Get Out or Die (30 page)
Hoofbeats!
A group of horses were cantering up the road from the Oak Bridges direction, five or six, I guessed. But were they friends or foes? Most likely they were neither; just casual passers-by, riding home late and wanting no trouble, so they’d canter straight past, ignoring us, and get on their way as fast as they could.
But could they be, could they
possibly
be, friends who would help us? From town? From Eburacum even? Cavalry?
No, of course not, Aurelia. You’re tired, you’re scared, and you’re imagining things. Those horses probably aren’t there at all, you’re just dreaming and wishing. Or if they are there, they’ll soon be gone again.
And then above the pounding hooves came a stentorian Roman voice, yelling: “Squadron, to the Oak Tree!
Charge!”
The fight was over by the time I reached the mansio. The warriors, taken completely by surprise, scattered to the four winds, leaving the battle-field to five mounted men, or to be exact four men and a skinny red-headed boy, who was yelling and whooping for sheer delight.
“Titch!” I called. “Where did you spring from? And who are your friends? And, oh, I’m glad to see you, you rascal!”
“I’ve brought me dad,” the boy grinned. “I reckoned we needed reinforcements.”
Quintus appeared then, raced towards us, and ignoring me, ran straight up to the leading horseman and grasped his hand. “Secundus! You’re a sight for sore eyes! How in the name of Mars did you manage this?”
The rider smiled. “Blame this young tyke.” He gestured at Titch. “My son Gaius. He said you needed an extra man or two. Looks like he was right. You always did like to cut things fine, Quintus Antonius.”
The big gate to the mansio flew open, and Albia and the defenders streamed out. Miraculously, none of them had been seriously hurt; Hippon was rubbing a bruised shoulder, and Brutus’ face was covered in blood, but he assured us it was just a nose-bleed. And, equally wonderful, no serious damage had been done.
After a short outburst of joyous confusion Secundus held up his hand and called, “Hold hard, everyone! Let’s steady down. The game’s not over yet!”
“You’re right,” Quintus nodded. “They may come back. Though not tonight, I think. You’ve spoiled the climax to their dedication ceremony.”
“What a shame.” Secundus swung down from his horse, and the rest of his party followed his example.
Quintus said, “Aurelia…Albia? I’d like to introduce our rescuers, Gaius Varius Secundus, ex-cavalryman, and his friends.”
We shook hands, but I couldn’t take it in at first, so they all took a hand explaining it to me.
“I’ve known Secundus a long time,” Quintus began. “We served together in Germania.”
Secundus grinned “He was my officer for a while, when he was a proper soldier, before he skived off and started playing at spies. But I hadn’t set eyes on him for a couple of years, till two days ago in Eburacum.”
“I told you I looked up a good friend in Eburacum? It was Secundus. I’d no idea he was Titch’s father, though.”
“He comes to me and says, ‘Secundus, there’s a couple of fools dressed as cavalry, following me about and wanting to kill me.’ So I says, ‘We’ll sort them out then,’ and he leads the two of them into the woods, and we finish them off.”
“Nice tidy job,” Quintus said.
Secundus gave a contemptuous snort. “I should hope so! They were just a couple of amateurs. Anyhow, when that’s done I says goodbye to Quintus Antonius, thinking it’ll be another two years till I get to see his ugly mug again, and then yesterday morning early comes young Gaius, starving hungry and filthy dirty and half dead, saying his friends at the Oak Tree have been attacked, and he’s escaped to get reinforcements, and he got lost in the woods in the dark….”
“Only Dad wasn’t at home yesterday,” Titch put in. “He didn’t get back till last night, and then he had to get hold of his mates….I thought I’d go mad, waiting and fretting!”
“So here we are,” Secundus finished. “Me and three good mates, at your service. But,” he added solemnly, “there’s one thing I do need to know.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Why, the most important question of all. Any chance of a drink?”
“As much as you like! Come in and get it!” I led the way into the bar, and when we’d all got wine-mugs in our hands, I raised mine and said, “A toast, to our rescuers! Thank you with all my heart!”
We drank, and then Secundus turned to Quintus. “Well now, what’s the plan? Those beggars may not come back this night, but they’ll try again tomorrow, I’d bet any money.”
“No.” Quintus smiled, not a nice smile though. “By this time tomorrow, with your help, we’ll have killed their leader and put an end to their campaign of terror. Now we know for sure that the Shadow of Death is Vitalis, all we’ve got to do is catch him.”
“
All
we’ve got to do?” I repeated. “Capture a rebel leader surrounded by a band of dedicated killers? Oh well, I’m glad it’s not something difficult!”
I led Secundus to my study, along with Quintus, Albia, Brutus and Hippon. We took a couple of jugs of wine with us, and sat down around my desk to hold a council of war.
“First of all,” I said, “does anybody know a place called the house in the rock? Junius told us it’s the rebel headquarters, but the name means nothing to me. Perhaps a cave of some kind….Anybody heard of it?”
They were all shaking their heads, when there was a commotion in the passage outside. One of the riders from Eburacum came in with a torch in one hand and a drawn dagger in the other, shepherding a slightly built figure cloaked in brown homespun and followed by a huge dog. “This native,” he said, “wants to see Mistress Aurelia.”
“Hawk! Come in and join us. It’s all right,” I added for the guard’s benefit. “This man is a very good friend and he’s welcome to come and go whenever he likes.”
As the tracker entered the brightly lit study I was shocked by his appearance. He was pale as death, his eyes staring, his face drawn as if he was in pain.
“Can I have a word, Aurelia? In private?” His voice was low and strained.
“Yes, of course, if you want to. But these are friends here…”
“In private. Please.”
I picked up a lamp and led him to our sitting-room. Quintus followed uninvited, but Hawk didn’t seem to mind.
His shoulders sagged and his head bowed, and he collapsed into a chair as if his legs had given way. The dog flopped down at his feet.
I said, “Gods, Hawk, what is it? Are you hurt?”
But Quintus went to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hawk, I think I know. And I’m so sorry. So terribly sorry. I wish there was something we could have done, but there wasn’t.”
“Wasn’t there? Are you sure?” He raised his head and his black eyes looked first at Quintus, then at me, and his voice had an angry edge.
“Done?” I said. “I don’t understand.”
“The boy,” Quintus said, “at the Druid ceremony. I thought there was something familiar. Now I know.”
Hawk slumped down again. “Yes. Teilo. My son.”
I felt all the elation drain out of me. The red-headed boy that I’d mistaken for Titch! I’d been upset enough, thinking they were killing a lad I’d known for a matter of days. Hawk had watched them murder his own son. “Hawk, how dreadful! You saw, what they did to him?”
“Yes. I watched it all. I couldn’t think of any way to save him. But I kept hoping you might have managed something. There were two of you!”
Quintus said, “There were about two hundred of them. What could we have done?”
“Something. You could have done
something!
We all could—we shouldn’t have just stood there and watched.”
“It’s horrible!” My words were so inadequate. There were no words.
Quintus was talking gently, still standing beside Hawk. “No, there was no way any of us could have saved him. It would have ended with us getting killed, and the lad would have died just the same. We didn’t realise it was your boy. Only when I saw your face just now, then I knew.”
“When did they catch him?” I asked.
“Some time this afternoon, I suppose.” He rubbed a hand across his eyes. “I should have taken better care of him, not made him go out in the woods on his own.”
“He wanted to look for Titch,” I said. “You couldn’t have stopped him, you know you couldn’t. This is all so awful for you, Hawk. Don’t make it even worse by thinking it was your fault. None of it was.”
“It’s all so pointless!” He almost shouted the words, and raised his head, staring at us, challenging, blaming, I don’t know what. He was hurting and he was angry, and there was nothing I could think of to make the pain or the anger any less.
“May the gods witness,” he growled, “I swear by Epona’s holy name, I’ll kill their Shadow of Death, if it’s the last thing I do! And as many of his men as I can find! I swear it.”
“Tomorrow we’ll do it,” Quintus told him. “And if we take Vitalis alive, he’s yours to do as you like with.”
“Good.”
“We’re having a war council now, to work out the details. Come and help us plan.”
“No,” he muttered. “I’ll be with you tomorrow, but I can’t sit still now and just talk. I need to be out doing something.”
“Can you help us find their hideout?” I suggested. “Junius told us it’s called ‘the house in the rock.’ But we don’t know where it is.”
“I know somewhere that would fit the description,” he said slowly. “It would make an ideal place, big enough to conceal a whole war-band, and yet quite innocent-looking from outside. I’ll take a look at it tonight.”
“Is it near here?” Quintus demanded.
“About six miles, I think.”
“But it’s still dangerous,” I said. “And in the dark….Why not wait till daylight, then we’ll all be there with you.”
“I’ll be safe enough. I know every yard of these woods, and if you’re going to strike tomorrow, we need to know the exact lie of the land. I’ll meet you in the morning, at the holly-bush where that small track runs from the road to the Druids’ clearing.” He stood up, strong now and grim-faced. “And if there are any Shadow-men still loose in the woods, I can start to take a blood-price for my son.”
As he turned to stalk out, Titch burst into the room, his face full of horror.
“Hawk! They’re saying Teilo is dead, the Druids killed him. Is it true?”
Hawk nodded. “They caught him in the woods. He was out looking for you.” He gazed at the stricken boy, hard-faced. He was a fair-minded man, I knew, and he was struggling not to blame Titch outright for Teilo’s death.
Titch was fighting back tears. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I’d give anything for it not to have happened. If I’d known, I’d never have gone away, I’d have stayed here and let them catch me instead. We were blood brothers.”
Hawk’s eyes sharpened. “You took the oath?”
Titch held his left hand out under the lamplight. Across the palm was a livid red knife-scar, not fully healed yet.
“I didn’t know,” Hawk said.
“It was the day of the storm.”
Hawk glanced down at his own left hand; perhaps there was a scar there, from his own boyhood, but only the eyes of memory could see it now. He looked up again at Titch.
“So that was why he was so set on finding you. He was honour bound.”
“I’d have done the same for him, Hawk. I would!”
“I know, boy.” Suddenly the tracker sank down on a couch, and putting his head in his hands, began to sob. Titch sat down close to him, and Hawk blindly reached out and put an arm around his shoulders. Quintus and I left them alone.
We rejoined the others, and to fight off the sadness that threatened us, we made ourselves very brisk and businesslike, getting on with our plans for catching Vitalis. It would all be fairly straightforward if Hawk could indeed pinpoint the Shadow-men’s headquarters for us. We had enough men to capture Vitalis, given that we’d have the element of surprise on our side. But if the tracker didn’t find the exact place, we’d have to spread ourselves out in groups, making enquiries about Vitalis and those of his followers we knew by name. That would take much longer, and require more men, in which case we would send Secundus to Eburacum with a letter from Quintus, asking the garrison again for help.
By about two hours after midnight we were all dropping with tiredness. We changed the sentries outside, and Quintus and Secundus threw dice for who was going to take first watch. Quintus lost, which meant I went to bed alone. I was too excited to sleep much, and glad enough to be up and about well before it was light.
By dawn the wind was blowing from the west, bringing low cloud and rain. Not the weather I’d normally choose for a woodland expedition; but the wet ground would show tracks to perfection, so I was in a buoyant mood as I helped Albia serve everyone with bread and cheese and watered wine, except Quintus, who was sleeping late after his watch.
Two couriers from Eburacum rode through early, bringing a tale of two more murders just outside Oak Bridges, but not the usual sort. The victims weren’t Roman travellers, they were two armed natives in war-gear, and they’d each been stabbed through the neck and left in the middle of the road. Hawk’s work, for sure; we all cheered the news.
I was on my way to wake Quintus so we could give everyone a final briefing, when Carina appeared.
“Mistress, good news. The army have finally got off their backsides. There’s a centurion with six soldiers outside just arrived.”
“At last!” I felt a surge of relief. “Help from Eburacum! I knew Lucius would send men to us soon. I’ll come straight away.”
I almost ran outside, and there in the drizzle was a smart centurion in good scale armour, and behind him stood six well-turned-out legionaries armed to the teeth. They looked so solidly reassuring, I could have hugged them. The officer saluted me. “Centurion Mallius Paulus, at your service. And you’re Mistress Aurelia Marcella?”
“I am. And by the gods, you’re a welcome sight! Have you come from Eburacum?”
“That’s right. These are bad times. The commander reckons you can do with some protection around here.”
“Excellent! Won’t you and your men come inside out of the rain?”
He shook his head. “No such luck, I’m afraid. We’ve been sent here for two reasons, and both of them mean we’re going to get soaked in the good old Brigantian weather. First, as I say, to protect you.” He swung round to face his men. “Right lads—let’s make the place secure. At the double!” The soldiers ran to take up positions all round our fence.
“You needn’t worry any more,” Mallius smiled. “I’m posting my men on guard around your compound, and closing all gates into the property.” Even as he said it, one of the legionaries shut the big front gate with a bang.
There was something not right here. “We’ll be extremely glad of extra guards at night,” I said. “But during the day we’re safe enough, and we’ve got to keep the mansio open for travellers.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Mallius answered. “Because our other job here is to make sure you all stay safe inside the stockade today. There’s a big military operation starting any time now, in the woods, rounding up the natives who’ve been causing all the trouble. We know who they are. We’ll capture them for you. But it’ll be dangerous for any civilians to be caught in the fighting—so we’re keeping you here for now.”
“You’re putting us under curfew, in effect.” My uneasiness grew. “Is that really necessary?”
“Hardly that! Just a bit of inconvenience for your own protection. It won’t be for long. All right?”
Not all right at all! But by now both the gates were shut, and his men were posted round the fence. And too late, I’d seen what was happening. They’d taken us prisoner! In the blink of an eye we’d gone from being free agents, going about our business, in touch with the outside world, to being penned inside our stockade, isolated from our customers, our friends, and any possibility of outside help. And all achieved without a drawn weapon or a drop of spilt blood—without even a threat!
I could have kicked myself. How could I have let myself be trapped so easily? And how could I warn everyone what was happening? They’d realise what the situation was eventually, but we needed to do something fast, very fast, before more Shadow-men could turn up. Seven of them could not kill us all—but they could hold us here till reinforcements arrived. And then….
“Now,” Mallius said cheerfully, “I’ll accept your kind offer to get out of the rain. These lads can take care of things for a while. There have to be some privileges of rank, don’t you think?”
Oh no you don’t, sunshine—not yet. We need time to make some plans. Which means I’ve got to get a message to the others, and keep you outside for a bit, while they decide what to do. I looked round and spotted Titch across the forecourt, standing with the other horse-boys, staring round-eyed at the soldiers.
“I just need to send a message to my stable-master,” I said, smiling at Mallius. “Victor! Come here, will you?”
Titch trotted over, looking at me keenly; I’ve never used his real name. To make it even clearer this was no ordinary message, I spoke to him slowly and clearly, as if to a child. “Listen carefully, Victor, I’ve got an errand for you. The black stallion is sick again.”
The boy was quick; I was relying on it, and I was right. “Again, Mistress? Like the other day? What shall I do?” His look of puzzlement was convincing, to anyone who didn’t know how sharp he was.
“I want you to find Albia for me,” I said. “We’re going to need some of her horse-medicine, the stuff that was recommended by the man from Arpinum. Got that?”
“The man from Arpinum,” he repeated carefully. “Yes, I’ll tell her.”
“Good. And then go and tell Secundus and the lads we won’t be able to let the animals outside today. Explain to him that we’ve got a detachment of soldiers looking after us, and they don’t want anybody to go outside the stockade.” I turned to Mallius. “That’s right, isn’t it?”
“That’s right, yes.”
“Off you go then, Victor.” He ran off, whistling.
I turned back to Mallius. “I’d better do my rounds before I go inside. I always make a tour of the place to start the day off. The men will get worried if I don’t stick to my routine, especially with one of the best horses sick. But you get out of the rain, by all means. My sister will find you something to keep the damp out.”
Predictably, he said he’d come with me. Even though I’d apparently been taken in by his play-acting, he didn’t want me wandering around talking to my men. Good—that should give Albia and Quintus a little time.
I gave Mallius the full guided tour of the outside of the mansio, slave quarters, gardens, and of course stables. I told him at great length all about our horses and my plans for breeding them. He was polite and interested to start with, but I saw him getting impatient as I spun the walk out. So eventually, with a mixture of relief and reluctance, I led him into the warm, dry bar-room.
Albia was there, with a jug of warm wine ready, and a big smile for the so-called centurion. “Welcome to the Oak Tree,” she said. “Sit down and get dry. I’ve a good drop of warm wine here for you. Shall I send some out to your men?”
“Thank you, yes. They’d appreciate that.”
I ushered him to a table, and hung up our wet cloaks.
“Everything going all right?” I asked Albia. “Titch gave you the message about the stallion?”
“Yes, he did. I’ve seen to all that. I’m afraid our cousin’s no better though.”
I put on a serious face. “No better? That’s bad news.” I sat down, and poured wine for all of us. Mallius took a large swig, and Albia barely wet her lips, so I only took a minute sip myself. Presumably she’d put something in it to make him sleepy.
“Still in bed,” my sister continued dolefully, “and the rash is worse if anything. I made him drink some of my herb tonic, but he says he wants to talk to you, because you cheer him up. You know, Relia, I think he quite fancies you!” She gave an arch smile and a very obvious wink.
I heaved a great sigh and stood up. “Will you excuse me just for a while, Mallius? I’d better go and see what he wants. Albia will keep you company till I’m back, won’t you, Albia?”
“A pleasure.” She sat down far too close to Mallius, who smiled wolfishly and put an arm round her shoulders, while using the other hand to lift his mug. He was visibly relaxing, and from the look on his face, he thought it was his birthday. Sometimes it amazes me how easy men are.
I saw Albia quietly refill his beaker, as I strolled off, only hurrying when I was out of sight of the bar-room.
Quintus was sitting on his couch pulling on army boots. They were the final touches to his outfit; he was dressed in Junius’ full parade uniform—polished armour, fancy sword and silver-trimmed belt.
“Very smart,” I commented. “Going out to inspect the sentries?”
“Using my brains,” he retorted, “in a situation which wouldn’t have arisen if other people had done the same.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Quintus. I should have seen it coming. After everything we’ve said about disguises, and obeying people in uniform! Only I was so sure they came from Lucius. But I did keep him outside a good long while, at the risk of catching my death of cold and getting seduced in the hay-store.”
“Really?” He smiled. “Did you slap his face?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know? Now, for the gods’ sake, tell me what you’re doing.”
He stood up, flexing his shoulders. “Secundus and I are going out through the sentries, dressed as a tribune and a trooper. As long as you and Albia keep their so-called centurion occupied, we can do it. The other men won’t be able to prevent us if I pull rank.”
“Surely they can just stop you by force.”
“That’s the beauty of it, they won’t dare. They can’t harm us, while they’re still keeping up this pretence of being legionary soldiers. Their leader might risk it, but the men won’t. We’ll play them at their own game.” His purple eyes gleamed. “So you just distract his attention.”
“He’ll be fast asleep before long. Albia’s put something strong in his wine.”
“Good. Once we’re out, we’ll rendezvous with Hawk, and track down Vitalis. You keep things under control here, and dispose of the guards when you can.”
“It’s a reasonable plan. Only one thing wrong with it.”
“And that is?”
“Secundus is needed here. To dispose of the guards, as you put it, and to make sure nothing similar happens later. You’ll have to take someone else. So we’ll find a disguise that will fit
me
.”
I won’t bore you with the ensuing argument; I won, eventually. I doubted if I could pass for a soldier though, so I dressed as a young male slave, in oldish clothes but with a military belt and boots, and a hooded cloak.
“It’s quite convincing,” Quintus conceded. “But you’re too self-assured. Try to have more of a down-trodden look. And listen, Aurelia, before we go….”
“Yes, master?”
He leaned close and kissed me. “I love you. Now let’s get moving.”
Quintus strode through into the bar-room, and I marched a respectful distance behind. Mallius was sprawled on a bench near the fireplace, his arm around Albia and his head on her shoulder, almost asleep; he didn’t stir as we walked past.
Quintus mimed drawing his sword, and looked at Albia enquiringly, but she shook her head, and motioned us to the door. She blew us each a kiss, and we gave her a wave as we left.
We went round to the stable yard and picked out a good horse for Quintus, and a mule for me. I mounted, having remembered to help my master mount first, and we rode straight up to the gate. The guard there looked at Quintus apathetically, until he snapped, “What’s this? You men given up saluting officers?” and then he belatedly jumped to attention and saluted.
“Sorry, sir,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know—I mean Mallius didn’t mention there were any other officers in the mansio.”
“Mallius will have your guts for catapult springs, if you’re not careful. I need to leave for Oak Bridges now. Unbar the gate for me.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Tribune. I’m under orders not to let anybody out.”
“I know what your orders are,” Quintus rasped. “Mallius has explained them clearly enough to me, but not to you, it seems. Your orders are not to let any
Romans
out. They don’t apply to me. Now jump to it.”
“Then—then you’re not…but I thought….”
“Well stop thinking and unbar the gate, soldier.
Now!
”
“Yes, sir.” The man didn’t look very happy, but as Quintus had guessed, he couldn’t risk refusing to obey an order from someone of higher rank. So he opened the gate for us, and we rode out through the rain, and up to the main road.
They were presumably watching us, so we set a brisk pace and didn’t speak until we were out of sight. And although I may have looked like a reluctant slave, inside I was bubbling with excitement. We’d escaped our captors, and now we were off to find the Shadow of Death. Whatever our fate was to be, this day would decide it.
And that’s how it came about that the assault on the Shadow-men’s headquarters was not made, as we’d planned it, by a well-armed band of soldiers and slaves, but by just three people: one spy, one tracker, and one innkeeper.