Tilla opened her mouth, but before anything could come out, he said, “Civilians have no idea of the facts. They have no appreciation of all that your husband’s legion does for them. Any hint of encouragement from someone connected with the Legion merely fuels unfounded rumors that we then have to go to the trouble of correcting.”
He paused to let her regret any encouragement she might have offered.
“You will confine your discussions with the natives to the necessary business of running your household.”
Minna’s needle had stopped moving.
“Your husband will be giving me a list of the names of the people who are behind this latest gossip, so we can visit them and correct the false statements they have been making.”
Tilla knew about visits from the army. They were not easily forgotten, even after the damage had been repaired and the bruises had healed.
Minna had put the sock down and was watching to see her response. Tilla suddenly remembered how stupid most Roman officers thought the natives were. She let her mouth fall open and gazed at Accius with an expression of wide-eyed, tongue-tied awe.
Was that a faint relaxation of the scowl? He said, “Meanwhile, madam, the Legion appreciates your wish to be helpful. If we ever need your assistance, I will let you know.”
Finally Tilla managed to speak. “Sir, what must I do next time people try to tell me things?”
The scowl returned. “Tell them that complaints should go through the proper channels.”
Tilla bowed her head demurely. “Thank you, sir,” she said. “I will ask my husband to explain to me what the proper channels are.”
Chapter 32
Ruso took another swig of the wine with rose petals steeped in it before he set off, but by the time the torchlit entrance to the mansio came into view, his headache was showing no sign of clearing. Still, Austalis seemed to be stable, and with luck Tilla had heeded his message and gone to bed. The last thing he wanted tonight was an argument. That could wait until morning, when he would have to admit that his attempt to call Geminus’s bluff had achieved exactly the opposite effect to the one he had intended.
If only he had kept his mouth shut.
That pretty wife has you dancing on a string. Perhaps Accius had a point. Other officers’ wives stayed back at base, tending their homes and children and meeting up at the bathhouse to gossip. Other officers’ wives did not follow them around the countryside raising awkward questions to which they would never understand the only answers their husbands had to give. In fact, now that he thought about it, Tilla’s presence and her insistence on voicing the demands of the women outside the camps made his job infinitely more difficult. It was time they bought a slave. Next time he was away, the slave could look after him and the wife could stay at home.
He strode on, not looking at the light but at the surface of the street. He did not want to round off a difficult evening by stepping in a pile of dung.
There had been an accumulation of small exasperations back at the hospitaclass="underline" first the cook’s failure yet again to remember his instructions for Austalis’s diet; and then someone had packed the pharmacy scales ready to travel, and when they were needed, nobody could remember which box they were in. The search was complicated by a period of semidarkness when it was discovered that nobody had filled any of the lamps, owing to the nonarrival of the oil that Stores insisted they had sent, but the hospital staff were adamant they had not received. An emergency request to Stores to allocate some more had resulted in the messenger being told to piss off, which was more or less what Ruso had been told himself-only more politely-when he went across to insist on some action. He had been on the verge of losing his temper when the first amphora was traced to the headquarters building, lying in a side room with the words HOSPITAL URGENT clearly chalked on the side.
A less rational man would begin to think the gods didn’t like him. A rational man would conclude that someone at the hospital-and he certainly didn’t trust that clerk-was deliberately making his life difficult.
He was so preoccupied that the rapid thud of hooves and the yell of “Look out!” took him completely by surprise. He felt a rush of air as the horse swerved to avoid him, no doubt as alarmed as he was by the sudden appearance of a pedestrian in the middle of the road in the dark. The rider yelled something at him and hurtled on toward the east gate. Ruso stepped aside in case there were more horses, but the cavalryman seemed to be a lone late arrival.
He took a last deep breath of cool night air before making his way up the mansio steps. If Tilla was awake, he would begin with the good news. “I’ve cleared up this Metellus business with Accius,” he would say. “We can stop worrying. He’s not bothered.”
Seconds later, he found that rehearsing his lines had been a waste of time. He had started the scene in entirely the wrong place. Not only had Tilla received no message to say he would be late, but the first words after an accusatory “I was worried!” were “What have you been saying about me to the tribune?”
The headache gained him no sympathy at all. He helped himself to a cup of water-clearly none was going to be offered-before sitting on the edge of one of the beds and trying to explain. “I thought he would listen,” he said. “I even thought he might look into it. I never thought it would come to this.”
“But I told you it was a secret! How can I give him a name when I swore on the bones of my ancestors that I would not?”
He heard himself offer the lame “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“And it is not me who mixes up your medicines.”
“Forget the bloody medicines!” Had she sat here all evening making a list of things to argue about?
“But the first thing you will be thinking is It is Tilla again.”
“I think it was someone at the hospital.”
“Yes. But first you will be thinking it is me.”
She was getting her tenses mixed up, something she rarely did now unless she was very agitated.
“I am a nuisance to you.”
“Oh, gods above.” He lay back on the bed and pressed his hands to his temples. “Not tonight, Tilla.”
“No,” she agreed. “Not tonight. But this is worse than the pay wagon. This time I swore an oath to say nothing.”
He was not fool enough to think he could change her mind. “You realize if we don’t come up with something for him, there will be consequences for both of us?”
“That is his choice, not ours.”
“But we’re the ones who will suffer for it.”
“Something in this place stinks,” she said, lifting her chin as if the smell were under her nose at that moment. “I should have tell him he must deal with what is wrong, instead of trying to silence a person who tells the truth.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Perhaps we should say that to him.”
“Perhaps you should try presenting your witness so he can hear the accusations for himself.”
She shook her head. “The tribune would not believe a word this person said.”
“Marvelous.” He raised himself up on his elbows and took another swig of water. “The only way out of this is to convince Accius that the rumors about Geminus are true. And the only way to do that is to present a witness we can’t produce.” He glanced at her. “There must be other witnesses. It’s not just this one person, is it?”
“I could ask, but I do not know anyone who will talk.”
“Better and better.”
Tilla was silent for a moment. Finally she said, “We could go back to Gaul.”
That pretty wife has you dancing on a string. He was only here in Britannia because of Tilla. “Last time we went, I was on sick leave at the end of a contract,” he pointed out. “This time it would be desertion.” He pulled off his boots. “What I want,” he said, “the only thing I’ve ever wanted, is a job where all I have to deal with is what’s in front of me.” He slung his belt over the bedpost. “Is that too much to ask?”