The Mammoth Book of Roman Whodunnits (61 page)

Fidelma seated herself with an expression of curiosity.

“I will help if it is a matter that is within my power, Deacon Lepidus.”

“Do you know much about the history of this land?”

“Of the kingdom of these Jutes? Only a little. I know that the Jutes drove out the original inhabitants of Kent scarcely two centuries ago.”

The Deacon shook his head swiftly.

“I meant knowledge of this land before the Jutes came here. Before they drove the Britons out. The time when it was called Britannia and a province of Rome. You know that in the days of the great Roman Empire our legions occupied and governed this land for several centuries?”

Fidelma bowed her head in amused affirmation at the slight tone of pride in his voice.

“I do know something of that history,” she replied softly.

“One of the legions that comprised the garrison here was called the Ninth Hispania. It was an élite legion. You might have heard of it?”

“If my memory serves me right, this élite legion was reduced by a Queen of the Britons called Boudicca,” Fidelma smiled with irony. “Something like six thousand foot soldiers and almost an equal number of auxiliaries were killed when she ambushed them. I have read your historian, Tacitus, who wrote about the battle.”

“The Britons were lucky,” snapped Deacon Lepidus in sudden irritation. Clearly his pride was patriotic even though the incident was an ancient one. It had happened a full six centuries before.

“Or Queen Boudicca was the better general,” Fidelma murmured quietly. “As I recall, the legion was cut to pieces and its commander, Petillius Cerialis, barely escaped to the shelter of his fortress with some of his cavalry. I think that there were only five hundred survivors out of the thousands of troops.”

For a moment Lepidus looked annoyed and then he shrugged.

“It is clear that you have read Tacitus, Sister. The Venerable Gelasius was fulsome in his praise of your knowledge. The Legion, however, saved its eagle and was then brought back to fighting strength. Cerealis, in fact, went on to become Governor of the province in recognition of his ability. You know what the eagle symbolizes for a Roman legion?”

“The eagle is the standard of each Roman legion, thought to be divinely blessed by being bestowed personally by the hand of the emperor who was then thought to be divine. If the eagle fell into enemy hands, then the disgrace was such that the entire legion had to be disbanded,” replied Fidelma.

“Exactly so,” agreed the Deacon in satisfaction. “The Ninth Legion survived and served the emperors well. It pacified the northern part of this island, which was peopled by a fierce tribal confederation called the Brigantes . . .”

The man’s voice was enthused and Fidelma, who disliked militarism, found herself frowning.

“All this is ancient history, Deacon Lepidus,” she interrupted pointedly. “I am not sure why you are recalling it nor what advice you seek from me.”

Deacon Lepidus made a quick gesture of apology.

“I shall come to that immediately. Did you know that the Ninth Legion disappeared while on active service among the Britons?”

“I did not know. I have read only Tacitus and some of Suetonius, neither of who mention that.”

“They would not have been alive to record the event for it happened some sixty or seventy years later. My ancestor, the Legate Platonius Lepidus, was the officer in command of the Ninth Legion, at this time. He was commanding it when it vanished.”

Fidelma began to realize why the Deacon was interested in ancient history but not why he was raising the subject.

“So, your ancestor disappeared with six thousand men or more?”

“He did. He and the eagle of the Ninth Hispania vanished as well as the men. There were rumours that the Legion had disgraced itself and was disbanded. Other stories say that it was sent to fight against the Parthans and eliminated. Yet other stories say that it had lost its eagle and all record of it was then stricken from the books. A few claimed that the legion was marched north across the great wall built by the Emperor Hadrian to protect the northern border of this province from the unconquered country of the Caledonii. You see, all the record books are now destroyed and so we have no knowledge of what happened . . .”

“It happened a long time ago,” observed Fidelma patiently. “What is it that you want of me?”

“It happened well over five hundred years ago,” Deacon Lepidus agreed. He was silent for a moment or so as if preoccupied with some thoughts. Then he stirred, as if making up his mind. “The fate of my ancestor, the eagle and the legion has become a matter of contention within our family. It is a matter that pride bids us attempt to resolve the mystery.”

“After so long?” Fidelma could not help but sound sceptical.

The deacon smiled disarmingly.

“The truth is that I am writing a history of the Ninth Legion and want to insert into that history the facts of what their fate was and also exonerate the name of my ancestor. He has been blamed for the loss and even now the aristocracy of Rome does not readily forget this besmirching of the good name of our family.”

“Ah.” That Fidelma could understand. “But I cannot see
how I might help you? I am not of this country and the area in which this legion disappeared, the land of the Brigantes, has been occupied for over one hundred years by the Angles, so any local traditions will have vanished when their culture and traditions replaced those of the Britons.”

“But you are an adept at solving mysteries,” pressed Deacon Lepidus. “The Venerable Gelasius has told me of how you solved the murders at the Lateran Palace.”

“What do you expect from me?”

The deacon gave an almost conspiratorial glance around him and leaned forwards.

“The name Lepidus is well known in Rome. We are a princely family. We descend from Marcus Aemilius Lepidus who was a member of the great Julius Caesar’s council and formed the triumvirate to govern Rome with Mark Anthony and Octavian Caesar.” He halted, perhaps realizing that the history of his family in ancient Rome was of little importance to her. He went on: “Some months ago a merchant arrived seeking our family villa. He had been trading between here and Frankia.”

“Trading between here and Frankia? How then did this merchant get to Rome?”

Deacon Lepidus absently placed a hand inside his robe.

“The merchant brought with him a piece of ancient vellum that he had acquired. He thought it valuable enough to come to Rome and seek out our family. He sold it to my father because it bore a name on it.”

“The name of Lepidus, undoubtedly,” Fidelma smiled trying not to sound sarcastic.

“The name of the Legate Platonius Lepidus,” affirmed the other significantly. “The name of my ancestor who commanded the Ninth Hispania Legion at the time of its disappearance.” He paused dramatically. “The merchant bargained for a good price for that vellum.”

“He obviously expected it, having travelled all the way from these shores to Rome to sell it,” murmured Fidelma.

“The vellum was worth much to me and my family,” agreed Deacon Lepidus.

“And will you now produce this vellum?” asked Fidelma. When a suspicious frown crossed Lepidus’ face, she added: “I presume, because you placed your hand inside your robe when you spoke of it, the vellum reposes there?”

Deacon Lepidus drew forth the piece of fine burnished calves’ skin.

“The original is now in my family archive in Rome but I have made a precise copy of what was written on that ancient vellum.”

Fidelma reached out a hand.

“I observe that you have also used vellum on which to make your copy.”

“I made the copy as exact as I could to the original. The text is as it was written nearly five hundred years ago.”

Fidelma spread the copy on the table and looked at it for a moment before asking: “You have copied the exact wording? You have not altered anything at all?”

“I can assure you that the wording is exactly as it was. Shall I translate it for you?” the deacon asked eagerly.

“My knowledge of Latin is adequate, I believe. Although five centuries have intervened, the grammar and its vocabulary seems clear enough to me.”

She began to read.

“. . . his wounds and weakness having prevented the Legate from falling upon his sword in his despair, I bound his hands to prevent such a disaster occurring in future should consciousness return after he had fainted. Thereupon, we lay hidden in a culvert until darkness descended while our enemies revelled and caroused around us. They had much to celebrate. They had annihilated the greatest
Legion that had marched from Hispania under the burnished eagles of the empire.

“All that remained of the famous band of six thousand fighting men was the wounded Legate and their eagle. History must record how Lepidus, the last survivor of those fighting men, grasped the eagle in that final overwhelming attack and stood, surrounded by the dead and dying, his
gladius
in one hand and the eagle in the other until he, too, was struck down. Thus it was that I found him. I, a mere
mathematicus
whose job was only to keep the Legion’s account books. His grasp on the eagle was so tight, even in unconsciousness, that I could not sever his grip and thus I dragged him and the eagle to the culvert which ran not far away from that bloody field. Mars looked down on us for we were not observed by our enemies.

“How we survived was truly the decision of the gods. The Legate had become feverish from his wounds and I dragged and hauled him along the culvert further away from that grim field of slaughter until we reached the safety of a copse. There we lay a further day but, alas, the Legate’s condition deteriorated. By morning, a calm had seized him. He knew he was dying. He gripped my hand and recognized me.

“He spoke slowly: ‘Cingetorix,’ he addressed me by name, ‘how came you here?’

“I replied that I had been with the baggage train when the Caledonii attacked it and fled, I knew not whither. Only after being lead blindly by fate did I come upon the remarkable scene of the commander and a few men about the eagle, making their last stand. When they were overcome I saw the Caledonii had neglected to gather up the eagle and, knowing of its value, I had made my way to the now deserted bodies in an endeavour to save it. That was when I saw the Legate was still alive albeit barely.

“The Legate Lepidus was still gripping my arm. ‘Cingetorix,
you know what the eagle means. I am done for. So I charge you, take the eagle and place it in the hands of the emperor of Rome whence it came that he might raise it once again and declare that the Ninth Hispania is not yet dead even though the men have fallen. Proclaim that Lepidus shed his life’s blood in its defence and died with the eagle and his honour intact.”

Fidelma paused and looked up from the vellum.

“This text is surely the authority you need to write your history?” she asked. “What now brings you to this country?”

“Read on,” the deacon urged.

“The Legate tarried not a moment more in this life. Therefore I removed the eagle from the shattered remains of its wooden pole and wrapped it in cloth to make it easier to carry. I then waited until night fell again and slowly began to place what distance I could from the still celebrating Caledonii. However, they were blocking the roads to the south and so I resolved to move westward into the country of the horse people – the Epidii.

“My story is long and complicated and I will transcribe it as and when I can. However, I must insert at this point that I could not fulfil my promise to the Legate Lepidus, may the gods honour him. It took me years to return to my own town of Darovernum and the gods smiled on me for I brought the eagle with me. But there is much disorder here at this time and age has spread a shadow over me. I cannot take the eagle to Rome and I fear to give it to the Governor Verus lest he take the credit himself. He is a man not to be trusted in such matters. I have therefore determined to hide it with some account in the tiny house I have which lies close to Tower Eight towards the north-east corner of a building some Christians have erected to honour one of their leaders named Martin of Gaul. I have hidden the honour of the Ninth Hispania in the hypocaust. There it will remain until my son
has grown and can, under my instruction, resume the journey to Rome and can fulfil my . . .”

The vellum ended and Fidelma stopped reading. She looked up at Deacon Lepidus with eyes narrowed slightly.

“Now that I have read this document, what is it you want of me?”

Deacon Lepidus gave a winning smile.

“I had thought that there were clues in the document, which might tell you where this man came from and where the eagle might be hidden. If I could take the eagle and more details back to Rome, if I could have a trustworthy witness to its rediscovery, then I could write my history with confidence. My family, the family of Lepidus, would be able to raise their heads in Rome and aspire to all the great offices without a cloud hanging over the past. Why, I might aspire to Bishop or Cardinal . . . there is no limit to the temporal and spiritual ambitions that . . .”

He paused and smiled quickly as if in embarrassment.

“My concern, however, as an historian, is simply to discover the truth. Perhaps this man, Cingetorix, was writing lies. Perhaps . . . but if we could discover where he lived and where he hid the eagle, if it was his to hide, then what a great historical mystery would be solved.”

Fidelma sat back and examined the man carefully.

“There are many Britons who are more qualified than I am to examine this document and point to the clues.”

Lepidus shrugged.

“The Britons? They never venture now beyond the new borders of the kingdoms into which the Saxons have confined them. They certainly would not venture into the country of the Saxons. And have they not consistently fought against we Romans? Not simply in the days when our legions ruled their lands but even in recent times when they refused to obey the rule of the Mother Church in Rome. Their kings
refused to bend their necks before Augustine, who was the Bishop of Rome’s personal envoy and missionary here. They preferred to stick to their idolatry, to the heretic Pelagius and their own leaders.”