A Bitter Chill (39 page)

“It’s nothing like silver or gold,” Albia answered. “It’s the slaves. They sell slaves to the limestone quarries at Calcaria, and bring back stone on the return trip. The Skipper does the actual sailing, of course. Candidus just negotiates the deals, except for some of the slaves, because the Skipper says his contacts are better. But sometimes they sell small numbers of slaves locally. Very locally.”

“What makes you suspicious about them?” Quintus asked gently.

“I think—no, I’m sure—that some of the slaves aren’t what they seem. I was there yesterday when a batch were loaded on board and taken off down-river. They were kept out of sight in the warehouse mostly, but I saw them walking across the gangway to the boat. They weren’t slaves, I’d bet any money. They were soldiers.”

“Soldiers?” Quintus said sharply. “How do you know? They weren’t in military clothing, surely?”

“Oh no. Just ordinary cheap cloaks, native boots, and no weapons. They had their hands loosely tied behind their backs, and no chains on their feet. They looked like a group of actors
playing
at being slaves, only they weren’t actors, they were soldiers. You can tell a soldier a mile off—well I can, after working in a mansio for years. It doesn’t matter what they’re wearing or doing, there’s just something about them. Isn’t there, Relia?”

“There is. They’re fit and well-fed and carry themselves well. But it’s more their attitude that makes them stand out. They look at the world as if they won’t take any nonsense from anybody.”

“That’s it exactly,” Albia agreed. “You don’t see slaves like that.”

“
Merda,
” Quintus muttered. “You’re right to be worried. It sounds as if this Skipper is helping army deserters escape.”

She nodded. “That was the first thing I thought of. We’ve heard there have been more deserters than usual from Eburacum lately.”

“Yes,” he said. “A steady trickle over the last three months, legionaries and auxiliaries. It seems they’re fed up with the current policy of pulling troops back from the northern frontier.”

She nodded again. “That’s what Lucius….” She stopped short.

“Lucius?” he repeated.

We both hesitated for a few heartbeats. I wanted to say more, and I thought about my brother’s brief message: “Trust Q, he is here to help.”

Quintus looked at me squarely. “Do you know where your brother is now?”

“Not precisely. Do you?”

He smiled. “Pretending to be a disgruntled officer in Eburacum, while hunting down army conspirators.”

I felt relieved. “Yes. We saw him quite recently. He wanted us to know he wasn’t really in disgrace. Thank the gods he’s confided in you. He may need your help.”

“He’s already made contact. Just a short note in code. If I remember right, the exact words were, ‘All going well, result soon.’”

“Good,” I said. “There’s one more thing I should tell you, Quintus—well, both of you. I’ve had to keep it to myself till now. Albia, I’m sorry, but Lucius warned me that there was a rumour Candidus was involved in something shady. He didn’t know what, but he was concerned.”

“
Relia!
Why didn’t you tell me? What exactly did he say?”

“He said it was tavern talk here that Candidus was mixed up in some sort of shady enterprise—smuggling, evading taxes, not major crime. I didn’t want to worry you, and frankly I thought the rumour was probably wrong. Now I’m not so sure.”

“The rumour
is
wrong!” she exclaimed defiantly. “One thing I’m certain of, if there’s something illegal going on, Candidus doesn’t realise it. He wouldn’t do anything criminal. If you’re right, and the boat’s being used to smuggle deserters out, it’s the Skipper who’s responsible for it. Not my Candidus.”

“Then why the secrecy?” Quintus demanded.

She wasn’t daunted. “I don’t know, but when Candidus comes home, we’ll ask him.”

“Ask me what?” Candidus was standing in the doorway, smiling his boyish smile. He came into the room and embraced Albia, completely oblivious of the wary looks he got from Quintus and me.

“Albia, my love, I’m sorry I’ve been so long.” He embraced her again, and then turned to Quintus and me. “Thank you for keeping my girl company. And welcome to our new home. Now, what is it you want to ask me?”

“They think…” Albia began, but Quintus cut in roughly.

“We want to know why there were soldiers in your boat yesterday, pretending to be slaves. We also want to know where they were taken.”

“That’s easy.” His composure didn’t waver. “They were a bunch of the Skipper’s friends, lads from the garrison here. They fancied a hunting trip in the woods further down the river. He’ll be bringing them back in a day or two.”

Quintus looked unconvinced. “Why were they trying to look like slaves?”

Candidus gave a conspiratorial wink. “I don’t think they had full permission for leave of absence. So they thought they’d better come in disguise.”

I almost laughed. “You’ve never been in the army, have you, Candidus?”

“I did a year as a military tribune in Judea. I can’t say I enjoyed it.”

“Then you should’ve realised they were telling you a tale. Those men weren’t going hunting. They were deserting.”

“
Deserting?
They can’t have been! The Skipper wouldn’t be a party to something like that.”

Quintus snapped, “Are you sure? How long have you known him?”

The two men stared at each other. Finally Candidus dropped his gaze. “Not all that long, I suppose. A month perhaps.”

“Long enough to learn his name?”

“Yes, of course. His Christian name is Clemens. Not that anyone ever uses it.”

“His
Christian
name?” Quintus almost shouted. “This gets worse and worse. You’re telling me he’s a Christian believer?”

“Yes,” Candidus answered proudly. “He is, and so am I, which is why I’m sure I can trust him. I’m not fully initiated yet—baptised, as they call it. But I believe in their philosophy. I learned about it when I was serving in Judea. It’s the main reason I decided against a political career. You see I can’t regard the Emperor—any Emperor—as a god. Christians believe there is only one.”

“Holy Diana protect us!” I was horrified. “I don’t know much about Christians, but what I do know is appalling. They drink blood at their ceremonies, and they don’t believe in any of our Roman gods. Albia, did you know about this?”

“Of course. I’m not one of them myself, but there’s no harm in their philosophy that I can see. Their main beliefs seem to involve treating everyone with respect, and obeying the law.”

“How can you say that? Everybody knows they burnt down most of Rome in Nero’s time.”

“It’s not true, Aurelia,” Candidus answered gently. “They were made scapegoats. The Roman people were angry after the fire, and some of them said the Emperor himself had started it. Nero diverted their hostility away from himself by blaming the Christians.”

“Let’s not get into a historical debate,” Quintus growled. “So you’re a Christian sympathiser, Candidus. And the Skipper claims to be one too?”

“Yes, and so are the men who were in his boat last night. If you want the truth, he said they were going down-river to visit other Christians there. They were afraid to meet in Eburacum itself, because so many people react to them as Aurelia does. I took him at his word. After all, he’s proved himself with the work he’s doing to help slaves find new homes.”

“What slaves?” Quintus interrupted.

“Children mostly, and sometimes young women. We send them away to a better life.”

I couldn’t believe Candidus was so naïve. “
Merda,
he’s helping runaway slaves too?”

“No, not runaways. We buy them, and then sell them to good homes down in the south—Christian homes, where they’ll be kindly treated and given their freedom as soon as they’re old enough.”

“We?” I pounced on the word. “You’re paying money into this hare-brained scheme?”

“Yes, we share the purchases equally.”

“And the profits too, I suppose?” Quintus asked scornfully.

He looked shocked. “We don’t make a profit on the children. As long as we get our money back, it’s enough to know we’ve given them a chance of freedom when they’re older.”

“What proof have you of where the slaves end up?” I knew what the answer was.

“Well—nothing in writing….”

“Or where they come from in the first place?” Albia interrupted. “What if they’ve been kidnapped, like Margarita and Gaius?”

“But the Skipper’s as committed to helping them as I am. You must meet him, then you’ll see.”

“We have met him, or anyway seen him,” Quintus answered. “A big man with brown hair and a scar like a fish on his forehead?”

“Yes, it sounds like him.”

“Last night he was drinking in the Wolf’s Head, boasting that he’s going to sacrifice a bull-calf to Fortuna to give thanks, because he’s about to make a lot of money.”

“That can’t be true!”

“We heard him bragging to everyone,” Quintus went on relentlessly, “how he’s recently acquired a new partner, who, he says, has the great merit of being ‘innocent as a new-born babe, and believes every daft thing I tell him.’ The only thing he’d had to do to satisfy his new associate was to re-name his boat the
Albia.
”

Candidus sat speechless, but Albia exclaimed angrily, “There, I was right not to trust him. But I never dreamt it was anything as serious as this. Tricking you into helping deserters! It’s death for both of you, if you’re caught.”

Candidus still didn’t reply, but his white, scared face gave us all the answer we needed.

Albia went to him and put her arms round him. “It’s all right, love. We’ll help you straighten things out.” Then she turned to us. “What’s best to do now? Candidus is giving you all the information he has, and you can see he’s as horrified by what you’ve just told him as you are. How can we get him out of this mess?”

“Mess is right.” Quintus frowned and picked up his beaker, twisting it between his hands with such force I thought he’d break it. “Candidus, will you help us catch the Skipper in the act of carrying a cargo of deserters, or dealing in stolen slaves? If you do, I can keep you out of trouble by saying you were acting as an undercover agent for me.”

Candidus shook his head. “Antonius, I know you’re trying to help. But you’re putting me in a very difficult position. I still can’t believe everything you’ve told me. It’s all suspicion and hearsay, isn’t it? You’re asking me to betray my partner, to consider him as a criminal. I will if he’s breaking the law, but I’m not satisfied about that yet. First I’d like some proof, some solid proof.”

There was a pause while the two men confronted one another. Then the howl of a wolf split the silence. I jumped and stared round the room, half expecting Otus and his men to come pouring in.

“Is that some sort of signal?” Quintus asked.

Candidus nodded. “It means the Skipper or his men are here now. They always give us warning.” The sound came again, a little closer.

Quintus said, “That same signal is used by the band of criminals called the Wolf-pack. Perhaps you’ve heard of them?”

“The Wolf-pack? Not…not the gang that took Priscus and the others?”

“The same,” he growled. “Now, I’ll ask you once more. Will you help us catch the Skipper?”

Candidus nodded miserably. “God help me, what have I got myself into?”

C
HAPTER
XXVIII

“First,” Quintus said, “tell us exactly what’s going to happen. This is one of your human cargoes, I take it?”

Candidus nodded unhappily. “Some soldiers are being marched down here disguised as slaves. The Skipper or one of his boys will be with them, acting the part of overseer. He’ll lock them in the warehouse, and they’ll stay there out of sight for now. The Skipper will take them down-river later, as close to dark as he can, but it depends on the tide. He doesn’t go far—he says they’re meeting with their Christian friends a few miles from here. If you’re right, they presumably disembark somewhere quiet, then wait to be picked up by another boat which will carry them down to the sea, or wherever they’re escaping to. He’ll sail the
Albia
back here as soon as the ebb tide slackens tomorrow.”

“So all we have to do is wait till they’re safely in the warehouse, and then catch them,” Quintus said. “Rufio and Titch are outside, but they’ve got the sense to stay hidden.”

It was frustrating not being able to see what was going on. We could hear muted shuffling sounds and hushed voices which gave nothing much away. Then a heavy door banged, and after a silence there was a final wolf-signal, coming from some distance off. Then silence.

The quiet was broken by a sharp rap at the door, and Rufus came in.

“Things have started, sir. You’ll have gathered we’ve got company?”

“We heard the signals. How many?”

“Eight.”

“Eight! All soldiers, I presume?”

“Mostly, I’d say. Disguised as slaves, but not very convincing.”

“There’ll be no garrison left if they keep disappearing at this rate. They’re in the warehouse now?” Quintus stood up.

“Yes. An old grey-haired man came with them and locked them in. He’s gone again now. He told them to relax till tonight, but keep out of sight. He said the Skipper will be down later.”

“Then let’s go and see. Where’s Titch?”

“Outside still, keeping watch in case they try to leave. A good lad, that.”

Candidus got up and went to the door. “If we’re doing this, let’s make a decent job of it.” He reached down a heavy brass key from a nail in the wall, and handed it to Quintus. “I suggest we go in from this end, through the house. The door’s narrower—easier to block, if anyone makes a run for it.”

“Good,” Quintus approved. “Rufio, you and Titch go round to the river entrance, in case anyone tries to get out that way. There’s a small window, isn’t there, Candidus?”

“Yes. It’s high up, though.”

“Catch anyone you can, but don’t risk your lives. And make sure you guard the boat. If there are eight half-decent soldiers in there, some of them are bound to get away, but we can stop them going by water. If necessary, cut the mooring-rope and let the boat drift.”