“Hello,” she said in German and the man looked at her with rheumy blue eyes. “I understand you know a lot of the tales in the district.”
“You want to know about the Roman soldiers,” he said. It seemed everyone knew about it. “It’s an old legend.”
Well, it would be, she thought. Dating back to Roman times, in fact.
“I might need another drink for such a tale,” the man said and Clemmie pressed her lips together. She hadn’t brought any money. Why hadn’t she thought of it? Turning to Mr. Carter, she said quietly. “Dieter here needs another ale.”
“I’m sure he does,” Mr. Carter said and took himself to the bar without arguing. Turned out he was useful after all, but only because she’d been foolishly unthinking. Obviously, she wanted to repay him, but she wasn’t sure she had the money to—or to pay for anything else she needed.
A sense of panic washed through her, but she pushed it away and focused on the elderly man across the small table from her.
“So it is true, then, the legend about the Roman soldiers disappearing?”
“Oh yes. It was a long time ago. They weren’t the last people to disappear in these mountains.” He took a sip and stared out the black window, lost in his own thoughts.
“The weather was bad,” Clemmie prompted.
“Yes, awful weather.”
“Why were they out in such bad weather?”
“They were chasing a man, someone from their camp. A traitor.”
Clemmie’s eyebrows rose. The scribbles in the library made more sense now.
“If they didn’t catch him that night, he would have gotten away, because he knew the mountains better than they did. The Romans filled their ranks from all over the empire, but not with locals, because they tended to have split loyalties. They fought the Gauls in these mountains, and sentiments in the district weren’t always with the Romans. So they chased this man up into the mountains and they never came back.”
“What does the legend say happened to them?”
“What’s he saying?” Mr. Carter asked, coming back with three ales, placing one in front of her. Ale? Why in the world would he think she drank ale?
Dieter gratefully accepted the new tankard, while Clemmie ignored his question. Instead turning her attention back to Dieter, but she wasn’t sure what to ask now. “Why would anyone fear this legend?”
“It is said they’re still looking for their man—in ghost form. They roam the area, searching for their traitor. People say they hear them calling, particularly on a misty, dark day. They come upon the unwary and they have no mercy. Like I said, many people have disappeared on these mountains, never to be seen again.”
“What of the glacier?”
“Oh, the glacier is dangerous. You wouldn’t want to go on the glacier. Its beauty is best viewed from a distance. Most beauty is, I’ve found.”
“Have you ever heard them?” Clemmie asked.
“Oh, yes. The legend is true. When I was a boy, I walked home from my uncle’s house and got myself lost in the mist. I heard them marching. They sought me.”
“Why would they seek a boy?”
“Who knows why they make the choices they do? Certain days, you are best to stay inside your house.”
“Do they come into houses?” she asked.
“They don’t oft come into the valley. Last time they took someone was twenty years ago. An Italian wandered up the mountain and never came back. It’s said they heard the calls of the soldiers that night. Must have found him.”
Leaning back, the man crossed his arms. “And if they’d taken your husband, there’s little you can do about it. No one can stop the Roman army. Same is true now as then.”
“You don’t really think Roman ghosts are responsible for this, do you?” she asked, already knowing that he did. She just didn’t want to hear the confirmation.
“Oh, they claim their victims. That mountain is their domain. We always suspected there would be problems when they built that hotel. Seems we were right.” He took another big gulp of his ale.
“Have they ever written messages before?”
“You know a Roman soldier is upset with you once his sword is in your gut.”
“Has there been any other incidents at the hotel that you’ve heard of?” She could imagine Mr. Weber would keep quiet about it if ghostly Roman soldiers prowled the halls of the hotel on a regular basis.
The man shrugged. “Maurice Weber is an outsider.”
Was that supposed to explain something? “He is not local?”
“No, he’s not even Swiss. He’s German.” Was this relevant, she wondered.
“Well? What did he say?” Mr. Carter asked, and Clemmie quickly relayed what the man had said.
“Huh,” Mr. Carter said as he absorbed the information. “How well known is this legend?”
Clemmie relayed the question to Dieter.
“Well, everyone who’s lived in this district knows the legend,” he said. “But beyond here…?” He shrugged. “I couldn’t say.”
“Mr. Coleridge knew about it,” she said to Mr. Carter. “He told us about it.”
“So your husband knew about the legend?”
The implication offended her, because it sounded as if he suggested her husband was the one using this legend in some way to… There wasn’t any reason he would and she resented the implication.
Turning to Dieter, she said thank you for the information and rose from her seat, making her way to the door without another word to the annoying Mr. Carter.
As she hoped, her carriage waited and she quickly got in after a quick look around the dark and empty main street in the village.
Chapter 14
TRUTHFULLY, CLEMMIE DIDN’T KNOW how she felt the next day when she woke. Everything she’d learned last night still whirred in her mind, and she’d had horrid dreams where Oliver had been calling for her. She felt utterly useless. Nothing had been achieved. Oliver hadn’t been found.
Maybe it was time she faced up to the fact
