A Bitter Chill (16 page)

He laughed. “Your boy can see in the dark, seemingly. All right, I did bring a man with me, but he’ll do well enough outside without a drink, thank you. There have to be some advantages to being the boss.”

I rang for one of the maids to bring wine, and he took a long swig and sat back in his chair.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, Otus, but am I right in guessing that you’ve got military connections? I’m a centurion’s daughter, and I can usually spot our brave lads, even off duty.”

He nodded. “Used to be a soldier, yes, but I’ve done my time and come out, and now I prefer a peaceful life. I run a group of contract workers, doing a bit of this and a bit of that.”

And a bit of thieving and a bit of extortion? Was Otus part of the gang Hawk had warned me about? I must play this carefully. “Well, your lads were in the right place at the right time this morning. Thank you.”

“I’m glad they could help. A dreadful thing, fire.”

“Dreadful. And hay is even more precious than usual this year, after the bad summer. We’ll only just have enough feed to see our animals through till spring. We can’t afford to be losing any.”

“All the farmers round here say the same,” he agreed. “Hay and corn, they’re scarce now, and they’re going to be worth their weight in gold by April.” He put down his mug. “Which is why I think we can be of service to you.”

“You’re a supplier of hay?” I knew that anyone with spare forage would be able to name his own price by the winter’s end and then double it, and still have buyers beating a path to his barn door. Especially a man with military contacts, who had access to army stores. But in that case, why was he making his offer as early as December?

I sipped my wine and leaned forward, ready for a bit of hard bargaining. But he shook his head. “I’m not supplying it, no. You might say I’m preserving it.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Me and my lads, we’re offering a security service.”

“Security? To stop our hay being stolen, you mean? You think things will get that bad?”

He gave his broken-toothed smile. “We run watch patrols to protect farmers from the risk of fire. You do us the occasional small favour in return, and we guarantee that your barns and stacks will be completely safe.”

With a shock, I grasped what he meant. He was threatening that if we didn’t do what he wanted—and who could guess what these “occasional small favours” would be—he and his men would burn down our barns and stacks. Only next time they started a blaze, they wouldn’t linger to extinguish it.

I sat still, keeping my expression blank. Above all I mustn’t look as scared as I suddenly felt. I took another swallow of wine and said, “It’s an interesting offer, but I’ve got plenty of good men, and we can guard ourselves, if there’s any real danger. I can’t afford to be paying someone else to look after us.”

“I’m not talking about money. Just a good turn sometimes. Give us a bit of help, like.”

“Such as what? Free drinks for you and your men for the next hundred years, is it?”

He laughed. “Well, for instance, sometimes when we’re out on patrol, me and my lads need a place to sleep at nights. Somewhere local and out of the way, like. I noticed a big old roundhouse near to your rick-yard. Doesn’t seem to be used at all these days.”

“No, not now. It belonged to the family who had the farm until we took it over.”

“Well then, if you was to allow me and my boys to use the place sometimes, just for the odd night, we could keep a good eye on your property and make sure no harm comes to it. As you said yourself, your winter stores are important. Can’t afford to lose them.”

I tried to look as if I was thinking deeply, while in reality wishing I had the first clue what to do next. I’d never been faced with someone dealing in this sort of threat before. But I knew for certain I didn’t want to do business with him. It was all very well for him to talk about “the occasional small favour”. The favours would grow and multiply, and once I’d begun to co-operate with them, there’d be no going back. I’d have climbed onto a treadmill, with no hope of ever climbing off again.

I gazed down into my beaker, maintaining my thoughtful expression, but my mind was racing. There was something else he wasn’t telling me. I’d no objection to a few local men using a building that we ourselves didn’t need, and he must know that. So why hadn’t he come openly and asked me about it? I’d have rented it to him for a few copper coins or the occasional deer carcass. I wished I could consult Lucius. I don’t often feel the need of a man to help me, but I was well out of my depth here. My brother, as a secret investigator, must have experience of this kind of situation…. Yes, of course, how naïve I was being.
Secret
was the clue. They wanted a place to hide where no questions would be asked and no answers given to anyone who came prying.

“Well then,” Otus asked, “is it a deal?”

“You left out something, I think. You’ll expect our little arrangement kept completely private. You’ll want to keep yourselves as secret as a wolf-pack in a den.”

He nodded. “You’ve got it.”

“Then I’m afraid I can’t oblige. This is an official mansio. However much I’d like to help, it isn’t a good place to keep secrets. For most of the year, it’s full of people travelling on the Empire’s business, soldiers, government officials, messengers, people trained to have sharp eyes. I can’t guarantee that none of them will see you or your men, and if they spot you, they’ll start getting curious.”

“We’re used to keeping out of folks’ way,” he said. “And I’m only talking about this winter. I’m sure we won’t need to trouble you in the spring or summer. Sensible wolves,” he added with a grin, “change their hunting-grounds with the seasons.”

I shook my head. “Sorry, Otus. I don’t think it’s a good idea. Even in winter we have guests. We’ve got a houseful now, as it happens, some relatives of the provincial Governor’s. And my own brother is coming to stay over the holiday. He’s an army man, based down south, but he comes up here when he can, and he often brings friends along for a spot of hunting.” Two days ago that would have been true, and it still sounded convincing.

He shrugged. “Well, don’t say no straight away. Think about it. These are dangerous times, and I’d hate to see you having any trouble here.”

“That’s good of you. Look, I really am grateful for what your lads did today. I’ll be glad to buy you all some Saturnalia refreshment.” I fished in my belt-pouch and found a couple of silver pieces, which I handed to him with my warmest smile. “But it’s not possible to do any more. I hope you understand.”

“Oh aye. I understand all right. But if you change your mind, you can reach me care of the Wolf’s Head tavern in Eburacum.”

“I shan’t change my mind.”

His smile as I ushered him out still showed his broken tooth, but lacked any warmth at all.

Albia was alone in the bar-room, so I quickly told her about my message to Silvanius. She’d realised what I was up to, and was pleased. But when I went on to report my meeting with Otus she looked alarmed.

“It’s worrying, but you did the right thing. We can’t start buying protection from local gangs. And we’ve already decided to keep ourselves well guarded over the holiday. We’ll just have to make it a regular routine for a while, till they find some other poor victim.”

“Yes, it’s all we can do. I’m beginning to think Taurus was right about that mistletoe. Nothing seems to be going smoothly just now, does it?” I threw another log onto the fire. “Have the other two gone to bed already?”

“Margarita’s settling Gaius down. He’s still a bit upset, poor little mite.”

“What was all that crying about? Why did he get so upset when we mentioned the market?”

“If he misbehaves, Sempronia quite often threatens him that she’ll send him to market to punish him. And Diogenes, of course, does the same when he thinks he can get away with it.”

“But why is going to market a punishment?”

“Not just any old market, Relia. A slave market.”

“
Merda,
no!”

“Yes. It’s foul, isn’t it? The poor little boy’s got the constant threat hanging over him, that he’ll be sold off to strangers if he displeases her ladyship. Margarita says he has nightmares about it. She probably does too.”

Margarita came back into the room just then, and sat down by the fire. “He’s asleep, thank the gods. He’s had a busy day, and he’s tired out. He’ll be fine now.”

“I’m sorry my chatter about the market scared him so. I’d no idea.”

She shrugged, “How could you have? It’s typical of Sempronia to use that sort of threat to a child. It’s horrible, but from her point of view it works, because it’s enough to keep him under control, and me too. She likes power, and she likes us all to know that she has it.” She shivered. “And now all this business about altering his lordship’s will—oh, she’s having fun with
that
, making us all run round in circles and jump through hoops.”

“I thought they were just changing the will to disinherit Candidus,” Albia commented.

“That’s the main reason, but Sempronia wants Plautius to make various other alterations at the same time. The old will is—well, old, out of date, apparently.”

I remembered what Timaeus had told me about the division of opinion between those who favoured the existing will, and those who wanted a new one. “Are you affected yourself, Margarita? I mean, if they change it?”

“Yes. There’s some talk of the master giving me my freedom. As things stand now, I’m bequeathed to Horatius. Gaius too, if we both behave ourselves.”

She said it in such a matter-of-fact manner. Yet it struck me as a new thought, how horrible it must be for an intelligent, hard-working woman to be disposed of in a will, like a set of cooking pots or a mule.

“To Horatius?” Albia said. “But I thought Priscus….”

“Exactly. Priscus loves me, and would like me to live with him, but of course his parents want him to make a political marriage.”

“And you? Do you want to live with Priscus?” Albia asked.

She answered bleakly, “It would be all the same if I didn’t, wouldn’t it? When you’re a slave, the very last thing anyone considers is what you want.” She finished her wine. “Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just feeling sorry for myself. Priscus is a good man.” She yawned and stretched. “It’s time I was in bed. I don’t want Gaius to wake in a strange room and find I’m not there.” She picked up a small lamp and smiled at us. “I trust you’re not planning to run away tonight?”

“Not me,” I answered. “I’ve got to wash my hair.”

“Nor me. It’s too cold,” Albia added.

She nodded. “Then good night, and thank you both again, with all my heart.”

We lingered a while by the fire, glad of its warmth as we listened to the night wind rising outside. “I wonder where Lucius is now?” Albia mused. “I suppose he’s in Eburacum, playing the part of a disgraced investigator, looking to stir up trouble.”

“Do you think the spy he warned us about is someone in Sempronia’s party? It seems likely, doesn’t it?”

“It’s Diogenes,” she declared. “Slimy, sneaky little Weasel. He’s a spy, I’d bet any money.”

“Lucius would say he’s too obvious, and a real spy would be more discreet.”

“Poor Lucius! Gods, Relia, I hope he’s all right, out on his own like that.”

“Let’s go and say a prayer for him, and then get an early night. We’ve another busy day tomorrow.”

So we went to the household shrine and stood before the dear, familiar statues of the gods there, and I asked them to protect Lucius, and us too. Praying made us feel better, though it’s hard to say why, since we couldn’t know whether the Immortals had heard, let alone answered. All we did know was that the Aurelius family needed all the help it could get.

C
HAPTER
XII

I rose at the first crack of dawn, remembering my promise to Titch to look after his dogs. The air felt cold still, and the snow crunched under my boots as I walked to the stable yard. When I reached the old cart shed, I saw Titch waiting at its door, barring my way in.

“Mistress Aurelia, thank the gods! I was hoping you’d come soon.”

“Good morning, Victor. Of course I’ve come. You didn’t think I’d forget my promise, did you? But I see I could have had an extra quarter-hour in bed. You’re back safe and sound.”

“Aye, thanks for remembering. But I didn’t mean that. The dogs are fine.”

“Did you deliver my letter?”

He nodded. “We saw Councillor Silvanius hisself, and he read your letter straight away. He said to tell you he’ll come and sort everything out this mornin’. And he’ll make sure to put on a proper show to impress the guests.”

That sounded like Silvanius, who never missed a chance to present himself as an important pillar of provincial government. “You told him a bit about the visitors, then?”

“Just a little.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I thought he ought to be prepared. He was real interested. And real nice, too. He gave me and Castor some wine, and offered to let us stay the night, but I wanted to get back here.”

“Good, that’s fine. Thank you.”

“It was easy. Except now I’m not sure if I’m glad or sorry to be home.”

“Why, what’s happened?”

“I’ve found something bad. I didn’t know what to do, and there wasn’t any point wakening anyone up. I was hoping you’d be the first to see it.”

“Thanks very much!”

He grinned. “I mean you’ll know what’s to be done. You always do. The others’ll just flap around like a box of birds.”

“Then you’d better not keep me in suspense. Tell me the worst!”

“I’ll show you, better still.” He turned towards the old shed. It was dilapidated and shabby, and we used it only to dump odds and ends, since we built our smart new stone carriage-house. The door was half off its hinges, and creaked as Titch pushed it open. “Sorry, this isn’t very nice, Mistress.”

It was gloomy inside, with only one unglazed window at the back to let in a small amount of the dawn light. The earth floor was strewn with sacks, broken tools, wheels, and old harness parts, and in the corner furthest from the door Poppaea and the puppies were ensconced in a big wooden box half-filled with hay. As I came in, the bitch sprang up and barked, her hackles rising.