Semper Fidelis

Geminus.”

“I see.”

“How can you see? I have not told you yet. You are just saying “I see’ without listening.”

“Yes.”

Then she told him. And then he did see, and he wished he did not, because what she was so proud of having found out was something that would be much, much better left hidden. And the way she had gone about finding it meant that she now had an enemy far worse than Metellus.

“But I did it to help!”

“I didn’t ask for your help, Tilla.”

“You wanted to know who it was. I have found out for you. It was not some old grudge after all. Someone gave the order through Tranquillus. I think the empress was trying to help us.”

He doubted that, but what Tilla thought did not matter much as long as she kept it to herself. “Who else knows that you know?”

Tilla gave a huff of exasperation. “You think I am fool enough to go around telling everybody?”

“If it’s just Clarus, we might be safe. He won’t go round saying he was overpowered by a girl. If you just stay out of his way …” He stopped. How likely was it that Clarus would believe his secret was safe with someone like Tilla?

Not very. And now Tilla was saying “There is just one other person …” in a tone that suggested he was not going to like this very much.

“I did not mean to say anything,” she said. “It just came out.”

“What did?”

“It was just me and her, alone on the stairs, and she was frightened, and I tried to cheer her, and I think I said … oh, dear.”

“What?” he demanded.

“I made sure to whisper. Nobody else heard.”

“Just tell me what it was!”

She sniffed. “I said something to the empress about knowing she was on our side. And if the men knew what she had done, they would be grateful.”

“Oh, gods above!” Ruso ran one hand through his hair. “Whatever possessed you to say that?”

“I am sorry! I thought …” She shook her head. “I felt sorry for her. She is never allowed to do anything and when she is brave enough to try, nobody knows, so nobody can thank her.” She looked up. “Anyway, I did not say what I was talking about.”

“You really imagine she didn’t guess?”

She lowered her head. “She did not question it. I think she knew.” While part of Ruso’s mind was praying, Holy Jupiter, let this not be true, the other part was reasoning that it made far more sense than some ancient Praetorian grudge that could surely have been resolved years ago.

“This is very bad, Tilla.”

“I will stay out of sight.”

He sighed. “The damage is done now. Clarus will assume you were acting for me.”

“I am sorry, husband!” He could tell from her voice that she was close to crying. “I was trying to help. I am so tired, and so very … oh, why does nothing go right?”

He put his arms around her, because that was the only answer he had. The hot tears soaked though the shoulder of his tunic. He thought of other times when he had told Tilla to stay out of something, only to find that he was glad of her help. This time it had gone wrong, and it was his own fault as much as hers, because instead of being grateful to her in the past, he should have insisted that she learn the first duty of a wife: obedience.

When she lifted her head and sniffed he murmured, “We both need to be careful now. We know too much, and we’re more expendable than Geminus. Don’t imagine that because you’ve helped the empress, she will help you.”

“But … what are we going to do?”

He stroked her hair. “You’re right,” he said, not because she was but because he could think of nothing better. “We’ll both keep out of the way, and we’ll keep quiet. The empress will leave and life will go back to normal. All this will all blow over.”

She wiped her eyes on a fistful of his tunic. “That is what you said before.” She released him and reached down to pull something out of her boot. “I have this.”

He caught a glint of light on the bronze handle of his missing scalpel. “Careful with that!” He tried to take it from her, but she bent to slide it back into its hiding place. She was lucky she had not sliced herself open.

This was ridiculous. Mixing up medicines, stealing dangerous equipment, assaulting a close friend of the emperor … Why had he not had the sense to do what other men did: to buy a slave and leave his wife at home?

Somewhere across the yard, a door scraped open. A voice said, “There you are!”

“Virana,” Tilla sighed as the girl approached. “Are you all right?”

“Marcus came to save me! Did you see? And the empress will sign my petition in the morning!”

“I think,” said Tilla acidly, “it is time for bed.”

“Yes, that is the other good news! Celer is guarding our space in the hayloft.” She looked at Ruso. “There is room for another one, sir.”

Ruso shook his head. “I’m going back to the camp,” he said. Before he left he squeezed Tilla’s hand, glad that the girl could not see she had been crying. “Be careful.”

“Don’t worry, sir,” put in Virana. “I will look after her for you.”

As he made his way back toward the entrance hall, he heard a loud whisper of “Oh, isn’t he kind! You are so lucky!”

No, he thought. She is not. She is cursed with knowing too much. And so am I.

Chapter 82

Alone as usual, Sabina lay in the comfort of her own fragranced sheets and savored the silence. The women bedded down on the floor around her would not dare to speak into the darkness unless she gave the order, and of course there were no rats. It had been the sound of mutinous Britons creeping across the roof.

The tremulous staff from the inn were long gone, as was the dreadful woman from the tribune’s household who had the nerve to ask the slaves-in her hearing! — if the empress was really as all right as she claimed to be.

Clarus had been harder to get rid of, but he had finally stopped making a fuss when she compromised: no Praetorians standing guard in the bedroom, but however many he wanted outside the door. She heard a floorboard creak as one of them shifted his footing. It would not surprise her if Clarus, ever loyal and now unusually flustered and apologetic as well, was lined up out there with them.

Safely returned into the care of her staff, she was finding it hard to believe what had happened this evening. All those men chanting her name! She could not restrain a smile. Her name. Not that of the emperor. Sa-bi-na! Raw and raucous and potent.

For a few brief minutes, she had been more than an unloved wife trailed in the wake of the most powerful man in the world. More than a woman with thinning hair and a tooth held in by gold wire whose slaves tactfully buried her deeper each year in layers of jewelry and makeup and hairpieces.

They had called for her. They had cheered her. They had listened to her. They had even laughed at her joke. She had felt a thrill run all the way through her as she knew for the first time what real power was like.

If the men knew what you had done, the Briton had said, they would be grateful to you. What did the Briton know about the murder of the centurion? What exactly had Clarus told her when they were alone together, and how much had she passed on?

It was a problem she would consider tomorrow.