Buried Too Deep (6 page)

Chapter VI

We were on the road within the hour. Lucius and I rode ahead, followed by the carriage, with its bodywork polished and its two mules smartly groomed, fit to carry Belinus home. Then came the wagon, drawn by a stout pair of oxen, with an experienced farm lad driving it, and Taurus riding alongside. Lucius had found a leather cover that could be put over it if need be at night, and Margarita and I had packed it with enough food, water and wine to feed a cohort, along with cooking pots and bedding. Taurus had brought a selection of his tools, some rope, and flint and steel for kindling a fire. By the time we’d finished, it looked as if we were on expedition to the wildest waste of Thule for at least a month.

To begin with we kept together, plodding up the Long Hill at the lumbering pace of the ox-wagon. Once we were safely at the top of the stiff mile-long climb, with the wide open spaces of the wolds ahead of us, the convoy split up. The raeda didn’t need to travel at the wagon’s tortoise pace, and neither did Lucius and I. We rode on ahead till we were well out of earshot of the carriage, but there was no point travelling so fast that we’d arrive far ahead of it and have to wait.

I like riding on horseback, though I know people say it isn’t very seemly for a woman, especially as the only really suitable clothing for it is cavalry breeches and tunic. Well, let the great ladies of Rome or Londinium trundle around in carriages, or travel shoulder-high through the streets in litters. Give me a lively horse and pleasant countryside, and I’m content. Even today, though our visit to Belinus’ family would be sad, it felt good to be on the road on a fine spring morning.

It was about twenty miles to Belinus’ farm, but easy riding on a Roman road. It ran through gently rolling fields, most of them pasture for sheep and goats, and a few cultivated, with green shoots of grain well up in the chalky soil. Every now and then there were small native farms with their mud-walled roundhouses. Occasionally we passed new foursquare brick or stone buildings, announcing a Roman settler. Every time I travelled this way, which I admit wasn’t often, I was aware how the number of Roman properties was increasing.

I smiled at Lucius. “I feel guilty for saying so, but I’m enjoying this ride. I don’t get into the hills often enough.”

Lucius smiled back. “I know. We should be feeling gloomy because of poor Belinus. Of course I’m sorry for him, but I must admit this shipwreck of the
Sea Horse
puts a different complexion on things.”

“So it seems. You did promise to tell me the details, didn’t you? You know I’ll keep them secret if you want me to.”

“I do, at least for now. I was involved in getting that ship ready to sail from Londinium. It’s part of some sensitive diplomatic negotiations, and it’s vital the cargo doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

“Is that why the Fleet are helping to guard it? That only happens with important ships, doesn’t it?”

He nodded. “The
Sea Horse
is important all right, and extremely valuable. That box it’s carrying is full of gold.”

“Gold? Gods, then there’ll be a reward for its recovery?”

“Bound to be. A hundred gold pieces for the cargo intact, or my name’s Julius Caesar.”

“That’s a huge amount of money!”

“Isn’t it? But then it’s a huge amount of gold. We’ll give some to the fishermen of course, and my men on the coast will expect a share, but most of it will come to me.”

“To
us
,” I corrected. “Don’t forget I’m helping you with the transport.”

He laughed. “I haven’t forgotten, and if I do, I’m sure you’ll remind me. The best part of a hundred gold pieces, just to pick up a box from a wrecked ship! Money for old rags, wouldn’t you say? And thanks to you, I haven’t had to waste a day organising army transport. By tomorrow night I’ll have brought the gold back to the mansio, or even maybe all the way to headquarters at Eburacum.”

“Who’s it for? Some barbarian the Governor’s trying to bribe?”

He put on a pained expression. “Bribe? What a horrible word! The Governor’s simply sending a gift to an important tribal chieftain in Caledonia. A token of eternal friendship and esteem.”

“A bribe, in plain Latin.”

He laughed. “We don’t use plain Latin much in this diplomatic game.”

“I suppose it’s a sweetener for some native chief who’s supposed to be Rome’s ally, but his loyalty is wavering a bit?”

“Exactly so. He’s always been an ally, and helped to keep down some of the wilder tribes up there who prefer to be our enemies. We need to keep him on our side, so we give him expensive presents and lots of flowery compliments. It’s a tried and tested policy, after all. If we don’t want to conquer an area by force of arms, we can still control it for the Empire through its tribal rulers, if we make it worth their while. It’s a cheaper option than sending in the legions. As for this particular barbarian, our agents have put a lot of time and effort into making sure he stays loyal to us, and the box of gold is all that’s needed to seal the bargain. Then Caledonia won’t be a problem, at least for a while.”

“Assuming somebody eventually manages to deliver it. Didn’t the Governor even consider the possibility of a shipwreck? Sailing’s always risky, especially this early in the year. It beats me why he didn’t send the gold by road in nice safe wagons.”

“Actually I agree with you, and several of us tried to persuade him to use land transport. But he said it attracts less attention to send a cargo like this by water. And attention’s what we don’t want. When we give handouts to barbarians, we prefer to do it discreetly.”

“So the chief’s present is in a wrecked boat miles from where it’s supposed to be. If
that
doesn’t attract attention, I’m the Queen of Brigantia. Neptune’s balls!” I had a sudden thought that was so shocking it made me jerk the mare’s reins, and she looked round reproachfully. “Belinus said Voltacos’ pirates were looking for gold. Could they have been trying to capture the
Sea Horse
on its way north? Trying to lure it ashore onto the rocks perhaps?”

“Absolutely not. That ship and cargo are top secret. Nobody knew about it outside the Governor’s staff in Londinium, and not many inside.”

“I know you, Lucius, and I know when you’re not sure of something. Such as now.”

He grunted. “Well…the thought had occurred to me too, of course it had. But look on the bright side. Even if the Gauls did bring about the wreck of the
Sea Horse,
they haven’t gained anything by it. They haven’t got their hands on the cargo.”

We’d reached the top of a fairly steep rise, and got our first view of the sea. Lucius pulled up his horse. “Time for a short halt, I think. It’s not far now, and we need to let the raeda catch up a bit. You did bring some wine, didn’t you?”

“Wine, bread, cheese, sausage, and some of Cook’s honey cakes. No, you’re not having any food now, that’s all for Albia. But I’ve plenty of wine.” I detached a wine-skin and two beakers from my saddlebag and poured us each a drink. We sat gazing over the green fields that sloped down towards the German Ocean, which glinted in the warm sun. High above us among small white clouds a skylark was singing. I could have lingered all day, but Lucius was impatient to be moving.

“I can’t dawdle,” he said, “if I’m to have any time at all with Albia and Candidus before I push on to the coast. I want long enough to find out how things are with them.”

“And to share your mysterious bit of family news,” I reminded him. “Can’t you give me just a hint of what it’s about?”

“Not a chance. Change the subject. Let me work my plans out. If I leave Albia’s with a couple of hours of daylight left, I’ll easily get to the Headland before dark. With luck the tide will be low enough to let us bring the cargo on land tonight.”

“But the wagon won’t get to you much before nightfall,” I pointed out, “so even if you’ve salvaged the box, you won’t want to set off in the dark, surely?”

“No, we’ll stay put till morning, whatever the tide’s doing. Ollius said the wreck’s under water most of the time, so I may have to wait till tomorrow anyway for a low enough tide.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the huge tides here.” I shivered in spite of the warm sun on my face. “The whole idea of waves rushing in and out and changing the appearance of the shore scares me. Our sea in Italia was so much less trouble. You knew where you were.”

“I agree there, not to mention a lot warmer. Don’t tell me you’re changing your mind about coming to look at the wreck for yourself? If the sea scares you so much…”

“It’s not the sea I’m coming to look at. It’s this famous box of gold with its massive reward!”

We set off again and soon found the pile of white rocks that marked the turning to Belinus’ farm. When the raeda had caught us up, Lucius and I led the way off the main road onto a rutted narrow track running between weed-infested pasture and fields of thin grass that was presumably being grown for hay.

The sound of our horses brought out a man carrying a huge cudgel. He came to stand just where the track entered the farmyard, barring our way. He looked very like Belinus, tall and square, with fair hair and beard.

He recognised Lucius and frowned.

“Oh, so it’s you, Aurelius. If you’re looking for Belinus, he’s not here. He’s gone to see the doctor down in Oak Bridges. He wouldn’t have needed no doctor if he hadn’t been working for you.” Deliberately he spat at Lucius’ feet. “So you can just clear off, or I’ll set the dogs on you.”

Lucius ignored the native’s hostility. “Good day, Divico. I know that Belinus isn’t here, but he’s the reason we’ve come. I’m afraid we’ve some very sad news. He died this morning. The doctor did everything he could, but Belinus was too ill to be saved.”

Divico swore at us, hurling a torrent of abuse that was like a blow in the chest. We stood there and waited. I wondered if he’d strike Lucius, but the violence was in words, not blows, and eventually it subsided a little.

“So your poxy Roman doctor couldn’t save him? Couldn’t be bothered, more like. What was the trouble, Belinus didn’t pay him enough? Or he doesn’t trouble himself to save Parisi men, is that it? Well listen, if I ever get my hands on that doctor…”

“No,
you
listen!” I was angry at the unfairness of this tirade. “He took a great deal of trouble, and he’s a fine doctor. He treats everyone as well as he knows how, rich or poor, native or Roman. Belinus had a badly injured leg which poisoned his whole body, and broken ribs which damaged him inside. Timaeus tried his best, and he said that if Belinus had been brought to him a day earlier, he might have saved him. As it was, you left it too late, and Belinus has crossed to the Otherworld. Now we’ve brought him home where he belongs, because you’ll want to perform his funeral rites.” I indicated the raeda, which was waiting a few paces behind us. “He’s in the carriage. We’ll help you bring his body out, and then we’ll be on our way.”

There was a silence. Divico seemed stunned, and Lucius looked surprised by my outburst. Eventually Divico went to the raeda and looked inside. When he came back to us, his expression had softened from open rage to surly wariness. “Then I must thank you for bringing him home. Wait here, and I’ll fetch Father. He’s in the house.”

As he walked off, Lucius whispered, “Well said, Sis! Mind you, I thought he was going to take his cudgel to us at one point.”

“Is he Belinus’ brother?”

“Wife’s brother. Their father Esico owns the farm.”

While we waited, we had a chance to gaze around us. The whole place had a sad, neglected air. The roundhouse, little more than a hut, was in bad repair, its walls uneven and flaking. The farm buildings were even worse, with cracks in their mud plaster and holes in their roofs. They’d let in water whenever it rained, and probably fall down flat in a really strong wind. The patch of garden we could glimpse to the left of the house was producing a fine crop of nettles and thistles, and half-a-dozen scrawny chickens and some scruffy ducks scratched listlessly among them.

“This looks bad,” I said softly. “If the farm’s got into such a miserable state with Belinus alive…”

Lucius nodded, but said nothing, because just then a young woman emerged, carrying a small baby about six weeks old.

“Illiana,” Lucius whispered. “Belinus’ widow.”

She looked like her brother, but though her build and colouring were like Divico’s, her manner was a wretched contrast. She was downcast and unkempt, shuffling along slowly with her head lowered. Her face, which could have been pretty, was pale and blotchy, and the baby was pale too, and dirty.

Behind her limped a grey-bearded old man, barely managing to put one foot in front of the other even though he leaned on a stick. But he held his head high and greeted us courteously. “I am Esico, father to Belinus’ wife. You are welcome to our farm, even at this sad time.”

“We’re sorry to bring such tragic news,” Lucius answered, and introduced me to the old man.

“The doctor couldn’t save him then,” Esico muttered.

“He did his very best,” I repeated how hard Timaeus had tried to save his patient, and what were the causes of his death.

Esico sighed, and without another word, he and his daughter went to look inside the carriage. When they walked back to us, she was crying.

“Thank you for bringing him home,” the old man said. “We’re grateful, aren’t we, Illiana?”

“Yes. Thank you for bringing him home,” she echoed, so softly we could hardly hear.

“Poor lass, this is all too much for you, I reckon,” her father said gently. “Take the baby back inside now. It isn’t good for either of you to be out here. We’ll manage this.”

She headed for the house without giving us a second look.

Esico sighed again. “You must forgive her. She’s been melancholy since the baby came. A hard birth it was, and she can’t seem to pick herself up. And now this. I don’t know how she’ll stand it, she loved Belinus so much. But we’ll see that he’s properly buried. His own father’s dead, so it’ll be me and Divico that’ll take care of things.” He started to tell us about the ceremony: it seemed they were going to bury him in the ground, with some of his favourite tools which he’d need in the Otherworld. I know the natives here often do this, not to mention folk in other parts of the Empire, like Egypt, but I find the thought of burial unsettling. Also I couldn’t help thinking it would be a waste, on a farm as poor as this one, to bury the farmer’s tools along with the man himself. But I’ve learned more sense than to argue with other people about their religious beliefs, so I just listened, and eventually Lucius managed to move the conversation to the attack on Belinus.