Buried Too Deep (3 page)

Timaeus nodded. “He was brought in last night. He’s quite badly hurt, I’m afraid. You know him?”

“Yes, I know all Chief Bodvocus’ people, and Belinus is a good young farmer. What’s happened to him? Was it the sea-raiders?”

“I don’t know. He’s been unconscious nearly all the time since he got here. His injury looks like a sword-wound, but the neighbour who brought him here said it was a farm accident.”

“No accident, I’d stake my life on it.” He paced across the room and back again, frowning. “Gods, this is serious. Belinus has had trouble from Voltacos’ raiders before, but I didn’t realise things had got as bad as this.” He paced the room again. “The Chief will need me now more than ever. I think I ought to go straight home. If you can put this arm in a decent sling for me and give me something to dull the pain, I’ll take a chance that it’ll mend by itself.”

“It won’t,” Timaeus said sternly. “You must know that, or you wouldn’t have come all this way to have it treated. Do you want a deformed right arm the rest of your life?”

Coriu hesitated. “That’s really what will happen? It won’t just heal itself?”

“Oh, it’ll heal after a fashion, but there’s a big risk you won’t have full use of it. Now I can see you’re worried about Belinus, but the only way you can help him is to get well and strong again as quickly as you can.”

Coriu shrugged, and the gesture made him wince. “I suppose you’re right. Let’s get on with it then.” He eased himself onto the bed, waving away Phokas’ help. “You say he’s badly hurt? He’ll be all right, won’t he?”

Timaeus adopted his most professional manner. “We’re doing everything we can for him, but these things take time. Now, let’s concentrate on you. Phokas, you know what to do. Aurelia, if you’ll just come with me to Belinus’ room…”

We entered the little side-room that was used by any of Timaeus’ patients who needed to stay in bed. I was disappointed to find that Belinus was unconscious. “Spurius said he’d woken up. I was expecting to be able to talk to him.”

Timaeus shook his head sadly. “He was only conscious for a very short time. He asked for your brother. I said he wasn’t here and I would fetch you, but he said that would take too long. He made me promise to give you this message: ‘Please send for Lucius urgently, there are lives depending on it.’ He repeated it two or three times and got quite worked up, and then he felt dizzy and passed out.”

“Send for Lucius?” Suddenly I began to see a possible reason why this stranger had wanted to see me: it was my brother, not me, he really wanted. Lucius was an investigator on the staff of the Governor. Could this Belinus be one of his informers?

Timaeus must have been thinking the same. “If he’s working for Lucius, that could explain why he was attacked, perhaps?”

“It certainly could, if whoever he was informing on found out.”

“Can you reach Lucius? Are you in touch with him?”

I never know how to answer that. A definite “yes and no” is the best I can usually manage. My brother is sent on assignments all over Britannia, but I rarely know the details. All I have is the name of a contact who’ll take messages for him, but he can’t guarantee how long they’ll take to arrive.

“I’ll have to send to the garrison at Eburacum. There’s a centurion there called Petreius who takes messages for Lucius. But how easily Petreius can get hold of Lucius to deliver them… anyone’s guess is as good as mine. I’ll do what I can. I’ll send a note today.”

He nodded. “Right. Now I must look after Coriu. It’s quite an honour, being asked to treat one of Bodvocus’ captains.”

“You’re treating quite a few natives now, aren’t you? When you first came here, apart from people in Oak Bridges who knew you, it was mostly settlers who consulted you, wasn’t it?”

“I suppose it was. I don’t really think about what tribe or country they comes from. If they’re sick or hurt, I treat them. That’s what I was taught, and that’s what I do.”

It didn’t take me long to write a short note to my brother, simply saying “the man from White Rocks” had met with a serious accident, and wanted to see him urgently. I wrote it on papyrus rather than a note-tablet, partly so I could tie it securely and seal it, but mainly because that made it appear somehow more important. I didn’t want some clerk at headquarters thinking it was just a party invitation.

I went to the stables, and asked Secundus to send someone to deliver it as fast as he could.

“It’s for my brother, and it’s urgent. I could wait for an official courier to come through, but I don’t want to risk a long delay. It’d be just my luck if all the couriers today were heading east instead of west. So I’d rather one of our own lads rode over with it. It’s to be delivered to a centurion named Petreius at garrison headquarters in Eburacum.”

“Right. The lads’ll be fighting over who goes, they always enjoy a visit to town.”

“It needs someone sensible, though. It’s not easy finding your way round a big fortress, and I want this delivered personally, preferably into Petreius’ hands, not just left lying about.”

“Understood. Malchus can go. He’s got cousins in the army, so he knows his way round a military base.”

“Fine, a good choice.” Malchus was an experienced rider and had a calm head on his shoulders. “Make sure he knows it’s urgent, and I don’t want him fobbed off by some officious pest at the fortress gates if Petreius isn’t there. In that case he’s to leave the scroll with the duty gate commander, and get a receipt for it.”

Secundus grinned. “Aye, so you said. It’s something important. I’ve got the message.”

“Sorry, Secundus. You of all people know what the army’s like, it’s just that I’m worried. One of the injured men who was brought in yesterday has information for my brother. He says it’s life or death.”

I’d wandered back to the forecourt, my steps slowing as I gloomily contemplated the paperwork still waiting on my desk, when a party of four rode in, two well-dressed Romans with a couple of muscular bodyguards in attendance, Gauls to judge by their haircuts. They were all well mounted, and though the Romans wore civilian travelling cloaks, they looked like soldiers, or possibly ex-soldiers. I stopped, wondering if these were the men who’d come to buy horses.

Sure enough, as they dismounted, the older Roman said, “I’m Ostorius Magnus. Will you tell Aurelia Marcella we’re here?”

“I’m Aurelia Marcella. Welcome to the Oak Tree.”

“Thank you. Let me present my eldest nephew Vividus.”

I hardly needed to be told they were related, the family likeness was so marked. They were a handsome pair, tall and sandy-haired, though Magnus’ hair had touches of grey. Their faces were similar, with bushy eyebrows and high cheekbones. Only one thing marred Vividus’ appearance. His left cheek was badly swollen, and when both men smiled pleasantly at me, Vividus’ smile was noticeably lop-sided.

Magnus held out his hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’ve heard plenty about you.”

I made the stock response. “Not all bad, I hope?”

“Quite the reverse.” Now Vividus took my hand, and he wasn’t in a hurry to let it go. “Your sister and brother-in-law have sung your praises.” He had an odd lisp to his speech, presumably caused by his swollen cheek. “Their farm is quite close to ours. But I have to say, now that I’ve met you, their descriptions haven’t done you justice.” He gave my hand a final squeeze and smiled into my eyes.

Well well, I thought, this one fancies himself as a ladies’ man, doesn’t he? He’s certainly attractive, if you like military good looks, which I do, or he will be when his face isn’t swollen. But is he trying a bit too hard? Charm, as my grandmother used to say, should be sprinkled about like a rare spice, not ladled on like fish sauce.

I suggested we share a jog of wine before we started our horse-trading, but to my surprise they both shook their heads.

Magnus said, “Thank you, in due course, but business before pleasure, eh? And I think Vividus is anxious to see your doctor first, aren’t you?”

Vividus nodded and smiled his uneven smile. He gestured towards his cheek, but didn’t touch it. “It’s quite painful, and seems to be getting worse. I think the tooth needs to come out.”

“Bad luck. But you’ll be in good hands with Timaeus, he’s an excellent doctor. You’re sure you wouldn’t like a beaker of wine first?”

“It’s tempting, but no, I’ll wait till he’s done his worst. It’ll give me something to look forward to afterwards. As well as the pleasure of your company, of course.” He gave me another oh-so-charming lop-sided smile. “Where will I find the medico?”

I pointed the way. “He’s having a busy time at present. Several men have come down from the wold country to have wounds treated. I don’t know if you’ve come across Chief Bodvocus yet? His guard captain Coriu is the latest patient, he came to see Timaeus this morning to have a broken arm set. He’s probably still here.”

Vividus scowled. “I hope I can avoid him. That would be worse than the toothache.”

“You could break his other arm,” Magnus suggested, and they both laughed.

Magnus said thoughtfully, “So there have been wounded natives, as well as wounded Romans? That’s interesting.”

“Some of each. Timaeus doesn’t make any distinction. He treats anyone who needs him, as long as they can pay him something.”

Vividus grimaced. “I’ll pay all right, if he can cure this pain. Well, here goes. Save me plenty of wine.” And he strode smartly off towards Timaeus’ house.

Chapter III

Secundus was waiting for us in the stable yard, and I made the introductions.

“The four yearlings we’re selling are in the small paddock there,” he said, pointing. “The four black ones wearing halters.”

Magnus looked surprised. “Still running loose? I thought you’d have had them tied up here by the railings. Don’t they stand well?”

The stable-master grinned, recognising the start of a hard bargaining session. “They do, and I could have tied them up here ready. But then you might have wondered how easy they are to catch, mightn’t you? And the answer is, very easy, as I’ll show you.”

“They’re all used to halter work then?”

“Aye, they are, and they’ve all had some training carrying blankets on their backs, but we haven’t saddled any of them yet. A year’s on the young side for that.”

“Good. I’ve my own horse-trainer on the estate, and he’ll break them in. Well now, catch them please, and I’ll have a close look.”

Secundus beckoned Castor, one of the older horse-boys, and together they fetched the young black horses out and tied them to the paddock railings. All four came easily and stood quietly, looking good. They continued to behave beautifully while Magnus first walked all round them, then examined them carefully, looked in their mouths, and finally checked their feet.

“Not bad so far,” he said. “Now can I see them in action?”

We went to an empty paddock, where Secundus put a long leading-rope on each in turn and made them circle round showing their paces. They worked well, and I was proud of them.

There followed some interesting bargaining. Magnus began by assuming that the innkeeper and stable-master of a country mansio would be easy to bully or persuade, and would naturally give a powerful estate owner a very advantageous deal. He soon discovered his mistake. I’m never short of customers for my horses, and I don’t sell them cheaply. After protracted haggling he ended by buying all four, and for exactly the price Secundus and I had agreed beforehand.

We shook hands on the deal and went into the bar-room, where I produced a jug of our best Gaulish red, and ordered a big plate of bread, olives, and cheese to go with it. We sat down to wait for Vividus.

“You mentioned that Vividus is your eldest nephew,” I said, pouring out the wine. “Have you other nephews and nieces here in Britannia with you?”

“I’ve three altogether, and yes, they’re all here with me. They’re my sister’s boys, I took them on when she died. Ferox is next oldest, there’s only a year between him and Vividus. He’s our estate manager. He’s a natural organiser and has a feel for farm work, and doesn’t take any nonsense from the slaves. He’s ex-army, finished up second-in-command of an auxiliary squadron, discharged just last summer.”

“And your youngest?”

“Ah, Aquilo. Not a soldier, I’m afraid, and I doubt if he’ll ever make much of a fist of being a farmer. He’s more of a—a scholar, I suppose. He plays the lyre, and studies music. And writes poetry.” It was clear from his tone that he didn’t think much of these occupations.

“How interesting. I like both musicians and poets, and they’re pretty thin on the ground in Britannia. I hope I’ll meet him some day.”

“Come and visit whenever you like. But Aquilo may not be here much longer. He’s talking about going off to study in Italia, or even Greece. Leave the running of the estate to those of us that are good at it. I’ll probably let him, but I don’t believe in giving children everything they want straight away.”

I’d like to have asked more, but Vividus strode in just then. He was pale, but his face was much less swollen, and his smile was symmetrical.

“Business all done, Uncle?” His lisp had gone. “Did you buy any?”

“Four yearlings.”

“
Four?”
He laughed as he sat down. “Aurelia, he spent the whole journey here telling me that he definitely wasn’t going to buy more than two today. You must have a silver tongue.”

“Just some good horses,” I smiled, and poured him a beaker. “How’s the toothache?”

He took the wine, drank a good half of it, and sighed contentedly. “That’s better! My mouth’s still sore. Timaeus pulled the whole tooth out, roots and all. It hurt worse than a kick in the balls, but he said if he left it there the poison would spread all over my body. He’s given me some ointment to rub into my gum, and he says it’ll heal up clean.” He drank the rest of his mug. “By Mars, this wine’s excellent.”

Magnus nodded. “It is. From Italia?”

“No, from the south of Gaul.” I poured Vividus a refill.

“It’s good to know we’ll be able to get a decent tipple in the back of beyond. Sometimes I wonder why we’ve come to Britannia, you know. It’s one thing fighting barbarians when you’re in the army, quite another living among them, so far away from everything civilised.”

“Now Uncle, that’s hardly tactful, sitting here in Aurelia’s excellent bar-room. At the Oak Tree at least there is civilisation.”

“Sorry,” Magnus said gruffly. “Didn’t mean to be rude. Forgive an old soldier.”

“We saw your sister and her husband quite recently.” Vividus went on smoothly. “We’re only about five miles from their farm. What a nice couple, and they’ve a good place there. Albia told me she used to work for you here, before she was married.”

“She was my housekeeper for many years. But she’s very happy with Candidus. Farming life suits her.”

“You’re unusual, aren’t you?” Magnus remarked. “I mean it’s uncommon to find a woman innkeeper. Normally a man’s in charge at an official mansio. But I expect the rules are slacker out here near the frontier.”

I ignored the implication that a woman couldn’t make as good an innkeeper as a man. It isn’t true, and I’ve heard it too many times to let it upset me. “My brother Lucius and I are joint proprietors, but he’s on the provincial Governor’s staff, so the day-to-day running of the place is my responsibility.”

“We look forward to meeting him when he’s next in the area.” Vividus smiled at me. “Does he look like you?”

I was taken aback by such directness, even though I could guess what lay behind his question. “Yes, there’s a strong resemblance. Hardly surprising really. We’re twins.”

He nodded. “It’s just that…I hope you won’t mind if I say this, but you don’t look in the least like Albia. I’d never have guessed you were sisters.”

I stifled a sigh. It’s what everyone says. Albia is small and dark and brown-eyed, while Lucius and I are tall and fair and have green eyes like our mother. Still, as our grandmother used to say, the fact that something is blindingly obvious never stops people assuming they’re the first to notice it.

“Albia and I are half-sisters. Same father, different mothers, and we’ve each of us got our mother’s looks.” The food came, and I passed round the plate, but Vividus shook his head and helped himself to more wine instead.

I thought, if he can be direct, so can I. “Father was a centurion. You’re both ex-army too, if I’m not mistaken.”

Magnus said, “Quite correct. I’ve been retired some time, and Vividus finished his service last winter. We both made centurion too.”

Vividus raised his beaker. “And I think I’m going to like it here in the north. Let’s drink to a long and fruitful friendship between the Ostorius family and the Aurelius family.”

We drank the toast, and I returned the compliment by wishing them prosperity on their new estate.

“Thank you,” Magnus said. “We’re going to make it the best-run estate in Britannia, aren’t we, nephew?”

Vividus nodded. “A modest little goal, Aurelia, as you see.”

“Only in Britannia? Why not in the whole Empire?”

“You can mock,” Magnus said, “but we’ll do it. We need more land though, to build up a really large property, like the farms in Italia. That’s the way agriculture’s going these days, you know. Consolidate the land into large holdings. So much more efficient. I’m trying to persuade some of the small farmers in our area to sell to me, but I’m sorry to say it isn’t proving as easy as I expected.” He sighed and hesitated, as if making up his mind about something. “Aurelia, you’ve been here some time, so you’ll give me a straight answer, I hope. How do you get on with the natives in these parts? Friendly to settlers, are they?”

“They are, especially in your area. You know they’re mostly from the Parisi tribe there.”

“I’ve difficulty telling one tribe from another. A barbarian’s a barbarian, when all’s said and done. I suppose I’ll learn the differences eventually.”

“I’d advise it, yes, because they’re important to the tribesmen themselves, as well as to us. Whether they’re friendly to Rome is a case in point. The Parisi always have been, ever since before the conquest. People say it’s because their ancestors came over from Gaul, but then not all Gauls are well-disposed to Rome, even now.” I helped myself to olives. “Here in Brigantia it’s different.”

“So I’ve heard. Brigantians are all anti-Roman, aren’t they?”

“Not all. It’s not so simple.” I felt myself losing patience, not because he was ignorant but because he didn’t seem to want to lessen his ignorance by learning a few facts. When you set up home in a province, it seems to me you should make an effort to find out
something
about it. “Most Brigantians have accepted Roman rule, with good grace or with bad. But there have always been a few who resent us, and have to be kept in order now and then. Mostly they’re the ones that live west of here, in the Pennines.”

He frowned. “I think Brigantian influence may be spreading. We’ve had some trouble with the local people.”

“That’s bad. What sort of trouble?”

“Well first, there’s a gang of Gauls based on the coast who are plaguing everyone just now.”

“Gods
,
” I interrupted, “I keep on hearing about these sea-raiders. What are they, pirates of some sort?”

“Not exactly, although I suppose that’s how they started. These days they spend far more time ashore than at sea, and they’re a confounded nuisance—more than a nuisance, a danger. But it seems to be mostly the Roman landowners they’re attacking, not the Parisi, which is why I was surprised when you mentioned about Bodvocus’ man being injured. You’re sure it wasn’t just one of the usual mishaps, on the farm, or out hunting?”

“Quite sure. Corium said someone had gone for him with an axe.”

“Bodvocus has land on the Headland, as we do. I suppose we have to expect them to plague us. But they’re prepared to go miles inland to harass the smaller farms. They steal, they extort money, they occasionally rob travellers. And Bodvocus and his people don’t seem to be making any attempt to control them. In fact…” he lowered his voice. “We think they’re deliberately turning a blind eye to what the Gauls are doing, or even making use of them to harass Roman settlers.”

“That’s a serious allegation,” I said. “Especially against Bodvocus, he’s always been a good friend to Romans. I must be honest, it doesn’t seem very likely to me. He’s influential in his area, and the provincial authorities have left him with quite a lot of power among his own tribe. He’d be mad to antagonise the settlers, he’d lose everything.”

“Fair point. Perhaps it’s not Bodvocus himself. He’s quite an old man now, isn’t he? Could be some of his people acting on their own. This fellow Coriu, perhaps. They’re giving us all sorts of petty aggravations. Our boundary markers get moved, or our fences are damaged so the sheep escape, that sort of thing. You may be right, the old chief knows nothing about it. I’ve reported it to Londinium, anyway.”

“Really? Have you had any reply?”

“Not yet. But I intend to get it stopped, with or without help from the Governor.”

“By the way,” Vividus poured himself a fourth beaker of wine, or was it a fifth? “What’s your Oak Bridges Chief Councillor like? We thought we’d call in on him today, introduce ourselves to him. He’s quite a power in the land round here, isn’t he?”

“Silvanius Clarus? Ah, you should have arranged to have your midday meal with him. He’s got the best chef north of Londinium.”

Magnus smiled. “I’ll remember that. These natives never cease to amaze me.”

“Clarus is a Roman citizen,” I pointed out.

“But born here in province, I’m told. Related to Chief Bodvocus, so perhaps he can help me deal with him.” He flashed me his charming smile. “I say, could we have some more of this excellent wine?”

They stayed for another jug, and very good company they were. They were intelligent and well-travelled, and we talked about everything from snail farming to the temples of Egypt. Vividus was quick-witted and charming, and Magnus had a dry sense of humour which compensated for his somewhat grumpy manner. By the time they left, they seemed like old friends I’d known for years instead of just a few hours.

After they’d gone, I went to congratulate Secundus on the sale, and asked what he thought of Magnus.

“A tough one, that,” was all he’d say. “I’d not like to get on the wrong side of him.”

Later I wandered over to see Timaeus, but he was taking a nap, and I told Phokas and Spurius not to wake him. “He’s having a busy time, let him sleep when he can. I suppose that means there’s no change in Belinus?” I asked the apprentice.

“There is, Mistress, but it’s for the worse, I’m afraid. The master says we’ll definitely have to amputate the left leg tomorrow if things don’t improve.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. You had a case of toothache this morning, I gather?”

He grinned. “We did, yes, one of the new settlers. Fancied himself a hard man, and said he didn’t need anyone to hold him steady while the master pulled the tooth out.”

“He was very brave,” Spurius put in. “He never made a sound. Mostly they yell, or at least swear a bit. But he said afterwards it was the worst pain he’d ever had. He gave father a gold piece, and us each a copper one. So he must have been pleased really.”

“How about Coriu? Did Timaeus set the broken arm all right?”

Phokas nodded. “It was quite a bad break, but it’ll heal properly. It took two of us to stretch his arm out straight. If you don’t do that it’ll set crooked. We splinted it, and he’ll have to keep it straight by his side for a month or so, which he wasn’t too pleased about. He’s gone home already, he said he had to get straight back to Chief Bodvocus.”