She jumped down from the cart at the turn to Senecio’s house and started running again. She was almost at the gate when she saw the soldier standing guard.
For a moment they stared at each other in surprise, then he lifted the loop of rope and held the gate open for her, stretching out his other arm to guide her as if she were a sheep being ushered into a pen. She said in Latin, “What is happening?”
“Go on in, miss. Just routine. Nothing to worry about.”
“Why are you here? Where is the family?”
“Just go on in, miss.”
She heard voices. Stepping forward, she could see past the oak tree to where some of the family seemed to be lined up in the yard, facing a couple more soldiers.
Behind her the guard shouted, “Adult female coming in!”
Senecio’s chair had been brought out, but he was standing, supported on one side by Enica and on the other by the small form of Branan. Conn was nowhere to be seen. Nor was the one-eyed man or the tall, skinny one. A couple of the children were crying.
One of the soldiers facing the family motioned her to join them. She heard men’s voices inside the house as she crossed the yard.
The woman with the lisp moved to make space. As she passed in front of her, Tilla murmured, “Where are the men?”
“Safe,” came the soft reply. Tilla took her place in the line next to Branan. The soldier in charge pointed at her and looked as though he were waiting for something.
She had seen that face beneath the helmet before. He sometimes ate in Ria’s bar. He was a junior officer of some kind. For once, she wished Virana were here. Virana knew what all the soldiers were called.
“Tell them your name,” Branan whispered.
She told him her local name. The other one made some attempt to write it down.
“We here,” the officer announced in very bad British, “to look for man. Soldier man. Him lost. You tell.”
The family showed not a trace of understanding or amusement. She knew most of them would have understood him if he had spoken his own tongue, but it was a small form of revenge to make him struggle like that: perhaps the only one they could exact without getting themselves into trouble. We do not speak Latin in this house. Perhaps they would share the joke later. Him one ugly man. Him think we as stupid as he is. Meanwhile she spoke up in the forbidden but very useful language of Rome: “If you describe him, sir, perhaps we can help.”
His relief showed on his face. “We don’t want trouble,” he told her. “We want a missing soldier. Name of Candidus. Five feet three inches tall, thin, dark hair. Been gone three days. You tell me if you’ve seen him or know anything about him.” He jerked his thumb toward the smoke. “That’s what happens if I think you’re lying.”
Tilla had begun to translate when there was a metallic crash inside the house and someone swore. It sounded as if the fire irons had been tipped over. “Careful, mate,” called a voice. “Yeah,” put in someone else. “That could have landed on your toe.”
She said, “If there is damage, I will speak to my husband and we will make a complaint.”
The soldier squinted at her. “Don’t I know you?”
“I am the wife of Medical Officer Ruso of your own legion.”
The face brightened for a moment. “Ah! I thought so.” He broke off to yell, “Steady on, lads! Officer’s wife present!” then returned his attention to Tilla. “You can tell your husband all about it when you get home, miss. He’s the one who ordered the search.”
Chapter 14
Somebody needed to grease those hinges. They sounded like two flocks of seagulls having a fight. Or like a set of hefty gates in the charge of some very sloppy soldiers. They shouldn’t be closed before curfew, either.
Ruso, returning from afternoon rounds at the camp, was about to shout when two shawled figures seemed to detach themselves from the fort wall and hurried toward him. Behind them, the screech of iron on stone died away.
“There you are!” cried the slimmer of the two women in a cloud of frosted breath. Ruso stared at them. “What are you two doing here?”
His wife stabbed a finger toward the gates. “I am here because those men will not let me in!”
“And I am here because the mistress is very upset,” said Virana, taking Tilla’s arm as if she needed physical as well as moral support. “The people at the farm were nasty to her.”
The guards saluted from beneath the archway, but they were taking no chances. “Password, sir!”
Stepping forward, he murmured, “Morning star,” to the guards and then returned to his wife. “There’s a security alert,” he explained, secretly relieved that Tilla’s short friendship with the local family seemed to be over. “They won’t let anyone in. You should have left a message.”
“This is too important for writing down!” Tilla insisted. “I am shamed! Why are you sending soldiers to Senecio’s house?”
“I haven’t . . .” Even as he denied it, light dawned.
Tilla said, “They are looking for your clerk and taking names and burning people’s farms down!”
“They’re what?”
“They are burning houses!” insisted Virana. “Did you not see the smoke in the sky?”
“They searched the houses and the cow barn,” said Tilla. “They knocked over the loom and the fire irons and licked the honey spoon and drank the beer and broke some eggs. They said they might set fire to everything. If I had not told them I was your wife, who knows what they would have done? And then they told everybody that you had ordered them to do it!”
“Are you sure it wasn’t Daminius and the boys from the quarry? They’re-”
“You see! You do know about it! What were you thinking? You eat at their hearth, the old man offers the honor of a blessing, and now you send soldiers to insult him!”
“The mistress is very upset!” Virana seemed to have run out of new things to say.
The trumpet finally wailed the curfew from beyond the ramparts. The guards, too far away to hear the conversation, were enjoying the sight of their medical officer being harangued by two outraged women. “There’s been some trouble,” he explained. “One of our plumbers has been kidnapped and knocked about by the locals. Albanus’s nephew is still missing and I’m worried the same thing’s happened to him. I need to be sure he isn’t-”
“Albanus’s nephew is not in Senecio’s house!”
“No,” he agreed, scratching one ear and wondering whether he ought to go over there and apologize. “But the burning was nothing to do with me. That was punishment for the kidnappers.”
“But it is to do with you, husband! It was the house of Senecio’s sister and they were invited to our wedding blessing and the daughter is one of my patients!”
“Oh, gods above!” He felt his shoulders drop. “Wife, why did you get yourself involved with these people?”
“Conn went over to try and help. The houses are gone. All their winter stores are burned or stolen and the land has been salted. Conn found no bodies, but in the burning, who knows?”
Recalling the size of the force leaving the camp this morning, he said, “They probably saw our men coming and ran away.”
“And if they are not dead, how will they live through the winter with no stores?”
He was not going to attempt to answer that one.
“And then Senecio’s house is full of soldiers, and when I ask them to stop making a mess, they say you sent them!”
“I came with the mistress to find you,” put in Virana. “We came but you were not here!” Evidently she felt this compounded his guilt.
He hoped that at least their potential wedding guests had been the real culprits. It was entirely possible that the centurion in charge, having failed to find the guilty natives, had allowed his men to wreak revenge on the nearest ones instead. But he could not say that in front of either of these women. “We didn’t start this,” he said. “One of our men was attacked.”