A Bitter Chill (23 page)

We were both shocked by this chilling thought. Granted, slaves are property, but they’re still people. How could she describe Margarita and Gaius as contemplate even the possibility of not paying their ransom?
expendable,
or

Our silent disgust was given voice by Horatius. “Sempronia, don’t even think such things. Margarita and Gaius are part of your household, and your only honourable course is to get them back, whatever it costs.”

“Yes, you’re right, I suppose. But it’s a pity. Gods, I’ve already got one son trying to escape his duty. I cannot let Aulus do the same.”

There was silence for a few heartbeats. Then suddenly Sempronia exclaimed, “Of course!” and there was a crash—she must have thumped her table. “Gods, how blind I’ve been! It’s obvious, isn’t it? Antonius, you’re an investigator. Don’t you see what’s behind all this?”

“Apart from a band of kidnappers taking the chance of easy money? No, I don’t.”

“But hasn’t it occurred to you that the obvious person who would want to take Aulus hostage is his brother? This whole affair is Decimus’ doing!”

“Decimus’?”
Horatius clearly didn’t find her conclusion at all obvious.

“But why?” Quintus asked.

“He’s trying to exert pressure on us over his proposed marriage. You’ll see! When we enquire what his demands are, he’ll agree to release his hostages in return for our giving consent to his marriage with this innkeeper girl.”

By my side, the innkeeper girl hissed, “What rubbish!”

“I don’t think that’s the answer,” Fabia said gently. She’d been so quiet I’d almost forgotten she was there. “Decimus loves his brother. He’d never hurt him. And he knows you wouldn’t give in to that sort of blackmail.”

“It does you credit that you defend him, my dear,” Sempronia said. “And I’m sure you’re right, he wouldn’t actually hurt Aulus. So all we have to do is stand firm, and he’ll release them all. No, take it away! I can’t think of eating anything else just now. This is all far too provoking. I must talk to Plautius.”

“We’ll all go,” Quintus answered. “That is, if I may join you in a family meeting, Sempronia? I’ve some professional experience of this kind of situation.”

“Yes, yes, all right,” she said shortly.

“We’d probably better ask the innkeeper to join us,” Horatius suggested. “We’ll need directions to this meeting-place, what was it, the Druids’ clearing? I sincerely hope there are no Druids there now!”

“I agree,” Quintus said. “I’ll see if she’s in the bar, shall I?”

We moved quickly back to the fireside, grateful for the warning. He must have known we’d be eavesdropping. He began to open the door slowly, but Sempronia snapped, “No, Antonius, I’m having no outsiders at a family council as important as this. Especially as she’s bound to be on Decimus’ side, because of her sister. Come along now, let’s go and decide what’s to be done.”

Quintus made a face, then turned back into the dining-room, closing the door carefully behind him. They all began to troop into the hall.

“What an appalling family,” Albia breathed. “I can’t believe I’m thinking of marrying into it. That Sempronia can blame Candidus for the kidnapping, and if it isn’t Candidus, she can seriously suggest not paying a ransom for Margarita and Gaius!”

“Plautius won’t let it happen,” I answered. “And Quintus will catch the gang. He’s still a good investigator, even if….” I paused. “Even if he’s stopped caring for me” was the end of that sentence, but I didn’t want to say it aloud.

“Oh, Relia, I’m sorry. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own problems, I haven’t been thinking about yours. I couldn’t believe the way he behaved to you this afternoon. And yet when he was in here with Titch and just you and me, he seemed like his old self. I don’t understand it.”

I didn’t understand it either, so we talked of other things for a while, until the man himself came in, looking harassed.

“Gods, I swear those two will drive me mad!”

I poured him some wine, and he drained a whole beaker and then sat down on the bench opposite us.

“That was a short meeting.” I refilled all the mugs. “I thought you’d be stuck in the guest wing for hours while Plautius and Sempronia argued. What have they decided?”

“I don’t know. Plautius insisted on talking to Sempronia in private.”

“In
private
? For the gods’ sake why?”

“I don’t know,” he said again, shaking his head. “They agreed to negotiate with the kidnappers for as long as they could, but when they started on the details, Plautius said they preferred not to discuss their family finances in the presence of outsiders, and asked me to leave. I don’t like it. I wish I knew what they’re up to.” He looked at me. “You’ve had several conversations with the old man, I gather, Aurelia?”

“I have. And whenever I see him, he manoeuvres me into doing something he wants, that I’d much prefer not to do.”

Quintus nodded. “He’s a force to be reckoned with. He comes across as a gentle, mild old patrician, doesn’t he? But there’s a will of iron and a heart of stone under that courteous exterior, even now, when he’s so ill. How else has he managed to control Sempronia all these years?”

“From what I’ve seen, I wouldn’t say he controls her exactly. It’s more that he prevents her from controlling
him
.”

“It’s a mystery to me why he puts up with her,” Albia said. “Such a horrible, bad-tempered harpy, most men would have divorced her long ago.”

Quintus shrugged. “Plautius has money, but it’s Sempronia who has the political connections. Even before her nephew got the governorship here, she was the one with the really powerful family. He’ll put up with a lot of bad temper for that. And she’s better than some patrician wives, she doesn’t hold orgies, or have affairs.”

Albia giggled. “Who’d want her?”

“She was handsome enough as a young woman, they say. Mind you, perhaps they daren’t say anything else!”

I smiled, recognising a touch of the old Quintus. “Let’s stick to tonight’s private meeting. Did you pick up anything about their plans?”

“They’re sending a messenger to the Druids’ clearing tomorrow morning as instructed, taking twenty gold pieces. He’ll try some kind of delaying tactics.”

“Who are they sending?” I asked.

“Diogenes.”

“
Merda,
Quintus, that’s as good as giving in to the gang straight away. He’s bound to do some separate deal of his own with them. Margarita told us he’s been trying to get his hands on her and Gaius for months.”

Quintus nodded. “I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. We’ll just have to watch him closely.”

“But how? The instructions are, one messenger to go alone.”

He smiled. “I did get one sensible decision out of Plautius and Sempronia. I’m going with Diogenes tomorrow to guide him to the meeting-place.”

“Guide him?” I repeated. “The Druids’ clearing isn’t very difficult to find.”

“
I
know that, but he doesn’t. Perhaps I can do something useful while I’m there—eavesdrop on what he says, and have a look at the other members of the gang. They’ll come in force, even if we’re supposed to be sending only one man.”

“It’s not safe for you to go,” I objected. “Even though they don’t know you, they’ll tell by your manner that you’re someone with military training, someone in authority, not just a guide. I’ve a better idea. I’ll go. They won’t see me as a threat, the way they would you.”

He laughed. “If only they knew you, they’d realise that you’re at least as much of a threat as I am!”

Yet again, a glimpse of the old Quintus, and the feeling that had once been so good between us. These occasional reminders of how things used to be made the present situation all the worse. Ridiculously, I suddenly felt so miserable I could have cried, and I took refuge in brusqueness.

“No doubt they’ll just assume I’m helping a customer, like any excellent innkeeper. So is it agreed? I’ll go instead of you?”

“Aurelia….”

“I said, is it agreed?”

“If you’re sure, yes. It’s a good idea.”

“Thanks for the compliment.”

“Relia, you’re not going with only Diogenes for company,” Albia put in. “I don’t trust the Weasel, and we certainly can’t trust the kidnappers.”

Quintus nodded. “Of course you’re not. I’ll come along too, as far as the turning that leads into the woods, and then I’ll follow you in, but keeping out of sight. If you can divert their attention as much as possible, it’ll make it easier for me to get up close and look around.” He relapsed into thought, staring at the glowing logs. Then he smiled, and asked, “Is Hawk still hunting in these woods?”

“Now that,” I said, “is a
really
good idea.”

C
HAPTER
XVII

We were late setting off for the Druids’ clearing. Plautius and Sempronia were moving out to Clarus’ villa, and there was an enormous amount to do, much of it involving Diogenes. I suggested Sempronia send another messenger instead of her indispensable secretary, but she wouldn’t hear of it, so we had to wait until he was ready. At least that gave me time to do my usual rounds outside, and to make sure someone was feeding Titch’s dogs. But I needn’t have worried, because Titch was there in person, complete with cheeky grin and assurances that he felt none the worse after his ordeal yesterday.

I insisted that we rode rather than drove, to be more mobile if we needed to make a quick escape. Also, I confess, the idea appealed because I was sure it would disconcert Diogenes, who did all his travelling in carriages. So it did, and he complained loudly, but Sempronia reinforced my instructions. “You’ll be going through snowy woods without roads, Mustela. A carriage is hardly appropriate, is it?” I don’t know which pleased me more, the wicked gleam in her eyes or the brief spark of anger in his.

It was a grey, cold morning, and though the snow had stopped, it looked liable to begin again at any time. We took tough riding-mules, and wrapped ourselves up warmly. Quintus and I wore cavalry breeches under our heavy tunics and fur cloaks. Quintus announced to everyone that he’d accompany us as far as the point where the track to the clearing left the main road. He didn’t tell Diogenes that he’d be following us on foot, and of course neither of us mentioned Hawk, but it was comforting to know he would be watching.

As we made our silent way down the main road, I found my thoughts going back to the last occasion when Quintus and I had visited this hidden clearing together, an August night four years ago. We’d gone in disguise to a Druid ceremony, and hidden among the crowds there. We’d had to witness the hideous sacrifice of a boy, and then…. I wrenched my thoughts back to the present, just as we reached the large holly-bush that marked the turning.

Quintus pulled up his mule. “I’ll wait for you here. Good luck!”

I led Diogenes into the woods at walking pace. The track was only a small one used by woodland animals, or sometimes a courting couple seeking a bit of privacy. It wound among the oak trees, which were fairly close together, with scrub and thorn-bushes beneath them. It was simple enough to ride through, as long as you were alert for raised roots masked by the snow, and overhanging branches at head height. The path twisted and turned a bit, but though there was no sun showing to give direction, there was no question of getting lost today. The little track was already marked with two sets of footprints.

The clearing looked familiar, yet also eerily different from the picture in my memory. It was completely empty, and the snow had changed its whole appearance. It was a wide space perhaps a hundred paces across, with trees growing thickly all round its edges, except along the side that adjoined the river. There, the open area sloped right down to the water, which looked almost black against the white snow. Near where the path entered the clearing was an old tumbledown roundhouse. Of course—it was an ideal place to hide hostages. Perhaps we should have brought a larger party, to attempt a rescue. But the kidnappers had been insistent on “no tricks”.

We halted in the centre of the clearing and sat our mules, gazing around and listening.

“There’s nobody here.” Diogenes sounded a trifle petulant, as if even kidnappers should have been waiting respectfully for him to arrive. But to do him credit, he looked relaxed and unafraid, surveying everything with his usual haughty expression.

I matched his air of confidence, but said softly, “I assume we’re being watched though.”

We waited a while in silence, but still there was nothing to see apart from game-tracks in the snow, and nothing to hear but the wind sighing through the leafless trees.

“Let’s have some action. I haven’t got all day.” I shouted out, “Hello? Is anybody here?”

A noise made us spin round to face the old house, and six men came out of it. They were dressed like native Brigantian peasants, and all heavily armed with swords and daggers. At least three of them looked like soldiers, including Otus, the tall black-bearded army veteran who had visited the mansio. He led the group as they walked towards us.

Then we heard someone call out from the old house. “Help! Help us, please!” There were two different voices, a man’s and a woman’s—Priscus and Margarita, I was sure of it! But they only managed those few words before one of the natives walked back into the roundhouse, snarling a warning to be silent. Margarita gave a stifled scream, and we heard the wail of a terrified child as the native came out and barred the door. The sounds made me shiver, but at least it meant our friends were all here.

Otus walked up to me, while his henchmen stood in a group a few paces away, waiting for orders. “Aurelia Marcella! We meet again!” His tone was almost conversational, and he spoke Latin as before. “You’ve taken your time. I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up. And I said only one messenger. Why have you brought
him
?” He gestured towards Diogenes.

“Good morning, Otus.” I was pleased to find my voice was strong and confident. Dealing with natives is like dealing with wild horses—if you show any fear, you’re done for. “The fact is….”