Buried Too Deep Read Online Free

before: “The way things are now, I don’t like to be gone from the farm for long, especially at night. You never know what’s going to go wrong when your back’s turned.”
    “I’ve heard some very vague rumours too,” I admitted, “but nothing substantial, and none of our customers have reported any problem on the roads. It never hurts to take care, but I’m sure you’ll have no trouble. I visit the wolds quite often, and it’s quiet country, peaceful and safe.”
    Which just shows how easy it is to give wrong information even though you’re trying your best to be helpful.
    The guests went their various ways, and I strolled outside and did my morning rounds. This is an old habit of mine, because I like to keep a personal eye on the outside work. The stables hardly need it, because my stable-master Secundus is an ex-soldier and likes to keep everything “fair and square and cavalry fashion.” But there’s our farm as well, and my farm manager Ursulus is competent, but sometimes inclined to cut corners. And, well, I just wouldn’t feel the day had started properly if I hadn’t had a walk round outside.
    The stable yard was as busy as a beehive. The horse-boys were hard at work feeding and mucking-out the animals that we kept in the stables at night, except for two who were cleaning tack, and one who was taking grain out to the big paddock, where several of the brood mares were receiving extra rations. Secundus was in the smaller paddock, examining a mule’s hoof. He let it drop as I approached, and stepped smartly back as the animal aimed a kick at him before trotting away, limping slightly.
    “Pesky brute,” he grunted. “It’s a bit lame, which has made it even worse tempered than usual.”
    “Anything serious?”
    He shook his head. “Just a bruise. I’ve had me eye on it since it came in yesterday. I’ll see to it.”
    “Good. All the others look in good shape.”
    He smiled. “They are. We should have a grand crop of foals this year.” Our herd of good black riding-horses is my pride and joy, my own special contribution to the farm. We’ve gained quite a reputation in the district, particularly among settlers, who want to ride something a bit livelier than the little native ponies.
    “That reminds me, Secundus. Isn’t it today that one of the new settlers from the wolds is coming over to buy a couple of yearlings?”
    He nodded. “Ostorius Magnus. He’s due sometime before noon. Do you want to show him what we’ve got for sale, or shall I do it?”
    “I’ll give him a beaker of wine and have a chat with him, then hand him over to you. It’s always useful to meet other Romans in the area. I gather he’s just taken over a place near my sister and her husband. You’re clear on the prices, aren’t you?”
    “I am. But before you go, I had some news yesterday about our Victor.”
    “Good. How is the lad?” His son Victor, known to all of us as Titch, was a favourite with everyone. He was in the army, a cavalryman as Secundus had been, so we only heard from him now and then. “Has he got his posting to Germania? I know he’s anxious to see service outside Britannia.”
    “No. He’s coming home.”
    “Really? He’s done well to get leave at this time of year. Mostly they’re all out on manoeuvres if they’re not actually fighting. When’s he arriving?”
    “I don’t rightly know.” He sighed. “Could be any day.”
    There was something wrong here. I expected Secundus to be overjoyed at the prospect of seeing his son, yet his expression was strained and unhappy.
    “What is it, Secundus? Is it bad news?”
    “Aye, very bad. The letter I got was from Victor’s commanding officer, saying the boy’s taken a serious wound in his left arm. A real bad one. The doctors have patched him up, and he’s well in himself, but he’s lost the use of his hand. He’s going to have to leave the army.”
    “Oh, Secundus, no! That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”
    We looked at one