Shadows in the Night (34 page)

“I’m afraid you’re right.” I told him how Brutus had killed the man.

“I knew there was something wrong,” Balbus said. “He’s been behaving oddly for days. Drinking too much, and so moody! Surly and resentful half the time, and then suddenly over-eager to please, trying to make up for it. I thought he might be wanting to tell me he was leaving me. He’d been talking about setting up on his own. I never guessed he’d betray me like this. I was his patron, I gave him his freedom because he was a good worker….How
could
he?”

“Maybe he had no choice,” Quintus said. “If they had some sort of hold over him, if his woman was a local girl perhaps….”

“There’s always a choice!” Balbus snapped. “There’s always a point when you can choose what to do next!”

But Ennia interrupted quietly, “Not always, Aulus. Sometimes there’s only one road open.” And he subsided, thinking presumably of Gaul.

“You’ve got a good few native slaves here, haven’t you?” Silvanius asked. “We could get evidence from them.”

“Torture them, you mean? That’s the only way to get admissible evidence from slaves—by torture. Believe me, I’m tempted! And if I do, Clarus, you’ll support me as a magistrate?”

“Of course I will.”

“But when all’s said and done, what’s the point?” Ennia asked. “We know who to blame, and nothing can undo this mess!”

We didn’t stay much longer. As we were mounting to ride home, Balbus came after me and said, “Aurelia, I don’t want that bastard’s body back. He doesn’t deserve a funeral. Throw him in your lime pit with the dead animals, will you?”

“Whatever you say, Balbus.”

Silvanius offered us more refreshments at his humble abode, but we regretfully declined; we wanted to get back to the mansio as quickly as we could.

“But you’ll be able to come tomorrow, won’t you, Aurelia?” he asked anxiously.

“Tomorrow?”

“My temple. The dedication.”

His temple! “Gods alive, Clarus, you’re going ahead with the dedication? I mean I thought, with all these disasters….”

“I know. I wondered if I should delay the ceremony because of Vedius Severus’ death. But if I do put it off, that will be a victory for the Shadow-men. They are trying to disrupt our lives. I must go on as I’ve planned. I asked Saturninus, and he said his father would wish us to continue. To show them we Romans are strong and unafraid. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” I said soberly, “I think you’re right. Of course I’ll come.”

“And I’m still holding my celebration dinner afterwards.” Silvanius turned to Quintus. “You’ll come to the dedication, and to dinner, won’t you, Valerius? Any friend of Aurelia’s will be most welcome.”

“Thank you. I’d be honoured, Chief Councillor,” Quintus answered, and gave a slight bow. I suppressed a smile. It never ceases to amaze me how we manage to hang on to these formal courtesies even in the middle of catastrophe. Like the scene in the comic play, where two fat men try to escape from a burning house through a narrow doorway, each repeatedly saying “After you, Senator” until the flames burn their backsides.

“And the meeting afterwards, Clarus?” I asked him. “We were going to….” I paused, remembering that Quintus wasn’t supposed to know about our secret circle.

“I’ll need to think about that.” He scratched his chin reflectively. “Having seen what has just happened to Balbus, I can’t believe he is the one who betrayed our password. And yet
somebod
y did. We’ll see.”

We rode home with Taurus twenty paces or so behind us, so we could talk privately.

“Well, nothing’s ever simple, is it?” I said. “We’re back at the starting-gate once again. And our field of runners is getting smaller by the day! Even with your suspicious mind, you can’t seriously believe the traitor is Vedius now. Or Balbus.”

“Not Vedius, no. But I wouldn’t rule out Balbus just yet.”

“What, with everything he and Ennia have worked for in ruins? If that’s the work of the Shadow-men, then Balbus can’t be their leader.”

“But suppose he and his foreman were working together, Balbus organising, the foreman leading the warriors. All their bickering could just have been a pretence. The foreman leads the attack on the mansio, and gets himself killed. Balbus realises that’ll implicate him, and there’s still the matter of the green paint. He needs to show the world he’s a victim of the rebels. So he arranges to have the shop trashed. He wouldn’t tell his wife, of course.”

“But you saw him this morning, Quintus. Do you honestly think he could have destroyed the shop? It’d be like hacking off his hand.”

“It’d be worth it, to allay our suspicions. Remember, if he
is
the Shadow of Death, he must be capable of being utterly ruthless.”

“Look, when you first asked me to help, you said my local knowledge would be useful. And I’m telling you—Balbus could be ruthless, he could even have such a grievance against Rome that he could organise a campaign of terror. What he could
never
do is destroy his own shop.”

“Fair enough. Would you say the same applies to Felix not being capable of destroying his statue of Nero?”

“That isn’t so easy, I admit. Felix is such an odd mixture.…Hello, who’s that?” I’d spotted a green-brown figure at the edge of the wood, beside a big holly-bush which was unusual enough to be a local landmark. He waved to us briefly and then vanished into the trees.

We pulled up sharply. “That was Hawk, I’m sure it was.”

Quintus looked uncertain. “I only got a glimpse. It might be a trap.”

“Not if Hawk’s involved. And I’m sure it was him.”

“Yes, it was, Mistress,” Taurus said. “I saw his big dog too. Shall I go and see what he wants?”

“We’ll all go,” I decided. “Just to the edge of the trees, within sight of the road.”

“It’s too risky,” Quintus began, but I drew my dagger and walked my horse slowly over the cleared strip of land that bordered the road. I heard Quintus swear under his breath, but he and Taurus drew their weapons and followed.

I halted a few paces from the trees and called, “Is anybody there?”

A voice came from further on, though there was nobody to be seen. “It’s Hawk. Come for more cough-mixture. Follow this little track into the wood.”

We rode along a faint game-track, until Hawk and his dog emerged as silently as a swirl of mist.

“Your tribunes are hunting, and so far they’ve stayed together,” he announced, without preamble. “Teilo is still with them. We found something interesting down by the river. I’ll show you.”

We followed, still riding, as he picked his way through the trees. The oaks were tall and widely spaced, so it wasn’t hard going. In a hundred paces or so we came into a large clearing, and on the far side I caught the gleam of the river. We were on Segovax’s land, close to where it adjoined our own, the place that Hawk had said was used by young lovers, and also by Druids.

I hadn’t been here for years, but the clearing looked much the same, big oaks all around in a rough circle, except for a gap in the trees where the grass led straight down to the river. There was a ruin of an old house on the side furthest from the river, and this was the spot the courting couples used; Hawk had said Junius and Marius had come here. As I glanced round I was surprised to see a huge stone, like an altar, in the middle of the space, and some strange wooden statues—surely they were recent additions. But before I could take in any more Hawk said “Look!” and pointed at the tallest of the big old oaks.

However hard I looked, I couldn’t see anybody in it, or under it, not even an animal. “There’s nothing there,” I said. “Just an old grandfather of a tree.”

“Mistletoe!” Taurus exclaimed. “In the forked branch there, see? Odd, that. It never used to grow here.”

It was just an ordinary bunch of mistletoe, in a fork about three men’s height from the ground. It was quite a small clump, with some of its light-coloured, shiny leaves dangling down beneath it, but no berries yet of course. Not exactly a common sight, admittedly, but nothing to get excited about.

I said, “Is that all? I thought it was something important.”

“The Druids would call it important,” Quintus remarked.

“It wasn’t there yesterday,” Hawk said.

“It must have been,” I objected. “It couldn’t grow so fast, could it?”

“No,” Quintus answered seriously. “Hawk, somebody has planted that mistletoe there overnight.”

“I wouldn’t call it planting, in the strict horticultural sense.” He gave his lazy smile. “But yes, it’s been fixed there in the tree to look natural.”

“But why?” Taurus asked.

Quintus said, “My guess is the Druids are preparing for a ceremony here. Am I right?”

Hawk nodded. “I think so. That’s why they’ve brought in all the statues, too. They….” He stopped suddenly as his dog gave a soft growl. He muttered, “You haven’t seen me,” and was gone.

“Time for some play-acting,” Quintus murmured, and turning his horse back towards the road, frowned horribly, and swore loudly, exclaiming, “Aurelia, your eyes are playing you tricks, or is it your brain? There’s no sign of any deer here, red, green, or sky-blue-pink!”

“I saw one, I know I did,” I retorted. “A big one, too. You’ve frightened it off, that’s all. We should have come up on foot. Riding up like this, we’re about as silent as a cavalry charge.”

“Well I say it was never there to frighten!”

“Say what you like, I know a deer when I see one!”

We kept this going till we were on the road again, trotting towards the Oak Tree.

“Did you notice the Druid altar?” Quintus asked, in his natural voice. “And the hideous wooden statues, too. I’ve seen the same thing in Gaul. Whatever it takes to be a Druid deity, beauty isn’t essential.”

“They are the old gods,” Taurus put in. “But they haven’t been there long. I was there myself, last full moon, with….” He stopped, and when I looked back I saw he was blushing. “Well anyhow, the clearing was empty then. If they’re in it now, it means bad trouble.”

“I saw the altar,” I said. “And that old tumbledown house, with a path leading off into the trees from just beside it. Quite a wide track, well-used, considering the spot’s supposed to be remote and only visited by courting couples.”

Quintus smiled. “It proves their ceremony is imminent. I just wish we knew when! There’s one good thing though. If the Druids are having to fake omens like mistletoe in trees, they must be getting desperate.”

I didn’t find the thought of Druids getting desperate the least bit comforting.

When we got home there was nothing much calculated to cheer us up. The bar should have been nicely busy, but there were no animals or carts on the forecourt, and only two native peasants drinking beer inside. Albia was there as usual, busy, smiling and outwardly cheerful. But I know my sister, and for once it was all an act.

“Albia,” I called, “come and see what we’ve got you from town!”

“Lovely!” she beamed, and we went to my study. When she was out of sight of the bar, her smile faded.

“It’s dreadful, Relia. Hardly anyone on the roads all day. We’ve had three couriers through, and those two natives. We should be a lot busier than this.”

We told her the bad news from town. “Jupiter,” she said eventually. “When will all this ever end? Destruction, death….Every morning I wake up and think, it can’t get any worse today, and then it does. Poor Balbus and Ennia. And poor Felix. He thought the world of that statue.” She rubbed her face slowly. “I only wish I’d something better to report from here. Old Cavarinus looked in earlier to see you, Relia. A farmer we were going to rent some pasture from,” she explained to Quintus.

“
Were
going to?” I didn’t like the sound of that. “Not any more?”

“He says he’s very sorry, but it’s not convenient to rent us the grazing now.”

“But we had an agreement. We’d shaken hands on it!”

“So I pointed out to him,” she said sadly. “I told him you’d be very upset, and that
you’d
never go back on your word to him. Eventually, after a lot of humming and hawing, he admitted he’d heard that the Druids have put a curse on us, and anyone who helps us will come under the curse too. So he’s playing safe. He did say he was very sorry,” she added wryly.

“Holy Diana! Now we’re really on a slippery slope.”

We sat in a depressed silence for a while.

Eventually Quintus said, “But we have made some progress today.”

“Two steps forward and one step back,” I complained. “But I suppose we’re nearer finding the Shadow of Death than we were this morning. We’ve eliminated Balbus, and Vedius, obviously. And Felix, I think.”

Albia said, “I’m glad it isn’t Balbus. Somehow after the attack, even with his foreman lying dead in the yard, I kept hoping against hope that a friend like Balbus couldn’t be the traitor.”

“Felix is still a possibility.” Quintus looked at me. “Isn’t he?”

“I don’t think so. He was beside himself, telling us about how the barbarians had broken his precious statue. He’s as much a victim as Balbus and Ennia.”