered. “We can’t be certain, and we shouldn’t take risks. So we won’t tell Junius what we’re planning. I must insist on that for now.”

“Insist?” Suddenly his quiet assumption of authority made me angry. Insist, indeed! “Quintus Antonius, Junius comes recommended by our brother, and he saved my life last night, which to my simple mind indicates that he’s on my side. I accept that we need to be wary of Marius, but Junius will be present at our planning meeting. If that means you don’t want to be present yourself, it’s entirely your decision.”

His dark blue eyes flashed dangerously, and his mouth was a slit. I returned his stare, because I wasn’t going to be ordered about in my own house on something as important as this. We paused, confronting each other like dogs sparring over a bone.

Albia broke the tension, by saying mildly: “She’s right, you know. As our esteemed Councillor Silvanius is fond of saying, ‘She talks very good sense. So refreshing in a woman.’”

Her impersonation of His Pomposity was so accurate that I had to smile, and suddenly Quintus laughed, and said, “Jupiter! May the gods preserve me from bossy women!”

“It’s a bit late for that,” Albia commented. “You’ve met Aurelia!”

So she fetched Junius, and Quintus greeted him politely. Marius, it turned out, had already gone off for the day, leaving a vague message about meeting a friend.

When we were all seated, Quintus said, “I suggest there’s one important matter we need to settle first.” He looked at me, and then at Albia. “Aurelia…Albia…you’ve had a bad time in the last few days. The indications are that it’ll get even worse. The Shadow-men are trying to terrorise Romans in general, and, because I’m here, your household in particular. You’ve both said you intend to stay and stick it out. If you do, it’ll be unpleasant and frightening, and perhaps very dangerous indeed. But you don’t have to stay here and face the risks if you don’t want to. Nobody will think any the less of you if you decide to leave the Oak Tree for a while, go to Eburacum or even down south, somewhere safe, and wait….”

“Leave the Oak Tree?” I almost shouted. “Never.
Never.
This is my home, it’s where I belong. I’m not leaving.”

He nodded. “And you, Albia?”

“Of course we’re staying. I agree with Relia. Whatever happens, this is our place and it’s worth fighting for.”

I stood up. “We’ll make this absolutely clear. Come with me, all of you.” I led them into the hallway, to the little shrine that held our household and family gods. The small, familiar statues, with the daily offering of wine and food I always gave them, were suddenly very important, and very precious. I put my hand on the figure of Diana. “I swear,” I said, “by the gods who guard this house, that I will not be forced to leave my home against my will. I will either live here, or I will die here.”

Albia was beside me, and she repeated the same words. We smiled at each other. It was a sacred and binding oath. We both felt better for it.

Back in Quintus’ room, we got down to discussing how best to protect the mansio and the outbuildings and livestock from enemies, especially at night. The main building and stables weren’t too difficult to guard, but the problem got worse as you moved further away from the road. The horses in the paddocks were vulnerable, and the slaves in their living-quarters.

I was pleased to see that Quintus and Junius worked well together. Quintus had obviously put aside his reservations, and they were very much of one mind. They’d both had army training of course, so they knew how to fortify a site quickly. They started talking about building a fence and ditch right around all the main buildings. Their military experience and practical efficiency were comforting and I let them get on with working out how much timber we’d need, and how many men would be required. When the details got too technical I must admit I found it hard to concentrate, because my mind kept filling with sad images: a headless corpse in the forum, a builder spread-eagled in a cart, and a little grey-bearded pedlar with a grey donkey.