money.”
The magistrate ignored him and spoke to Firmus instead. “Sir, the province has been the victim of an organized gang of thieves.”
“Not the whole province,” Firmus reminded him.
Caratius sighed, as if he was about to say something distressing for both of them. “My people are loyal subjects of the emperor, sir. They handed over their money in good faith-”
“And now one of your people has pinched it.”
“Not one of us, sir. A hired man from the Dobunni tribe. We will do everything we can to help, but-”
“You could have helped by taking the body,” Firmus pointed out, getting to his feet. He turned to Ruso. “I’m going to have to talk to the procurator.”
“Anything else we can do, sir,” Caratius insisted. “My people are outraged. The province has been robbed.”
As they were leaving Firmus turned to Ruso and murmured, “Are all the Britons as awkward as this?”
“I’ve not had many dealings with the Southerners before,” Ruso confessed. “I hope not.”
15
Camma’s white face was already blotched with tears when Ruso ushered her and Tilla along the landing past the piles of trunks and boxes topped with Valens’s old legionary helmet, still impressively polished.
The apprentices had done a good job. The limewashed store at the end of the corridor above the surgery had been hastily emptied of junk and cleared of dust and spiders. A lamp stand had been fetched from the dining room to provide a living flame at the foot of the bed, which had been propped up at one end to support the body of Julius Asper. The bed, as Valens had pointed out when he insisted that the tall apprentice surrender it, was not necessary for the comfort of its occupant, but for the consolation of the bereaved.
Ruso had braced himself for a howl of native grief, but Camma entered the little room in silence.
With his face washed, his hair tidied, and the damage to his skull out of sight, Julius Asper looked almost peaceful.
Camma began to speak in British. Her voice failed. She tried again.
“She is asking for a comb,” translated Tilla, confirming what Ruso thought he had understood. “I will fetch it.”
When she had gone Camma knelt on the rough boards of the floor and reached out. She flinched as her hand made contact with the cold fingers.
“He wouldn’t have known what was happening at the end,” Ruso assured her in Latin, glossing over the horrors Asper must have suffered before that. “He would have been in a deep sleep.”
She whispered, “If I had known it would end this way…”
“Who do you think did this, Camma?”
Instead of answering the question, she began to say, “My husband
…”
Through the open window he could hear someone whistling out in the street. It was not the right time to be asking the widow questions, but there might not be another opportunity. “Your husband…?” he prompted.
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “Nothing at all.”
“What do you think happened?”
She ran a forefinger along the back of Asper’s hand. “This is what happened. He is dead.”
“Where should I look for Bericus?”
“Poor Bericus.” She sighed “I suppose they killed him too.”
“Did the brothers ever argue?”
“Bericus would never do this!”
“I’m sorry. I have to ask.”
When she did not reply he said, “Do you know why he would have been on the river?”
She shook her head.
“Or anything about-”
“I do not know!” She buried her face in her hands. “I do not know anything!”
Tilla, returning at that moment, glared at him. Behind Camma’s back she mouthed “Not now!” and motioned to him to get out of the way. Watching her kneel beside Camma and put an arm around her shoulders, he felt like an intruder. But somehow between now and tomorrow morning, he needed to extract whatever information the woman could offer.
Tilla handed over the comb. Camma reached forward. “There,” she whispered, gently teasing Asper’s hair back from his forehead. “That is better.” She turned to Tilla. “You see? He is a fine man.”
Tilla passed her a cloth to wipe her eyes. “I will go with you to take him home in the morning, Sister.”
Camma shook her head. “I cannot go home.”
It was not the right moment to tell her she could not stay here, either.
“I will take him to Verulamium.”
Ruso supposed that if they were all like Caratius, it was hardly surprising that she did not think of Verulamium as home. He said, “Did your husband know people down here?” Catching Tilla’s warning glance, he added, “I mean, is there anyone else in town we should fetch to mourn him?”
“Only the tax men,” Camma said. “I do not want them here. I will keep vigil alone.”
He said, “You should get some rest. I’ll stay with him tonight.”
A small rasping cry sounded from farther along the landing. She sighed. “That is the cause of all this.”
“I will go,” said Tilla. “We will leave you to speak with your man.”
As they left the room, Camma called out something to her husband in British. Moments later, with the door closed, Tilla hissed, “This is not the time for questions!”
“It’s my job.”
“I know,” she said. “But it is a very bad job.”
At that moment, he was inclined to agree.
In the nursery she scooped up the angry baby and laid him against her shoulder.
“I can’t escort a body to Verulamium,” Ruso told her over the din of the crying. “I’m supposed to be tracking down the brother and the money.”
With one hand supporting the baby’s wobbly ginger head, Tilla began to croon the song they had heard from the riverside bar yesterday morning. She was swaying to the rhythm of the music. Despite the terrible squalling in her ear, she looked more contented than Ruso could remember seeing her for a long time.
To his relief, the frantic cries began to fade. The small red face relaxed back into human shape. His wife kissed the baby’s head before finally returning her attention to him. “I did not say you would go.”
“But-”
“We will be quite safe without you,” she continued. “We are two married ladies escorting each other, and it is not far. I knew you would say yes.”
“But-”
“You always say yes in the end.”
She ignored his protest of, No I don’t. “I will try and ask her your questions later. But she has enough troubles. Let her grieve for a fine husband who was attacked and robbed by bandits.”
He said, “I’m beginning to have doubts. Why did he leave town with only a clerk to guard him? And if he’d been robbed, why not ask for help instead of hiding away at the Blue Moon?”
When Tilla looked blank, he realized nobody had told her what he had been doing all morning. When he had explained he added, “Obviously I didn’t tell Camma about the back alley. She can think he died in his bed and stayed there.”
“I shall say nothing,” Tilla promised, resting her head against the baby’s. Then she said, “Perhaps when you have finished being a tax man in Verulamium you can stay and be a doctor.”
“So you can stay and help look after the baby?” Out on the landing, he lowered his voice in case the woman
