Shadows in the Night (13 page)

“It could have been a sign from the gods,” Vitalis spoke up from his corner. “The gods could make an eclipse happen, couldn’t they?”

“Well, yes, they could.” Ulysses turned to face the five young warriors at their table. “In fact I suppose they do, but not just when they feel like it. The patterns of the sun and moon are fixed, and come round again and again every few years. Can the gods know, years in advance, that they are going to be angry on such-and-such a day, and will need an eclipse to give a sign to mortal men? Well, yes, before you say it,” he waved a hand to stop Vitalis interrupting, “perhaps the immortals do know the future, and they did predict that they were going to be angry about the Roman conquest. But if they knew about all these happenings long ago, why couldn’t they have done something to stop the Romans conquering Britannia in the first place?” He smiled triumphantly and drained his beaker.

It got a big laugh from everyone, except the young warriors, who sat glowering in their corner, muttering among themselves.

We passed round more drinks, and the bar became noisy again. “You gave those warrior lads one in the eye,” I said to Ulysses. “Take care you don’t cross their path on a dark night. They didn’t look too pleased.”

“I should hope I can speak my mind without worrying about a few foolish boys,” he answered. “Mostly I don’t mind what religion a man follows, but I don’t care for Druids. They’d trick the hair off your head if they thought it would do them any good.”

“More like the head off your shoulders,” I joked.

“That too, yes.” Ulysses looked at me seriously. “I knew a Syrian boy once in the far west of Britannia, by the ocean. Well, a man I should say. He’d been a soldier and got his discharge, and bought a small farm, just a few cows and a field or two, and he worked hard, and married a lovely girl, and started dreaming about raising a family. But the Druids in those parts told him his bit of land used to be one of their holy shrines, there was a spring and some oaks, and you know how they are about oak trees. They threatened the boy that he’d be killed if he didn’t leave, but he wouldn’t budge, and he bought a couple of strong field-hands for extra protection. So then the Druids apologised to him and said they didn’t want to take away his living, but their tribesmen were upset at the holy place being used for a farm, and they promised if he’d move out peacefully, they’d give him a bigger and better patch of land a few miles away.”

Again his voice had dropped, and the whole bar-room was listening. “Well his wife was a local girl, related to half the families around, and he didn’t want a feud on his hands, so eventually he agreed, and he and his slaves and his girl and the cows set off for the new farm. But they never got there. They were ambushed on the road, and all killed.”

There was a collective sigh, almost a moan. Suddenly the air felt chilly.

“Surely Druids aren’t all like that?” Albia asked. “I thought they were scholars, and even healers.”

“Well.” Ulysses considered it. “To be fair, I have met a few Druids who are truly wise, and have the gift of healing too. But most of them are evil men who care more for their own power than anything else.”

He stayed for one more beaker of wine and then went on his way. As he left I was surprised to see Junius standing near the door; he’d been listening to Ulysses too. Albia got him some wine, and said, “Have you given up hunting for today?”

He nodded. “The trackers were worse than ever. If you believe what they say, there isn’t an animal worth hunting for ten miles in any direction. I wish I knew what’s got into them! Perhaps the pedlar is right, the Druids are making them jumpy. Anyhow there was no point wasting more time. Marius is going off somewhere with his latest boy.” He smiled at Albia. “I’ll have to think of some other way to pass the afternoon. Do you ever get any time off, or does Aurelia keep you working all day and all night?”

“She’s a real slave-driver,” Albia smiled back. “But I might manage an hour or two.”

“Good!” He turned to me. “But first…I say, Aurelia, could I have a quick word in private?”

“Why, yes, of course.” I took him to my study. “What’s up, Junius? Something wrong? I mean apart from the hunting?”

“No, nothing at all. But I’ve been trying to get a chance to talk to you on your own. I’ve a message from your brother Lucius, but he said to keep it discreet. About your Aunt Julia. Her birthday’s coming up soon, apparently.”

I must have looked completely thunderstruck, because he asked uncertainly, “Doesn’t that make sense to you?”

“Is this the same Aunt Julia who’s set her heart on an elephant?”

“That’s the one!” He smiled, relieved. “So Lucius did write to you. He said he would, but I didn’t know if the letter had got here.”

“Well if that doesn’t beat everything! Welcome, Cousin Junius. Welcome indeed! As you’ve seen for yourself, we’ve got troubles here, and we need all the help we can get.”

“That’s why I thought I’d better make contact,” he answered. “But you’ll keep all this to yourself, won’t you?”

“Of course. Except you don’t mind if I tell Albia—or perhaps you’ve done that already?”

“I think she guesses.”

“And Marius—is he involved in what you’re doing here?”

“Yes, but he’s not a full cousin yet. In training, you might say; Uncle Titus gives the new recruits a trial period before they are truly part of the family. So he’s acting as my assistant. He’s a sound man, old Marius. From Gaul originally, and speaks several languages, so he gets on well with the natives.”

“Lucius said in his letter you have business in Brigantia. Are you allowed to tell me what you’re doing here?”

“Looking into these rumours of native unrest. We think the rebels may be getting help from someone in the army. I’ve orders to see if there’s any evidence of that on the ground here. Lucius will be working on the problem from the Eburacum end, though I don’t know when he’ll be able to start.”

“His letter said he was in the west, but that was half a month ago.”

“Isca Silurum, yes. His present investigation is dragging on rather. He’ll come north when he can.”

“It can’t be too soon! But at least we’ve got you here now. You’ll let me know if we can help in any way?”

“There’s one thing you can do straight away, if you will. Tell me all you can about that wounded man who turned up yesterday.”

“Was it only yesterday? Gods, it feels longer! I’m afraid I can’t tell you much. He’s still asleep.”

Junius said, “Not all the time, surely. I gather from the houseboys that he enjoyed some breakfast this morning, and had a bath.”

That’s the trouble with letting one of Lucius’ so-called cousins into your house—bang goes your privacy. But this situation was getting out of hand. I was under an obligation to Lucius, and another conflicting one to Quintus Antonius, and I was in the middle trying to do what was right. I’d have to assume that a promise given face to face outranked an obligation to an absent brother.

“He did come round,” I admitted, “but he was pretty dozy, and seems to have no memory of how he got here. Now he’s gone to sleep again, which will do him good. He’ll need to rest until his bruises go down, especially that lump on his head.”

“What work does he do?”

“He’s a bridge surveyor and inspector. But I can’t see him doing much inspecting for a while.”

“Has he told you his name?” Junius wanted to know.

“He’s Quintus Valerius Longinus.”

“Pity. I was wondering if he might be Quintus Antonius Delfinus.”

“Who’s he?”

“Just someone I’m looking for.” He shrugged. “Never mind, we must do the best we can.” He stood up. “And now, you don’t mind if I take Albia away from the bar for a few hours?”

I laughed. “I don’t seem to be getting much choice in the matter!”

“Good. And I’m glad we’ve had this little chat. Cleared the air, haven’t we?”

“We certainly have.” The air’s as clear as winter fog, I thought, as I watched him go back to the bar. If he’s Lucius’ cousin, who in Jupiter’s holy name is Quintus Antonius Delfinus?

Chapter X

I couldn’t even begin to get an answer to this till next day. Quintus Antonius slept like a baby through the afternoon, into the evening, and all night. I looked in on him every now and then; he was relaxed and didn’t stir, and there was no need for anyone to watch beside his bed. As our grandmother used to say, “Sleep is the best medicine, and cheap too.”

Albia and Junius disappeared till dark, came back briefly for supper, and then disappeared again. I was glad for Albia. She’s so good at her job, I admit I sometimes leave her to do more than her share of the work here. She deserved some time off, and if being in love made her happy, then I was happy too. But being a bit more cynical than my sister, I just hoped it wouldn’t end in tears.

The sentries we posted reported nothing stirring from dusk till dawn. I woke up refreshed and full of energy, looking forward to the day ahead, the day of Silvanius’ meeting, and the dinner at his new villa. Before I got involved in the morning chores, I sorted out the clothes I wanted to wear so they’d be ready for a quick change later. I decided to put on a show. Well, why not? I was pretty sure I would be the only woman in the party; I could either try to be invisible, or aim to be conspicuous. I never was much good at being invisible.

I chose my cream embroidered tunic with the russet-red over-tunic, and white sandals; I added my green wool travelling-cloak, in case it was cold on the way home. I even found some silver ear-rings and a chain necklace, to match my new silver brooches.

At breakfast-time I took a tray of food to Quintus’ room; if he was still asleep, I could leave it in case he woke up hungry later. But he was wide awake, and greeted me with a smile.

“Hello, Aurelia. You’re a welcome sight.”

“Cupboard love.” I put down the tray. “I thought you might be ready for food, after a hard day and night sleeping. There’s fresh bread, cold sausage, and fruit, and some Rhodian.”

“I’m starving! Thanks.” He took a beaker and drank gratefully, then started on the sausage as if he hadn’t eaten for a month. “Delicious,” he said, with his mouth full.

“You’re looking better.” I sat on a stool next to his couch.

“I’m feeling better too. I’m still sore, especially my head. But I’ll mend. I’ve slept for hours. I just stretched out for a rest after my bath, and dozed off….Well, it’s done me good. So what’s been going on? No more visits from the military?”

“No, we’ve had a peaceful time. And an interesting visitor yesterday.” I began telling him about Ulysses, and was surprised when he said he knew the old pedlar.

“I’m sorry I missed him, he’s a marvellous old boy. I’ve met him down south.”

I laughed. “And was it his coloured ribbons that interested you, or his perfumes?”

“His travellers’ tales, of course! He may embroider his stories a bit, but he’s actually one of the most observant men you could wish to meet. He has to be, to survive on his own. And he travels the whole province. A very useful source of information, a man like that. If I couldn’t see the eclipse myself, I can’t think of anybody better to report on it than old Ulysses. Tell me exactly what he said about it.”

I did, and he looked grave, and actually stopped eating. “That’s just what we thought would happen—the Druids encouraging the natives to turn on the settlers. We knew an eclipse would make a perfect omen to frighten them into doing what the rebels want.”

“Which is to try and drive us out of Brigantia?”

“Out of Britannia, if they can. But Brigantia will do for a start. If they can recapture Brigantia, they hope that other tribes will follow their example. Brigantia is where their leader is based. And I’m afraid it’ll get worse before it gets better.” Just what Hawk had told me. It was depressing to hear it repeated.

“We’ve had trouble from the natives before,” I pointed out. “In a newly conquered province, it goes with the territory. But this seems somehow more organised.”

“It is. That’s why I’m here.” He finished the last of the meat and took a long drink of wine.

“Roman treachery, you said. Romans are helping the rebels, like those two yesterday, pretending to be from Kickers and Punchers?”

“Oh, they’re genuine investigators all right. Not for much longer, I hope, but for the present, they’re based in Eburacum, and they’ve got a nice little racket going, supplying the natives with military stores.”

“Weapons, you mean?”

“No, much more subtle. Military clothing.”

“
Clothing?
You’re joking!”

“I wish I was. Tunics, cloaks, helmet crests, boots, belts, all the things that make a soldier
look
like a soldier. Think about it. When someone’s dressed in military gear, you don’t question who he is, you probably hardly look at his face. He’s just one more soldier from our occupying army, and you do what he asks you to do. Whether it’s giving him information, food, drink, shelter even….You don’t think twice. I mean you, Aurelia, and me. I stopped on the road the other night when I saw what I took to be a wounded soldier. Roman soldiers can get other Romans to do almost anything without having to spill a drop of blood, in a way natives never could.”