Buried Too Deep (8 page)

“Oh, gods,” Cattos muttered under his breath. “It’s Balca. She’s a kind of distant cousin of ours. She’s all right, but she bosses me about something awful.”

“I know the feeling,” Lucius winked at him. “My sister orders me about all the time.”

“Only when you need it, ” I pointed out.

“But remember, the bossy ones are always the best in a fight,” my brother added magnanimously. “The nice meek little girls who never argue just turn tail and run if trouble starts.”

The boy smiled. “That’s true. Balca’s not afraid of anything or anyone. She’d be brilliant in a fight.” He waved as the girl rode up to us and dismounted.

“Hello, Tom-cat,” she greeted him. “I hear you’ve been having some trouble?”

“Hello, Bossy-boots,” he answered cheerfully. “Yes, I have. I was just saying to my friends here, I could do with someone who’s not afraid of a fight.”

“Well now you’ve got someone. My father heard the Long-hairs had been here, and he sent me to visit Belinus and Illiana this morning. That’s when I found out what’s happened. I’m so sorry. ”

“Thank you. He was like a father to me.”

The boy was nearly in tears again, but she pretended not to notice, and went on briskly, “Who are your friends? I presume they aren’t anything to do with the Long-hairs?” She addressed us in Latin. “Good day. I’m Balca. My father is Coriu, the Captain of Chief Bodvocus’ Guard. May I ask who you are?”

“Lucius Aurelius Marcellus at your service, and this is my sister Aurelia, who runs the Oak Tree Mansio at Oak Bridges. The doctor who treated Belinus’ wounds lives there.”

“I’m pleased to meet you.” It was Lucius who had her attention. “You came to see Chief Bodvocus a few days ago, didn’t you?”

“I did, yes.”

“You’re the government investigator Belinus was working for, aren’t you?”

“You’re well-informed, Balca. He was one of my informers, but his work was supposed to be a secret. How did you hear about it?”

“Everybody knows. Even the Long-hairs must have found it out, mustn’t they? And are those your men camped on the Headland? Half-a-dozen cavalry?”

He nodded. “I’m on my way back to them now.”

“Then I don’t suppose you’ve heard about the shipwreck there? In the storm last night…”

“Oh yes, I’ve heard about the
Sea Horse.
A Roman ship carrying government papers and stores, wrecked at the northern bay of the Headland. We’ll salvage the cargo tonight or tomorrow.”

She looked slightly disappointed that he’d already received the news, but she said gravely, “You’re well-informed also.”

“I try to be.” Lucius smiled. “Look, Balca, I’m going to catch these accursed pirates or raiders or whoever they are. I need all the help and information I can get. So I’ll ask you, as someone who obviously has the ear of the Chief: will he and your father agree to help me, or do they prefer to keep out of it and leave it to us Romans?”

“They’ll help, of course they will. But presumably he told you that when you visited him?”

Lucius shrugged. “We only had a short conversation, and I got the impression he was unsure of me, and hadn’t made his mind up about me.”

She laughed. “He likes to take his time, sizing up new people. But he wants the raids stopped, and he wants Ostorius Magnus put in his place, and if that’s why you’re here, then he’ll help.”

“Good. The Headland is his land, isn’t it?”

“Partly his, partly Ostorius Magnus’.”

Cattos said, “Can the Chief send anyone to the farm to help us? I don’t know how we’re going to manage now.”

“He will soon, I think. It’s difficult just now, because the raiders are still about, and that swine Magnus is up to his tricks again. But
we’ll
stay with you, till either you can move the sheep, or Father can send some men.” She patted her hound, and Cattos’ brown sheepdog went to her for a share of her attention. She looked round and asked, “Where’s Lightning?…Oh no, what’s happened? Have they been back today?”

“Just now, yes. These two helped me chase them off.” I avoided Lucius’ eye. If a little boasting made him feel braver, it wouldn’t hurt.

She looked at us seriously. “Thank you for helping Tom—I mean Cattos. We are very grateful.” Her Latin was good, and though she can’t have been more than sixteen, she was calm and self-assured. I was surprised and pleased that a native guard captain’s daughter had been so well educated.

“Esico is a kinsman of the Chief,” she went on, “so of course we’ll avenge Belinus. And we’ll look after you all. You can depend on it.”

Cattos smiled. “I’m glad you’ve come, Balca. I know you’re only a girl, but I’ll feel safer with you here.”

“I’m as good a fighter as you, Cattos, and don’t you forget it.” She turned to me, surveying my cavalry breeches and boots. “We girls are as good as men any day, aren’t we?”

“We certainly are. Ask my brother here.”

“At least as good,” Lucius laughed. “And anyway I daren’t say anything else.”

“I’ve brought my dagger, and I’m learning to use a sling,” she announced. “There are plenty of the right sized pebbles in this pasture. I’ve brought a sling for you too, Cattos. We’ll practise while I’m here, and if those men come back any more, we’ll have a surprise for them. You can kill a man with a sling-shot before ever he can get near you.”

“Good. But until you’ve had a bit of practice, aim for the horse, not the rider,” Lucius advised. “Moving targets aren’t easy, but a horse makes a bigger one than a man.”

“Thank you, I’ll remember. Are you a soldier?”

“I used to be. We were all expected to be able to use a sling, though I was never very good at it. But if you’re on foot, it gives you a fighting chance against enemies at a distance.”

“I’d like to learn to use a bow,” she said eagerly, “but Father says it isn’t a suitable weapon for a girl. I’ll have to get one of the lads in the Guard to teach me when nobody’s looking. That’s how I learned the sling.” She grinned, and I saw that beneath the well-educated grown-up exterior was a lively and very bright young girl.

“Has Chief Bodvocus had trouble from Voltacos’ raiders on his own estate?” I asked. “Or perhaps with a well-trained guard, they’re leaving him alone.”

“We’ve had no trouble yet. The Long-hairs are going for the smaller places, where the farms aren’t fortified. Most of these farms haven’t even got a ditch round them, never mind a decent stockade.”

“Magnus’ place is fortified,” Cattos said. “And the raiders haven’t gone near him at all. Divico says that’s because he’s made a deal with the Long-hairs. He tells them where the easiest pickings are, and they leave him alone.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised. But he leaves the Chief alone, he knows when he’s met his match. The most he does is move our boundary markers now and then to try and encroach on our fields.”

“I hear he wants to extend his estate,” I put in.

She tossed her head scornfully. “So he keeps telling everyone. His land adjoins ours, and he’s a pest. But the Chief and Father won’t stand for any of his nonsense.” She glanced round the field. “Come on, Tom-cat, let’s look for pebbles for my sling.”

We left them some honey cakes and went on our way, feeling happier. The girl was young, but she was strong and intelligent, and above all, she had close connections with Bodvocus. That surely meant more help would be forthcoming for Esico and Illiana. These tribal chieftains always look after their own. As we rode away, Balca was giving Cattos his first lesson on using a sling. I suspected it would be the first of many.

Chapter VIII

I always enjoy visiting my sister and her husband. You know the way some married couples are so wrapped up in one another that they scarcely have any attention to give to visitors, making you feel like an outsider even though they don’t mean to? Albia and Candidus are the exact opposite. From the first, they were happy together and they wanted everyone to share in their happiness, so they have always been open and hospitable, and going to see them is a real treat.

Their farm stood in a sheltered fold of the hills, and was unmistakably Roman with its sturdy brick farmhouse, solid stables and barns, and general air of prosperity. Around the cluster of buildings stretched fields dotted with trees and divided by well-maintained fencing, or thick thorn hedges. Some had wheat or barley growing in them, but most had sheep and lambs, and one patch of rough ground which led into a small piece of woodland was where the pigs and piglets rooted about.

In front of the house was the farm’s most important asset, its reason for having been built on just this spot: a small spring, which gave pure water for people and livestock all year round whatever the weather. One of the first improvements Candidus had made when he bought the place two years ago was to divert some of the water to feed a pretty little fish-pond, while the main flow was piped into a big granite basin that would have done credit to a temple precinct. To the left, also near the house, was Albia’s garden, her pride and joy. She grew vegetables, fruit, and herbs for the table and the medicine chest. She seemed to have some crop or other ready to harvest whatever season it was, and now there were cabbages, small lettuces, and various sorts of herbs, the kinds that survive through the winter even here in the far north.

A thin lad was digging over a bare stretch of earth. He stopped and smiled at us, and I recognised him as the house-boy.

“Hello, Nasua. Albia’s got you helping with her garden, I see.”

“Hello, M-Mistress Aurelia. And Master L-lucius too! That’s right, I’m learning to be a g-gardener.” He stuck his spade in the earth and strolled over, wiping his hands on his tunic. “I l-like working outside. The Mistress is in the house with the twins. Shall I t-tell her you’re here?”

“Yes please. We’ll unsaddle and give our horses a drink. We’ve had quite a long ride.”

“I’ll s-see to them for you. Just leave them there by the trough.”

“Everything looks in good order,” Lucius said as we dismounted.

“It does. I’m glad.”

“And surprised?” my brother grinned.

“Well…Candidus would be the first to admit he wasn’t exactly born and bred to farming.” His parents had intended him for a political career, but they owned large estates in the south of Britannia, so naturally he’d learned the skills needed to be a gentleman farmer: keep a sharp eye on the finances, and leave most of the hard work to the slaves. The arrangement was clearly a success. Albia loved the farm, and was never tired of saying that this quiet countryside was a perfect place to bring up children. She seemed to be set on proving herself right, with two toddlers already, and a third on the way.

As we walked towards the house Albia and Candidus emerged from it, preceded by the children, who ran round us in circles like excited puppies. My sister had followed the Aurelius family tradition by producing twins, Decimus and Marcella. I like being a twin, and felt sure they would too, when they were old enough to appreciate how lucky they were.

After the first joyful flurry of greetings and hugs, the twins were handed over to their nursemaid, a fair-haired little native girl called Lia, so we could talk without interruption. Albia produced wine, and I unpacked the food I’d brought from the mansio. In no time we were eating a pleasant midday meal by the pond.

Between us, Lucius and I told them about Belinus’ death, and Lucius mentioned the shipwreck. But it was the fate of Belinus’ family that concerned them.

“Poor Illiana,” Albia sighed. “The fates have been cruel to her this past year. Her father’s a cripple, and she’s grown so melancholy that she can hardly manage to look after her baby. And yet she used to be such a happy girl.”

“Belinus and Divico and young Cattos have only just been holding the farm together,” Candidus said. “I’ve lent them a couple of my lads now and then to help, but I can’t spare anyone full-time, much as I’d like to. Without Belinus, I don’t see how they can go on.”

“Chief Bodvocus may be able to help them.” I explained about the young lass we’d seen with Cattos. “I hope so. Because Belinus warned me his family are in danger now, and Esico and Divico seem to think so too.”

Albia looked worried. “From the Gauls? We keep hearing stories about them, but so far it’s just been the usual sort of thieving and threats. Not murder. That’s much more serious.”

“It’s even more than that. They believe someone has a personal grudge against them, and is trying to drive them off their land. Lucius and I wondered if Belinus has fallen out with one of his neighbours, and the harassment is coming from them. But the boy Cattos said the men who killed Belinus were not local, and he would have known them if they’d been from this area.”

Candidus refilled Lucius’ wine-mug. “I’m glad you’re doing something about the raiders. They’re a pest. We haven’t had any bother ourselves yet, but I’ve a nasty feeling it’s only a matter of time.”

“You think they’ll attack us here?” Albia exclaimed. “That’s dreadful, Candidus. Surely we’re too far inland?”

“You’re nearer to the sea than Belinus,” I pointed out.

“You’re right,” Candidus agreed. “We’ve plenty of men, but we’ve no solid defences. I wonder whether we should think about building a stockade to protect the main house and buildings, and the spring and garden perhaps.”

“Good idea,” Lucius put in. “The sooner the better.”

“No it isn’t, it’s a horrible idea,” Albia objected. “One of the things I love about living here is the feeling of peace and freedom. We can leave our stock in the fields at night without a herdsman, and our doors unlocked day and night, knowing we’re safe from harm.”

“Perhaps not this summer,” Candidus said gently.

“Belinus didn’t think the raiders are the main cause of their trouble anyway,” I went on. “He thought someone powerful was trying to drive him and his family off their farm. He wouldn’t say who, but there are very few men who consider themselves so strong and invulnerable that they’d risk doing a thing like that.”

“I can only think of two,” Candidus said. “Bodvocus and Magnus. And I can’t see it being either of them. We know them both.”

“I met Magnus the other day, when he bought some horses from us. I liked him.”

“We liked him too,” Albia agreed. “He came to introduce himself soon after he arrived.” She sliced up more cheese and passed it to me. “And his nephew too, Vividus,
very
dashing. In the old days I’d have called him decidedly fanciable.”

“That’s not saying much. You used to fall in love about three times a month. What did you think of him, Candidus?”

He smiled. “I didn’t find either of them in the least fanciable. But they were pleasant, and full of compliments about our farm. Some of our fields adjoin theirs. I can’t imagine Magnus using bully-boy tactics against anyone. He seemed—well, too correct, too much the ex-soldier turned country gentleman, if you know what I mean. Though I suspect he’d be a bad enemy if he didn’t get his own way.”

“I agree with that.” Albia nodded thoughtfully. “But then you don’t get to be a centurion unless you can be tough. Father would have made a bad enemy too.”

“He’s greedy,” I said. “Talking to me, he made no secret of wanting more land.”

Candidus nodded. “He asked if we knew of any farmers who were selling up. He even joked that if we ever found we had too much on our plates, with the babies and everything, we could sell to him. Well, I assume it was a joke. I asked him whether he meant sell the farm, or sell the babies.”

I sipped my wine. “So if he’d made Esico and Belinus an offer for their farm, and they’d refused, you don’t think he’d follow it up by trying to force them to leave?”

They shook their heads, and Candidus said, “Divico makes no bones about being anti-Roman. He’d naturally blame a settler for almost anything.” He sighed and looked at my sister. “I wish there was something we could do to help them.”

She was doubtful. “If Divico’s in charge now, he’s not likely to accept any help from us.”

“Bodvocus will help them, won’t he?” I suggested. “I gather Esico is some sort of distant relative of the Chief. Unless it’s Bodvocus who’s trying to drive them out.”

“No, not Bodvocus,” Albia said firmly. “He’d never turn on one of his own people. And Esico’s family have lived on that farm for years.”

We finished our meal in thoughtful silence, and then my brother said, “I can’t stay for long, much as I’d like to. But while we’re all together, I want to tell you some family news…no, Albia, don’t look like that! Aurelia’s already asked me if I’m getting married, and the answer is definitely not. This is something much more interesting.”

We ignored this sally, and Albia said, “Good news, I hope. We could do with something to cheer us up.”

“It’ll do that all right. I’ve met a man in Londinium named Aurelius Rollus.”

“Aurelius?” I exclaimed. “You mean he’s a relative of ours?”

“Yes. He’s our brother.”

Our
brother!

It was pointless to object that we hadn’t any more brothers, only Lucius. We knew that. Or we thought we did.

After a stunned silence, I finally managed to say, “Well, if you’re waiting till our jaws have stopped dropping, we’ll be here all day.”

He grinned. “I know how you feel. It shocked me too, when he first approached me in Londinium.”

“‘Shocked’ doesn’t quite describe it,” I said. “I simply can’t believe it. Still, go on. He approached you in Londinium. Just by chance, or had he been looking for you?”

“Oh, he was looking for me. It was about two months ago, and he said he’d spent nearly a year finding me.” He took a sip of wine. “He said his mother was a native called Huctia, and she first met father years ago in Glevum, when he was still quite a young soldier.”

“He was posted over here just before the Emperor Nero died.” Albia rubbed her cheek thoughtfully. “And he was based in Glevum for a few months, I remember him talking about it. It must be…let’s see, more than thirty years ago.”

“Thirty-one, as far as I can work it out.”

“So this Aurelius Rollus must be a little older than we are.”

“That’s right. Father’s cohort was quartered in Glevum, and Huctia was a tavern girl in a bar the soldiers used.”

Suddenly it all made sense. I sat back, relieved. “Oh well, if she was a camp-girl, presumably any Roman in Glevum could have been Rollus’ father, or any native, come to that, because they use those places too. My guess is this lad doesn’t know who his father was, he’s just trying his luck, wanting to attach himself to a Roman family by claiming to be a long-lost bastard son. I can’t believe you fell for a trick like that…”

“Hear me out, Aurelia, before you judge. I’ve checked Rollus’ story as far as I can. I’m an investigator after all.”

He gave me a sharp look, and I held my peace. I had to admit if anyone was capable of checking such a tale, it was my brother.

“Rollus was born in Glevum, and Father had his birth registered in the legionary records there. That much is true. Father couldn’t marry Huctia of course because he was still a very lowly legionary. But Rollus thinks, and I agree with him, that it showed Father was looking to the future, and would have been prepared to acknowledge him. But immediately afterwards Father’s cohort went on campaign further north, and she lost track of him. Another soldier took her on, and the boy too, and they left Glevum and moved north to Lindum. So when Father tried to get in touch with her later, he couldn’t find her, or his son.”

“What happened to the second soldier? Did he marry her?”

“He was killed.”

“That’s sad,” Albia said.

“And convenient,” I added.

Lucius nodded. “Both, I agree. But eventually there was a happy ending. Father and Huctia and the boy, now about ten years old I suppose, all met up again, by pure chance, when Father came back to Britannia after leaving the army. When he brought us all here, and we spent three months in Lindum, remember?”

I did remember, but not all that clearly after so long. “We stayed with a retired army friend of father’s in Lindum, didn’t we? And it was bitterly cold, it did nothing but snow all winter long.”

Albia nodded. “It was horrible, especially after Pompeii. It makes me shiver just thinking about it.“

Pompeii…I don’t often let myself dwell on those far-off days nearly twenty years ago when we lost our home in Pompeii. It makes me sad even now, to remember the good life we had known beside the Bay of Neapolis, but in truth we were lucky. Our house was wiped out with the others when Vesuvius erupted, but the Fates had decreed that none of our family were in residence on that frightful day, and the servants, unsupervised, had the good sense to flee before it was too late.

“Fortune was kind to you in a way,” Candidus said. “At least your lives were spared. But having your house and land destroyed must have been a nasty blow to your family. And your father was recently retired, you say?”

“About two years before,” Lucius answered. “He’d already decided he wanted us to settle in Britannia, and he had a good nest-egg, like all centurions So although losing our house was a setback, it didn’t make him a pauper. It just meant we left Italia more quickly than he’d anticipated.”

“I often wondered,” Albia said, “why he was always so set on Britannia. It was still a very new province then, and pretty unsettled in the north. And after the eruption, come to think about it, he managed to move us all here very fast, in a matter of months, so his plans must have been well advanced. But if he knew he had a son here and wanted to find him, it would account for it.”

“Yes, it would.” I picked up my beaker and swirled the wine round in it, letting my mind run back across the years. The Aurelius family, like so many, has had its share of sadness. When Father set up house with my mother in Pompeii he hadn’t yet reached his exalted centurion’s rank, so there was no question of a legal marriage, but they thought of themselves as man and wife and were happy, till she died giving birth to Lucius and me. Our grandmother moved in to look after us, because Father was on campaign in Gaul. Quite soon he met Flavia—Albia’s mother—and Albia was born in Gaul. Flavia and Albia lived in various military towns there, following wherever Father was posted. So he didn’t see Lucius and me growing up. Flavia died of a fever in Gaul, and Albia came down to join us in Pompeii. Eventually Father managed to pull a few strings and got himself transferred back to Italia to finish his service. When he came out, we had a couple of years of happy family life in Pompeii.