Shadows in the Night (14 page)

“So you’ve found them out. Is that why they attacked you? They were in the gang that tried to kill you on the road.”

He looked up sharply. “Ah, now I did wonder….I didn’t get much of a look at them in the dark. You’re sure?”

“One of my horse-boys saw them, and he’s quite sure. That’s why I sent them packing. Even though they behaved as if you were their long-lost friend, and you wouldn’t tell me properly what was going on.”

“You were wonderful.” He reached out and touched my hand lightly. “And this is really good news. I’ve been looking for evidence against them for a while, but they’ve been pretty clever, keeping in the background. At last they’ve slipped up and shown their faces. I wonder now….” He sat staring at nothing, lost in his thoughts.

I got up quietly and went over to the door that led into the garden. I opened it a few inches, and a cool morning breeze stole in. I looked out at the quiet flowers and the cloudless sky, a scene that usually gave me a calm pleasure, but now all I could do was wonder if any enemies were lurking in the woods.

A soft footfall made me jump. Quintus was there beside me, and he slid his arm lightly across my shoulders. “I’m going to need your help again, Aurelia. If you will.”

“What sort of help?” It came out more abruptly than I’d intended, and he moved away slightly.

“I’d like to stay here at the Oak Tree for a while. It’s just the base I need, bang in the middle of the area I’m investigating.”

I was aware how much I wanted him to stay. So was he, probably. But there were questions I had to ask before I agreed. “Quintus Antonius, I don’t know who you are and I don’t know what in Hades you’re up to. I didn’t mind keeping those brutes from harming you yesterday, but if I’m going to get involved any deeper, I need more information.”

“I’ve told you all I can.”

Again, he was evading my questions, and it irritated me. “It’s not enough. If I help you, and I only say
if,
I could be putting myself in danger, and Albia, and all our people. That’s something I’m only prepared to do if I know it’s absolutely necessary. So convince me.”

“What would you say,” he smiled, “if I told you that you look beautiful when you’re angry?”

I said what I usually say to that kind of nonsense. I won’t write it here; it might shock the Governor. “And I don’t think it’s a joking matter,” I added, “being asked by a total stranger to take risks with my home, just because he’s been incompetent enough to get ambushed in the woods.”

He grew serious, and looked me squarely in the eyes. “No, it’s not, and I apologise. If I tell you what I can, will you help me then?”

“How can I answer that until you
do
tell me?”

“All right.” He walked back to the couch and sat down, and I went and sat beside him, saying nothing, waiting for him to explain.

“What I need is for you to tell everybody that your guest, Quintus Valerius Longinus, is recovering slowly from being attacked, but will have to rest for a while before travelling on. He’s going to take a few days’ leave to recuperate—walks in the woods, perhaps a ride, that sort of thing. If anyone asks his job, he’s a bridge builder and surveyor.” He took a plum from the fruit dish and ate it. “I’ve got to be as inconspicuous as possible. I know I’ve made a dramatic start, but now I just want to blend into the scenery.”

“No problem about any of that. People will soon find some other topic of conversation, and we’ll tell the world your bang on the head has made you lose all memory of being attacked, so they’ll get tired of asking you about it.”

He nodded. “Good. And may I borrow some clothes please, and perhaps a sword? And a horse now and then.”

“Fine. But what will you actually be doing?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just finding and killing a dangerous rebel leader, before he and his band drive all the Romans out of Britannia.”

But I wanted an answer to my question.

“Quintus,” I persisted, “watch my lips. What will you actually be
doing?
”

“Talking to people, gathering information. From Romans, from native Britons, from Hyperboreans if they have anything useful to tell me. And doing it in such a way that the traitor, whoever he is, doesn’t suspect.”

“Presumably you’ll arrest those two bent investigators first?”

“Soon, yes. I’ll send word to Lucius at Eburacum about them….”

“My brother’s at Eburacum?”

“Not yet, but he’s due any day. He’s supposed to be covering the military side of this investigation. There are probably more traitors in the garrison than just those two. I’ve been wondering about your two young tribunes…but I’m after the big fish, not the small fry.”

“The Shadow of Death. And you’ve no idea at all who he is?”

“We know a few things about him. He’s a Roman civilian, and he’s high-powered enough to have access to secret information. He’s in control of a well-trained Brigantian war-band, which he often leads himself, wearing a mask. Above all, he’s the reason this bit of native violence could turn into a very dangerous rebellion.”

“Why are you so sure he’s a Roman? Isn’t it more likely he’s a Brigantian chieftain, someone from one of the old families who resents the Empire for taking away his political power?”

“That’s what we thought at first, but he can’t be.” Quintus rubbed his bruised eye thoughtfully. “He’s too well informed for a native. He gathers extraordinary amounts of secret information, which he could only get from Roman sources, and highly placed ones at that. I tell you, he frightens me.”

“What sort of information?”

“Well….” He hesitated, then seemed to make up his mind. “Who do you know who could successfully ambush convoys carrying gold for paying the troops at Eburacum?”

“
Merda!
They’ve robbed pay convoys? Those wagons are guarded better than a Vestal’s virginity. Usually
much
better!”

“Quite. And it was very professionally done. They had accurate details of routes and times, and they picked perfect spots for their attacks, where the road goes through deep woods, miles from anywhere. All the troops in the escorts were killed, and the bodies beheaded. And every horse, wagon and gold piece vanished like the morning mist, or as they would probably say, like shadows.”

“How many convoys?”

“Two. The second was last month. That’s when the Governor started taking the Shadow of Death seriously.”

“But we’ve heard nothing about any of this. The mansio here gets the news from half the province, and there hasn’t been a whisper.”

“Of course there hasn’t! It’s hardly the sort of thing the military would want spread abroad, is it? Ambushes in broad daylight in a conquered province, top secret information being passed to well-organised rebels?”

“Holy Diana! If they can do that, they can do anything.”

“Yes. And the point is, the leader, the Roman traitor, is based somewhere near here, within easy reach of Eburacum and Derventio, and not too far from the coast….”

“Near here? Near
Oak Bridges?
”

“Yes.”

“Then he could be someone I know personally!”

“I hope so, yes.”

“What?”

“That’s where you can help me still more. I need to know about the leading Romans in this part of the province. Who has a reason for wanting to betray the Empire? Who’s got good contacts among the natives? Who’s short of money, or who’s suddenly got more money than he should have….I don’t know. I need someone with local knowledge to tell me.”

“You want me to spy on my friends? I don’t much like the sound of that.”

“I’ll do the spying, you just give me a base to work from, and whatever information you can. Don’t you see, this is the reason, the
real
reason, why I’ve got to make myself inconspicuous. I want people round here not to notice me, but if they do, just to think I’m a harmless government surveyor, recovering from a knock on the head, on his way to inspect some bridges. Above all I don’t want any of the settlers to realise that the slightest suspicion could fall on them. This is a dangerous man, and a clever one. My only hope of finding him is if he gets over-confident and does something careless. If I’m the one to do something careless, I may not live to tell anyone about it. And I haven’t got long. The trouble has started, and I must find him and kill him. And quickly!” The last word came out sharply, like a trap closing. Then with an effort he relaxed, and held the dish of plums out to me. “These are delicious. Have some, before I wolf them all.”

I shook my head, too busy thinking to eat. “So this Shadow of Death must be living a kind of double life. Behaving like a Roman during the daytime, and turning into a rebel leader at night. It certainly can’t be anyone I know. I mean you’d be bound to notice something like that….”

“No, you wouldn’t. I’ve told you, this is a clever man. Think how easy it would be in practice. A man who’s high up in Roman society here, on friendly terms with every other important Roman in the area, who travels about freely, who has plenty of money, and plenty of slaves to carry messages. A town councillor maybe? A government official? Or a rich trader? How about your chief town councillor, Silvanius Clarus?”

“Silvanius! Not in a thousand years! He’s a second-generation citizen, and he’s more Roman than the Capitol. He wants the whole of Britannia to become indistinguishable from Gaul or Italia. He wants Roman government, towns, temples….”

“That’s what he
says
,” Quintus interrupted.

“And that’s what he does! He’s even building a new temple himself.”

“Which could be the perfect bluff.”

“An enormously expensive one!”

“Well he’s one of the richest men in the district, isn’t he? He also has contacts and clout, with the Romans and with the natives. He’s a Brigantian, isn’t he?”

“He is, from one of the old aristocratic families. But he married a girl from the Parisi tribe, a chieftain’s daughter I think—there’s a lot of intermarriage in a border area like this. She died when Vitalis was born. But you’ve only got to look at him, or talk to him for half an hour, to know how keen he is to be a Roman.”

“So he has family ties with both the Brigantes and the Parisi. It seems to me he’d make an ideal Shadow of Death.”

“Not all the Brigantes are anti-Roman though,” I said. “And the Parisi definitely aren’t. They’ve always been allies of Rome.”

“But you have to consider every man as an individual, not just part of a tribal hierarchy. The more you tell me Silvanius is above suspicion, the more suspicious he seems to me.”

Suddenly the door flew open and Albia burst straight in without knocking, something she’d never normally do. She was pale as ashes, and her eyes were red from crying. She mumbled “Sorry,” and flopped down onto a stool, looking miserably from me to Quintus and back again.

“Relia, it’s awful….”

“What is it?” I went and stood beside her, putting my arm round her. “What’s happened?”

“Another murder.”

“Who?” I felt cold inside. It must be someone we knew well. Not Junius?

“Ulysses.” She started to cry.

“Oh, Albia,
no!
”

“A farmer found his body on the Derventio road. They’d cut off his head, and left one of those messages pinned onto him. They even killed his donkey. How could they? Such a gentle old man…he wouldn’t hurt a beetle on the ground, never mind another person. How
could
they?”

I felt more like cursing than crying. I heard in my head his comment about Druids. “Most of them are evil men, who care more for their own power than anything else.” And I remembered my own words about the warriors: “Take care you don’t cross their path on a dark night.”

“Quintus,” I said, “whatever it takes to stop these Shadow-men, we must do it. I promise I’ll help all I can.”

“Yes,” Albia said. “And so will I.”

He got up and came over to us, and took my hand, and Albia’s hand too. For a few heartbeats we were close together, linked by touch, and it was comforting. But we all knew it was no easy bargain we were making.

Chapter XI

It was only a mile or so to the centre of Oak Bridges where Silvanius’ temple stood. I could easily have walked it, but I wanted to go in style, so I took the medium-sized raeda. Hippon reported that Titch had driven the ponies well yesterday, so I took him as driver, and told him to harness the two best mules and polish the carriage till he could see his face in it. I also ordered two of our brawniest farm slaves to accompany us on horseback as guards. They weren’t exactly legionary trained, but they were tall and strong and handy with their cudgels, and clearly enjoyed the fearsome impression they made as they rode beside the carriage. And I felt safer knowing they were there.

Oak Bridges isn’t much of a town yet. True, it has a forum—well, a very large open space in the middle—and a civic hall where the town council meets, and talks as much hot air as the Senate of Rome. There’s a regular market every eight days, and there are all the basic shops and several taverns, not to mention a statue of the Divine Claudius, and a small triumphal arch commemorating some victory of Governor Agricola’s. But it has no public baths yet, and no amphitheatre, essentials for a proper Roman town. Still, thanks to Silvanius, it would soon have its very own temple to Jupiter and Juno.