Tilla remembered the Falcon’s Rest from their journey to Eboracum. It was the sort of inn that was only there because it was on the way to somewhere else. It squatted on a minor crossroads and scowled down from its high barred windows at any travelers who might be approaching in search of a meal and fresh horses. Its defensive stance had made her feel oddly cheerful. It was a reminder that, without soldiers to hide behind, the Romans were frightened people.
There was no fort here, and the air was already filled with the clatter of mallets on tent pegs by the time Celer delivered his important passenger to the front door of the Falcon’s Rest and Tilla and Virana scrambled back in for the short drive past a straggle of smaller eating houses to the stable yard at the back. Tilla had already worked out that there would be a shortage of beds, and she was not going to risk being turned away.
As soon as they were in, she sent Virana off to buy something to eat and looked around for somewhere better than the cart to spend the night. The main mansio building formed one side of the stable yard: two stories pierced with more mean little windows, those of the better rooms glassed to protect the guests from smells and flies and drafts. By the time the empress and her hangers-on were installed, there would not be much room in there. The rest of the yard was surrounded by stables with what must be stores above.
She thought about mice and rats. Then she thought about sharing a room with Minna.
She climbed down so Celer could unhitch the mule, and slipped a couple of coins to a stable hand. He directed her to the corner of a hayloft and then went back to dealing with more horses than they probably saw in a month.
Tilla was unloading their luggage and wondering whether it had been wise to send Virana out on her own with money when Minna arrived to ask if she had found a comfortable place to spend the night. Finding that Tilla would be out of her sight, she promised to come and visit her again very soon. Meanwhile she would “ask the stable hands to keep an eye on you,” as if it were a kindness.
By the time all the luggage was hidden in the hay, Tilla was beginning to wonder whether Virana was coming back at all. So it was a relief when the girl finally reappeared with a triumphant smile, four sausages, two apples, and a jug of beer. “The Medicus says,” said Virana, lifting one hand out of habit to push away hair that was no longer in her eyes, “he will talk to the tribune as soon as he can.”
“You have seen him?” asked Tilla, wriggling to get comfortable on the hay and reaching for the beer. “How is he?”
“He is still walking around free. And he made me swear to tell him truthfully whether the tribune is trying to bed you. I said he was not, and he said he was glad you are safe.”
“What use is being safe? I have wasted a whole day with that woman watching me!”
“He says he knows it is very annoying for you.”
Then why, Tilla wondered, did he not speak to the tribune straightaway and demand her release? Corinna must be frantic with worry about Victor. She could be doing something to help. Instead, here she was, sitting in the cozy gloom of the hayloft drinking beer, because the master of that stupid Minna had the power to have her husband locked up again. Maybe she could sneak out after dark.
“But the Medicus is doing things!” said Virana brightly. “He has been talking to the Praetorians and trying to find out what they know about the murder.”
Tilla frowned. “Who told you that?”
Virana took a bite of apple and paused to chew it before saying, “Everybody knows.”
“‘Everybody?’”
There followed a list of names, some of which Tilla vaguely recognized as the putative fathers of Virana’s baby.
“They’re very cross. They don’t want to go to Deva. They think something horrible is going to happen.”
It was doubly annoying to be stuck here when Virana was able to wander about, spreading gossip. “What makes them think that?”
“Marcus complained to the centurion about being watched by guards, and the centurion said, ‘This is nothing. You wait till you get to Deva.’”
“Perhaps he meant things would be better at Deva.”
Virana shook her head. “That is not the way Marcus heard it. It was ‘You wait till you get to Deva and then it will be much worse.’ So Marcus asked him what was going to happen at Deva and he didn’t answer.”
It might be something; it might be nothing. Tilla said, “If the recruits are under guard, how were you talking to them?”
Virana grinned. “The guards are very nice if you’re friendly. They let me talk to Marcus. He’s the one I like best. And he still talks to me, so when we get to Deva-”
Tilla put her head in her hands.
Virana paused. “Are you all right? Is it the cough medicine again?”
“No.”
“Are you sad about Victor? Corinna says he can hardly walk and please, please, can you tell the tribune again that he really didn’t kill Geminus?”
“Virana, I am supposed to be looking after you for your family.”
“I thought I was here to help you.”
“Yes, but … I am older! I am responsible! You must stop going round the camp, being friendly with the soldiers! What will-” Tilla stopped. Virana would not care what her mother thought. “Marcus won’t want to marry you if he sees you with other men.”
Virana’s mouth rearranged into a pout. “You think I am stupid.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I am not. I made sure Marcus didn’t see us.”
Tilla fought back a wish to fling herself backward into the hay and scream. As calmly as she could manage, she went back to her first question. “Who made the recruits think that the Medicus has been talking to the Praetorians, Virana? Was it you?”
Virana squared her shoulders and gave a little wriggle like a hen settling down over her eggs. “I shan’t tell you things if you get cross with me.”
“If you don’t tell me anything useful,” said Tilla, “I shall have you dumped at the side of the road and you can walk home.”
“It is not my fault you are stuck here with that woman! Why is everyone horrible to me?”
“Because you are very annoying. Do you know who told the recruits, or not?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“One of them heard some of the Praetorians talking at the latrines. They said the Medicus was snooping around, asking questions, but it was all right: The native would get the blame. Now Marcus and the others are all arguing about what to do.” She glanced up. “They told me to go away. But I’ll go back if you like. If you give me my dress-”
“No,” said Tilla. “It’s bad enough that you go wandering alone amongst the soldiers, without wearing that.” Seeing Virana’s face fall, she added, “But you have done well, and I thank you.”
Again Virana’s expression changed to one of pleasure and surprise. It was as if nobody else had ever taken the trouble to encourage her.
Tilla pushed aside a faint sense of foreboding. Virana had been told she would be sent home after this. That was what was going to happen. She would worry about how to do it later on.
Chapter 72
The owner of the sheep had been warned in advance. Ewes and lambs had been driven into another field beyond the immediate reach of hungry soldiers, leaving a fine swath of cropped grass for the rows of goatskin tents and a fine scattering of droppings to be kicked aside before the occupants of those tents wished to lie down in them. The tents were set out in neat blocks, reproducing the layout of the barracks the men had occupied in Eboracum. The horses and the draft animals were grazing under guard in an adjoining field, and the vehicles had been drawn up on a patch of dry, gravelly ground not far from the gate.