A sudden wail followed by, “Sorry, miss!” brought her mind back to the bathhouse. This, perhaps, was what people who abandoned their ancestors and surrendered their souls to the foreigners became. Brittle shapes, clinging to one another and shrieking to drown the shame.
Her mind was drifting above the conversation around her when she heard a change of tone and realized an argument was starting.
“Look!” her cousin was insisting.
Tilla opened her eyes to see Aemilia tugging off her precious gold ring.
“Look!” she repeated. “It is my name. In Greek. Aemilia.”
The middle-aged woman standing over her gave a derisive laugh. “You can’t read Greek!”
“Can you?”
“No,” she retorted, “but I know what that says. It says, Long Life to Elpis. Ask anybody. That’s my ring. And you’re the little thief who pinched it from me last week.”
58
Ruso was leaving Susanna’s when both of the girls he now needed to talk to emerged from the bathhouse and scurried along the wet street. Aemilia, the buxom daughter of Catavignus, was holding a towel over her head to protect her hair from the drizzle.
“Tilla!” he shouted. He was going to get this difficult encounter over before tackling Aemilia about the gold ring.
Both girls turned. Aemilia had clearly spent too long in the steam room and was still very pink in the face. Tilla said something to her and she hurried on.
“I want to talk to you,” he said to Tilla, wondering who had given her that dress whose shade picked up the color of her eyes and why she was wearing perfume. “Where can we go?”
Tilla shrugged. “I have no house. I am not allowed in the fort because I am not a soldier. Soon I am not allowed in the baths because I am not a man, and Susanna’s is closed.”
“We’ll sit outside,” he said, heading toward the benches underneath the sodden awning.
“You will sit with me where everyone can see?” She sounded pleased.
Choosing the only table not under a drip, he realized she was not calling him “my lord” anymore. And he realized he did not know how to start this conversation. He had imagined speaking with her in private, but there was nowhere private to go.
Before he could decide how to begin, she said, “Do you know who it is yet who kills the soldier?”
He cleared his throat. “No.”
“I have some new things to tell you. That Felix is a thief and a liar. He has given a ring to my cousin to keep her quiet. It was a stolen ring. She is shamed in front of all the women.”
Ruso said, “Oh.”
She chuckled. “And last night my uncle’s housekeeper says she sends away a drunk, because I forget to tell her you are coming.”
“Where were you the night before?”
The smile faltered. “With a friend.”
“Rianorix.”
She paused. “If you know, why do you ask?”
“Because I was hoping you would deny it,” he said.
There should have been some sort of hesitation while she considered her shame. Instead she shot back, “I am visiting Rianorix, who is a friend of my brothers, who are in the next world, and that snaky one comes with his soldiers and-”
“What were you doing sharing a bed with him?”
“Why are you spying on me?”
“I’m not. I trusted you. I didn’t want to believe it when they told me.”
“Then choose not to believe it.”
“You just told me yourself it was true!”
“There is one bed. One blanket. But I do not betray you with this man. That snaky one is telling you these things.”
“I trusted you, Tilla. Holy gods, of all the men you could have chosen!”
She folded her arms. “The soldiers will not let me in the fort. I have to go somewhere.”
“You had an uncle here. Or you could have stayed at Susanna’s.”
“Where I sleep at night is my own business.”
He took a deep breath. “If you were my wife, I would divorce you for saying that.”
“I am not your wife!” she retorted. “I am your housekeeper. This is what I hear you telling people. Housekeeper. You share a bed with your housekeeper!”
He got to his feet. “You made a choice, Tilla. I have never forced you. Never.”
“I am not your wife,” she repeated, louder, standing on the opposite side of the table so their eyes were level. “And I am not your slave either. Do you know how Claudius Innocens gets me to sell?”
He did not. He had never wanted to turn over that particular stone.
“The wives of Trenus do not like Trenus coming to my bed any more than I do,” she said. “So one day when he is not there, they sell me to a trader who is traveling past. I am never theirs to sell. So, I am never yours either.”
“But I have a sale document,” he said, feeling like a man falling over a cliff and grabbing at a leaf for support.
“False.”
“Why didn’t you say this before?”
“I try. You do not want to listen. You never want to hear things you do not like. Now listen to this. Rianorix is a man of honor and he does not kill that soldier, and I am not lying to you. And if you will not help him, I will.”
He did not know what to say. He stepped back. The bench tipped over and crashed onto the ground. He kicked it out of the way and strode off into the drizzle.
He was some distance down the street and determined not to look around when he heard her shout, “And he does not have the thing the snaky one is looking for!”
When he marched back and grabbed her by the shoulders, she cried out in pain. He let go and looked around to see the barber and his wife watching with interest.
“Do you know what Metellus is looking for, Tilla?”
“No. They come to the house at night shouting, ‘Where is it?’ Rianorix does not know what they want or why.”
“Do you know what I said to Metellus?” said Ruso, keeping his voice as even as he could manage. “I said that Tilla, who is a person I trust, told me that Rianorix didn’t do it: You should be looking for another killer. And do you know what he said?”
“He tells you reasons why you should not trust me.”
Ruso stared into her eyes for a moment and said, “Yes.”
“And now you do not know who to believe.”
“You spent the night with another man,” he said, and walked away.
59
Catavignus took a pinch from the contents of the bowl the ancient servant was holding out to him, bit into it, and nodded.
“Try some,” he suggested to Ruso, who had just been shown into his office. The bowl contained some sort of
