Get Out or Die (23 page)

“What does it say?” Quintus asked.

“There’s a skull, and three lines of writing. The first two are like on the stable wall the other day. And then at the bottom it says ‘Greetings from Messapus.’”

“Messapus!
Gods alive! Well, thanks for telling me. Send a couple of men to clean the paint off, and make sure they do a thorough job.”

“Very good, Mistress. One more thing….” He shuffled his feet.

“Yes?”

“Me and the lads think, well, we all think you did real well last night. And we want you to know we’re all with you. We won’t let them Druids drive us out.”

“Thank you, Ursulus. That’s good to hear. You and the men fought like gladiators. Is anyone too seriously hurt to work today?”

“Only Otho, and he’ll mend. Even the ones who’d normally have tried it on aren’t complaining overmuch. It’s just those two that have gone missing.”

“Right. Thanks, I’ll come and do the rounds in a while.” He went out.

“Two runaways,” I muttered. “After last night, I suppose I should be glad it’s not more. If there are rumours about being cursed by the Druids—Holy Diana!” I didn’t want to think about what we’d do if the men deserted in droves.

Quintus was looking at me curiously. “Who’s Messapus?”

“A character in the Aeneid. I thought everybody knew that!”

“And what’s he doing sending you his greetings?”

“It’s a password. I told you we agreed on one at Silvanius’ secret meeting the other day.”

“So you did. Gods, how very literary! It’s a more elegant class of password than we humble investigators go in for.”

“That wouldn’t be difficult. Lucius always picks something really silly. Like Aunt Julia and an elephant.”

He nodded. “My usual one is beans.”

“
Beans!
As in, ‘Here are the secret orders, and I thought you’d like my cook’s recipe for bean stew’?”

“Something like that. But I take it,” he said more seriously, “that only the people at the secret meeting knew about Messapus?”

“That’s right.”

“And Vitalis wasn’t at the meeting?”

“Right again.”

“Then our traitor was one of the men at the meeting, or someone working for him. This latest bit of wall-painting confirms it. And I’d say the evidence points to Balbus as the most likely.”

“Because his foreman attacked us?”

“Yes. The foreman would have been his second-in-command, doing the actual fighting and leaving Balbus to do the planning and organising. He must be a good organiser—all successful businessmen are. We know he has money enough, and he’s proud of his friendship with the natives, including the anti-Roman ones. He travels about a good deal, ostensibly on business.”

I couldn’t deny that it fitted. “And he’s the original source of the green paint. He must have used it because he thought we’d all assume he was the one man who
wouldn’t
use it! Gods alive, how devious can you get?”

“When it comes to being devious, he’s a mere babe in arms. Look how he’s played right into our hands,” Quintus said.

“By betraying all our plans?”

“By boasting about it, of course. He couldn’t resist showing off. ‘Look, aren’t I clever, I know all your secrets?’ He presumably meant to frighten you, but the whole thing will recoil on him like a badly made catapult. If you’re doing secret work, the first rule is, stay secret, and the Shadow of Death has broken it. He’s shown himself to be a complete amateur. Whereas
I’m
a professional!”

“Now who’s boasting?” But what he said was true. We had a traitor among the trusted inner circle, and it was better to be aware of it.

“What’s the next step? Arrest Balbus?”

“Not yet, no.” He finished his wine. “I want more tangible proof, if I can get it. Balbus could afford the best lawyers in the Empire, and they’d make short work of my case as it stands. And I’d also like to be completely sure he’s the only Roman traitor in this area. We’ll give him a day or two more.”

“That’s far too risky,” I objected. “Another attack….”

“…is likely to go ahead in any case, I’m afraid. The young rebels won’t stop now. If their leader is captured, they’ll want revenge.”

“But I must get a message to Silvanius. He needs to know that the password isn’t secure. So do the others.”

“I suppose that can’t hurt,” he agreed. “In fact their reaction might be useful. We can ride into town this morning.”

“We? You want to come too?”

“Yes, I do. It’s time I met the famous Councillor Silvanius Clarus.”

“Then let’s go on horseback—it’s quicker than the carriage. Well, don’t look so surprised, Quintus! In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not some mincing lady of fashion who has to go everywhere on wheels.”

He surveyed me with an air of amazement. “That’s where I’ve been going wrong with you, Aurelia. I had you down as definitely the mincing type!”

It was nearly noon by the time we set off. First we had to wait till Albia was up and about. She came in, looking more or less awake, about two hours later. I gave her some breakfast, and we told her about the password on the byre wall.

“Balbus,” she said gloomily. “I suppose this proves it. Relia, I feel as if there are traitors everywhere we turn. And…poor Ennia!”

Her remark reminded me of the tribunes. They were still sleeping, but if they went out later, I wanted to find out where, so I sent one of the horse-boys to ask if Hawk could come over. While we waited, we saddled a couple of the good black horses, and told Taurus to saddle up too and come with us as guard.

The tribunes finally appeared, looking remarkably fresh; they sat down to a large breakfast and announced they were going hunting later. I said they deserved some relaxation, and wished them luck, but I didn’t feel inclined to chat. Knowing that one or both of them had tried to get us all killed last night put a definite damper on conversation.

Hawk appeared, with his red-haired boy, the one who reminded me of Titch. After the usual brief play-acting concerning bottles of medicine, they followed me to my study.

“You had a bad night,” Hawk said. “I couldn’t get close, but I saw the attack from a distance, and the man in the mask too. Are you all right?”

“Just about, but we’ve got a problem. We’ve discovered one of our tribunes is helping the rebels, or it might even be both of them.” I briefly reported last night’s events.

He didn’t seem surprised. “I’ve noticed they seem to do more courting than hunting. And they sometimes split up and go separate ways.”

“They’re going hunting today, or so they say. Could you follow them for me, find out where they go, who they meet, and come and tell me tonight? We’ve got to know for sure if either of them can be trusted.”

“If only one of them is a traitor, they’ll probably separate. But Teilo’s not a bad tracker, if I need a second pair of eyes.” He indicated the boy.

I must have looked dubious, because he added, “He’s quite good, and you’re only wanting them kept under observation, after all. It’s not as if he’ll have to follow tracks that are days old. I should hope any of my older children can track an unsuspecting hunter without being seen.”

“Fine. Take care, though, won’t you? And while you’re out and about,” I added, “could you keep an ear open for news of young Titch? The new stable-boy. He disappeared last night during the fight, but he’s a smart lad. I think he’s much more likely to have been driven off and got lost somewhere than got himself killed. All the same, I’m worried about him.”

“Oh, we’ll be looking for him, never you fear. Teilo’s been on at me about it already. The two of them have made friends, I gather.”

I looked at the lad more closely. “Are you teaching him to be a tracker too?”

He grinned. “Yes, and he’s teaching me to play the bugle.” He touched his belt, and there was Titch’s old bugle hanging from it. “Good, isn’t it?”

“Wonderful.” Hawk winked at me over the boy’s head, and I tried not to think about somebody learning to play a bugle in a one-room roundhouse.

I went into the kitchen to tell Albia we were on our way, and found her shouting at Cook, something she never does as a rule. “Just get on with it, and stop arguing!” she finished, and turned to me, flushed and angry.

I looked at her enquiringly, and she managed a smile. “Don’t mind me, I’m just edgy today. I’ll feel better when the customers start arriving. The trouble is, it’s too quiet. The Campaign of Terror is starting to work. There should be more people on the road by now.”

She looked strained, and had dark circles under her eyes. I realised she was as exhausted as I was, with the added burden of anxiety over whether Junius was a traitor or not. And now the latest news about Balbus….I gave her a quick hug and said, “Try not to worry. We all did brilliantly last night. We’ve shown the natives we aren’t an easy target. And Lucius will be home soon.”

“Yes. I only hope there’s still a mansio for him to come home to. Now you and Quintus be careful on the road, won’t you?”

It was a pleasant day for a ride, breezy and sunny, drying out the soaking woods and fields after yesterday’s deluge. We urged the horses into a gallop, enjoying the wonderful feeling of motion and freedom.

As we slowed down on the outskirts of Oak Bridges, Quintus glanced at me and said, “You ride like a man.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is one. Most women perch uncomfortably on a saddle, but you ride as if you’re part of your horse….What’s the matter? You keep looking up and down the road.”

“I’m just wishing there was a bit more traffic on it. This is the middle of summer, a good fine morning, yet there’s hardly a man or a beast stirring. The Campaign of Terror is beginning to bite.”

With this depressing thought we rode through Oak Bridges, which seemed almost deserted, and trotted along the country road towards Silvanius’ villa.

“It’s still too quiet for my liking,” I commented.

“Here comes someone now,” Taurus said suddenly. “Hoof-beats behind us, coming up fast. Listen!”

We turned as we caught the sound, and all instinctively looked about us. We’d just rounded a bend, and were hemmed in by trees on either side. We could hear two sets of hooves, but the riders would be on us before we could see them. If these two meant trouble, this was the kind of place they would choose for it. Quintus drew his sword, and Taurus and I drew our daggers.

Chapter XXI

But as the riders rounded the bend, we recognised Felix with his giant bodyguard. They slid to a halt, their horses panting.

“Felix!” I exclaimed. “Jupiter, you gave us a fright. What in Hades are you doing, galloping about like the Parthian cavalry?”

“Aurelia, my dear! The gods be thanked! You’re safe? We heard there was trouble at the Oak Tree last night.”

“You could say that, but yes, we’re safe. We’re just on our way to see Clarus. Let me present one of our guests, Quintus Valerius Longinus, bridge engineer. Quintus Valerius, this is Cornelius Felix, one of our town councillors, and a patron of the theatre.”

They acknowledged one another courteously. I noticed that Felix looked tired and drawn. Had anyone in Oak Bridges had a decent night’s sleep? But he gave us his most charming smile. “Are you here to survey our splendid oak bridges? Are they going to collapse one dark night and deposit some unwary traveller into a watery grave?”

“I hope not,” Quintus smiled back. “But I haven’t started my inspection yet. If I find anything amiss, I’ll make sure the town council is informed straight away.”

I began to walk my horse along the road. “Let’s not waste time. We need to see Clarus urgently.”

“So do I, so do I! Something quite dreadful has happened.”

“What?”

“I feel I’ve been assaulted…violated….”

“Whatever is it? Have you been attacked?”

“Not personally, no. But my beautiful statue of Nero. My Apollo. Someone broke into my garden last night in the storm, and smashed it to pieces. Into a million tiny pieces!”

If this had happened to anyone else, I think I’d have wanted to laugh. I’d spent the night trying to avoid being killed, and he was lamenting the loss of a statue! But I knew how he valued this particular work of art, and whoever had broken it must have done it to hurt him.

“Oh, Felix, I’m sorry. It was a beautiful piece. And something you really valued. Was it the only thing that was damaged?”

“Oh yes. They knew where to find my most precious possession. It’s irreplaceable, quite irreplaceable….”

“It was the Shadow-men, presumably?” Quintus asked.

“Who else? The barbarians at our gates.”

“Quite literally, in our case.” I told him about the attack, and the betraying of the password. He was still exclaiming over this as we turned our horses into Silvanius’ drive. We were dismounting at the main door when the Chief Councillor himself emerged from the house. He looked haggard and harassed, and he wasn’t wearing his toga.

“Thank the gods!” he exclaimed when he saw us all. “I was about to send for you, Felix, and you too, Aurelia. And this—” he glanced at Quintus—“if I’m not mistaken, must be your bridge surveyor, who survived the Shadow-men?”

“Quintus Valerius Longinus, at your service, Chief Councillor,” Quintus answered, and they shook hands.

“What’s happened, Publius?” Felix asked. “You were going to send for us? Don’t say you’ve got more bad news. Aurelia and I are both the bearers of terrible tidings….”

“Dreadful news, yes. Old Vedius was killed last night.”

“Gods, no!” I was never one of Vedius senior’s keenest admirers, but that didn’t mean I wished him dead. “Was he out on patrol?”

“No, on his way here. He was at home, and he received a letter, asking him to come to my house urgently. Although it was late, and such a filthy night, he set off—his wife says he left home just as it was getting dark. But he never got here. He was attacked on the road, and his body was found at first light.”

“You sent him a letter?” I asked. “Who knew you’d sent it? Who knew he’d be coming here?”

“No, I said he
received
a letter,” Silvanius corrected. “I did not write it. It was a forgery. Quite a competent one, and it included the password, so he thought it was genuine….” He stopped abruptly. “But forgive me, I’m forgetting my manners. This horrible business….Let us go into my study. You’ll take some wine?”

While his major-domo brought it, I told him about the attack, and also about the greetings from Messapus on my wall. Then Felix piled Pelion on Ossa by recounting the destruction of his Apollo.

“This is frightful.” Silvanius looked round distractedly as if he expected yelling barbarian hordes to come pouring into his garden there and then. “Your mansio attacked…Vedius killed…your beautiful statue broken…and someone in our trusted circle betraying our secrets!”

“There’s only one person it can be,” Felix said. “The potter with the feet of clay. And I hesitate to say ‘I told you so,’ but….”

“That’s what we think too,” I said. “If there’s really a traitor among the five of us who met here three days ago, it can only be Balbus.”

“I agree, though it gives me no pleasure.” Silvanius sighed. “So what’s the best course of action now? Arrest him, I think, and have him sent to Eburacum. What do you say, Aurelia?”

There was a knock on the door and the major-domo came in.

“Excuse me, my lord, I’m sorry to interrupt, but Councillor Fannius Balbus has sent a messenger, begging you to visit him at his shop urgently. He says something disastrous has happened there. The Councillor is uninjured, but very shaken.”

“Disastrous? Did he give any more details?” Silvanius demanded.

“No, my lord.”

“Nothing at all?”

The slave shook his head. “No, my lord. He simply delivered his message, and said his master had told him to return straight away.”

“Then I must go and see him. We all will. Order the large carriage immediately,” Silvanius told the slave. “And I’ll need three mounted men as escort. We’ll all go together.”

The servant left, and we sat there in gloomy silence.

“He didn’t use the password,” Felix said at last. “Is that significant? Does he know it’s been betrayed?”

“He could just have forgotten,” I suggested. “If something awful has happened.”

“Or it could be a trap,” Quintus muttered.

“It could,” Silvanius agreed. “If we’re right about Balbus betraying us. But he is a friend, and he is asking for our help. We’ll give him the benefit of the doubt for now, and we’ll be on our guard.”

He got to his feet; we three made to follow his example, but he waved us down again. “No no, stay there till the carriage comes. I am only going to change into my toga.”

While he was gone Vitalis strolled in, looking every inch the well-groomed young Roman gentleman, in a white tunic with dark green trimmings, except that he had a livid cut on his left arm. Somebody had plastered it with healing ointment, which made it stand out even more. You’ve been in a fight, my lad, I thought, and we all know where. But he showed no emotion at the sight of me and Quintus.

“Felix, are you….Oh, good morning, Aurelia. And this is Quintus Valerius Longinus, I presume?”

“We meet again,” Quintus said, as they eyed each other warily. Both were doubtless remembering the way Quintus had dealt with the drunken warrior in my bar.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Vitalis said. “Is something wrong? You all look very serious.”

“Aurelia has been telling us about an attack on the Oak Tree,” Felix answered. “And now we’ve heard that Vedius has been killed, and Balbus has had some sort of catastrophe and wants us all to go to his shop.”

“Oh, I see.” Vitalis didn’t look concerned, just mildly disappointed. “Are you going too, Felix? Only you did say you’d hear my lines again today.”

“My dear boy, so I did. And so I will. I’m sure Balbus won’t miss me, and I doubt if I can be of much help in a ceramics crisis.”

“Good. I still need some final rehearsing,” he said to Quintus and me. He had nerve, I couldn’t deny it.

I decided to try to shake him a little. “You’ve been in the wars, Vitalis. What happened to your arm?”

His composure was unruffled. “I was on patrol last night. One of the new watch patrols, you know. Somebody threw a stone at me. I hope it doesn’t put the girls off,” he added, with his dazzling smile.

“Where did it happen?”

There was a tiny hesitation before he answered, “Near Father’s temple.”

“You’re certainly doing a good job, you night-watchmen,” Quintus commented genially. “It must take guts, going out there in the dark, never knowing what you’ll have to face.”

“Someone’s got to do it,” Vitalis said, with a becoming air of modesty.

“Well, all credit to you, I say. How’s the poor man who lost his foot?”

“Pretty ill. We don’t know if he’ll survive, but….” He stopped. “So they say. I haven’t seen him yet, myself.”

“Vitalis, we’d better go and make our excuses to Publius,” Felix said, getting up from his couch. “Then we’ll find somewhere quiet for a rehearsal. Aurelia dear, and Valerius Longinus, you will forgive us, won’t you?”

“Our bout, I think,” Quintus murmured when they’d gone. “If Vitalis isn’t up to his ears in this rebellion, I’ll eat my boots! And I still wonder about his father. Surely he has to be in it too?”

It didn’t take long to drive to the pottery shop in His Pomposity’s grand carriage. The forum was quiet, and the shop looked much as usual from the street.

But when we stepped inside, it was like plunging into a nightmare. The whole interior was in ruins. Somebody had efficiently and mercilessly smashed up the entire place and everything in it. The floor was a finger deep in pieces of broken pot and glass; there wasn’t a fragment longer than my thumb, and most of them were shorter. The shelves were chopped to splinters which lay everywhere in heaps. The walls, including the green alcove, were smeared with patches of black paint. On the biggest bare patch of wall was the usual threatening message—with Balbus’ name instead of “All Romans”—and ending with a greeting from Messapus.

What made this appalling mess almost unbearable was the sight of Balbus and Ennia, standing in the midst of it all, white-faced and forlorn, surveying the wreck of their livelihood.