Shadows in the Night (47 page)

He sounded so sure, and just for a few heartbeats, I wondered if he could be right. “All Romans will be killed….” No, he was deluded, mad. But I’d gain nothing by arguing the point and making him angry. The trick was to get him boasting about his brilliance again.

“You still haven’t told me why Marius helped you in the first place. Was it for money?”

“Not money, no. I doubt if he’d have done it for money. But sometimes information will serve where money won’t.”

“You blackmailed him?”

He nodded. “I discovered a nasty little scandal in the ranks of the Marius family.”

“It must have been a ripe one.”

He laughed. “It is—it was. Marius’ father was in the army, a camp prefect in Gaul. He owed a lot of money to a local tradesman, a potter, and to avoid paying him, this Marius sent some army bully-boys along to smash up the pottery and make the potter move out….Yes, I see you’ve guessed the rest of the story.”

“Balbus?”

“Balbus. Who left Gaul and moved to Oak Bridges, and settled and grew rich. But however rich he grew, he never forgot, and he swore he’d be revenged on the commandant, or on his family, if he ever met them again.”

“So if he’d discovered who Marius’ father was, he’d have killed him, after all this time? You really believe that?”

“Who knows? Marius believed it. Especially after I’d arranged some drastic alterations to Balbus’ shop display. I could so easily have told Balbus that Marius had done it.”

“You’ve just demonstrated a saying of my grandmother’s,” I remarked. “What people don’t know, can’t hurt them. It’s what they do know, that isn’t so.”

Felix clapped his hands with delight. “How very profound! I’d no idea you had philosophers in your family. And it gives us a whole new game to play, doesn’t it? You and me, just the two of us. What do we know, that turns out to be wrong? Let me see….” His smile took on its malicious twist again. “You think your brother Lucius will bring you help from Eburacum, because you know you’ve written to him begging him to come.” He laughed shortly. “What you don’t know is, I had all those letters intercepted. He hasn’t heard from you at all for months! I even had the note that Antonius left for him in Eburacum quietly thrown away….Oh yes, I know all about his trip to Eburacum. I forged the letter that made him go there.”

“But how could you get hold of my letters? You couldn’t have known which couriers I’d use.”

“No need. Our postal service is truly amazing, isn’t it? You can send letters to any military base in the Empire, carried by trusty messengers galloping over mountains and through forests, and even braving the stormy seas. The letters will always reach their destination. That doesn’t mean they’ll ever get to the person they are intended for.”

I remembered the army bases I’d lived in as a girl. “The camp’s mail-clerk?” I said. “You bribed the clerk at Eburacum not to deliver mail for Lucius?”

“Persuaded, I’d call it,” he smirked. “He’s a very good friend of mine, young Tullius. A keen theatre-goer, never misses a performance. I introduce him to all the visiting actors, and they make a great fuss of him. In return for which….” He mimed tearing up a scroll, and sat back, looking for my reaction.

His words made me realise just how much I’d been counting on my brother’s help coming sooner or later. But if Lucius hadn’t had my letters, he might not realise how dangerously urgent our plight was. Disappointment crept around me like a cold fog. Desperately I tried to fight it off, to think of something bright and witty to say.

There was a rap on the rock wall behind me, and a slight breeze as the heavy red curtain was pushed aside. Vitalis strode in, excited and triumphant.

“Father, I’ve done it. Antonius is willing to talk.”

“Excellent!” Felix said. “And almost disappointingly easy! I rather thought he’d give you more trouble than this. Bring him in, and let’s hear what he has to say.”

I felt numb with horror. To have Quintus tortured into revealing his secrets was bad enough; to be forced to watch it would be unbearable. Felix saw my expression and said, “Aurelia will enjoy the spectacle, I’m sure.”

Vitalis shook his head. “He won’t say anything in front of her. He wants to talk just to you, with nobody else there. Don’t ask me why. He says if you come to the lower cave now, he’ll spill the whole bag of beans.”

I kept still, but it was an effort. Bag of
beans?
Quintus’ password! It meant there was some hidden meaning to his message. But what was he trying to tell me? That he wasn’t going to betray any secrets—or maybe just a few unimportant ones? I needed more information. I’d try to stir the pot a little.

“I’m not surprised he won’t talk in my presence,” I exclaimed. “He wouldn’t get a word in because of all the abuse I’d be hurling at him! The lousy, cowardly….”

“He doesn’t like you much either,” Vitalis interrupted, grinning. “His exact words were, ‘I’m not saying anything in front of that hard-hearted harpy. She can rot in her cave, for all I care.’”

I contented myself with an expression I’d learned from Father, though he’d have been shocked to hear me use it. But my heart was singing inside me. I’d got the message.

“So sad,” Felix said, standing up, “when two young lovers fall out.” Father and son left, laughing.

I jumped up, disregarding the pain in my ankle. Quintus was recalling the Harpy’s Cave tavern in Pompeii, the one with the secret exit at the back. He must be telling me there was a hidden way out of the Shadow-men’s lair. And he’d arranged matters so I’d be alone, with perhaps enough time to escape by the concealed exit. If I could find it….

There was only one place to look. Another cave led from this one; Felix had emerged from there when we first came in. Its entrance was dark, but as I entered I saw there were a couple of lamps on a table. This smaller cave appeared to be a more intimate version of the outer one. There were woven wall-rugs, and a bearskin on the floor, and it was furnished with a sleeping-couch and a couple of stools. And in one corner, surprise, surprise, was Felix’s statue of Apollo, which had not, after all, been smashed to bits by the Shadow-men. So he’d fooled us yet again. We had never seen the remains of the Apollo, and never even thought to ask about them. I only wished I’d time to smash the thing up now.

I turned to examine the walls. Two of Felix’s colourful Roman tunics were hanging up against one of them, and next to them there hung—holy Diana, a skull!

I stopped myself crying out, and told myself sternly not to be so foolish. It was the Shadow of Death’s skull mask. It wasn’t bone, but made of wood and plaster, and it would be a choice piece of evidence, if I ever escaped—no,
when
I escaped. I took it down from the wall, and looped its cord through my belt.

Though the light was dim, I could see clearly enough that there wasn’t another doorway leading from this sleeping-cave. So if there was a way out, it had to be from here. Felix, like the cunning fox he was, must have made an escape route from his private quarters. But where?

I began to prowl round the walls, moving the heavy rugs, vainly searching for anything that could be a door, however small. Perhaps there was just a crack in the rock, indicating a false wall of some kind? I went and fetched a lamp and began to examine the surface carefully. If there was a way out, it must be a tunnel that led upwards to the hillside somewhere, and quite steeply too. So I must look up—to the tops of the walls, even to the ceiling.

I raised the lamp above my head; the ceiling was so low I could almost touch it, and it was uneven and marked, like most rough rock. But it was hard to see details. The wretched light was so small, and the stupid thing kept flickering….

Flickering? Yes,
flickering!

There was a breeze making the flame flicker. A draught of air. It was blowing from the doorway, but—where was it blowing to? There were no more caves. The air must be escaping through an opening in the rock.

I licked two fingers of my left hand and held them up, feeling the slight but definite current of air. I followed it to the far wall, where the breeze was strongest, and pulled aside the heavy wall-hanging, raising the lamp high.

There was a vertical crack, running from the rock ceiling about two feet down the wall. It wasn’t a wide crack but it was dead straight—much too straight to be natural. It must indicate an artificial bit of walling.

I could reach it with my finger-tips, but I needed more height. I ran and fetched a stool, and by standing on it I could easily touch the wall, and I began tapping at the rock. To the left of the crack it was depressingly solid, but—yes, there! The section to the right echoed with a hollow wooden sound.

I’d found it!

I pushed at the hollow wall, but nothing happened. I got a fingernail under the crack and pulled; slowly a whole section started moving towards me, like a door on a hinge, swinging outwards and almost knocking me off the stool. I felt a cold blast of air streaming in from a sizeable hole, and making the lamp flicker more than ever.

A rocky tunnel, big enough to crawl through, sloped steeply upwards. It was jet-black inside; no light at all penetrated from the open hillside above—if indeed that was where the tunnel led. Perhaps the other end was blocked by a rock, or a mound of earth? But no, if this was Felix’s private exit, it must be ready for use at any time, so it couldn’t be hard to get out of it at the far end. Well, I’d soon know.

I needed both hands to scramble into the opening, so reluctantly I put down the lamp, and hoisted myself up into the tunnel mouth. I hesitated a few heartbeats, suddenly frightened at the thought of crawling blindly into the pitch blackness. And then I heard a noise from the outer cave; it sounded like a shout. Oh gods, was it Quintus? Had they realised already that he wasn’t going to be such an easy victim? What were they doing to him?

I thought: he’s taken an enormous risk for me. I shan’t waste it. And I began pulling myself through the tunnel, crawling upwards on hands and knees. The rock floor scraped my skin, but at least it wasn’t slippery. The angle of the ascent steepened, and the tunnel twisted to the left, so now there was no light showing from below. I went slowly, blindly feeling the way ahead. But that cool wind was still blowing in my face, and I clung to the thought that if I kept going, I must reach the outside.

I stopped to listen. There was no sound at all now. Good. I started off again, and caught my knee on a point of rock, and realised the stabbing pain in my ankle was there in full force. I’d managed to ignore it while I was searching for the escape tunnel, but now it was excruciating. I crawled on, using both hands and only one knee, dragging the other leg uselessly behind me. But I kept moving. That was all I could do; keep moving.

And then I saw a faint glimmer of light above. The merest dim spot, but it was enough. Simultaneously there was a noise behind me. Not a voice this time; a scraping, scuffling sound—I felt it through the rock, as well as hearing it. Holy Diana! Someone else was climbing up this tunnel, presumably one of Felix’s men pursuing me. And was another Shadow-man even now racing up the hill to block the exit?

I put on a last desperate spurt of speed. The light patch took shape as a roundish hole, silver-grey in colour, with some kind of tracery across it. Branches? Tree-roots? As I fought my way up to it, I realised it was only a few twigs, presumably put there for camouflage. I pushed through them, and was out.

I breathed in great gasps of the wonderful fresh air. I felt heavy rain cold on my skin as I hauled my body and my agonising leg into the open, and away from the tunnel. I was on a steep slope, in a patch of scrubby trees and undergrowth. With a final effort, I dragged myself to the nearest bush, and crawled under it, panting and utterly exhausted. I felt dizzy, and the ground swam; I was in danger of passing out, but with an effort of will I fought off the waves of darkness at the edges of my mind.

There was a scrambling sound at the tunnel mouth, and a shape emerged, a figure with fair hair and a purple cloak. The Shadow of Death! After all, I hadn’t escaped him. But there was nothing more I could do about it: I was spent. If I keep still, I thought, maybe he won’t see me. I held my breath and lay like a statue.

He stood up and glanced quickly around him, tilting his head as if listening to some sound. Then, to my amazement, he turned and ran down the hill, and disappeared among the trees. I couldn’t believe my luck. Again the world spun round me, and this time it overwhelmed me, and everything went dark. As I slipped into blackness, I thought I heard a familiar voice calling my name.

Chapter XXXII

And now there are only a few more lines to add to my report. You’ll probably pare it down to the bare bones before you pass it on to the Governor, but I hope you don’t cut too much out. If you discard all the detail, he’ll never understand properly how we were so completely deceived, or why the whole Campaign of Terror was so frightening.

I’m just glad it’s all over. When I think back to that terrifying time in the Shadow of Death’s cave, not even a month ago, it already feels remote. Soon it will seem as if it happened to somebody else, and I shall be free of the horror of it.

When I came back to a shaky consciousness, I didn’t know where I was. I lay in a sort of dark cave, lit by a smoky fire, and I could hear sounds of men moving about. Then memory began to trickle back, and with it a cold dread. I was a captive. So was Quintus. We were prisoners of the Shadow of Death….