the opportunity. Rome is the future. As if the wisdom of the ancestors were of no value. Now, with Da gone, there was nobody to disagree with him.
She said, “I see you are trying to build a grand Roman house in a place that will never succeed.”
For a moment he hesitated, then his face split into a warm smile that reminded her painfully of her father. “You have your da’s directness,” he said. “He would be proud.”
Tilla wondered if that were true.
“If only we had known you were alive! But there was no ransom demand. We thought you were lost in the fire. Then last year we heard a rumor that you had been seen in the southern plains. I went down there to look for you. They told me a girl with your name had gone back to Deva to live with a soldier.”
The words hung in the air, innocent enough, but clad in the armor of old arguments.
“I said nothing to your cousin,” he added. “In case the rumors were not true.”
She said, “They were true.”
He nodded. “We all have to make changes, child. Your father was a fine man, but he was not always right about everything.”
“The man I lived with is not a proper soldier,” she insisted, conscious of evading the gaze that reminded her of Da. “Not really. He is a healer.”
“I see.”
“The family would have learned to like him.” Perhaps. Or perhaps they would have refused to have anything to do with her, just as Rianorix’s family had shunned Veldicca when she had rejected their chosen blacksmith and set up home with a soldier who had more patience with his bees than his woman.
Catavignus said, “Is this healer traveling with the Twentieth Legion?”
“Medicus Gaius Petreius Ruso.”
Her uncle nodded approval. “I have met him. A good man. An officer. You have done well.”
“Do you think so?”
“Your cousin will be jealous.”
“I am not his wife,” she pointed out. “I am his slave.”
“His slave?” Catavignus frowned. “Well. We shall have to do something about that.”
“We?”
“From now on, daughter of Lugh, we must look after each other. As family. You, me, Aemilia-and in time, if the gods are willing, your officer.”
“Aemilia is not well,” said Tilla, eager to change the subject.
Her uncle nodded. “She needs some womanly advice.”
“Yesterday I advised her to get out of bed, wash herself, and eat properly. Today I shall advise her to go for a walk.”
“Good. Did she tell you why she is behaving in this way?”
“Not exactly,” said Tilla, not sure what Catavignus was supposed to know.
“She entangled herself with a very unsuitable young man. It has ended badly, as I knew it would. I told her at the time that she could do better, but what do I know? I am only her father. It is not easy for a man to raise a daughter on his own.”
Tilla bit back the observation that he hadn’t done it on his own: What about the succession of honorary aunties? The fat one with the wart. The one with the slit up one side of her tunic that showed her thigh. The one who was always cleaning and who liked to grab passing children and wipe dirt off their faces with the cloth she had just spat on. None had stayed long, but there had been plenty of them. And now he had Ness to limp around after them both.
He was still talking. “We must make the most of you while we have you,” he said. “They tell me your medicus will be moving on in a few days.”
Tilla looked her uncle in the eye. “He will be moving on,” she agreed. “I may go with him. Or I may not.”
54
Ruso threw his blanket aside and concluded that floors these days were harder than they used to be. “I’ll get some men to clean things up in here after breakfast,” he said. “They’ve had plenty of practice now that I’ve had them scrub up the wards.”
Thessalus reached stiff arms outside his bedding, stretched them toward the rafters, and sucked in a sharp breath. “Gambax kept promising me he’d get them to clean up, but he never-” He stopped. “Did I really hear you say last night that Rianorix didn’t do it?”
“I said I’ve been told he didn’t. It’s not the same thing.”
“But who else could it be?”
“That’s the problem. Metellus is determined to have a culprit to present to the governor, and at the moment, guilty or not, Rianorix is his easiest option.”
Thessalus dangled one arm over the edge of the couch and groped for his cup of water. “If he’s really innocent, and we can prove it, I could get out of here. It’s not much fun sitting here in the dark thinking up new lies to tell you. Especially when you take away my poppy tears.”
Ruso leaned across to put the water in his hand, and gave him another dose of poppy. “Sorry about that.”
“So who told you he was innocent?”
It was clear that Thessalus had not heard Ruso’s final observation last night about his own strained relationship with Tilla and Rianorix. “It was an unreliable source.”
“But we must follow it up!”
“I’ve tried.”
Thessalus put the water down and tried to pull himself up to a sitting position. “Tell me everything. There must be something else we can try.”
“We?”
“We can’t see an innocent man executed!”
Curled up together like kittens. “Are we talking about you or Rianorix?”
“Either of us. Try harder. Please. I’m not brave, Ruso. I want to end my life in Veldicca’s house, drifting away on the poppy tears. I don’t want to be executed. I’m only doing this because I have to.”
“I could save you from that right now by telling the truth about you.”
“I’m a patient. You would be breaking a confidence.”
“What confidence? You’re in the army.” Ruso sighed and folded up his blanket. Then he shifted the pile of scrolls out of the chair and told Thessalus everything he knew about the murder of Felix the trumpeter.
When he had finished, Thessalus said, “So. I’m asking you to help me save the man who’s sleeping with your girl.”
“A man who may well be guilty anyway.”
“Please, Ruso.”
Ruso put his blanket under one arm and pointlessly tucked in a stray corner. “The more I think about this,” he said, “the less I like it. If you take another man’s punishment, what about the others? What if he tells his friends and they all get the idea it’s all right to butcher anyone who’s offended them?”
“I don’t think he’ll go around boasting about it. Anyway, I’m not responsible for the peace of the province, Ruso, and neither are you. I’m responsible for my family. And I’d feel a lot easier in my mind if I knew you’d help me.”
“I’m not promising to lie to the prefect.”
Thessalus smiled. “I’ve already done it. It’s not too difficult.”
Ruso scratched one ear. “I’m sorry about the ease of your mind,” he said, “But all I’m going to promise is that I’ll keep trying to find out what happened. Then I’ll decide what I’m going to do about it.”
“What if the governor gets here before you find out?”
“I don’t know,” said Ruso, heading for the door and feeling like a coward. “I can’t talk about it now. I’ve got
