She looked at him, exultant. ‘I know you could. But you won’t get the chance. And don’t think you’ll round up my family, either, when I’m gone. My brother’s boys are watching at the gate. They always do. They know I’m here for questioning. They’re all prepared. When I don’t get home again tonight, they’ll know that something dreadful’s happened here and disappear into the forest and the caves. The lot of them. There are still scores of us, you know. And we have hideaways that no one’s found — not since the legions occupied the place. But I’ve said too much. You’ll get no more from me. I’m a daughter of Caractacus — I’m not afraid to die. I only wish that I could take you with me as I go.’ She seized the goblet in her own two hands and drained it at a gulp.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Nothing happened. It wasn’t likely to, since there was nothing in the goblet except wine — though no one knew that except Junio and me. There was a dreadful stillness in the room. Lyra waited, wild-eyed and tense, for the poison to stream into her veins. And still nothing happened.
It must be difficult to find that your heroic gesture of self-sacrifice has failed. Lyra thought so, certainly. She paled and shook, and for a moment I thought she would collapse. For the first time since she had come into the room, she looked wholly at a loss.
At last she raised her eyes to look at me and they were full of hatred and contempt. ‘You tricked me,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘But it won’t do you any good. My nephews will already be raising the alarm. They’ll all be gone before you get to them. And whatever happens, you can’t force information out of me. I can’t tell you anything. I don’t know where the hide-outs are myself.’
‘You’ve already told me something,’ I said evenly. ‘Your actions show you tried to kill me. Why?’
‘Surely that must be obvious! Because you knew what she was up to!’ Marcus was surprised.
‘But I didn’t know it when she came here, and she came prepared. There is only one reason for it that I can understand — because I saw her following Gaius Plautus in the street. See — she tries to hide it, but she looks uncomfortable at the very mention of his name. I knew who he was and I’m sure that is the key. And if she wants to silence me, then the chances are that he is still alive, and it is not too late for us to rescue him.’
I was proud of my deduction, and I looked at her, waiting for her reaction to my words.
It came. Defiant words. ‘I told you, citizen, I don’t know anyone called Gaius Plautus. The only Gaius Plautus I ever met was an auxiliary bowman from Jerusalem who used to visit the wolf-house years ago — and he was killed in border skirmishes.’
And then, at last, I saw. Saw with such clarity that I leaned forward on the desk and buried my face in both my hands. I think I may possibly have moaned.
‘What is it, Libertus?’ Marcus was all concern.
I raised my head and looked at him. ‘Excellence, I am an idiot,’ I said. ‘I had the answer to this puzzle long ago.’
He was still looking startled.
‘Patron,’ I said. ‘You know me very well. Better than almost anyone, in fact, apart from Gwellia and Junio. Agreed?’ He nodded. ‘In that case, remind me, what’s my name?’
He goggled at me in disbelief. ‘Longinus Flavius Libertus, I believe.’
‘Exactly so. And is that the name my mother gave to me?’
He frowned. ‘Well, I don’t imagine so. But it’s become your name. Even your wife and servants call you that.’
‘Precisely. It became my name when I became a citizen of Rome. I adopted it, to mark my change of role. Just as Gaius Plautus of Jerusalem did — though, being an auxiliary, he could not be a proper citizen till he retired. And Gaius of Glevum did the same, of course. People all over the Empire do. It is different for you and Junio. You got your Roman names when you were born.’
Marcus was looking at me with interest. ‘So?’
‘You remember when we were looking in the tax-rolls for Gaius Plautus and I pointed out that his family might not be Flaminians themselves?’ I shook my head. ‘Of course they’re not. Plautus is a Roman citizen, but he was Silurian by birth. He isn’t hiding from the rebels, he is one of them. He’s been doing the same thing that Lyra did, but in a different way. He mixed with all the most important men, and knew of all the most important deals. If anything of value came to Glevum, he would know of it — and see that his kinsmen knew as well so they knew when to plan their raids. He bought his way to Roman status and he did it on purpose to work against the Empire from within. Even the name — it wouldn’t surprise me if he chose it as a kind of joke because he killed the auxiliary from Jerusalem himself. The soldier used the wolf-house, so doubtless Lyra betrayed him as well.’
It was fortunate that Lyra was heavily restrained, otherwise she would have flown at me. ‘You can’t prove anything!’ She almost spat the words.
Marcus ignored her. ‘So where is Plautus now?’
‘Exactly where I thought he was, at Nyros’s farmstead.’
‘But I thought Nyros sympathised with Rome.’
‘So did I. It was Lyra who showed me I was wrong. She called herself a daughter of Caractacus — and you know the story there. The Romans were so impressed with his dignity and bearing in defeat that they didn’t kill him after all — they simply stripped him of everything he had. Exactly the story Nyros told us of his ancestor.’
Marcus was struggling to come to terms with this. ‘Plautus boasted of the wealthy uncle who’d adopted him, and given him a proper start in life. It was Nyros? When he came here, he was coming home?’
‘It looks that way. Nyros told us himself that his nephew was at home. The famous Thullero — the man we never saw. Nyros is impressive. He’s a clever man. He even staged that imitation raid, to help persuade us of his innocence and give Thullero the opportunity to hide. It meant we didn’t see the horses either — which was clever too, since he’d almost certainly stolen them from the Iscan cavalry. Regulus, for instance, would have known them instantly.’
‘So when Regulus saw Plautus with the pigs. .?’
‘He was on his own domain. Plautus was the “young master” that Subulcus talked about. Admittedly, Plautus is hardly in the flush of youth, but he is Nyros’s heir, of course, and young by comparison with him. He must have gone from Venta in a cart — it’s the only way he could have got there in the time — and arrived to find the raid on Regulus’s force was taking place. It was obviously planned that they should all be killed and one of the rebels sent here in their stead, wearing the dead messenger’s livery, and with the sealed letter telling us the mounted escort was on its way. You can imagine who the escort would have been, if they had captured all those uniforms.’
I looked at Lyra but she wouldn’t look at me. Marcus said, ‘Of course! But Regulus and his comrades were too good for them. They lost their horses but they won the fight, and forced the rebels off.’
‘Worse than that, they started following the tracks which might have led them directly to the farm. Plautus — or Thullero as we should call him now — met up with his comrades and devised a plan. He got the man dressed as a messenger to get rid of Subulcus. That was a necessary start, because poor Subulcus was too stupidly honest to do anything but tell the truth and give the game away.’
‘But wasn’t that a risk?’ the optio said. ‘If it was someone from the tribe? Subulcus might have recognised him.’
I shook my head. ‘The pigman is a simple soul. They knew he wouldn’t question a Roman uniform. The helmet and cheek-pieces would largely hide the face and no doubt the man on horseback changed his voice, as well. And of course, it worked. Once Subulcus was safely gone, the others planned to drive the pigs into the woods to interrupt the hoof-tracks, and Plautus — who wasn’t wearing plaid like the other tribes-people — would waylay the Romans if he could, claiming that he’d been the victim of a raid. Unfortunately the swineherd came back again too soon, to see the men on horses driving his pigs into the wood and riding off with one — the story that he told us later on. Plautus, the “young master” had to send him off again, so that he could be there himself to deal with the tracking party. If he’d been hiding in the butcher’s cart — as I suspect — he would smell like a pigman anyway. No wonder they offered him my tunic! Of course he didn’t want it, so he passed it on to Subulcus when he returned.’