To apologize would have been wholly inadequate.
Using his wetted handkerchief, he dabbed at her face as she lay slumped on the floor and wiped away the bubble of blood at the side of her mouth.
‘Can I go now?’ she mumbled.
Since no words could pass the lump in his throat, Orbilio smashed the frame of the wax tablet upon which the warder had scratched his notes and made splints for her fingers instead. She was Treveri and he didn’t need any so-called confessions to know that. The fringed plaid tunic, the chain-link belt, the braids in her fiery hair screamed her heritage and he dared not begin to imagine how scared she felt, alone and so far from home.
‘Your name’s Remi, I gather.’
‘What about it?’
He was beginning to see why the warder and Big Buckle had had such trouble and a smile tweaked at the side of his mouth.
‘I once spent a month in Trier,’ he said, bandaging the splints with his handkerchief, ‘and have very fond memories of the River Mosel and a one-eyed boatbuilder.’ Actually the memories revolved more around the man’s saucy-eyed daughter… ‘Do you know him at all? The old one-eyed boatbuilder?’
‘I’m a country girl,’ Remi said sullenly. ‘My people live nearer the Rhine.’
‘Ah, barley country.’ Marcus nodded. ‘You brew beer?’ Sneered at by any self-respecting Roman, he actually rather liked the stuff. ‘Good pastureland, too. Treveri horses are the pride of our mounted regiments.’
‘I know your game.’ With her good hand, she swiped his handkerchief from him and blotted the eye that was rapidly closing. ‘You’re here to soften me up, but you’ll still ask the same questions.’ Remi hauled herself up to a sitting position and spat on to the flagstones. ‘Well, I’ve told those bastards out there, as I’m telling you now, I don’t know any more, that’s the truth, and they can break the other seven fingers and then start on my toes, they can flail every inch of skin from my body, I was simply passing on a message, that’s all. I’m a farm girl. I needed the money. Why won’t you release me?’
‘Remi.’ He pushed a hank of red hair out of her eyes, and saw that they were green and rather pretty. He felt ill. ‘Remi, I’m not here to soften you up, as you put it, I just don’t think you appreciate how serious a mess you are in.’
‘Don’t I?’ If she could have laughed with her mouth mangled up, she’d have given it her best shot. ‘Think I need a mirror to know what those animals out there have done to me?’ she retorted. ‘They’ve scuppered any chance I might have had to bag myself another decent man, now it’s only the old and the smelly ones who’ll take on a scarred widow with two tiny bairns. And you know what? I’ll do it, too, because it’s bloody hard raising kids with their father barely cold in his grave-’
‘Remi.’ Gently Orbilio laid his hand over hers, and she didn’t draw it away. ‘You were caught red-handed passing on battle plans for an assault upon one of our legions. That is treason.’
‘No, it’s not,’ she blazed back. ‘That’s trade! With my man dead, how can I possibly get the crops in on my own? My son’s a toddler, the girl’s still in her cradle, the farm needs money to survive, to buy labourers. Listen.’ She shifted position. ‘The chieftain’s son slipped me five gold pieces to deliver a message to Anax the tavern keeper. What would you have done, eh? Can I help it that the fat pig sold me out?’ Her eyes rolled in disgust. ‘I hope he catches leprosy, the bastard.’
Orbilio hoped so, too.
‘It’s a sad fact of life,’ he said, kneeling on the floor alongside her, keeping his gaze on her green and purple plaid, the tasselled fringe, her high laced boots, in fact anywhere except those Treveri eyes, ‘that hundreds, maybe thousands of men from every nation you can think of are willing to sell out their countrymen for the jingle of coins. Anax isn’t alone.’
And without them, where would the Empire be?
In Remi’s case, of course, Anax had alerted the local centurion, pocketed his dirty silver and didn’t look back. While the army, knowing this to be a matter of national security, had despatched her to Rome for (Orbilio’s stomach flipped) ‘professional’ interrogation.
‘Look, policeman, you’ve been nice long enough,’ she tried for a smile. ‘Why don’t you ask me your questions? Before your pampering makes me start believing I’m in some luxurious lodging house, sipping vintage wine instead of this water.’
Orbilio found it impossible to draw breath.
Such beauty. Such pride.
Such a waste…
A heavy weight pressed on his chest and he felt lower than the lowliest worm when he said, ‘Tell me about the treasure map, Remi.’ There were times, by the gods there were times, when he wished he had trained as a lawyer.
‘Oh? So someone is interested? Every other time I mentioned it, it was five lashes and a clip round the mouth for stalling for time. What do they think? Twenty burly tribesmen are outside, ready to storm this underground hell? Believe me, information’s the only thing that’ll get me out of here. Fire away.’
She gulped greedily at the cool water, and Marcus pictured this spirited creature back in her Rhenish homeland before her nightmare began. Remi with her baby on her back following the harvester, ensuring every ear of barley went into the wickerwork box, while at the front her strong-backed husband regulated the height of the iron cutting teeth and steered the mule which pulled the machine. Orbilio had picked up enough during his stint in Trier to know that they’d be singing while they worked, a cheerful tune beseeching the Gaulish god Pisintos to make their soil fertile, and maybe at the end of the day they celebrated a good harvest with a jug of strong beer in the company of their old friend, Anax the tavern keeper… Oh, Remi!
She was twisting a bronze figure-of-eight ring round her middle finger. ‘This is what I overheard from the chieftain’s son, right?’
Even with the life beaten out of her, bones broken, face pulverized and probably internal tissue damage as well, there was more animation in this lovely redhead than you’d find in half this supposedly sophisticated seat of the Empire.
‘The picture is this.’ She tucked one long leg under the other, showing off a very shapely calf ending in a bronze anklet, etched with dots and Celtic whorls. ‘The Treveri and the Helvetii have sworn an alliance and that’s why they’re planning that attack.’
Orbilio thought of the two legions who’d been despatched to the trouble spots. ‘That much was in your’-he couldn’t bring himself to say the word ‘confession’ so he changed it to-‘statement. They’re banding together to, quote, “fight the oppressors”.’
‘Oh, it’s not only you Romans they’re after,’ Remi said sharply. ‘The idea is that once Rome has been taken-or rather toppled-the tribes will use the opportunity that the chaos will bring in its wake in order to break out on their own. We have expansion programmes, too, you know!’ There was almost a sparkle m her eye, and a knife plunged into Orbilio’s heart. He could have crawled under the door. Was any man more of a heel? Jupiter, when people talk about treachery ‘However,’ she said, ‘for old enemies to be conquered, new campaigns to be organized-they’ve set their sights on Britain, Scandinavia, even the Isles of Thule, can you believe that?-well, this requires weaponry and armour, siege engines and so on.’
As she paused for another ladleful of water to blot the drying wounds on her chest, Orbilio felt a jab of consolation. At least his hunch was on target. Croesus, he fumed, why hadn’t those goons outside listened to Remi?
‘Apparently there’s a large cache of treasure in the form of gold and silver, jewels and gems, and I swear on the life of my babies, I don’t know where it is, whose it is, or even how it got there,’ Remi said, ‘but as far as the Treveri and the Helvetii are concerned, it’s got their name on it. According to the chieftain’s son, there’s a map on its way to Vesontio which shows the exact location of this treasure-’