Queen of the Night (15 page)

'I didn't say that, Domina,' Claudia replied tactfully. 'I simply asked where you were.'

Urbana sprang to her feet and, with an irate glance at Claudia, walked away. She returned with a grey-haired, solemn-faced man whom Claudia immediately recognised as one of the chamberlains.

'Tell the lady your name,' Urbana urged. 'What is your name?'

'Why, Domina,' the fellow stuttered a reply, 'my name is Dimisces. I am a chamberlain at your husband's villa.'

'Tell this lady,' Urbana flung her hand out at Claudia, 'where we were last night.'

'Why, Domina,' Dimisces replied, 'everybody knows you were here, you and the Lady Cassia, from before sunset until the early hours. The Magdalena were also with you. You prayed, then you retired.'

'Thank you.' Urbana dismissed the chamberlain with a flick of her fingers and turned on Claudia. 'So, what further questions do you have to ask?'

Claudia, discomfited, excused herself and went to say goodbye to Murranus. He was in the palaestra with young Alexander, teaching him the rudiments of fighting with the short sword and square shield. Murranus, dripping with sweat, followed Claudia out into the cool colonnade, held her close and kissed her on the brow before turning away. He paused in the doorway, looked over his shoulder and grinned.

'Well, at least I'm not entering the arena!'

Claudia held up her hand in salute and went to the stables, where two of General Aurelian's slaves were waiting with a gentle cob. They left the villa, going along the winding path through the gates and on to the trackway which would lead them down to the main thoroughfare. The day's heat was dying, and soothing evening breezes had sprung up. Above the grass on either side butterflies floated. A thrush started to sing its clear liquid song, the sky was scored red, the lowing of cattle echoed rather sombrely from behind the fringe of trees; above it the sound of a child laughing and screaming carried on the breeze. The cob plodded sturdily along, the two escorts walking ahead, chattering amongst themselves. Claudia half dozed. On the way to the villa, she'd found the countryside familiar. She remembered that, as a young girl, her father had taken her, Felix and their mother along here, out into the countryside, simply to get away from the stench and heat of the city. She recalled those days and how her life had changed. Her father and her mother had become Christians but they had never made her convert. Claudia started awake and blinked. That was one thing she would remember them for: loving, ever-present, but never forcing their beliefs upon her.

She wondered if one day she and Murranus would come here with their children and sit under the shade of the outstretched branches of an oak tree to picnic, to immerse themselves in the ordinary, everyday things of life. Sometimes, on an evening like this, with the sun sinking in the west, the birds singing, the breeze fanning the sweat from her skin, she resented what she had to do, how she lived, the dangers that threatened her. Yet on the other hand, she could not suppress that feeling of excitement, that tingling, that sharpening of the brain as she waited to encounter some threat, some danger, in order to resolve a problem. She found it fascinating to observe, record and study human conduct, to pick at the loose threads and pull them free so that a whole tapestry of lies would collapse and reveal the truth behind. She often wondered if the attack and rape on her, coupled with the murder of her brother Felix, had unbalanced her wits, forced her soul to go in another direction. Nevertheless, she was now on that path, and she would journey along it as far as she could.

Claudia glanced up at the sky and wondered what would be awaiting her at the She Asses. Abruptly she heard a cry and reined in. The escorts had also stopped, shading their eyes and peering into the distance at the three figures, staffs in their hands, walking briskly towards them. One of the slaves carried a sword; he drew this from its scabbard but then his companion muttered something to him. The sword was put back and hands were raised in greeting as the retainers of General Aurelian recognised each other. Claudia, peering through the dust haze, realised that General Aurelian had been true to his word. The two veterans Crispus and Secundus had been summoned to the villa. They met where the trackway curved. At first the two veterans looked rather shamefaced, slightly apprehensive. Claudia greeted them and made to go on, but Crispus came up, grabbed the cob's halter and peered up at her.

'You told General Aurelian?'

Claudia stroked the neck of her cob and shrugged. 'I had no choice, he had to know.'

'We are innocent,' Crispus declared defiantly. 'We were not party to Postulus' killing.'

'I know,' Claudia replied, 'and so does General Aurelian.'

Secundus had a word with his escort and came over. 'We would like to talk to you,' he said. 'I mean, before we part.' He held up the leather bag he carried. 'We have some wine, it's ripe Campanian. General Aurelian sent it. We also bought some fresh bread from a bakery just near the city gate.'

Leaving General Aurelian's retainers to talk amongst themselves, Claudia and the two veterans settled in the shade of a tree overlooking a small pond covered in green slime. Dragonflies hovered above it and the dull buzz of bees hummed from the gorse which ringed the pool. They shared out the bread and passed round the wineskin. Claudia took two or three mouthfuls and handed it back.

'You wanted to talk to me?'

'It wasn't as we said,' Crispus mumbled between mouthfuls.

'What wasn't?'

'After the attack.' Secundus spoke up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. 'Once the massacre was over, Stathylus wanted to enjoy himself. We hunted the war band down in the heather, killed those in the fort and slung their bodies out, burned every single one, a stack of corpses piled like bloody wheat sheaves, but the chieftain was different. We spent the next day, or rather Stathylus did, torturing him. We crucified him against the wall and cut his flesh.

At first the man was brave, he kept his mouth shut, but, of course, everyone has their limits, and by the late afternoon he was screaming with pain, begging to die. Every one of us was a hardened soldier; we've done things, Claudia, you wouldn't dream of, but even we grew tired of it. Stathylus eventually cut the Pict's throat and that was the end of the matter.'

'What was worse,' Crispus took a generous sip of the wine, 'was that Stathylus brought the Golden Maid to watch what he called the "fun". She fainted at least twice and was roused to watch again.'

'Why are you telling me this?' Claudia asked.

'We agreed,' Crispus replied, 'that whatever happened at the wall, on that night and the following day… well, I've heard the stories about the Furies of Hades pursuing their quarry.'

'And what are the Furies here?' Claudia had to pinch herself. Here she was sitting in the shade of a lovely evening, the shadows lengthening, the birdsong clear, butterflies floating, the noise of the crickets in the grass, with two men describing a nightmare which occurred years ago on some lonely heathland beneath that great brooding wall in the north of Britain. Something happened that day which, as Crispus said, had released a hatred that prowled like some vengeful ghost seeking its quarry.

'Are you sure that everyone was killed? I mean in that Pictish war band?'

'The chieftain had a son,' Crispus narrowed his eyes, 'a young boy probably no more than thirteen or fourteen summers. We learned that while we were torturing the father. Stathylus sent us out to search the heather; we found the boy's corpse, we recognised it by the torque round the neck and the arm bracelets. We dragged it back. The sight of it only increased the chieftain's humiliation and despair, as it did that of the Golden Maid.'

'Are you certain,' Claudia persisted, 'that everyone was killed? That no member of that war band survived to study and remember your appearance?'

'Mistress, most of the Picts were fully fledged warriors, mature men, and that was some eighteen years ago. They were killed, no slaves were taken.'

'Are you sure of that?' Claudia demanded harshly.

'Of course we are,' Sccundus declared. 'Stathylus was no fool. We abandoned the mile fort, burned our surplus supplies and rode south. Now remember, Crispus and I weren't party to the decision to abandon Postulus. After it was all over, both of us were left behind for a while when Stathylus and the rest rode south.'

'For how long?'

'About two days in all,' Crispus replied. 'We were each given a fresh mount and told to ensure there were no survivors, that no one came creeping back. I tell you, mistress, those were the loneliest two days of our lives, out there in that deserted fort, next to it a stack of corpses burned to nothing but charcoaled flesh. The smoke and stench from it still fouled the air. We saw nothing, we felt nothing, and yet…'

'And yet what?' Claudia asked.

'We didn't tell you this either. Eventually we rode southeast until we reached Colchester, where other troops were mustering. We reported for duty. By then of course Stathylus had told of his great victory and was being applauded by all. The camp was overflowing, so we took lodgings in the town near the ruins of the old Temple of Claudius. Oh, it must have been about two weeks after our arrival. One of our number, I forget his name now…' he looked at Secundus, who just shrugged, 'went missing…'

'Missing?' Claudia asked. 'What do you mean?'

'He was never seen alive again. His corpse was later found in a ditch outside the town-'

'Let me guess,' Claudia intervened. 'His throat had been cut, his belly slit, his testicles severed and placed in his right hand.'

Both men swallowed hard and nodded. Crispus refused to meet her eye.

'You see, mistress,' Secundus declared, 'all of Britain was on the move, refugees here and there, every tribe in the province trying to flee. It's possible…'

Claudia held up her hand, staring at a tangle of gorse. it is more than possible,' she conceded, 'that somebody did survive that massacre and followed Stathylus' troop south, seized his opportunity, killed a veteran, and disfigured corpse, but then what? Why not strike at the rest? Is there anything else?' she asked. 'Are you frightened of meeting General Aurelian?'

'We'll declare our innocence,' Crispus declared. 'Postulus' blood is not on our hands. Why, mistress, what do you think will happen?'

'The General will question you,' Claudia got to her feet, brushing the crumbs from her tunic, 'but I think he wants to keep you safe.'

'It was Stathylus' fault

'Don't worry.' Claudia stared into the darkening trees. She was lying! In her heart, she conceded that these two veterans were like beasts chosen for sacrifice. Some furious ghost from the past had marked them down for death. Only fortune, or mere chance, could save them from the vengeance haunting their every step.

Canta bit vacuus cum latrone viator.

The foolish traveller will sing with a thief.

Juvenal, Satires

Claudia bade the two veterans farewell. She and her escort continued their journey into the city. Darkness was falling when they reached the She Asses and Claudia's stomach lurched as she entered the square and stared across. In the doorway clustered a group of German mercenaries. The Empress had decided to visit the Great Miracle! The German guards crowded around Claudia like snuffling bears, almost carrying her into the tavern, which had been emptied because of the imperial visit. Poppaoe was busy with a cloth wiping tables. Sorry, armed with a tamarisk twig broom, was sweeping the floor whilst Caligula the cat sprawled like an emperor on one of the benches. Burrus was in the kitchen, one hand on the hilt of his broadsword, the other holding a chicken leg which he was tearing to pieces, smearing his moustache and beard with grease. He still insisted on hugging and kissing Claudia, then gestured with his head indicating that the Empress was in the garden beyond.

'Your man,' he grunted, 'the warrior, where is he?'

'Murranus is at General Aurelian's villa. He has taken up his new duties.'

'Good.' Burrus bit at the chicken leg, glaring at her fiercely, eyes almost watering. 'He should stay there. To guard someone important is a great honour. The Empress has come to visit you, little one. She waits for you.'

Claudia stared into the captain's light blue eyes. Burrus blinked and glanced away, holding the chicken up as if inspecting it carefully.

'You know what I'm thinking, Burrus,' she warned. 'This is my uncle's tavern. Tell your lovely lads out there, nothing must disappear, promise?'

Burrus nodded and returned to the chicken leg. Claudia slipped by him, out through the kitchen and into the garden. At the far end, in Polybius' favourite spot, Helena sat enthroned in the tavern-keeper's great pride and joy, his large chair, its arms covered with gilded leather. Before her, Polybius, Apuleius and Narcissus knelt on the grass,- on a stool behind the Empress, half hidden in the shadows, sat Presbyter Sylvester, his saturnine face only faintly distinct in the flickering light from a lamp on the table beside the Empress. Helena sat like some priestess over her oracle, her head and face almost concealed by the hood of her silver-edged mantled robe. She glanced up as Claudia approached and indicated that the girl should kneel next to her uncle. Claudia, suppressing a sigh, obeyed and stared up at the Empress' face. Helena was not pleased; her eyes were hard, her lips thin, pressed tightly together. She stared at Claudia for a while, registering her displeasure at the deaths of Stathylus and Theodore. 'Augusta?' Claudia bowed.

'We have been talking about the Great Miracle,' Helena snapped. 'How God preserved the body of the virgin martyr Fulgentia.' She indicated the heavy leather pouches on the table beside her. i have decided, and your uncle has agreed, this is no place for such sacred remains.'

Claudia glanced quickly at her uncle. He seemed very pleased with the bargain, beaming from ear to ear. He turned quickly and winked mischievously at her.