The Governor's Man Page 7

  ‘I wanted to ask you, Velvinna - have you heard any rumours of trouble brewing lately? After this, I am worried for our tribespeople.’

  Velvinna took her younger friend’s hands in her own.

  ‘That’s a terrible story, Julia. You must do the right thing in the eyes of the Goddess, and of course I’ll help as I can. Well, I have heard a few stray murmurs. In recent weeks there have been mutterings that some of the young folk seem dissatisfied. Difficult to know why — times are no harder than usual. We’ve had several good harvests, and the awful plague of my parents’ time seems to have died away. Thanks to the bountiful grace of our Lady the Goddess Sulis.’

  Both women bowed their heads a moment.

  ‘And?’ prompted Julia.

  Velvinna smiled. ‘You know me too well, oh sharp-eyed pupil! I am uneasy. Parents worried about their children. Odd comings and goings at night. The young men of the town, the worse for a few beers, marching down the street, knocking over market stalls and frightening people, shouting ‘Make the Dobunni great again!’ Some of us older ones spoke to the centurion at the garrison here. He soon sorted that lot out — banged a few heads together and took the ringleaders in for a talking-to and a night in the cells to cool off. He’s a good lad, Centurion Crispus, he handles matters well without causing resentment. ‘

  Julia nodded and smiled. She too respected the quiet young red-headed soldier. It was Marcellus who had asked her to make discreet enquiries.

  ‘Yes, Marcellus Crispus is a good commander, and knows the people of Aquae Sulis well. But I sense there is something else on your mind. You know your confidences are safe with me.’

  Her friend had a worried look on her face. ‘Well, Julia, I’ve heard there is a White One back here in our territory.‘

  Julia recoiled. The White Ones, the Druids of old, had once been all-powerful. But since Rome came they had been outlawed, and banished from public view. It was generations ago since the last one had been whispered of. Especially in this town with its sacred spa, the home of the mighty Goddess Sulis Minerva. The Lady Minerva was revered by both British and Romans.

  ‘A White One?’ She repeated the words, shaken. So perhaps a Druid had been behind the attack on Catus, as the mistletoe and bleached linen cloth suggested. But why? If Quintus was right, that attack had been to prevent news of a fraud reaching Londinium. Why would Druids associate themselves with such matters?

  Velvinna blew her nose, and nodded. ‘Only the merest word, my dear. Still, I’ve heard that same story from several sources, level-headed people I trust.’

  Julia ran a smoothing hand across her forehead.

  ‘I’m happy to go with your instincts, Velvinna. There is no-one I trust better. But I need to know more, and quickly, if I’m to prevent trouble. My brother Marcus will need to know, too.’

  Velvinna stood, shaking out her skirts.

  ‘Well, my dear, as always you remind me of what should be done. I will sound out some folk who might be in the know, including our Sisters here in Aquae Sulis. How can I best reach you with any news?’

  Julia thought. She trusted Anicius implicitly, but all sorts came and went through his hospital wards. This had to be handled discreetly. She would need to send word quickly to Marcellus if she did uncover anything.

  She thought briefly of Quintus, the Imperial Investigator with the authority she might need; could she get a message to him? That thought was instantly dismissed. He didn’t trust her, and she wasn’t sure she could bear to ever see him again. Anyway, she had no idea where he was now, or how to safely contact him.

  ’Send to my house, Velvinna. And keep Centurion Crispus informed too. I need to go to Bo Gwelt soon to see my brother about this and other family matters, but I’ll delay leaving till tomorrow in case you need me. If I’m not at home, you can trust my staff to forward a message quickly.’

  ‘Thank you. I wish I had spoken to you sooner. Sometimes I think I’m just a silly old woman. But I know the Goddess Sulis Minerva is guiding our steps. Remember that, Julia, and have faith.’

  Julia kissed the other woman, and went to fetch Aurelia away from her friends. Britta raised her eyebrows in mute question, and Julia nodded slightly. Rightly or wrongly, she’d set matters in train with Velvinna and the Sisterhood, and there was no turning back.

  They left the bathhouse, heading to the marketplace to shop for supper. At the Sacred Spring a queue of people waited to send urgent messages and requests to the Goddess in her holy pool. A chattering flock of young women muffled up in bright mantles were in the line. They’d probably be wanting blessings for marriage or fertility, or both. Julia saw that another of the party was a man, tall and fair. His sky-blue cloak swung as he walked away. Julia smiled; one of those girls was likely to find her request of the Goddess answered if she wasn’t careful. Then she spotted the burly man they’d seen earlier. Docilianus was angrily dictating a curse tablet. He leaned over a nervous clerk, shivering a little without his cloak in the fresh spring wind. 'Docilianus son of Brucerus to the most holy goddess Sulis. I curse him who has stolen my hooded cloak, whether man or woman, slave or free, that the goddess Sulis inflicts death...'

  Julia smiled at Aurelia, who grinned back. They both worshipped the Goddess, valuing her interventions. But Julia doubted Minerva would deign to deal death in this case, no matter how valuable the birrus was to Docilianus.

  As they made their way back across the Sacred Precinct later, laden with warm bread and two fresh plump capons, Julia paused at one of the altars. She often slipped a few coppers into the hot waters of the sacred spring. Today she placed three eggs on the altar, bowed her head and prayed. She did not see Minerva’s image, as she often did in prayer, but she left the temple with her mind more at ease.

  Dinner was a casual affair. Julia had adopted the family preference for sitting upright to eat rather than reclining on couches. How do people manage to carry on looking elegant leaning on their elbows? After roasted capons and garlicky wilted spring greens from their own garden, followed by spiced plums and a handful of walnuts each, they relaxed over the local wine. Britta always insisted on eating in the kitchen with the rest of the staff, but she came back into the dining room while Aurelia was telling Julia about a boy who had swum alongside her in the Great Bath. She had challenged a boy she knew to a race, knowing herself to be a strong swimmer, and beaten him hands down.

  ‘And do you know what, Aunt? Drusus just got out of the bath, and stalked away sulking!’

  ‘Mistress? I beg pardon. An urgent message. Would you step into your bookroom for a moment?’ Britta was frowning, and shrugging a shoulder in Aurelia’s direction. Julia excused herself, and closed the door as she joined her worried housekeeper.

  ‘It was Velvinna, my lady. She’s gone now. She refused to come in and wait, or be announced and join you at table. She said she wouldn’t wait for an answer. I don’t know what kind of household she thinks I run, that my lady’s friends wouldn’t be made welcome, dinnertime or no. I wonder she didn’t send a messenger instead.’

  Julia soothed Britta’s ruffled pride, asking her to make her excuses to Aurelia. Then she locked herself in the bookroom to read Velvinna’s birchwood message. It was short, and written in haste.

  My dear, I dare not stay. I worry that I am followed, and do not wish to bring trouble to your house. I have good information that a meeting has been summoned by a White One, but not here in Aquae Sulis. You were right to be concerned about your people.

  Can you go, or send someone to a town meeting in the forum in Lindinis of the northern Durotriges, at sunset in two days? You might get the answers you seek there.

  Your friend.

  Velvinna had not signed the letter, a measure of caution that underlined to Julia the potential danger. She hoped her friend had got home unmolested. She would send to check at first light in the morning.

  Julia moved restlessly round the room, picking up things and putting them down in the wrong places. She was worried by Velvinn
a’s letter. More than that, she was unsure of how she felt after the difficult meetings with Quintus. The last time she felt this way was many years ago, when she came back from Eboracum heart-broken and sickeningly pregnant.

  Naturally it had been Britta—ever-practical —who had come to her rescue then, travelling north to Eboracum to fetch her young mistress home. It was a difficult journey. Julia vomited constantly, unable to keep food down or travel far before becoming exhausted. Britta developed a variety of cover stories in which her mistress had been afflicted by the gods, or was homesick, or had drunk foul water.

  On their arrival back in the Summer Country, Britta’s parents had offered a welcoming haven at Home Farm while Julia recovered from the journey. She was heart-broken and feeling low in body and spirits. She needed time to decide what was to be done.

  Julia hesitated to tell her older brother about the baby. Julia and Marcus’s parents had both died suddenly when a plague swept through some years ago. Julia was still a young child then, so Marcus and his wife Albania had brought Julia up until she left to stay with her grandmother in Eboracum. Julia loved Marcus, and dreaded upsetting him. He was a generous and cultured man, with a strong sense of duty and more conventional Roman attitudes than Julia herself. Nothing had been said yet, but she guessed Marcus had been expecting to see his only sister married in due course to one of the local landowners. He would have welcomed a love match, of course, being very fond of his sister. For her to be seduced and abandoned by a young Roman legionary he had never set eyes on—that would be more difficult for Marcus to accept.

  She was relieved when Britta offered to fetch Julia’s sister-in-law from Bo Gwelt. Together they came up with a plan regarding the unexpected infant. The sweet-hearted Albania was just the friend Julia needed. She overcame her husband’s initial shock and hesitation, pointing out the truth in her gentle way: Marcus and she had no children, despite a decade of marriage. Though they rarely spoke of it, no amount of prayer, sacrifice and pilgrimages to Aquae Sulis had improved their fertility. This child was undoubtedly of the Aurelianus blood, and they could give it the best possible start in life and still protect Julia from scandal. The old grandmother in Eboracum need never know, either. Secretly, Albania knew Marcus would soon need the comfort of a child, and she was right. Barely a year after they had announced the birth of their daughter Aurelia, Albania died.

  Over the years since, Julia occasionally wondered at how she had coped. She had been so young, of course, barely sixteen. To have such a love and lose it and to give up the child of that love, felt at times more than could be borne. But she had borne it, and had been rewarded by seeing Aurelia grow into the spirited much-loved daughter of the doting Marcus. It was obvious to Julia that Aurelia was blossoming at Bo Gwelt. Marcus deserved all the happiness the young girl brought him.

  Once the blow of giving up her child had subsided a little, Julia took up the dual roles of independent matron docta and indulgent aunt. With a handsome legacy left by her Brigantian mother she set up her own household in Aquae Sulis, completed her healer training, and never regretted her single life. Being independent, learned and well-respected in her community suited her in a way a conventional marriage to a noble husband probably would not have done. She did, though, keep a close eye on Aurelia. The loss of her child was an ever-present burden, though for Aurelia’s sake she never let her distress show. The pain of telling her daughter about the betrayal by the young Roman officer was more than Julia could face.

  She never knew whether to be delighted or heartsick that Aurelia had the same grey eyes as Quintus.

  Julia re-read Velvinna’s letter. Midnight in two days. Just enough time. She asked Britta to have their packing done and the carriage prepared for a trip to Bo Gwelt the following day.

  ‘An early start. I need to consult my brother urgently. Pack for you and me, and Aurelia, of course. My maid. And two grooms. And spare horses for Aurelia and me. Unless you…?’

  ‘No, thank you, my lady.’ Britta spoke forcefully. Country girl or no, one thing she did not hold with was sitting on large dirty beasts, bouncing up and down in mud and dust. Obviously they had to use mules or horses to pull the carriage, but at least then the animals were a good breathing distance away and had postilions to control them. And there was a canvas roof of sorts over their heads to keep out the worst of the weather. ‘My gratitude to you, Lady Julia, but I prefer to ride in the carriage with the maid.’

  Julia laughed. She did not mention why they were leaving in such a hurry. That knowledge could be dangerous, and Britta was one of the people she wanted to protect. Along with Aurelia.

  Grey eyes, dark hair, slight wiry build, compact energy betrayed by constant impulsive movement, all these reminded her of Aurelia’s father. But this older Quintus was changed — restrained, measured, disciplined … cold.

  Damn! Why didn’t he just stay out of my life? I’d finally begun to make peace with the past, and now he’s back here and causing more trouble. I won’t be dragged down into all that pain again — I’m not a silly lovestruck girl anymore. Any trouble coming to my people, including Catus and Enica, we’ll deal with ourselves without his interference. The Aureliani are still the tribal leaders here. By the Goddess, I swear I’ll do whatever it takes to get rid of Quintus. Even if I have to single-handedly scotch a rebellion to do it.

  Chapter Ten

  Velvinna’s home was a small stone house in a respectable neighbourhood of the city, not far from the Sacred Precinct walls. Her elderly household was clearly upset.

  ‘It was me who found the mistress this morning, sir, when she didn’t answer the maid’s knock. She’s had a cold for a few days. Complained she couldn’t taste her dinner last night. So at first I wasn’t too worried. I thought she was sleeping late after a bad night coughing. Then the maid came back to me when she still couldn’t get an answer,’ said the steward, Silvanus. He was red-eyed and his hands shook as he led the three officers up to the old lady’s bedchamber. She was wearing a night-shift and lying in a relaxed pose on the floor, head turned to one side. There was no distress on her calm face.

  Quintus crouched down, taking her hand. It was still warm, but there was no detectable pulse. ‘Was she alive when you found her?’

  ‘Yes, sir, but barely. Her breath was very faint, and her heart beating exceptionally slowly. I did my best to rouse her, calling her name and trying to sit her up.‘ The steward’s eyes filled with tears. ‘She died in my arms, sir. She just stopped breathing.’

  Quintus looked around. ‘Tiro, could you take Silvanus downstairs and sit him down with a drink?’ As soon as they were gone, Quintus motioned to Marcellus to show him the grounds for suspecting murder. The soldier picked up a glazed dish standing on a dresser near the bed. It contained powdered leaves, rather dusty. He handed it to Quintus, who cautiously sniffed. The leaves stank. It was a familiar smell, taking Quintus years back to a case in Dalmatia when he had investigated the suspicious death of a high-ranking official. That official had been poisoned with dried foxglove, digitalis as the local doctor called it. ‘It has a characteristic smell, and the taste is hot, like black pepper. But don’t ever try it unless it’s prescribed specifically for you — it’s quite deadly,’ the medic had warned.

  And so it must have proved for Velvinna. ‘Foxglove. Enough of it to drop a horse. An overdose would certainly stop her heart.’

  ‘Yes, sir, I agree.’

  ‘That alone is not evidence of murder. She may have taken too much by accident. Still, it’s potential evidence. Anything else of note in here?’ They searched the room; there was little apart from two dresses and some ritual robes hanging from hooks, one of them a white full-length gown of a rough weave, with a matching hood. Quintus raised his eyebrows. Marcellus said slowly, ‘I believe that to be the robe of a wise-woman, one of the local Sisterhood of healers and sages. Velvinna had that status. No longer connected with the Druids of old,’ he added hastily.

  Downstairs they found the dea
d woman’s library. It was quite a collection, mostly books on medicine, native plants and herbs. On a writing desk near a window was a pile of papyrus. Velvinna was apparently writing a herbal treatise of her own. Quintus took up some sheets and looked through the text, written in a careful spiky hand in lampblack ink.

  ‘I did look myself, sir.’

  ‘What’s the book about?’

  ‘Native plants, and their properties for healing and poison, sir. And…’

  ‘Yes?’

  Marcellus looked away. ’She makes some mention about the old beliefs, sir. As I said, Velvinna was well-known hereabouts as a wise woman, a herbalist and healer. She trained other wise-women. She seemed also to have an interest in the White Ones, the old Druids.’

  ‘Did she now? Any dubious friends? Or enemies among the local tribes?’

  ‘Velvinna, sir?’ The young centurion sounded shocked. ‘Oh no. Velvinna was loved and highly regarded in the city and the surrounding countryside. She was a wonderful healer, and often gave her services free to those in need. She was a renowned teacher, too. I believe she trained the Lady Julia Aureliana.’

  Quintus was moving around the room, searching carefully.

  ‘Could you check the kitchen with Tiro?’

  ‘What are we looking for, sir?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I want to know more about Velvinna, her life and work. Who she knew, who’s been here recently.’ Marcellus left, and Quintus heard hob-nailed boots clack along the narrow tiled hall and into a larger room at the back. Voices reached back to him, muffled.

  He picked up a tiny bone cup on the desk. There were a few drops of liquid at the bottom, whitish with pale brown traces caking dry on the sides. He sniffed, holding the little cup closer to his face. Ginger…and something else underneath, masked by the pungent Eastern spice. Interesting. He ruthlessly plundered Velvinna’s book, using torn-out sheets to carefully wrap up the cup. The foxglove leaves he poured out into a separate twist of paper.