Адриан Голдсуорти - Brigantia

‘Must be love.’ Ferox rode with Crispinus at the head of the little column and the tribune was his usual talkative self. The sight of the slave girl following the big German amused him. ‘And you say he won her at dice? I’ve only ever won money – and lost more often than I would like. Pretty thing, though, very pretty. Although you cannot beat a true lady.’ They had turned a corner, and to his surprise he saw Sulpicia Lepidina and the two Claudias with their maids looking at material in one of the stalls, and discussing it in great detail. He had heard her say that the best buys were often found away from the expensive, fashionable shops near the basilica. ‘Well,’ the tribune continued, ‘the old laws say a husband can beat his wife or a father his daughter, and there’s one or two out there who’ll let a man whip them and thrill to it, but you know what I mean.’

Claudia Enica noticed them, gave a broad smile and waved. The other two were a little more restrained, Sulpicia Lepidina favouring them with a simple nod. Achilles scampered out from behind the stall, a piece of red silk draped over his shoulder, and he must have made some tart comment because his mistress slapped him around the ear.

‘Fine-looking woman, and of royal blood as well.’ With all the hubbub of the crowd, Crispinus spoke without worrying that the ladies would hear. ‘Much to my surprise I am rather taken with that red hair of hers. Striking, although one wonders whether it speaks of a fiery temper. Must be twenty, though, or even older. Needs a husband.’ He smiled at Ferox, who was baffled until realisation set in and then he was simply aghast. ‘No need to look like that. Probably missed the chance now.’

When they passed the ladies, Ferox had not recovered from so bizarre a suggestion. Crispinus made formal greeting, and he simply nodded and gave as much of a smile as he could muster. Enica stared up at him, head on one side almost in the same way as she examined goods on the stall. Claudia Severa wished them luck on their journey. Sulpicia Lepidina was stiff and formal, but then she was in public. Ferox could not stop himself from glancing back after they had passed. The others had returned to their shopping, but she was watching them and when she saw him turn mouthed, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Do you think he will take her back home with him?’ Crispinus interrupted his thoughts. After a last burst of sobbing, Philo had led the slave girl away.

‘No idea.’

‘Of course not, you never have an opinion on anything, do you, centurion? Eh? Well, you must have some thoughts on the task at hand.’

‘Mona is a big place, my lord. I have not yet seen my lord Ovidius’ discoveries, so cannot judge how easy it will be to find these things.’

‘You really do not want to go there, do you?’

Ferox sighed. ‘No.’

‘Surely it is a place like any other.’

Ferox said nothing.

‘Talkative as ever.’ Crispinus lowered his voice. They were almost at the gate and a handful of bored auxiliaries stood guard. ‘You will feel better when you have a sword at your side. Have to keep up appearances while we’re here for the sake of that fool Crassus. Once we are properly clear we can forget about all this arrest nonsense.’ Ferox was wearing his mail and helmet with its feathered, transverse crest, but under his cloak he had a belt bare of any weapons. His old felt hat was lost, and he knew that he would miss it as the journey went on. There was a borrowed sword on one of the four pack ponies they were taking with them. He had not hefted the weapon yet, but it was bound to be a poor thing after his own sword. He wondered whether that was melted inside the ashes of the warehouse or stolen by whoever it was who had led him out and then vanished.

‘So can I go where I like once we are outside?’

‘Ferox, you are a centurion under orders and will obey. The orders say you are going to Mona. After that, who knows, but there will be new orders and fresh tasks. From all I can see, we are going to be busy.’

‘Perhaps you should have applied to return to Rome, my lord? Your service has already been long.’

‘What, and miss your sparkling company?’

A trooper trotted forward, informed the sentry who they were and they were waved through. The gateway was built of stone, with two low towers, and joined onto the timber and earth ramparts surrounding the greater part of the town. It was not much of a defence, and Ferox hoped that it would never be tested. Outside were more houses and taverns, for the wall had been built thirty years ago and was now too small for the town. It was a good quarter of a mile before the buildings were replaced by gardens and graveyards. Mourners were shrieking and priests and priestesses of Isis wailing and swinging rattles as a woman’s corpse was laid on a pyre.

‘So who did I kill?’

‘Curiosity at last. Most men arrested and charged with murder would have asked at least a few questions.’

‘I’m under orders, my lord. I speak when I’m spoken to.’ More priests joined in the noise, clashing cymbals. Ferox wondered whether the woman had been the one caught up in the attack on the temple. That was only a few days ago, even though it seemed like an age. A torch was put to the piled wood and the flames shot up from the oil in which the pyre was drenched. He shuddered. ‘So who did I kill?’

Crispinus studied him for a while. The noise of the funeral rose to a crescendo and then stopped abruptly. ‘You really do not know, do you?’ he said in the sudden silence. The mourners sent up a great shriek and his horse stirred, its ears twisting back and head flicking up. He patted its neck. Ferox was riding a docile animal that did not seem to care.

‘You still have not told me the answer, my lord. Last night I fought with men on a rooftop, and hurled them to their deaths without ever knowing their names. That does not sound like murder to me. Afterwards I was knocked unconscious, trussed up and held for who knows how long, threatened by Acco who set the place on fire with me in it. I’m still not sure who helped me out.’

Crispinus threw his head back to laugh. The horse, used to its rider’s strange ways, did not flinch at all. ‘Urban life really does not suit you, does it? My dear fellow, you have been busier even than I guessed. No lions this time? Pity.

‘Cornelius Fuscus is dead. Ah, that does appear to startle you. I doubt that it is from fondness for the man. Indeed I am almost disappointed that you did not kill our procurator because I would most likely have shaken you by the hand in congratulation. A brute, if ever I met one, and I have good reason to suspect that he was plotting treason. However, as far as we can tell that was not why someone stabbed him to death sometime last night. That someone left your dagger in the man, and that battered old hat of yours on the floor. Now perhaps you have an idea why suspicion has fallen on you! Add to that you were seen arguing with the man shortly before, exchanging blows, and a letter found on him claimed to have evidence that would bring ruin to you, as well as other things. There was a lot of blood on it and it is not easy to read, especially after I put the papyrus in the fire.’

‘Thank you, my lord.’ There seemed little point in saying that Fuscus had hit him, but that he had not responded.

‘You sound sincere. That makes a change. Better that it is gone, as it complicates matters. The whole thing smells wrong. You might murder a man if you had cause, but I’m reluctant to believe that I have friendship with a man so stupid as to leave incriminating evidence on the corpse.’

‘Thank you again, my lord.’

‘Flavius Ferox, I have lost count of the number of times I have urged you to trust me. I do not know what will happen in the long run. Unless Fuscus’ treason can be proved then someone will have to pay for his death, and you will be too busy to find out who did it in the weeks to come. The man was a rogue, but he was the emperor’s own man and if we were concerned about that freedman up at Vindolanda, this is a hundred times more serious. For the moment the news will be kept as secret, that is if Crassus can keep his mouth shut. A murdered procurator is not likely to spread calm when people are already frightened. The legate fears that the trouble in Verulamium is just the start. Still, he will deal with that and we play a different part. ‘I have been thinking. If Acco knew where these treasures were hidden then would he not have retrieved them long ago?’