buildings I could remember…" He held out a small parchment, then picked up his stylus from the floor.
"Nikolaos, let's put our heads together and fill out the map and then search for Adeodatus." The two of them marked buildings, barns, outbuildings, corridors with squares and scratch marks. Thunder rolled outside and another bout of rain burst from the sky.
"As long as the rain keeps up, we'll have time to find him." Argolicus was relieved. Now he could hope to find Adeodatus and discover why Venantius was punishing him. He still could not believe that Adeodatus had raped a young girl. He would defend his father's friend.
"There are the barns, the storage granges, the stables. Look, we remember five smaller outbuildings. They must be for tools and tack for handling animals. Then there is this larger one far out by the vineyards. I'm certain he's in one of the outbuildings."
Nikolaos said, "There are storm lamps in the pantry by the kitchen. I'll go to find one. If anyone asks I'll tell them my master is hungry." He winked and slipped off down the hallway.
Alone Argolicus thought about Venantius. He was young, spiteful and self-centered. He did not care if others were bored by his long ramblings about wine production, vintages, vineyard care and the like. Argolicus could certainly imagine him being just as selfish about human dignity and even human life.
Nikolaos slipped back into the room. "I think one lamp should suffice." He pulled the lamp from the folds of his tunic and held it up.
They bundled their cloaks around them against the storm. Nikolaos lit the lamp and then pulled down the cover. Argolicus followed Nikolaos—he seemed to know the way—down the dark hallways until they came to a side entrance. The cloudburst had stopped for the moment. Nikolaos lifted the cover of the storm lamp. The dim light shone out on a sea of mud beyond the paving stones.
Argolicus stepped off into the mud. His feet sank into the ground and mud clung to his shoes.
"This will take some time," he whispered. Nikolaos nodded.
"Master, those two men were big."
Argolicus looked down at his diminutive tutor. "We'll think of something."
They trudged away sinking and slipping in the mud toward the first outbuilding.
The storm lamp cast little light. The clouds seemed close and blackened the sky. They weren't really able to look at the small sketchy map they had drawn in the room. Argolicus tried to remember all he had seen during the day when they were looking at the horses. The stable to the right, a barn behind, the large building out by the vineyard. Where were the others? They couldn't just stumble and slide around in the dark mud. They had to search systematically. But if they went everywhere surely someone would see them. He wasn't looking forward to meeting two big and antagonist men. He was bigger than Nikolaos but his fighting skills had rusted during his time in Rome. Plus, he'd never really excelled in military arts.
Their plan seemed ridiculous—walking around in the mud in the dark without knowing where they were going. Plus, they really didn't know if the prisoner was Adeodatus. And why had he let his loyalty to his father's friend lead him on this wild goose chase? He slipped and fell on his knee.
"Master," Nikolaos whispered.
"It's alright. I'm fine. But, perhaps we should turn back.” There, he had voiced his thought.
“If we go back without looking, what will we tell Ebrimuth?”
They trudged on slipping through the sticky ooze of mud. The first outbuilding was by the stables and held tack and other equipment for horse handling. Up the slope and blessedly less muddy was the barn. At the near end was a lean-to filled with large pitchforks and other instruments for animal handling. At the far end of the barn was a shed with small doors opening along the front at chest height. Argolicus delighted that the mud was not as deep hurried in the dark toward the shed.
“Master, no.”
“I won’t stop until I know we have looked everywhere for Adeodatus.” He opened the door.
He smelled birds and heard an enormous cackling and rustling of feathers. A large and strong buff-colored bird launched feet first against his shin gouging him just below his muddy knee. The birds made a horrendous din that hurt his ears. He backed out and slammed the door. He leaned down to massage his leg.
“Master, they are the fad among the rich country folk. They are called chickens.”
“We will never have them at my place.” He tried to wipe the mud off his leg so he could see the wound. Blood oozed down his leg leaving a track down his muddy shin. Nikolaos made a small noise. Argolicus looked up. “What?”
“You’ve been away from the country too long.” Nikolaos burst into muffled laughter behind his hand. The lantern bobbed.
Argolicus looked in the jiggling light of the lantern. His leg was a mess. His cloak sagged with mud. Sticking to everything were hundreds of tiny down feathers from the birds.
“Devil birds,” he muttered. “How could anyone think of such hideous things as a prestigious fad?” A cow in the barn started lowing. “Let’s get out of here before someone comes to check on the animals.”
As he spoke, a door opened in the slave quarters and women's voices carried up the hill. Two lights glowed as they advanced. Nikolaos closed the storm lamp. Argolicus and Nikolaos scurried behind the barn. The women headed up to the chicken coop. When they opened the door to check, the noise started up again. They closed the door and, chatting and laughing, headed back down the slope.
"There one more place to look. The winery." Argolicus said.
"Off we go.” Nikolaos opened the lantern again and they headed up the hill.
Thunder rolled in the distance but when Argolicus looked up the clouds were breaking. He saw a few stars. The ground was covered in grass. As they walked, the grass scraped mud off his feet with every step.
As they approached, the winery loomed dark and large. It was built into the side of the hill on the edge of the vineyard. The complex was large, larger than the villa. They skirted the slave quarters.
Amazingly the big double main doors were not barricaded. Argolicus held his breath waiting for a squeak as he pushed at the right side door. Not a sound. The hinges were well-oiled. Obviously, the slaves were kept busy in the off-season.
An overpowering scent of grape must assaulted his nose. The room was like a large cavern. In the vague light of the lantern, Argolicus could not see a ceiling. In the center of the room, huge wooden timbers stood tall with ropes swinging from various pulleys attached. In the middle, an even larger timber like the trunk of an old oak tree jutted out at an almost horizontal angle.
“He can’t be in here. If he’s here at all it will be in another room.”
“Master, be careful.”
Too late, Argolicus felt a sound thud to his forehead as he bumped into one of the poles keeping the big turning log in place.
“Stay by me. See, there.” Nikolaos held up his lamp. Next to the great wine press was a large rectangular hole in the floor for stomping the grapes. “You don’t want to fall in.”
“By Demetrius and all the martyrs, this place is a death trap in the dark. Let’s get to the other side.”
They found an archway behind the large press. Nikolaos lifted the lamp. The scent of fermenting grapes was stronger here than in the large press room. Across from them was a large room filled with amphorae neatly arranged with labels tacked on the wall: mulsum, turriculae, a small stack of carenum, and other labels obscured by darkness.
To the right a long and broad hallway led to various archways opening onto rooms for processing and storing wine.
“This isn’t promising,” Argolicus said.
“Let’s look more, Master.”
Argolicus spotted two doorways at the end of the hall. Wooden doors closed off the rooms. They hurried down the hallway almost choked by the musty smells. Across one doorway a large wooden bar blocked access.
Argolicus heard a moan, then, “Just let me die.”
“Here, here.” Argolicus motioned to the wooden bar. Nikolaos set down
the lamp. Together they lifted off the bar. Argolicus opened the door.
The stench was overpowering. It was not fusty grapes but human excrement. Stacked around the room were baskets for harvesting grapes. Argolicus heard another moan.
On the floor behind the baskets in the far corner of the room, a man lay on his side in a pool of muck—excrement and blood. What was left of his tunic clung to his body with clots of blood. In front of his face, a dirty bowl held leftover food. His hands were tied in front so he would have to lap at the bowl like an animal. His feet were tied with a rope which led to a ring in the wall. He moaned. Argolicus took a step forward.
“Adeodatus? Adeodatus.”
Adeodatus blinked open one eye. The other was swollen shut. “Argolicus? But what are you doing…”
“Let’s get you out of here.” Argolicus bent to untie the ropes. “Nikolaos.” Nikolaos set down the lamp and began untying the knot at the wall ring.
Adeodatus began crying and mumbling incoherently. “So young…I didn’t…I didn’t…She tricked…Screaming.”
Argolicus murmured as he worked the rope. “Don’t worry. It’s all over.” He freed the rope. “We’ll get you out of here.”
“I think not,” a voice behind him boomed.
Argolicus and Nikolaos turned and stood.
Nikolaos was right. The men were big. The one who spoke was dark, tall and wide with tremendous shoulders. The second was red-headed and taller than the door, perfectly formed but huge.
“What are they called again,