"All right, Gaia-we can see you now!"
"No. Too late. The torch has gone out."
Anacrites pushed off from his suspended position, and we hauled him back. He scrambled to his feet, white-faced. He looked around the group of us and shook his head. "It's a miracle she stuck at that point-and that she has managed to stay there. One false move and the whole lot will slip down further. I couldn't see how deep it goes."
Petronius came to life.
"We have to try-is that agreed?" He did not, in fact, wait for an answer. He was going to make the best attempt, whatever anyone else felt. "Right, lads; this is a bearer-and-brattice job." He was talking to his men. "We want anchor points for the ropes, and the head of the shaft will need lining too. I'm not sending anyone down there only to have the hero and the girl both swept away by shit and rubble from up top. Time we spend stabilizing the head of the shaft won't be wasted."
The problem was physical, logistic, a teamwork task. It was natural that the vigiles took over. They had the expertise for reaching inaccessible places in a hurry. They dealt with fires and with collapsed buildings. I had labored in a mine once, in Britain, but it had been surface worked. Even there, proper experts had designed and installed the props in the seams.
Various materials had been turning up from the moment Petro himself appeared. Without fuss his men set to, planning how to tackle the work, fetching gear from beyond the wall, sending off for more. Anacrites, who had now made himself legate in charge of lighting, said he was going indoors to look for covered lanterns. That would keep him out of our way. I started measuring the length of the ropes the vigiles had brought, and testing their strength. Aelianus watched, then helped me.
"Sailcloth!" one of the vigiles exclaimed. "Quicker than woodwork for lining the shaft."
"Got any?" asked Petro, rather scathingly, I thought.
"In the stores. Easy to fetch while the balks are being fixed at the shaft head."
"If not, just bring esparto mats," Petro decided. He had always been receptive to ideas and quick to adapt. "We only have time to cover the first few feet in any case. And we can't risk disturbing too much loose material that may drop on the child."
From time to time, everyone halted. Silence would descend. One of us would stand above the well and call down encouragement to Gaia. The little girl had stopped answering.
When Anacrites came back, I heard women's voices with him. Bad news. He had been forced to bring Caecilia Paeta, who was demanding to see where her daughter was. Terentia had come with her, and the nurse, Athene. Without anybody needing to issue orders, those of the vigiles who were not involved in the immediate task of building a braced platform above the shaft, moved into a discreet cordon, keeping the visitors back. The vigiles were used to gawpers getting in their way. Their response could be brutal, though when occasion called they could fend off the interest with surprising tact.
I went over to the women. "It's all right, Caecilia Paeta is very sensible." For once this ploy worked. At my announcement Caecilia, who had been growing hysterical, decided to quieten down. "Listen. I'll take you near, and you can call out to tell Gaia that her mother is here. Try not to sound frightened. Try to reassure her. But keep her calm. She really must not become agitated, in case she moves about-do you understand?"
Caecilia drew herself up. She nodded. Her estranged husband had just been exposed as a murderer; her mad sister-in-law was beyond help; she was trapped in the house of a tyrannical father-in-law; even Terentia, the other force in her life, was a bully. Gaia Laelia was all the poor woman had to console her. I would not blame her if she lost her nerve and wept and wailed, but I could not risk allowing her to do so.
I kept a tight grip on her. The men paused, though it was clear they hated to be held up. Caecilia stood where I told her, a spot where she could really see little of the well. She trembled slightly. Maybe she had more imagination than I would once have given her credit for. She called Gaia's name. After one feeble attempt she tried again, more loudly and firmly. "I am close by, darling. These kind men will soon have you out of there."
She forced herself to maintain a strong voice, though tears were streaming down her face. Forget exalted birthrights and religious callings. At least what we had now was a real mother fearing for the life of a real small child. If we could, by some miracle, rescue the child alive, things in future might be better for both of them.
One of the men at the edge of the shaft raised an arm to us. "I heard her! Keep still, little one! We're coming. Just keep still." He and his colleagues immediately returned to their work.
Caecilia Paeta turned to me. Her eyes showed that she understood just how slim were our chances of removing Gaia safely. Too horrified to ask my opinion, she made no sound. I would have preferred her to plead and twitter. Silent bravery was hard to take. I led her back to Terentia.
"Go to the house. This is bound to take some time. We are being careful at every stage; you can see why. We will tell you if anything happens."
"No," said Caecilia. She folded her arms, pulled her stole tight around her, and just stood. "I will stay near Gaia." Even Terentia looked surprised by this unexpected determination.
I stood with them for a moment. "Everything all right at the house now?"
"My niece and nephew have both been sedated and put under guard," Terentia reported quietly. "Ariminius had his wound dressed, and the doctor is waiting here in case he is needed again."
"Hadn't the old man collapsed too?"
"As usual, Laelius Numentinus managed to recover as soon as the crisis was over," said Terentia with asperity.
"You have everything in hand, I see."
"But you will have to do what's needed here!" commented the ex-Vestal, nodding towards the well and politely acknowledging that she was not all-competent.
I left the women and rejoined my colleagues.
A basic platform had been thrown up across the wellhead. We could work off it safely. It would not give way. Boots would grip on the wood. Heavy timber beams had been set up to act as anchors for the ropes. More ropes had been brought and woven through the edges of mats made of esparto, the thick grass material that the vigiles used to smother fires. These had been hung down inside the shaft where the sides were most unstable and where there was bound to be most disturbance once the rescue got under way.
I noticed that more and more members of the Fourth Cohort kept coming in over the boundary wall. This was the current big event. Hard men have notoriously soft hearts where young children are concerned. They stood back, very quiet, with the patience of those who understood what they were watching, and who knew that the outlook was grim.
A rope sling had been created. Petronius, who had stood aside while his experts arranged the framework, now took command. He would supervise the actual drop. I knew he would have gone down himself if possible. We all looked at him.
"I'm too big." It was a call for a volunteer.
I had been a silent observer, but I stepped forward now. "I'll go."
"This is for us, Falco."
"It's just a job for an idiot," I answered. "Somebody tough but not too heavy or too large."
"Are you fit?"
"I'll do." Besides, I owed Gaia something. I slapped his arm. "I'd like to know you are on one of the ropes."
"Naturally." Lucius Petronius offered me the harness, but first he said, "There is something you may not have thought about."
I sighed. "No, I do realize. The shaft is too small. The boarding she is lying on blocks the shaft anyway. It is impossible to be lowered past her. If I am to stand any chance of grabbing her once I'm close enough, I have to go down headfirst."
"Bright boy!" Petro began fixing straps around each of my ankles. "Well, Marcus, my old friend, I hope you are wearing a loincloth, or when we turn you upside down you can prepare yourself for some very bawdy jokes."