something about Boudica and a little boy.
Dias told them he had been trying to catch up with Camma to offer her protection. Tilla said, “Like you did with Grata?” and he said nothing. When he left, saying he would take the news back to town, the Medicus followed him out into the rain.
She could hear the maid in the old woman’s room, singing softly to calm her. Caratius was bending over his beautiful dead wife, stroking her hair. He looked up. His voice was strained, almost pleading, as he formed the words, “I never meant her any harm.” For once he was speaking in the tongue of his ancestors.
“She knew that,” said Tilla, crouching beside the old man she had once thought dangerous, and then merely foolish and pompous, and putting a hand over his. “She was coming here to make her peace with you.”
70
It occurred to Ruso that anyone watching the farewell on the sunny steps of the mansio the next morning would have thought they were witnessing the end of a happy and successful visit. It was not obvious that the redheaded baby in Tilla’s arms was there because nobody else wanted it. Gallonius and Dias might have been there to honor Ruso rather than to make sure he was off their territory.
While Gallonius was assuring him yet again that the job of mansio doctor and the house that went with it were his whenever he wanted them, the cousin was begging Serena to “come back and see us soon,” as if she and her husband had not subtly thrown her out over dinner last night.
Ruso envied Valens his ability to ignore what he did not want to hear. Serena was busy supervising the loading of her voluminous luggage onto the second carriage. Valens was bouncing up and down the steps with one or other twin on his shoulders. He seemed to have decided that his wife was returning home because she had succumbed to his charms. As their hosts had remarked over dinner several times before the first course was cleared away, it was so considerate of him to come and fetch her.
The baby really was very red haired. Ruso waited until his wife had climbed into the carriage and then handed him up to her, careful to support the wobbly head with a hand that looked huge against the size of the creature that might be about to change both their lives. Tilla took the baby without a word. Last night they had agreed not to talk about it, both afraid of saying things that could not be unsaid later. This agreement seemed to have carried on through breakfast, and now he was wondering if they would ever talk about it, or if Tilla was hoping that one day he would forget that the child belonged to neither of them.
She settled down in the corner and brought out the clumsy feeding cup. He swung up to sit beside her. He supposed she would find a wet nurse when they got to Londinium. He supposed he would be expected to pay. He wanted to say, “It’s not the baby I object to, it’s the not being consulted,” but he was not sure it was true.
The carriage shifted and creaked as the driver climbed on board. To Ruso’s surprise Valens appeared in the doorway. “Mind if I ride with you? It’s a bit crowded back there. Our driver says we’ll never make it up the hills with the weight.”
“Give us some luggage instead,” suggested Tilla. “Then you can talk to your wife.”
“Oh, I can talk to her anytime,” said Valens breezily, settling himself on the seat opposite. “Whereas you two are likely to push off at any moment. Actually, that’s what I wanted to chat with you about. Ruso, are you taking that job offer?”
Ruso said, “I’d rather starve.”
Valens’s eyes widened. They widened even farther when Tilla said, “We are wiping this place off our shoes and never coming back.”
Valens shook his head sadly. “The business with Camma was always going to end badly, you know. You could see that from the start. And now you’re left holding the baby.” He peered across the carriage. “It is awfully red, isn’t it?”
“Like fire and the sun,” said Tilla.
“If you say so.”
“And beautiful.”
“Oh, absolutely. Anyway, those chaps back there obviously took to you both, even though you did try to strangle the one with the things in his hair. And the place can’t be that bad. Albanus says he’s staying on for a few days after the funeral.”
“Albanus is staying because Grata is there,” said Tilla, setting the pot aside to wipe up the milk the baby had just dribbled all over her lap, “and because Londinium is full of small boys who do not want to learn Greek.”
Ruso did not want to think about Albanus and the disappointment on his face last night. Ruso had broken the news of Camma’s death to both clerk and housekeeper in Camma’s kitchen. Through the tears Grata had said, “Dias did it.”
“I think so too,” he agreed, “but he’s clever. If Caratius’s workers saw anything, they were too frightened to say. The only thing we can prove about Dias was that he was in Londinium. And that’s using a witness who was drunk at the time and may be too loyal to testify.”
“And me,” put in Grata.
“I’ve been talking to this young lady, sir,” said Albanus, placing one hand on Grata’s shoulder with surprising boldness. “She is prepared to testify that Dias sent a false message to lure Asper and his brother to their deaths.”
Ruso had promised them both that he would see what the procurator said. The Albanus he had known back in the army would have been satisfied with that. These days he was confident enough to argue.
“Grata is being very brave, sir. She’s prepared to give evidence despite being threatened.”
“I know,” Ruso had said, “and I appreciate it.” The trouble was, he suspected nobody would want to listen.
The carriage lurched as the driver urged the horses forward. Valens gave the group on the mansio steps a cheery wave. Ruso raised a hand in farewell to Publius and his wife, and if Gallonius and Dias thought he was acknowledging them, they were wrong.
“What I was thinking,” said Valens, settling back into his seat, “was that if you aren’t taking that job, I might pop back while you’re all at the cemetery and have a chat with them about it myself. To be honest, things are a bit tricky with Serena at the moment, and a move might-”
“It’s not a job,” said Ruso. “It’s a bribe.”
Valens frowned. “Are you sure?”
Tilla said, “The handsome one you just waved to was your burglar. He has killed four people and we think the man who is in charge of these carriages was helping him. The fat one made my husband cover everything up because they do not want Rome saying they cannot govern themselves.”
Valens leapt up and hung out of the open doorway, narrowly missing a collision with a stack of wood as they overtook a lumbering ox wagon. “That chap back there was in my house?”
“He and the stable overseer killed Asper and his brother. Then he did away with the town finance officer and probably Camma as well,” said Ruso. “Not to mention having a crack at us too.”
“Jupiter almighty! So what are we going to do about it?” Valens looked as though he was ready to jump out of the carriage and confront him.
Ruso remembered when he had been that naive too. It seemed a very long time ago. “The plump one is a local bigwig,” he said, “and your burglar’s in charge of the town militia. The procurator won’t care as long as the money’s straight, so…” He stopped.
“But surely we should be able to do something?”
Ruso ran both hands through his hair. “Wait a minute.”
“This is outrageous!” exclaimed Valens, slumping back into his seat. “These people can’t go around murdering Roman citizens!”
“Or the rest of us,” put in Tilla. “What are you thinking, husband?”
Ruso was not ready to put it into words. He needed to go back over what had happened, seeing events through the new window that had just opened in his mind. He got up. “I need to talk to the money changer. Satto saw the money.”
