Buried Too Deep
answer, I hope. How do you get on with the natives in these parts? Friendly to settlers, are they?”
    “They are, especially in your area. You know they’re mostly from the Parisi tribe there.”
    “I’ve difficulty telling one tribe from another. A barbarian’s a barbarian, when all’s said and done. I suppose I’ll learn the differences eventually.”
    “I’d advise it, yes, because they’re important to the tribesmen themselves, as well as to us. Whether they’re friendly to Rome is a case in point. The Parisi always have been, ever since before the conquest. People say it’s because their ancestors came over from Gaul, but then not all Gauls are well-disposed to Rome, even now.” I helped myself to olives. “Here in Brigantia it’s different.”
    “So I’ve heard. Brigantians are all anti-Roman, aren’t they?”
    “Not all. It’s not so simple.” I felt myself losing patience, not because he was ignorant but because he didn’t seem to want to lessen his ignorance by learning a few facts. When you set up home in a province, it seems to me you should make an effort to find out something about it. “Most Brigantians have accepted Roman rule, with good grace or with bad. But there have always been a few who resent us, and have to be kept in order now and then. Mostly they’re the ones that live west of here, in the Pennines.”
    He frowned. “I think Brigantian influence may be spreading. We’ve had some trouble with the local people.”
    “That’s bad. What sort of trouble?”
    “Well first, there’s a gang of Gauls based on the coast who are plaguing everyone just now.”
    “Gods , ” I interrupted, “I keep on hearing about these sea-raiders. What are they, pirates of some sort?”
    “Not exactly, although I suppose that’s how they started. These days they spend far more time ashore than at sea, and they’re a confounded nuisance—more than a nuisance, a danger. But it seems to be mostly the Roman landowners they’re attacking, not the Parisi, which is why I was surprised when you mentioned about Bodvocus’ man being injured. You’re sure it wasn’t just one of the usual mishaps, on the farm, or out hunting?”
    “Quite sure. Corium said someone had gone for him with an axe.”
    “Bodvocus has land on the Headland, as we do. I suppose we have to expect them to plague us. But they’re prepared to go miles inland to harass the smaller farms. They steal, they extort money, they occasionally rob travellers. And Bodvocus and his people don’t seem to be making any attempt to control them. In fact…” he lowered his voice. “We think they’re deliberately turning a blind eye to what the Gauls are doing, or even making use of them to harass Roman settlers.”
    “That’s a serious allegation,” I said. “Especially against Bodvocus, he’s always been a good friend to Romans. I must be honest, it doesn’t seem very likely to me. He’s influential in his area, and the provincial authorities have left him with quite a lot of power among his own tribe. He’d be mad to antagonise the settlers, he’d lose everything.”
    “Fair point. Perhaps it’s not Bodvocus himself. He’s quite an old man now, isn’t he? Could be some of his people acting on their own. This fellow Coriu, perhaps. They’re giving us all sorts of petty aggravations. Our boundary markers get moved, or our fences are damaged so the sheep escape, that sort of thing. You may be right, the old chief knows nothing about it. I’ve reported it to Londinium, anyway.”
    “Really? Have you had any reply?”
    “Not yet. But I intend to get it stopped, with or without help from the Governor.”
    “By the way,” Vividus poured himself a fourth beaker of wine, or was it a fifth? “What’s your Oak Bridges Chief Councillor like? We thought we’d call in on him today, introduce ourselves to him. He’s quite a power in the land round here, isn’t he?”
    “Silvanius Clarus? Ah, you should have arranged to have

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