Hawk shook his head. “That’s just what he doesn’t do, though. He wants everyone to live exactly like he does. And I refuse to follow his shining example, so he thinks I’m against Roman rule. He can’t see the difference between someone like me, and these Shadow-men. But I’m not against Romans, Aurelia. You’re here, and we should all make the best of it. You came, you saw, you conquered. Isn’t that how it goes?”
I laughed. “Quoting Julius Caesar! Silvanius would be impressed.”
“Astonished, more like. He thinks I’m ignorant because I didn’t have a Roman education. But all I am is just proud of being born and raised in the way my ancestors were. I don’t want to be a Roman citizen, but I don’t think every single thing that comes from Rome is wrong, and I certainly don’t believe everything about Britannia is perfect. I hate Druids, for a start, and I think endless wars between tribes are a futile waste. At least you Romans have brought us peace. Until now,” he added sombrely.
“You take these Shadow-men very seriously, don’t you? You think they could upset the Roman peace?”
“It’s not impossible. But they’re wrong, as wrong in their way as Silvanius is. Killing isn’t the answer.” He paused and fingered his beard, searching for words. “There must be a middle way, between what you could call the extreme pro-Britons on one side, and the extreme pro-Romans on the other.”
“I hope you’re right. Because I’m proud to be Roman, but my family have been here for half a generation, and it’s where I want to stay. It seems to me this province will only have a real future if we can take the best of both Britannia and Rome and blend them together.”
He smiled his rare smile. “That’s what I think too. That’s why we can be friends. For all our differences, we’re two of a kind.”
It was true, and comforting, with all this talk of trouble brewing. I raised my wine-mug to him. “To our friendship,” I said, and we both drank the toast.
Silvanius and Felix were sitting comfortably at a table near the ornamental pool, with the best wine-service—the green with the black slip decoration—and some of the little honey and hazelnut pastries that Cook is famous for.
Publius Silvanius Clarus was fair, fortyish, and starting to run to fat, but still large and imposing. He had been born in Brigantia, a local chieftain, but his family had lost no time in throwing in their lot with the new conquerors, and now his whole appearance was Roman, his hairstyle, his lack of beard, and his toga. Yes, he was wearing his
toga
in the middle of an ordinary working afternoon! But of course, the citizenship was an honour he treasured, and it meant, among other things, that he was entitled to wear a toga, so he’d wear one at every conceivable opportunity. I caught myself wondering if he went to bed in it.
Titus Cornelius Felix was the complete opposite. He was fair and fortyish too, but slim and lithe. Rumour said he’d been an actor once, in Nero’s time when such a thing would be respectable, more or less, for a gentleman. He was a Roman from Rome, one of the prestigious Cornelius clan, which meant his pedigree went back to when Romulus was a lad, and he could dress as he liked. His style was usually somewhere between a romantic poet and a racetrack dandy. Today he was wearing a bright yellow cloak fastened with a huge gold-coloured brooch, and matching yellow boots trimmed with golden studs, and his yellow hair was done up in a complicated arrangement of ringlets that must have taken his barber half the morning.
Not for the first time I thought what an odd friendship theirs was, but I knew it was based on a firm footing. Silvanius was rich and wanted desperately to be accepted as a Roman, and to adopt Roman tastes in everything. Felix had plenty of class and impeccable taste, but no money, and he wanted equally desperately to maintain a flamboyant lifestyle. So they’d become pretty well inseparable, each giving and taking. It appeared to work better than many marriages.
They both got up as I approached. Silvanius shook my hand, and said formally, “It’s good to see you, Aurelia, as always. I trust you’re well?”
Before I could answer, Felix flung his arms round me and kissed me on both cheeks, exclaiming, “Aurelia, my dear, you look as ravishing as ever! Marry me this afternoon!”
“I’ll think about it, Felix.” I disentangled myself from his embrace, but not too roughly. “Let’s have some cake first, shall we?”
This sort of nonsense was pretty usual from Felix; sometimes it could be a shade embarrassing, but not to Silvanius, who smiled indulgently.
We all sat down again. I refilled their beakers, and passed round the pastries.
“You’ve come about the wine for your banquet, Councillor?” I prompted. Silvanius was giving an important dinner soon, and we were supplying several kinds of wine for it; this must be the third time he’d come to check on the order. “It arrived safely three days ago from our wholesaler, and it can be transported to your new villa whenever you like. Just say the word.”
“Wine? Ah, yes, of course. As soon as possible, then, please. Arrange it with my major-domo, if you would.” He paused. “That was why I came, I suppose. But now…there’s something else.”
He relapsed into silence, and I waited. I had learned to let Silvanius tell things in his own pompous way, so I just gazed at the pond, trying to spot the frogs among the water plants.
Eventually it was Felix who set the ball rolling. “It’s these horrid murders, my dear,” he said, reaching for another pastry. “It’s too awful, isn’t it? Three corpses! All stone dead!”
“As corpses tend to be,” I couldn’t help saying, and he laughed. “Except that our victim isn’t a corpse. He was alive when we found him, and still is, although he’s unconscious most of the time. When he is awake, he seems to have lost his memory.”
“How very intriguing! So you don’t know who he is?”
“Not yet, but we’re working on it.”
“You were the person who found the man, I’m told,” Silvanius said. “It must have been an unpleasant shock for you.”
I shrugged. “I was just relieved he wasn’t dead.”
“The whole situation is extremely disturbing,” he continued, absently twisting his wine-beaker between his hands. “So I wanted to make sure you are coping with everything, and not feeling too alarmed. We Romans,” he declaimed, “must stand together at a time of crisis.”
Here we go, I thought. I’ve heard his “Romans standing together” speech so often I could recite it for him.
Felix, thank the gods, had heard it before, too, and decided to divert the flow. “Absolutely,” he cut in. “And while we’re standing together, we must put our heads together, if that isn’t physically impossible. We’ve got to decide what to
do.
”
“Exactly,” Silvanius said.
I thought so! Silvanius wanted my advice, but didn’t want the world to know he’d asked me for it. Well, it wasn’t the first time, and discretion is part of an innkeeper’s stock-in-trade. I waited with what I hoped was the right air of attentive anticipation.
“Three murders,” Silvanius said. “Correction, three attacks. You’ve heard about all of them, presumably?”
“We get news pretty quickly here. I’ve heard of one headless body found on the Eburacum road, and another one in the forum outside Balbus’ shop.”
“Balbus must be mortified,” Felix murmured. “So bad for business, something like that! Has he offered to sell you an urn for the man’s ashes?”
“Now do be serious, Felix,” Silvanius said. “This really isn’t a joking matter. We’ve had two brutal murders committed in our town, and another attack which might easily have resulted in a murder. Most distressing.”
I told him how I’d found our unconscious guest, and described how the dog had led me to his horse. I didn’t mention Hawk.
“May I see the, ah, threatening message?”
I showed him the disc. He looked even graver as he read it, then passed it to Felix, who examined it intently.
Silvanius said, “I feared as much. The man in the forum had one exactly like this, pinned to the front of his tunic.” He drew a disc from his belt-pouch and held it out to me. Sure enough, the discs were twins.
I asked, but knowing the answer already, “What about the third man, on the road to Eburacum?”
“Yes, he had a similar one. I haven’t got it with me. I left it with Vedius Severus.”
Vedius was the aedile in charge of the town watch, which in plain Latin meant the two men and a mule-cart that made up the Oak Bridges fire brigade. He was an old soldier, seventy-five if he was a day, and he could just about handle being fire chief—there are very few fires in our district. But I reckoned that faced with a series of savage nocturnal attacks, he’d be as much use as a wax fire-bucket.
I handed Silvanius back his disc. “When I found the wounded man this morning, I thought it was just a single horrible incident. But this has the feel of something organised, almost professional, doesn’t it? Three attacks in the area, one this side of town, one the other side, and one in the forum. It looks too well planned to be just a casual band of outlaws. And cutting off the heads of two of them…like in the old days, when the warriors collected heads as trophies from enemies they killed in battle.”
He nodded. “Someone is threatening us, and making it as frightening for us as they can. It’s like a military campaign, yet not fought on a battlefield. Waged in secret, through fear. A campaign of terror.”
“A campaign of terror,” I repeated. “A good phrase. And a campaign implies several engagements, not just one night’s work. You think we’re in for more attacks then?”
“I fear so,” he said gloomily. “One has heard rumours. Discontent among some of the more hot-blooded young men….As we all know, there are still elements of the native population who haven’t accepted the finality of the Roman conquest.” He sipped more wine. “But from what you say, your man will survive. Have you found out anything about him?”
I’d have to watch my step here. If Quintus Antonius was who we suspected he was, he wouldn’t want anyone drawing attention to him. “Not much, no. He’s got well-made Roman clothes, and his horse was a good one. So a reasonably rich traveller. And he called out for someone named Burrus, so he may have had a servant with him. That’s about all I can tell you. We’ll just have to wait and see when he wakes up properly. Have either of the other two been identified?”
“Not yet. The one in the forum was a servant, from his clothing, and young and strong. From the injuries he received, he had put up quite a fight. The body on the Eburacum road looks more eastern, from his clothes, and older; perhaps a trader or a contractor.”
I sipped my wine, wondering what was coming next.
“As head of the Oak Bridges Town Council,” Silvanius mused, “I feel I ought to do something. People will look to me, I know. But I’m unsure of the best course to take. That’s why I thought….You always talk good sense, Aurelia. So refreshing in a woman.”
I’d have to let that go with a smile; there were more important battles to fight just now.
He went on, “We’re being threatened by, well, we don’t know by whom….”
“We can make a shrewd guess,” I interrupted. “The Druids and their followers, the believers in the old religion.”
“Oh, I hope not! We’ve all had enough bloodshed. What we need now is peace. Peace and prosperity.”
“And some of the Druids’ rituals are so uncivilised,” Felix remarked. “Human sacrifice, for example. Quite disgusting!”
“All the same, if there’s trouble, I’d bet any money they’re involved. Even though they’re outlawed now, they still have their followers. You can’t just abolish a religion by a stroke of the Emperor’s pen. In fact just trying to abolish it makes the believers more determined.”
“How can they be such fools!” Silvanius exclaimed. “Can’t they see this province of ours must go forward with Rome, not backward into the ancient past? Somehow we’ve got to stop them!” He stared at nothing in particular for a while, thinking hard. Felix and I exchanged a glance, but we both kept quiet. Finally he said, “I think I shall call a meeting of the Town Council.”
“That’s a terrible idea.” Oh, me and my big mouth! When will I remember how seriously these new citizens take their town councils?
Silvanius looked quite hurt, but Felix smiled slyly. “Your view couldn’t be coloured by the fact that you aren’t a member of the council, so you wouldn’t be able to attend, Aurelia dear?”
I couldn’t deny it. “I’ll admit I’d like to be in on it, but that’s not the main reason. I think we must act quickly, and we must act in secret. The council,
any
council, can’t do either. Too public, too slow, too many people involved, and anything it did decide, however secret, would be all over Oak Bridges in a day.”
“More like an afternoon,” Felix agreed.
Silvanius said, “But is our council so very incompetent?”
The straight answer was “Yes,” but I gave the tactful one. “Of course not, for most of the town’s affairs it’s excellent. But it’s not a war council. You said yourself this is a kind of war. It needs a different sort of leadership.”
“Then if not a council meeting, what do you suggest?”
“A small secret meeting. Half a dozen people you can trust, to work together quietly and quickly. The people who have most to lose if peace breaks down. You two…Vedius, as head of law and order…Balbus, as the leading businessman in the area…me, if I’m invited. Meeting behind closed doors, we can discuss and plan without anyone else knowing, friend or enemy.”
He sat up straight and drained his wine-beaker. “Yes, of course. That is what I shall do. Call a private meeting of the most prominent Roman citizens. There! I knew I’d come up with the right plan in the end.”
“You always do, Publius,” Felix said, catching my eye.
“We’ll meet at my new villa,” Silvanius decided. “You’ll come of course, Aurelia, won’t you? I know that traditionally this sort of thing isn’t women’s business, but….”
Try and stop me, I thought. “Thank you, Councillor. I’ll be representing my brother, naturally.”
“Relia!” I turned as Albia came hurrying towards us from the house, looking agitated. “Sorry to interrupt, but…Councillor Silvanius, please don’t think I’m ungrateful, but I’m a little concerned. This doctor you’ve kindly sent to look after our sick man. I’m sure he’s very learned, but….”
“What doctor?” Silvanius asked, surprised. “I’ve sent no doctor.”
“He says he’s your personal physician, Lykos of Cos.”
“That’s the right name, but my physician is away at present, in Isurium, attending my sister.”
“I thought there was something fishy about him,” she said. “He was insistent that you’d ordered him to treat our wounded traveller, and even stay with him if necessary. But there was just something wrong….”
I jumped up, forgetting my social manners. “Where is he now?”
“Don’t worry. I left him in the bar-room with a beaker of wine. And I put Taurus outside the sick-room door and told him not to let anyone in there.”
Albia and I ran for the house, the others following at as fast a walk as Silvanius’ dignity would allow. But when we got there, none of us was surprised to find that the mysterious doctor had vanished into thin air.
I thought again about Taurus’ comment this morning. Somebody didn’t like Quintus Antonius very much.
Silvanius was red-faced and fuming. “This is appalling,” he almost shouted. “How dare they? How dare they use my name! Use my name to try to trick you…to commit Jupiter knows what crimes in
my name
….By the gods, Aurelia, this is too much!”
“Call your meeting, Councillor, and the sooner the better,” I said.
“Tomorrow. No wait, tomorrow won’t do. I shall want Felix there, and he’s going to a play in Eburacum tomorrow, aren’t you, Titus? Well then, the day after tomorrow. Dinner at my humble abode. I know! Perhaps you’d like to come and see the latest work on my new temple first? If we all meet there about noon, we can go to my new house, have an early dinner, and then get down to our meeting afterwards. That will make the whole thing look like an ordinary social gathering.”
“Excellent. Thank you, I’ll be there.” Dinner with the Chief Councillor wouldn’t be just an “ordinary social gathering.” Silvanius had the best chef north of the Humber.