going. Nobody challenged her. With all the recent comings and goings, everyone would assume that somebody else knew who she was. It crossed her mind that a Brigante woman intent on mischief might see her chance to set fire to those vehicles. Today she had more important things to think about.
A slave carrying a basket of loaves on his head gave her directions to the hospital. A heavily built clerk told her that Medical Officer Ruso was not available but he would see if the deputy was free. While she waited outside the office, wondering what she was doing in the fort and how she was going to get back out again, an orderly arrived to deliver linen to the room opposite. She caught a glimpse of a pale figure propped up on pillows. She hoped it was Austalis, because as far as she could see, the figure still had both arms. When she found her husband, she must remember to tell him that. It would be a small piece of good news.
A couple of men dragged a creaking basket of soiled linen all the way along the tiled corridor and disappeared around the corner at the far end. A group of Praetorian guards strolled past. They had the loud voices and confident laughter of men who thought they were more important than anyone they might be disturbing. Tilla kept her head down, and if anyone paid her any attention, she was not aware of it.
The clerk had been gone a worryingly long time when a short young man with dark curls appeared and said, “I’m Pera. Were you looking for me?”
There were times when it was necessary for a woman to shut herself in a room with a man who was not her husband, no matter how alarmed that man might look, and this was one of them. When she told him who she was, he looked even more alarmed. She said, “I need to know what has happened to him.”
Pera reached up and rubbed the back of his neck as if it were aching. When he spoke, it was only to confirm her fears.
She said, “Have they hurt him?”
“I don’t know. They wouldn’t let me visit. I heard the Praetorian prefect’s taken charge of the investigation.”
“Perhaps he will be fairer than Accius.”
“They’re talking about a trial before the legate in Deva.”
“But he did not do it!”
Before he could reply, the door crashed open. Four legionaries appeared. The one in front demanded, “Name?”
Tilla had been expecting this. She told them who she was, and they marched her away down the corridor. Out in the street, she turned. Pera was standing in the doorway, still watching her.
Accius was looking just as fierce as before, but this time there was no Minna pretending to darn socks in the corner: just the guard at the door, and some sort of secretary with a stylus at the ready.
The tribune’s gaze wandered over her as if he were assessing an animal for breeding or slaughter.
It was no good hoping he would be merciful. She had met ambitious men like Accius before. They were so busy watching every move of the people they were trying to impress that they did not notice who they were trampling on.
Finally he spoke. “Were you both born fools, or has he become one because of you?”
“Sir, I am sorry you have lost a relative. But my husband did not kill him.”
The scowl deepened, as if he was not used to being spoken to frankly by women. “The Medicus has chosen his own fate,” he said. “You need not share it.”
She was careful to keep her voice steady. “What do you advise, sir?”
Accius rose from his chair and advanced toward her. “I advise you to obey me in future.”
The secretary was so still against the wall that he might have been painted on it. Accius was only a pace away now. He reached out one hand and lifted a curl from her ear. His breath smelled of wine. “I have been watching you,” he said. “I am told that you native women will bed any man who takes your fancy, and have no shame.”
Holy mothers, he must have spoken to Sabina! She must stay calm. She must
“A man of his rank does not have a wife.”
Before she could stop herself, she said, “And a woman of my rank does not let the army decide who she is married to!”
She waited for the blow to land. You did not challenge a man like this. You appealed to his vanity. “Sir,” she said quickly, “you are an honorable man. I know you will want justice for the death of the centurion.”
He gripped her by the shoulders. “Your husband tried to step over me to get to the emperor.”
She swallowed. “He did not kill Geminus, sir.”
Forcing her back against the wall, he said, “Nobody insults me like that.”
“Sir, he was with the doctors last night, and then he was with me.”
One hand was groping her breast. “We both know that’s a lie.”
“Sir, I beg you-”
But it was not her who made him pause. It was the secretary, tapping on his shoulder. “Sir! Please, sir!”
“What?” snapped Accius.
For a moment Tilla thought the secretary might be a decent man who had chosen to rescue her. But what had saved her was an urgent summons from the emperor. The secretary even asked Accius if they should keep the woman here until he returned.
“Don’t bother. I don’t have time to waste on native whores.”
She took a deep breath. “Sir, I will try to find out who really killed the centurion.”
“What?”
“The local people will not talk to your soldiers, but they talk to me.”
The fierce gaze was leveled straight at her. “Stay out of army business,” he said. “If I catch you near any of my men, you’ll be executed. Guards!” The door opened. “Take her away.”
Chapter 52
It was not until the soldiers pushed her out of the east gate that Tilla noticed the state of the streets she had hurried through earlier. Parts of Eboracum’s civilian quarter stank of urine and looked as though they had been battered by a terrible storm. Flowers and weeds alike were trodden flat. A couple of people were wandering about with buckets, picking up broken glass for remolding. A slave was washing vomit from a wall and two men were removing a shutter that looked as though someone had punched a hole in it. Opposite the temple of Mithras, a thin trail of smoke still rose from a mess of stark black timbers. A man and a barefoot woman stood in front of the wreckage. The woman was crying. Tilla moved on.
As ordered, she would not talk to soldiers. But as for keeping out of army business … well, the murder of Geminus was her business too now.
She soon found there was no shortage of people eager to tell her what had happened last night. Many had damage to property or to themselves to show her. For a lucky few, the outrage was soothed by a good evening’s takings, but for most, it had been a costly night. For some, the worry was not over yet. They were now waiting for news of relatives who had been hauled in this morning for questioning.
The trouble was, nobody could tell her anything useful about Geminus. Most people assumed he had been killed by another soldier. Few seemed surprised. And as several people pointed out, all soldiers looked alike in the dark.
According to the sleepy girls behind the bruised but defiant doormen at the bar, soldiers didn’t all feel alike, but none had seen or felt Geminus last night. None seemed at all sorry about it, nor about what had happened to him. Tilla was fairly certain they were telling the truth.
While she was there, the small boy appeared with a stack of kitchen pans and seemed pleased that the lady whose bags he had carried had come back to visit his mother. Tilla promised two sestertii to be shared between him and any of his friends who could give new information about Geminus’s death. With luck, all the children in the
