One Virgin Too Many (32 page)

LV

EVERYONE FELL ON the various victims.

I muttered in an undertone to Terentia, "Dare I ask where you learned the knockout blow? From one of the Vestals' lictors, preparing you for married life with Ventidius?"

"Instinct!" she snapped. "I can supervise here. Now, Falco--find Gaia!"

She turned to where Anacrites was still standing with my dog in his arms. Unusually for her, Nux had retained her interest in a trophy. Her white teeth firmly gripped the little horsehair mop--surely the one the builder had made for Gaia.

Feeling stupid, Anacrites put the dog down, and she ran to sit in front of me, wagging her unhygienic stump of tail against the floor mosaic.

"What is it, Nux?"

I bent down and took the mop from between her jaws. Being Nux, she clung on for some time, growling happily and shaking her find while I tugged it free. She started to bark.

"Good girl." When she saw that I was now prepared to notice her, she began running around in wide circles in front of me. I followed. Nux took off and streaked back the way we had come from the garden. Whenever she reached the corner of a corridor, she stopped and barked. It was a harsh, high, piercing noise, meant to hold my attention. Nothing like her normal pointless woof.

I had left everyone behind as I strode after my excited pet. She nosed her way along passageways and through doorways, looking back sometimes to check that I was still with her. "Good girlie! Show me, Nux."

Out into the kitchen garden went the dog. Past the seat where so little time ago I had been talking to Terentia. Through the newly dug beds, under the despoiled pergolas, into the brambles and tangled creepers that ran back to the high wall.

Yesterday we were supposed to have searched everywhere, even here. Slaves with scythes had hacked at the creepers. I had trodden down parts of the undergrowth myself. I had told some of the helpers to crawl into the thickets.

Not good enough, Falco. There was a place where an angle of the boundary wall turned away. Bushes shielded it from obvious view nowadays, but it had once had a purpose. In fairness to me, I had seen someone else exploring this area yesterday. But it is never safe to rely on other people. In a real emergency, you must double-check every inch of ground yourself. Never mind if your helpers grow fractious because it looks as if you do not trust them. Never mind if you exhaust yourself. Nobody else is truly trustworthy. Not even when, like you, they know a child's life is at stake.

Nux was going crazy now. She had reached a small clearing, where stonework had defied the encroaching undergrowth. This might be where Nux had found the mop. Gaia had definitely been playing here. Somehow, she had even managed to make herself a fire. Perhaps she spent hours rubbing sticks together to do it; more likely she took some embers from the burning garden rubbish nearer the house. The ashes of her mock Vestal fire, cold now, of course, formed a neat circle. They were quite clearly different from the great mounds of garden clippings, and if anyone had shown me these yesterday, I would have tracked down the child there and then.

I spotted a kitchen pitcher, lying on its side.

Nux ran to the pitcher, sniffed at it, then ran past and lay down with her nose between her paws, whining frantically.

"Well done, Nuxie; I'm coming."

I could see what had happened. Little hands had pulled back a curtain of weeds to discover an old flight of four or five shallow stone steps. Ferns grew in crevices and green slime lurked on the lower slabs. Anyone familiar with springs would realize that this had once been a source of water, though it must have been an inconvenient distance from the house. Even a six-year-old girl, if she was bright and capable, would work out what she had found; then, forbidden to trouble the kitchen staff, she might try to see if she could fill her pitcher here. The steps led to the head of a well shaft. When it went out of use, it must have been boarded over. Over the years, the boards had rotted. So when Gaia tried to move them or walk on them, some gave way and fell into the shaft. Gaia must have gone down with them.

I knelt at the edge. I leaned over too far, and a sharp rattle of stones frightened me; the edge was crumbling perilously. All I could see was darkness. I called out. Silence. She had drowned or been killed by the fall. Nux began to bark again, with that terrible sharp yowking noise. I gripped the dog and held her. I could feel under her warm rib cage that she was panting as fast as I. My heart was breaking.

"Gaia!"
I yelled down the echoing shaft.

And then from the impenetrable darkness a faint whimper answered me.

LVI

I WAS STILL debating how to get help when a voice nearby cried my name.

"Aulus! Over here--quickly."

My new partner might be a spoiled, surly senator's son, but he knew how to stick with the most urgent job in hand. Alone of the crowd in the atrium he had bothered to follow me. I heard him curse as he crashed towards me through the bushes, snagging his tunic or scratching himself on thorns.

"Gently," I warned in a low voice, before I turned back and called down, "Gaia! Don't move. We're here now."

Aelianus had reached me. He took in the situation rapidly, pointed downwards with his index finger to ask if that was where the child was, then silently grimaced.

"We need help," I groaned. "We need Petronius Longus. Only the vigiles are equipped for this. I want you to go and fetch them. I'll stay with the child and try to keep her calm. Tell Petro the situation." I was crouched back at the shaft, examining it. "Say this: The well looks deep; the child sounds a long way down; she is alive, but very weak. I reckon she has been down there over two days. Someone will have to go down to her. It looks a pig's arse."

"Very difficult?" interpreted Aelianus primly.

"We need ropes primarily, but also any other useful equipment the vigiles can come up with."

"Lights," he suggested

"Yes. Above all, we need the stuff fast."

"Right." He was moving off.

"Aulus, listen--I want you to go yourself. Don't be sidetracked at the house."

"I won't go that way," he said. "Leg me up. I'll shin over this wall. Then I'll be in the street and straight off."

"Good thinking. You're almost at the Fourth Cohort headquarters." I started giving him directions while we tackled shunting him up and over the tall wall at the end of the property. He was no lightweight. Next time I chose a partner I would go for a thin, half-starved one.

"Jove! Falco, this job of yours seems to consist entirely of climbing into and out of places. . . ."After a few groans and compaints he was off. I heard him thump down on the other side, then his footsteps at once ran off. He was certainly athletic. He must exercise somewhere, some rich boys' gym with a high joining fee and a fitness instructor who looked like a Greek god slathered in dripping.

I should have known somebody else would not miss out on a crisis: Anacrites was the next to turn up. I showed him the layout, told him not to cause panic, and asked him to go back indoors and fetch torches.

"And ropes, surely, Falco."

"If you can find any. Not much hope of it as a Flamen Dialis is forbidden to see anything that indicates binding. But ask the builders to bring out any wood they have that could be used for supports."

He pottered off. Sometimes he was sensible. In an hour or two he might find me an oil lamp and a piece of string.

I sat down by the well, Nux fretting beside me; I began to talk in a reassuring voice to the invisible Gaia. "Don't answer, sweetheart. I'm just talking to you so you know that I'm still here. People have gone to fetch equipment so we can lift you out."

I was starting to wonder how we could do that. The more I viewed the situation, the more difficult it looked.

* * *

I heard the welcome voice of Petronius Longus on the far side of the wall just as Anacrites returned. It had seemed an age. Soon the vigiles were raising ladders. Anacrites shouted out to them, then he joined me. We were about two feet below ground level, on the last step. He had brought out a couple of flares, ready lit, and one short length of filthy rope that the builders had been using for some halfhearted purpose. Straightaway I tied one of the torches to the end of the rope and tried lowering it down the well. I had to stand, leaning forwards above the shaft. Anacrites lay out flat beside me, peering over into the murk.

"The side walls are in bad condition. Keep going," he urged. The flickering light revealed only a small area. When the rope was all played out we still had not seen Gaia. "Not good news," muttered Anacrites in a low voice to me. He sat up again, but he stayed there, ready for another go. His tunic was covered with dirt. Ma would have a good flap over that when he went home. Still, he could say he had been out with her rascal son.

Petronius had come up behind me, almost silently. He gave no greeting. He made no jokes. He walked to the far side, looking down from above us. He whistled once, very quietly to himself; then he stood still, assessing the problem. Some of his men lined up with him. Aelianus appeared too. He passed me more rope, which I knotted onto the torchline. I continued lowering it slowly while the others watched.

"Stop there," ordered Anacrites, now flat on his face again.

I stayed my hand. He scrambled even nearer to the edge, leaning out as far as he dared. Petro muttered a warning. Aelianus bent to a crouch, ready to grab hold of Anacrites by his belt if he slipped. Anacrites shifted, splayed on the ground. Foolishly perhaps, he reached out across the shaft and supported himself against a side wall.

"I can see something." I paid out a couple more inches of rope. "Stop--you'll hit her."

"Pass it this side," said Petro. I pulled the rope back up slightly and leaned over to give him the free end, keeping one hand on the taut length. When Petro had taken hold, I let go gently.

"Whoa--it's swinging madly--wait! Right. More slack--yes, she's there. She is not moving. The boarding has lodged, and she's clinging on."

"All right, Gaia--we can see you now!"

"No. Too late. The torch has gone out."

Anacrites pushed off from his suspended position, and we hauled him back. He scrambled to his feet, white-faced. He looked around the group of us and shook his head. "It's a miracle she stuck at that point--and that she has managed to stay there. One false move and the whole lot will slip down further. I couldn't see how deep it goes."

Petronius came to life.

"We have to try--is that agreed?" He did not, in fact, wait for an answer. He was going to make the best attempt, whatever anyone else felt. "Right, lads; this is a bearer-and-brattice job." He was talking to his men. "We want anchor points for the ropes, and the head of the shaft will need lining too. I'm not sending anyone down there only to have the hero and the girl both swept away by shit and rubble from up top. Time we spend stabilizing the head of the shaft won't be wasted."

The problem was physical, logistic, a teamwork task. It was natural that the vigiles took over. They had the expertise for reaching inaccessible places in a hurry. They dealt with fires and with collapsed buildings. I had labored in a mine once, in Britain, but it had been surface worked. Even there, proper experts had designed and installed the props in the seams.

Various materials had been turning up from the moment Petro himself appeared. Without fuss his men set to, planning how to tackle the work, fetching gear from beyond the wall, sending off for more. Anacrites, who had now made himself legate in charge of lighting, said he was going indoors to look for covered lanterns. That would keep him out of our way. I started measuring the length of the ropes the vigiles had brought, and testing their strength. Aelianus watched, then helped me.

"Sailcloth!" one of the vigiles exclaimed. "Quicker than woodwork for lining the shaft."

"Got any?" asked Petro, rather scathingly, I thought.

"In the stores. Easy to fetch while the balks are being fixed at the shaft head."

"If not, just bring esparto mats," Petro decided. He had always been receptive to ideas and quick to adapt. "We only have time to cover the first few feet in any case. And we can't risk disturbing too much loose material that may drop on the child."

From time to time, everyone halted. Silence would descend. One of us would stand above the well and call down encouragement to Gaia. The little girl had stopped answering.

When Anacrites came back, I heard women's voices with him. Bad news. He had been forced to bring Caecilia Paeta, who was demanding to see where her daughter was. Terentia had come with her, and the nurse, Athene. Without anybody needing to issue orders, those of the vigiles who were not involved in the immediate task of building a braced platform above the shaft, moved into a discreet cordon, keeping the visitors back. The vigiles were used to gawpers getting in their way. Their response could be brutal, though when occasion called they could fend off the interest with surprising tact.

I went over to the women. "It's all right, Caecilia Paeta is very sensible." For once this ploy worked. At my announcement Caecilia, who had been growing hysterical, decided to quieten down. "Listen. I'll take you near, and you can call out to tell Gaia that her mother is here. Try not to sound frightened. Try to reassure her. But keep her calm. She really must not become agitated, in case she moves about--do you understand?"

Caecilia drew herself up. She nodded. Her estranged husband had just been exposed as a murderer; her mad sister-in-law was beyond help; she was trapped in the house of a tyrannical father-in-law; even Terentia, the other force in her life, was a bully. Gaia Laelia was all the poor woman had to console her. I would not blame her if she lost her nerve and wept and wailed, but I could not risk allowing her to do so.

I kept a tight grip on her. The men paused, though it was clear they hated to be held up. Caecilia stood where I told her, a spot where she could really see little of the well. She trembled slightly. Maybe she had more imagination than I would once have given her credit for. She called Gaia's name. After one feeble attempt she tried again, more loudly and firmly. "I am close by, darling. These kind men will soon have you out of there."

She forced herself to maintain a strong voice, though tears were streaming down her face. Forget exalted birthrights and religious callings. At least what we had now was a real mother fearing for the life of a real small child. If we could, by some miracle, rescue the child alive, things in future might be better for both of them.

One of the men at the edge of the shaft raised an arm to us. "I heard her! Keep still, little one! We're coming. Just keep still." He and his colleagues immediately returned to their work.

Caecilia Paeta turned to me. Her eyes showed that she understood just how slim were our chances of removing Gaia safely. Too horrified to ask my opinion, she made no sound. I would have preferred her to plead and twitter. Silent bravery was hard to take. I led her back to Terentia.

"Go to the house. This is bound to take some time. We are being careful at every stage; you can see why. We will tell you if anything happens."

"No," said Caecilia. She folded her arms, pulled her stole tight around her, and just stood. "I will stay near Gaia." Even Terentia looked surprised by this unexpected determination.

I stood with them for a moment. "Everything all right at the house now?"

"My niece and nephew have both been sedated and put under guard," Terentia reported quietly. "Ariminius had his wound dressed, and the doctor is waiting here in case he is needed again."

"Hadn't the old man collapsed too?"

"As usual, Laelius Numentinus managed to recover as soon as the crisis was over," said Terentia with asperity.

"You have everything in hand, I see."

"But you will have to do what's needed here!" commented the ex-Vestal, nodding towards the well and politely acknowledging that she was not all-competent.

I left the women and rejoined my colleagues.

A basic platform had been thrown up across the wellhead. We could work off it safely. It would not give way. Boots would grip on the wood. Heavy timber beams had been set up to act as anchors for the ropes. More ropes had been brought and woven through the edges of mats made of esparto, the thick grass material that the vigiles used to smother fires. These had been hung down inside the shaft where the sides were most unstable and where there was bound to be most disturbance once the rescue got under way.

I noticed that more and more members of the Fourth Cohort kept coming in over the boundary wall. This was the current big event. Hard men have notoriously soft hearts where young children are concerned. They stood back, very quiet, with the patience of those who understood what they were watching, and who knew that the outlook was grim.

A rope sling had been created. Petronius, who had stood aside while his experts arranged the framework, now took command. He would supervise the actual drop. I knew he would have gone down himself if possible. We all looked at him.

"I'm too big." It was a call for a volunteer.

I had been a silent observer, but I stepped forward now. "I'll go."

"This is for us, Falco."

"It's just a job for an idiot," I answered. "Somebody tough but not too heavy or too large."

"Are you fit?"

"I'll do." Besides, I owed Gaia something. I slapped his arm. "I'd like to know you are on one of the ropes."

"Naturally." Lucius Petronius offered me the harness, but first he said, "There is something you may not have thought about."

I sighed. "No, I do realize. The shaft is too small. The boarding she is lying on blocks the shaft anyway. It is impossible to be lowered past her. If I am to stand any chance of grabbing her once I'm close enough, I have to go down headfirst."

"Bright boy!" Petro began fixing straps around each of my ankles. "Well, Marcus, my old friend, I hope you are wearing a loincloth, or when we turn you upside down you can prepare yourself for some very bawdy jokes."

"Dear gods. Send one of your rankers then to make the ex-Vestal move further away! I haven't worn a loincloth since I was a year old."

I pulled my tunic well between my legs and made a flap to tuck into my belt. I thought about pinning it, but sticking a crude brooch pin in that sensitive area somehow failed to appeal to me.

"Right." Petro spoke quietly. I had seen him in this character before; outwardly, he ignored how bad the situation was, but I trusted him. "This is the plan. We put the lantern down first, so you should have light ahead of you. It won't be much, but a torch would probably set fire to you. The air may be bad; we don't want to add smoke. We think three ropes should hold you. The third will be around your waist for safety, fixed to the harness, and will be kept loose. All the ropes will be anchored. We have plenty of men to hang on to the slack ends." He gripped me by both shoulders. "You will be safe. Trust me."