If Birds Could Talk
A Further Adventure in the Adventures of Sir Lancelot
Chapter Four
By Waaboozikwe
Brian woke from a sound sleep to sounds in the guest room. Opening one eye, he saw Lancelot already dressed and standing next to a small table. Pulling a cold foot back under the blanket, Brian sighed, enjoying the warmth for a moment before pushing himself up and groping for his robe to pull over his night shirt.
"Awake already?" Asked Lancelot in his teasing voice.
"No. I'm still asleep," Brian answered gruffly. "But I will be dressed in a minute if you need anything," he said, mindful of his duties as a squire.
"Good," said Lancelot, tossing his bronze coin deftly, and then putting it in his coin purse. "I said I would have a plan by morning, and I do. Come. We have been invited to a morning meal, after which I will be visiting Martinus and you will keep Master Justus from accompanying me by asking him to show you the use of those Roman weapons. I don't want Master Justus around when I ask pointed questions of his son."
Brian brushed back a lock of limp blond hair, and then stood with bare feet on the cold cement floor to wash with a damp towel dipped in a bowl of water and dress quickly to follow Lancelot out into the courtyard.
...
"You must realize, Brian, that many Roman soldiers from all over the Empire, settled in Britain. A soldier with 25 years of service is entitled to citizenship and a parcel of land. There are people from all over the empire living in Britain now that you would never know had Roman soldier ancestors. Maybe even you have one."
Master Justus was in full didactic mode, enthusiastically going on and on about how to wear the armor. He had dressed Brian in a catafracta - a sort of mail coat that was a little tight on him, and a cassis or heavy helmet. This soldier ancestor of Justus's must have been a small man, thought Brian. But he liked the scutu (shield) on the back of which five plumbatae hung.
"But I don't know who my ancestors were past my grandfather. My grandfather and my parents are no longer living so I can't even ask them," Brian said, holding the Roman spear and looking at the other weapons that Justus had hung from his belt. "These sandals are more comfortable than I thought they would be. But after five miles of marching, I don't think they would feel as comfortable."
"Right you are, my boy!"
Justus was cheerful now and in his element. It had been a somber morning meal with Lady Livia, tearful, but trying hard to be social. She had set the mood and they all had eaten mostly in silence. Justus had to escape her to become his usual animated self. He had grabbed Brian and headed to his library as Lancelot bid them good day and headed out to the street.
"And it would be more than five miles a day, I can tell you! Those soldiers were accustomed to march twenty miles a day."
"Oh. I suppose you would get used to it," said Brian. "Say, will you show me how these darts are used? And the sword techniques? I know the sword play would be different than what Master Hugh is teaching us."
"Let's do that then!" said Justus, smiling and rubbing his hands together. "Maybe when Lancelot returns we can have a midday meal and afterward you can show him a trick or two that would even work against the knights of today."
Brian grinned. "There are few men who can show Sir Lancelot a trick or two. You don't know how much I would enjoy doing that!"
...
Lancelot walked down to a street along the river, just as Master Justus had directed him. Vendor stalls were opening up and people approached and passed by pulling hand carts with a variety of goods. Down by the river came the shouts of loading and unloading of boats. Lancelot counted the cross streets, 2, 5, yes here was the corner shop with bolts of cloth. Both Justus and the queen patronized this large shop and Lancelot thought his pack horse could carry a few bolts back to Camelot to send on to his mother at some point. Aveline would probably like some linen or silk too.
He turned down a narrow street that the sun did not reach far into because of the closeness of the three story insulae facing each other. Martinus lived on the third floor of the second one on the right. A young man was at this time hanging clothes on a window sill above as Lancelot hailed him, asking if he knew Martinus, son of Justus.
"You have fond him. What do you want?"
Lancelot introduced himself and Martinus gestured for him to come up.
The stone stairway was dark as Lancelot felt his way up. A door opened above so light made the footing easier. As Lancelot stepped into a two-room apartment, he glanced around noting the furnishings.
"Yes, these are from my uncle's villa if that is what you are staring at," scowled Martinus.
Lancelot thought it better not to make his curiosity any more obvious and came right to the point.
"I am sorry for your loss but I do have some questions concerning it."
"Yeah, I thought you might. My father sent Tobey to warn me of your impending visit. So what is your part in this family business anyway?"
"May we at least sit down?"
"Is that necessary? My time is short. I have two of my own vendor stalls to supervise and five of my fathers. He has offered to turn them over to me if I manage them well. So let's be brief about this."
"Alright," Lancelot said in a quiet voice. "I would think you would want to take all the time you could to solve this murder. Weren't you fond of your uncle? I heard you spent many summers at his villa as a your boy."
"Yeah. I did. Working as a field hand. My uncle said I should learn the business of farming from the bottom up. Yeah, right alongside slaves. But Aunt Annia was always kind. She made treats for me and she mended my clothes and taught me to read."
"You did learn the craft of farming, then?"
"Not my favorite thing. But I did learn it. I even got to supervise the slaves and hired men after a few years. But I prefer life in town. I prefer to be near the boats so I can get first look at new goods."
"Everyone must choose what suits him best," offered Lancelot. "But knowing the villa, you may have a good idea who committed this crime. Can you tell me everything you saw and did from the moment you arrived there after the murders?"
Martinus grunted and gestured to a chair. He grabbed a water jar and offered Lancelot a mug but Lancelot shook his head and sat expectantly.
"Okay. I did a walk through. First I saw the three bodies which even though it was winter, were getting a bit ripe. I sent the man who ran to Londinium to tell us of the murder, back to his village to fetch more people for the burying. Not much to examine there. All three had been cut down by a sword. I then went from room to room and noticed a few vases missing. Also my aunt's jewelry box cleaned out. The money chest was locked and hacked up a bit but the robbers had been unable to open it."
"Did you open it?" asked Lancelot, leaning forward.
"Okay. I did. I had my father's key – the one my uncle gave him just in case."
"Just in case?"
"You know. In case he dropped dead or something. Both of them are old now. And no one knew where uncle hid his own key in the villa."
"Apparently your brave uncle died with that knowledge untold. I think the robbers where on foot or that heavey chest would have been taken."
"Oh the robbers had horses alright. They just wanted us to think they were poor men on foot. They knew they would inherit the chest later."
"Really? Who do you think the robbers where and why do you think that?"
"It is obvious to me. But my father will not even consider what the truth might be."
Lancelot folded his arms across his chest. He did not like the attitude of this young man. Looking hard at Martinus he asked "The truth? Let's hear this truth."
How many days did it take you to get here from the villa? Two? How many days does it take to get to Sir Claude's estate from the villa? Half a day at best."
"You suspect your own uncle?"
"Who else? My father is no longer in shape to go around killing people now, if he ever was. He takes great pride in his grandfather's arms as if he himself had used them. Yet he hides within his house and within the city lifting only cooking pots and wine amphorae - never a sword with intent to really use it. His only talent is negotiating exchanges of goods for money."
"You don't think much of your father, do you. Yet you learned his trade as well as your uncles. Under his tutelage, you keep some of his shops as well as your own."
"True. But that is all he can give me. He is not like his brothers, both of whom were brave enough to at least make a life in the dangerous country side."
"If you admire that? So why aren't you doing it too?"
"It takes money, Sir Lancelot." Martinus laughed sourly. "Lots of money. And a gift of land. Do you think I would go willingly to live in the country side without ownership of money and land? It will take me years tending small shops to build up enough wealth for a horse and knight's armaments or for decent acreage with servants to farm it."
"And you do not want to take all that time to build up that wealth, do you?" Lancelot said sharply.
Martinus stared back at Lancelot, warily. Then he took a sip of water in a cracked mug and slowly smiled. "You think I did these murders, don't you? Me, a merchant's son with no training at arms. What about my brave, bold uncle who trained as a knight? A man who would attract a second wife through enlarging his estate? A man who wants a son through a second wife and enough wealth to pass on to that son and also to give a good dowry for his precious daughter by his first wife? Why not him as your chief suspect?"
Lancelot rose. "I see I shall get no further with you. But you have given me something further to consider."
"I hope so."
"Tell me, this furniture, isn't it from your uncle's villa?"
"And why not? If left there, it would only disappear or be vandalized. Sir Claude took the best furniture from the villa to his castle. He was going to leave these pieces. They had little value; you see how worn they are?"
Lancelot scanned the room. "They indeed are well used. But Sir Claude is not using his brother's furniture, only storing it. I visited his castle before I saw the villa."
"My uncle is no fool. He is old, but not as old as my father. He can afford to wait. He is young enough to marry again. What do you say to that, Sir Lancelot?"
"Nothing at the moment. You will hear from me again."
...
As Lancelot stepped into the courtyard, a missile whistle past him and struck a bundle of straw that was trussed up and leaning against a wall. His hand went to the hilt of his sword, but relaxed when he saw only Justus and someone encased in Roman armor at the back of the courtyard.
"Brian?" Lancelot stifled a laugh which came out as a sputter.
"Sir Lancelot, you are interrupting a little plumbatae practice. These weighted darts, a little shorter than your hunting arrows, are the first thing a Roman soldier would launch as his line of companions approached an enemy army."
Lancelot turned toward the straw dummy and tried to pull out the dart. Extracting it involved pulling apart half the straw from its twine binding.
"I see why...these barbs, they would do more damage being pulled out of flesh than going in. Am I not right, Master Justus?" Lancelot asked as he turned, holding up the plumbata.
"Oh yes, they would indeed. These have a range of 30 meters, well beyond that the heavier javelin."
Brian had a second plumbata in hand, so Lancelot stepped away from the straw dummy.
"Well then," he said in a hearty but wavering voice, "how many of those things do you have there, Brian?"
"Four more," Brian said, turning the shield to show three hanging from the back of it. "Sir Lancelot, how did it go with Martinus?"
"Well enough, Brian. I would like to talk with Sir Felix again," said Lancelot, his mouth hardening into a stern line.
"Do we now have to leave to do that?"
"No, there is more that I'd like to look into here in Londinium."
"You may not have to leave yet, but I must," said Justus. "It will take me two days of travel to reach the villa to bury my brother. I must start after midday meal in order to reach a decent inn by this evening. Traveling at my age is not the most pleasant activity."
Brian set the shield down and pulled off the helmet, then struggled to remove the mail tunic.
Lancelot stepped over to help him, so Brian raised his arms. The tight garment came off with a little wiggling on Brian's part and a lot of tugging by Lancelot.
"I think I will stick to my own chainmail vest," said Brian.
"Good idea, Brian. This one nearly didn't come off," laughed Lancelot.
"Come, let us share one more meal, and then I will be off," said Justus, solemnly. "Let Lucius put away my illustrious ancestor's gear.
At midday meal, Lancelot remembered to report to Justus that Sir Claude had asked him to look for a new wife. He watched Justus's reaction carefully.
"At his age?" asked Justus. "The old fool. But he is younger than me, both my brothers are. And so far Claudius has only a daughter to inherit. I am lucky; I have a full grown son who is anxious for a better life style."
"Yes, I am aware of your son's ambition. But anxious? You have established him in a nice little business. He could make much with that over time."
"He is impatient for more. I realize that. And he has had some training in farming from Sir Felix. Who better to take over management of the villa? I will consult with Claudius about that. I think the ransom money would greatly aid in repairing the villa and resuming the planting of the land."
"Hmm," said Lancelot, "good luck with that."
...
That evening, Lady Livia was slightly more cheerful. She indulged Lancelot and Brian with a beef stew and freshly made bread. Then she gave them towels and asked Lucius to take them to the bathhouse as she would be retiring early.
"Thank you, My Lady," said Brian warmly.
Livia patted Brian on the shoulder. "It is nice to once again have a boy in residence. I used to be able to please my son. But now...now he has found other things to do than to be grateful for a mother's indulgences. I think he has discovered other female company."
"Boys grow up." Lancelot noted, glancing at Brian with significance. "Some, faster than others."
Brian took the towels from Livia's arms and swallowed a retort. Tonight, at least, he would go to bed clean and warm.
...
Later, relaxed from an excellent hour at the baths, Brian carried a basket of damp towels to return to Livia, his sandals slapping over the paving stones. They walked beneath insulae that were four stories high. Brian was looking up, imagining what it would be like to have an apartment up there, when he saw, as well as heard, roof tiles moving.
"Look out, Sir Lancelot!"
Brian dropped the basket and pushed Lancelot with his shoulder, out into the center of the street. Lancelot grabbed at Brian instinctively, pulling him along with him as he fell backwards. Tiles smashed onto the paving bricks and Brian groaned.
"Brian!" Lancelot raised himself on an elbow, his other arm over the boy's chest. He gently pulled his legs out from under Brian and in the twilight saw the glazed look in the boy's eyes. Lowering Brian's head to the street, Lancelot felt over Brian's legs. Above one ankle, there was a cut that was bleeding freely. Glancing up at the flat roof from which the tiles had fallen, a form withdrew.
"Brian, can you stand?"
"I think so. Oh...," pain filled Brian's voice.
"Don't try then."
Two men emerged from a tavern across the street and came over to kneel by Brian. "Are you alright? Damn, tiles. These old buildings should be better maintained."
Lancelot retrieved a towel from the basket which had split under the weight of a peppering of tiles. He wrapped it around Brian's leg, noting the bleeding had slowed.
"Would you gentleman mind helping to carry my squire to our host's house?" asked Lancelot. "It is only two streets that way and then uphill five houses."
"I can walk," said Brian. "I think, with a little help."
The men lifted Brian under the shoulders, but stepping on the injured leg, Brain almost went down again. Lancelot and one of the men made a chair of their arms and Brian braced an arm behind both of their backs. The other man picked up the basket and came along behind them.
"So much for a quiet evening at the baths," said Sir Lancelot.