Shadows in the Night (18 page)

“There are miles and miles of roads,” Felix pointed out. “You’d need half a legion!”

“And the Shadow-men seem very professional,” I said. “If the patrols have no military training, the rebels will run rings round them.”

Vedius glared at me, but Silvanius put in, “It might help a little, and any help is welcome. We should need to spread the news of their activities all over the area, and the patrols would need to take different routes every night, so the rebels wouldn’t know their exact whereabouts.”

“It’d be enormously expensive,” Balbus objected.

There was a long and fiercely argued debate. Eventually, Silvanius used his chairman’s clout and put it to the vote. The scheme was carried unanimously, though from the look on Balbus’ face, he was less than overjoyed, and I had serious doubts myself.

But there was one good result: The old aedile finally admitted he was “not in the first flush of youth,” and he offered his son Saturninus, a sensible Roman-educated man of thirty, as captain of the new recruits. So if the patrols surprised any Shadow-men, they’d be able to run after them, not just hobble behind on sticks.

“Now this decision,” Silvanius said, “is the one part of our discussions that should not remain a secret—quite the reverse. What’s the quickest way to make sure everyone, far and near, knows that we are taking defensive measures? Shall I post a notice in the forum? Or send out letters to our friends?”

“Call a meeting of the town council,” I suggested. That made even Vedius smile.

Silvanius nodded. “I shall. And I’ll suggest they vote some money to pay for the new night-patrols.”

“Now you’re talking!” Balbus said approvingly.

Silvanius glanced at the handsome water-clock in the corner. “But now I think we should close our meeting for today. Time is wearing on, and I imagine everyone would prefer to be home by dark.”

“But we must meet again soon,” Vedius said. “Report progress, and keep things moving.”

“Five days from now?” Silvanius offered. “As you know, that’s the day of the inauguration of my new temple. I’ll be entertaining a few people to dinner afterwards, and of course I hope you’ll all be there. If you’d care to stay on after the others leave, we’ll have time for a meeting then.”

We all agreed, and thanked him kindly. Then Vedius said, “Before we break up, there’s one more thing we should settle. If we’re going to be sending confidential messages among ourselves, we need a password. For identification.”

Felix giggled. “Oh, Vedius, don’t we know each other well enough already?”

“You can laugh, Felix, but just use your brains for once, and think! If we do need to send each other messages, they’ll be brought by servants, perhaps men we don’t know by sight. How can we be certain they are genuine? The Shadow-men might easily try to cause confusion by sending us wrong information, or maybe bogus instructions for some course of action. Suppose you got a note asking you to a meeting somewhere, and it was a forgery, and led you straight into a trap.”

“Sensible idea,” Balbus agreed. “I’ll go along with that. What word shall we have?”

“Our enemies are the Shadow-men, so we ought to be the Men of Light,” Silvanius suggested. “And ‘light’ could be our password.”

“Too obvious,” Vedius grumbled, “and too difficult to fit into a message. No, a personal name is best.”

Felix stood up. “How about something from a book? There’s a whole library to choose from over here.” One wall of the room was entirely taken up with square book-pockets, each containing several scrolls neatly rolled and tagged with labels. Our host had all the books a Roman gentleman should possess. The gods alone knew whether he’d read any of them.

Felix stood facing them. “Now, as we haven’t any dice to throw…Vedius, give me a number.”

“A number? Now what are you up to?”

“Just a number, please, Vedius,” Felix repeated.

“Oh very well. Five.”

Felix pointed at the scrolls in the fifth square. “The Aeneid! How splendid! You next, Balbus. Pick another number.”

“Eight.”

“Book Eight, then.” He found the right scroll and unrolled it carefully. “And now Aurelia, a number please.”

This was getting too silly. “Ninety-nine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, we’ll be here all day. A
sensible
number, please.”

“All right, sorry. Three.”

“We’ll use the third name that occurs in Book Eight.” I expected him to read the poem aloud, but instead he began reciting the words from memory like an actor, hardly glancing at the scroll. He had a good voice and declaimed it well, even moving round the room and gesturing. As he passed near me, I reached out and gently took the scroll from his hand, and followed the text as he spoke. Sure enough, he was word perfect.

Book Eight, in case you don’t have Felix’s memory, begins with a description of Prince Turnus and all his warriors, so there’s no shortage of names, and it didn’t take him long to reach the third one, Messapus.

“There!” He smiled triumphantly. “That’s our password. Messapus.”

“Do you know the whole of the Aeneid by heart, Felix?” I couldn’t help asking. “I’m impressed! I mean everyone can do ‘Arms and the man I sing,’ but I couldn’t get through Book One, never mind all the way to Book Eight.”

“Most of it, yes. The Emperor used to set parts of it to music, and we had to listen to him rehearsing so many times, we ended up learning it by heart.”

“The Emperor?” Vedius looked scandalised. “Which Emperor? Not Domitian?”

“Hardly!” Felix laughed. “No, I mean dear Nero. The only truly civilised emperor we’ve ever had.”

Personally I always understood Nero was a monster, and was wondering whether to say so when Silvanius cleared his throat. “We’re getting off the point. Messapus is our password.”

After that the gathering broke up.

“All in all, a very productive meeting,” Silvanius declared, as we trooped out into the hallway, ordering our vehicles and collecting our cloaks. “We’ve made a good start, and we’ve got some plans to put into action. I knew I was right to suggest this sort of small high-powered gathering, Aurelia.”

“You were absolutely right, Clarus,” I agreed solemnly. What else could I say?

Chapter XIII

The sun was low as we set off for the mansio, and it made me uneasy. After all our talk of threats to travellers, I had no wish to be out on the road after sunset.

Silvanius suggested I stay the night at his villa, but of course I couldn’t be away from home that long. Vedius offered to escort me to the mansio, but I didn’t want him thinking I was some timid female too scared to go anywhere without his masculine protection, so I assured him we would be safe. But I wasn’t sorry that his route and ours were the same for part of the journey. We travelled through Oak Bridges together, and to the outskirts of town on our side, where his house and smallholding stood. When we said good-night outside his gate, I remember saying, “It’ll take more than a few barbarians to stop me travelling the roads.”

We hurried the mules along at a canter, the men on horses keeping pace one on either side of the raeda. The sun was setting in a golden haze, but it would be light for some time yet. The summer twilight is long here in the north, and we’d be home before full darkness came. I pulled my wool cloak around me; it was cool now, and I thought longingly of the fire that would be waiting for me at the Oak Tree.

For the first part of the way the road ran through farmland, fields of ripening barley and oats, grass meadows with sheep or cattle in them, and a few horse-paddocks too. Pleasant land, prosperous and well looked after.

But then we came to the oak woods, and I grew tense as we entered the thick gloom of the trees. We were still on the native road, and though the surface was good—Silvanius’ council had seen to that—the trees hadn’t been cut back from the road’s edge. I wanted to reach the good wide Roman highway, with its strips of cleared land to either side. You’re a fool to be out here like this, Aurelia, I thought, and I told Titch to use his whip and make the mules go flat out.

The tall old oaks seemed to crowd us in, closer and more threatening as the light faded, looming to left and right in a more or less unbroken line. No other roads crossed ours; there was just the occasional faint track, made by animals or woodcutters. Among the trees the shadows were impenetrable, and anything—or anyone—could be waiting for us unseen. I’m not one of these city folk who panic if they find themselves among a few trees, but when it’s getting dark and you’re feeling apprehensive, there are too many shadows, and too many strange noises. Every creaking branch and call of a night-hunting animal made me jump. Once we heard the faraway howl of a wolf, but it wasn’t wolves I was worried about.

Then the night was split by a loud and horrible scream from the trees on our left. A woman’s scream, fit to curdle our blood.

Titch pulled up the mules, and we all listened, torn between horror, curiosity, and fear. The scream came again, a dreadful sound; no words, just an animal noise, piercing and terrified. Someone was being hurt. Another attack by the Shadow-men? And on a woman this time! Common sense cried out that we should ignore it, but we all knew we couldn’t simply drive on and pretend we hadn’t heard.

I looked at my two guards. “That woman needs help, lads. Better go and see what you can do. I’ll stay here with the animals.”

“Right,” Bessus said, dismounting. “Come on, you two, if we’re quick we can catch the bastards.”

“Now don’t be too hasty,” Marsus began, getting down more slowly. “We don’t know how many there is. It needs thinking about….”

“No time,” Bessus answered, already heading into the trees. “Come on!”

“Wait.” Titch jumped down and threw me the reins. “Bessus, it could be a trap. To split us up, like. One of us better stay with the mistress. I’ll go with Bessus, Marsus can stay here. If you need us back again quick, Mistress, just whistle.”

It made good sense, and we three adults unquestioningly did what he suggested. That boy will be a general, I thought, as he and Bessus set off at a run into the trees. Marsus, probably much relieved, grasped his cudgel firmly and stood by the mules’ heads.

There was a narrow track into the wood heading in roughly the direction of the screams, but even so the two figures were lost to sight before they’d gone ten paces. Another scream shook the air. Bessus yelled “Hold on there, we’re coming!” and then the trample of their footsteps faded out and suddenly it felt very lonely.

An owl hooted close by, and another answered it from a distance. A few leaves rustled in the faint night breeze. Apart from that all I could hear was my own heartbeat, fast and loud.

But soon we caught the sound of returning footfalls, and saw figures emerging from among the trees. One…two…three of them, moving fast. Only as they came to the road we realised that none of them were Bessus or Titch.

Marsus thumped the nearest mule hard, and I cracked the whip, but two of the men leapt forward to seize their heads, so all the animals could do was rear up and kick. Marsus swung round to face the attackers and got in one good blow with his cudgel, but they all had swords, and they disarmed him easily enough. I put two fingers into my mouth and whistled as if my life depended on it. Which I suppose it did.

The tallest man snapped “Quiet, you stupid bitch,” and grabbing my wrists, pulled me roughly out of the carriage. One of his companions produced some rope and bound my hands behind my back. They tied Marsus’ hands too.

That’s something, I thought. They could have killed us already but they haven’t. They must want us alive—for now, anyway. And maybe Bessus and Titch have heard my whistle. I must play for time.

Then the leader said, “Right, boys. Kill them.”

Marsus let out a cry. I didn’t. To this day I’m proud that I didn’t, because believe me I wanted to.

The other two men moved, but not towards us; it was the mules and the two horses they were after. They slit the poor beasts’ throats so skilfully that they hardly had time to make a sound.

Would it be our turn next? My mouth was dry. But I couldn’t just stand there and say nothing.

“That was a cruel thing to do, as well as a stupid waste,” I said. “Those were valuable animals. I’d have paid you good money to leave them alone.”

The leader spat in my face. “We don’t want your money. You Romans think money buys everything, don’t you? But we don’t want anything from a stupid Roman slag. The animals are a sacrifice, an offering to the god of the woods.”

“Well I hope he appreciates it! If you don’t want money, what do you want? And who are you?”

“We’re the Shadow-men, and as for what we want, you’ll know soon enough. When the Chief gets here, you’ll be told. Till then, keep your mouth shut.”

“The Chief? The Shadow of Death, would that be?”

He leaned towards me for a heartbeat, staring into my eyes, his face twisted with hate. “If I had my way, Aurelia Marcella, you’d be dead already.” I could feel his hatred, radiating out of him like heat from a brazier. It was a horrible sensation, being the target of such loathing from somebody who didn’t even know me; all he knew was that I was a Roman, and that was enough to make him want to kill me.