Ruso cast around frantically for something suitable to say. Surely there was some poem that mentioned Britannia without saying how remote it was and how brave the emperor was to go there?
And then he remembered. Of course: Tell the story of your people. He eased himself to his feet, glad his jaw had almost stopped aching. “ ‘I sing,’ ” he declared, although he was not singing at all, “ ‘of arms, and of the man fated to be an exile . . .’ ”
The first few lines of the Aeneid were schoolboy stuff, but by the time he reached the part about the famously pious man driven to suffering, he was already beginning to falter. With some prompting from Valens, he got as far as bemoaning the heaviness of the cost of founding the Roman race before he ground to a halt. Then he remembered he was supposed to be adding a verse about Tilla, and could not think how to start again.
“ ‘The Trojans were barely out of sight of Sicily,’ ” continued a voice beside him, “ ‘in deeper water, merrily spreading sail . . .’ ”
Albanus, the son of a teacher. Albanus, the loyal friend who with luck would know enough of the poem to give him time to think of something to say about his wife.
Albanus was enjoying himself now. The Trojans’ merriment had been swept away and they were in the middle of a shipwreck. The Romans present were listening and nodding at the familiar passages. Most of the Britons were listening politely, even if they understood very little of it. Only Virana was fidgeting and shifting about, disturbing her neighbors. Ruso frowned at her, but she was too busy whispering to Ria to notice.
Ruso decided to let the story run until Neptune calmed the storm. That would be a good place to end. He definitely needed to stop Albanus before it became clear that the Aeneid was the story of a man who had fallen in love with a foreign woman and then abandoned her to grief and suicide while he sailed away to Italy because he had more important things to do.
The Trojans were still floundering in heavy seas when there was a shriek from the other side of the hearth. Virana was bent over, clutching the sides of her vast belly. “It’s coming!”
Albanus faltered for a moment, then pressed on, not wanting to abandon the Trojan sailors in mid-shipwreck.
“It’s coming!” Virana cried again. “It’s coming now!”
Albanus stopped.
“And then,” Ruso declared, placing a hand on his clerk’s shoulder, “by a miracle of the gods, one of them found himself on the shores of Britannia! And there he met a beautiful British woman and he—”
“Ohhh! I’m going to die!”
People were shuffling out of the way to let Tilla through. “You are not going to die,” she told Virana. “Be quiet. I never liked this poem, either, but it is nearly over.”
“And he married her,” Ruso continued. “Then the Daughter of Lugh took the new name of Tilla and they traveled together and had many adventures and now here they are.”
It was not a grand ending, but the fact that it had ended at all seemed to merit applause and the passing of more beer.
Senecio raised one hand in blessing toward the groom and one to the bride, who was now well out of reach of either of them, helping Virana toward one of the wicker partitions and whispering to the women about lights and water and a birthing stool. “Daughter of Lugh and Gaius Ruso, son of Petreius, may our mighty Brigantia and her land and her trees and her waters look kindly upon you. May there always be warmth at your hearth and plenty at your harvests. May you bring honor to our people and live to see many grandchildren.”
The words were kindly meant, and who knew? Perhaps now that they had a local blessing, the British gods would indeed grant them children.
It seemed to be all over. Senecio was leaning back in his chair and smiling fondly at his youngest son, while Virana was wailing and Tilla was calling sharply for more lights.
Ruso leaned close to Albanus and murmured, “Thank you. I didn’t know it as well as I thought.”
“Nor me,” said Valens. “I don’t remember some of those lines at all.”
“I’m not surprised, sirs,” Albanus said. “I had to make quite a few of them up.”
Ruso was saying, “But we got away with it,” when he heard Conn’s voice in British booming above the chatter. “Welcome to the family, Roman!”
“It is an honor,” Ruso told him in the same tongue.
“Now you can tell us what we all want to know!” After another shriek from Virana, Conn looked round to make sure his audience was still with him. “Is there a body in the emperor’s wall or not?”
Ruso looked at Accius and knew from the expression on his face that he had understood the question.