the death of Sulio, whose mind had gone. He honored the bold rescue attempt of Centurion Geminus and the men who had supported him. He commended their example to the recruits, reminding them that soon they would be back at the Legion’s main base in Deva, where the discipline, bravery, and loyalty they had begun to develop here would bring them the advancement they deserved. They would be a credit to their centurion and their families back at home.
Finally, he announced a dawn parade at which he would personally preside over the sacrifice of a prize ram to Jupiter. Prayers would be said for the safety of the emperor and the spirits of the departed, and every man would be there in full dress uniform to witness it.
Accius was undeniably impressive, and it had seemed to Ruso that the young men whom Geminus marched out of the hall were less wild-eyed than before. Perhaps it was the presence of an officer of Accius’s standing. Perhaps it was the prospect of a long evening shining up such parade kit as recruits in basic training might manage to muster. Most likely it was the neat way the tribune had managed to respond to their fears without openly acknowledging them. He must have known what had been going on, and the people who had briefed him must be the centurions with whom Ruso was about to spend the evening. Perhaps he would find out what really had happened to young Tadius-and why Pera wanted it kept quiet.
Ruso wiped the sweat from his eyes and breathed in gently so as not to scald the lining of his nose. Deciding he had suffered enough, he got up from the bench and clacked across the hot floor on wooden sandals. A quick scrape of the dirt, a cold plunge, a rubdown, and he would be ready for a dinner which might turn out to be much more interesting than he had led Tilla to believe.
Chapter 12
The black beads were cheap and the pink dress had been made for someone much slimmer. The first owner had probably abandoned it when efforts to scrub out a spatter of grease spots across the middle of the skirt had left them marooned in a faded patch.
Before Tilla could speak, the girl said in British, “Are you the doctor’s woman?”
“I am the midwife,” said Tilla in the same tongue. The girl was too young to be the boy’s mother, so she was not Lucina come to ask why some stranger had been claiming to know her. It must be Pamphile, or Hedone, or some other working girl who was supposed to be looking forward to the arrival of the Sixth Legion. Which was more likely to mean her owner was looking forward to a rise in his profits.
“I am Virana.” The girl glanced over her shoulder at the manager. “Grumpy over there doesn’t like me. But you did say to come here, didn’t you?”
Tilla gestured toward the courtyard door. “Come with me. We will speak in private.”
“You are not Parisi,” the girl guessed, following her along the walkway. “From your accent-Brigante?”
“Near enough,” agreed Tilla, because no matter how many times she explained about the Corionotatae, people only remembered the names of tribes they had heard of before.
“You are Brigante, and you have married an officer!” It seemed the girl had never heard of such a thing. “How did you do it?”
“That is a long story.” Tilla ushered her into the room and gestured toward the chair with the red cushion.
The girl seated herself and gazed around her, lifting the corner of the cloth to see what was laid out on the table. “Is this your dinner?” She tipped the flagon toward her and sniffed the contents. “I don’t like wine,” she said. “Beer is much nicer.”
“Yes,” said Tilla, putting the flagon back and replacing the cloth. She had left Marcia’s letter on the table, hoping her husband might read her some news of his family in Gaul. Now she moved that out of the girl’s reach too, hoping this was indeed a patient, and not just a local nuisance whom the mansio manager had failed to keep out. “You look in good health, Virana.”
“Oh, I am! Is that your husband’s armor?” The girl reached out and ran a fingertip along the curve of the metal plates.
“Yes.” Who else’s did she imagine it might be? “How can I help you?”
Virana, having finished her inspection of the room, leaned across the table to where Tilla had seated herself on the bed, and beamed. “I think I am with child!”
“That is good news,” said Tilla, not entirely sure that it was. “I have herbs that will help the baby grow and keep you strong. I can give you something to take when the time comes, and an egg charm to hold in your hand when you give birth, but you will have to find your own midwife. We are only here for a few days.”
“And then you are going back to Deva with the soldiers,” said Virana, her eyes bright. “Tell me, is it true there are stalls selling silk and ivory and spices and eastern perfumes? And I can wear my shoes outside, because there is no mud in the streets, and nobody needs buckets, because the water flows to every house?”
“No.”
“Well, never mind.” Virana reached back to retrieve a bone pin and shook her hair loose. “I’m sure it will be better than here. I know the Sixth Legion are coming, but they’ll send all the best ones up north to build the Great Wall, won’t they? We’ll just be stuck with the old fat ones again. So I thought you would know what to do.”
“What to do about what?”
“I don’t mind if he doesn’t marry me. I know it’s not allowed unless he’s an officer.”
“It is not recognized,” corrected Tilla. “But if you have chosen a soldier and he has chosen you, that is none of the army’s business.”
“That’s what I think too.”
“When your man is moved, you will have to follow. It will not be easy, but plenty of women do it.”
Virana pouted. “But that’s the trouble. Nobody wants me to follow. They all say the baby is somebody else’s.”
Tilla suppressed a sigh. Was there no end to the supply of stupid girls living near army bases?
“Please don’t shout at me. Everyone else does.”
“I am not going to shout at you. I am going to work out some dates. It is hard to be certain about these things, but at least we might know where to start.”
The girl shook her head and her hair came loose again. “I don’t know anything about dates. One day is much like another here. We don’t have all those big festivals and games like you have in Deva.”
“You must have a market day.”
Virana brightened at this, but it seemed one market day was also much like another, and the boredom of life around Eboracum was only made bearable by friendly encounters with young recruits on their weekly afternoon out from the local fort. “I was going to wait and see who it looked like,” she said, “but now they’re going back to Deva there isn’t time.”
“I will examine you now,” Tilla told her. “But these things are very uncertain, and if you cannot remember when things happened, I am not sure how else I can help.”
The girl lay down on one of the beds as instructed, then sat up suddenly. “You aren’t going to take it away, are you?”
“No.”
“Because if you take it away, I’ll have to stay here, won’t I?”
The examination revealed nothing new. The girl was indeed pregnant and all appeared to be well. Tilla felt a wave of jealousy. Why this stupid girl? Why almost every other woman in the world and not her? She swallowed, hearing the echo of her mother’s words after she had voiced some forgotten complaint:
Virana was still prattling. “What I was thinking,” she said, “was that if you tell your husband that you know who the father is, then he could order him-”
“My husband is not allowed to do that sort of thing.”
