“What did he say about the Twentieth?”
“Sir, I’m really sorry, but I can’t tell you what he said.”
“I see.” The tribune lowered his voice. “So, it seems the Praetorian Guard get away with murdering another of my relatives.”
Across the field, the mules had been hitched to the hospital wagons. Ruso could see Pera helping Victor up to keep Austalis company. Dexter, relieved of duties pending trial, was just visible behind one of the supply vehicles. The remaining junior officers were yelling at the recruits to get a bloody move on. Apparently they had never seen such a bunch of ham-fisted layabouts. Ruso said, “In Geminus’s position, sir, I believe taking his own life was the most honorable thing he could do.”
“But you and I both know …” Accius paused. “Yes. Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
A groom was approaching with two horses. “Someone also just passed on a curious rumor about your wife,” murmured Accius.
When Ruso did not respond he said, “You need to get that woman under control, man. She’s a menace.”
“I’ll see she keeps out of your way in future, sir.”
“The last thing she needs is to be honored with citizenship. I take it that’s one of your rewards for silence?”
“Silence, sir?”
“Oh, I give up!” Accius seized the reins, spurned the assistance of the groom, and vaulted into the saddle unaided. “I suppose you’re just glad to be alive.”
“Always, sir,” said Ruso, who wasn’t, but who was beginning to think he really should be, when he noticed another man approaching across the grass. He tried to hide his surprise.
Metellus waited until Accius had gone. He did not bother with a greeting. “It wasn’t my idea to have you arrested the second time.”
Ruso took the proffered reins of a bay mare from its groom. “Well, you can’t have all the good ideas.”
“I suppose you think you’ve won.”
Ruso teased the mare’s forelock out from beneath the brow band. “Frankly, I’m happier when I don’t think about you at all.”
“Then you’ll share my pleasure in the news that a promotion will be sending me to Rome in the next few days.”
Ruso paused with one hand on the girth. “You’re going a long way away? Very good.”
Metellus said, “I only did what I did out of duty, you know. It was never personal.”
“Wasn’t it?”
“You know damn well your wife was withholding information.”
“My wife has just been made a citizen of Rome by the emperor himself.” Ruso pulled the girth tighter. “What we know or don’t know doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Exactly.” Metellus gave one of his rare and unnerving smiles. He said, “I would offer to shake hands, Doctor, but that would give you the pleasure of refusing.”
Then he turned on his heel and strode away, leaving Ruso to wonder whether Rome was really a promotion, and glad he wasn’t going there too.
Chapter 87
It was a subdued pair of passengers who sat in Celer’s cart, waiting for it to set off behind the official transport of the Twentieth Legion. Tilla had heard nothing from her husband since his release. Before that, the only message had been an order to stay away from him. Valens, who knew nothing of the trouble she had caused by trying to help before, had seemed surprised and relieved when she promised to obey.
The news about Sabina had dampened her spirits further. She could not say goodbye, of course, but Tilla had gone to watch her carriage pulling away. The empress had enjoyed one brief moment of glory. Then her man had arrived out of nowhere, banished the people who seemed to be her only friends, and ordered her to accompany him. Tilla could not help thinking that if Hadrian had married a woman of the Corionotatae, she would have put him in his place many years ago, and they would both have been much happier for it.
Or perhaps not. She should have rejoiced when Valens came back with the good news that her husband had been set free, but still there was no message, and the silence grew louder with every moment that passed.
Virana had troubles of her own. She had scrambled down from the cart when Marcus and the other men emerged from the camp, only to return with the news that he was being horrible to her. “He told me to go away.”
“He cannot speak with you when he is on duty.”
“He says he won’t marry me and he only saved me because the Medicus told him to.”
“Oh.”
“Why can’t the Medicus tell him to marry me?”
“Because he can’t! Think of something else to talk about!” As soon as the words were out, Tilla wished she had not spoken them. “I am sorry. But wishing for something will not make it so, and besides, being married to a soldier is not the wonderful life you imagine.”
Virana was still thinking about that when Corinna arrived to say how pleased she and Victor were that the Medicus had been released and everything had worked out so well. “I am sorry for the harsh words I spoke back in Eboracum.”
“They are forgotten,” Tilla assured her.
“And I shall forget that you were cross with me,” put in Virana, pushing herself up to peer ahead. “Is that the nice doctor? Is he coming with us to Deva?”
Tilla said, “‘The nice doctor’?”
“The good-looking one. The one who is getting divorced.”
“Valens? Divorced? Never.”
“He says his wife is always cross with him.”
“His wife is also very rich.”
Virana slumped back into her seat. “So what am I going to do? I was only going to Deva to help you, and now I shall be stuck there and nobody will want me!”
“But you were the one-”
“And my baby will starve and I shall end up being a slave in a whore-house!”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” snapped Tilla, remembering too late that that was exactly where she had thought Virana would end up.
“Of course you will not!” Corinna assured her. “The Medicus and his wife would never let that happen. They are good people.” She turned to Tilla. “You will look after Virana, won’t you?”
Tilla sighed. “Virana, I do not know what is waiting for us in Deva. But you can help me until your baby is born. Then you must either go home or find respectable work.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you!” Virana’s troubles were forgotten. “I know how to work hard. I will fetch the wood and the water and light the fires and cook and clean the house and milk the goats, and I promise I will behave myself, and-”
Tilla stopped listening to the promises the girl would probably break within a week, because she had seen who was riding back along the verge toward them.
She gathered up fistfuls of skirt, leapt down from the cart, and ran toward him. “Husband!”
He leaned down from the horse and held out one hand to seize her own.
“Are you really safe this time?”
“I am,” he assured her, bending to kiss the top of her head.
“What did the emperor say to you?”
He swung down from the horse and they fell respectably into step, a glance the only further sign of affection between officer and wife: nothing to entertain the drivers of the baggage train.
“You’ve heard about Geminus’s suicide?”
