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Tabula Rasa(128)



“Those of us who understand it, sir,” put in Albanus, “can be proud that my nephew has the biggest memorial in the empire.”

Accius, not looking pleased, cleared his throat, shook the rattle again, and got on with the official rites.

Afterward the toga vanished back into the bag. Albanus asked to be left alone there for a few moments. The others walked down through the wet grass in silence, only Accius pausing to accept the salute of the men trudging up the hill to start the day’s work.





Chapter 77

The Twentieth Legion finally left for Deva on a blustery day in mid-November. While her husband was busy getting his patients loaded onto transport for the journey, Tilla ran down to the farm to say a last good-bye. When she started to cry, Senecio told her she must go with her husband: What was the point of all that effort to bless their marriage otherwise? But his words were blurred: He was weeping too.

She found Conn down in the bottom field checking on the sheep. “Twenty-three?” he said, asking her to confirm.

She counted, trying to mark their positions as they shifted about. “No . . . yes.” They both tried again to make sure. Then she said, “I want you to know something. It was not me who called the army when you took the soldiers to the hut, nor that skinny one who hurt his ankle.”

Instead of arguing, Conn said, “I know. Cata’s mother said you wouldn’t have had time.”

“Perhaps they were just passing.”

He shook his head. “I think we have an informer. I don’t know who it is, but that is not the first time the soldiers have known things they shouldn’t.”

She started to ask, “But who—” and then realized she did not want to know.

“I’ll find out,” he promised. “Somebody will be sorry.”

“You could try not doing anything worth the telling.”

The smile transformed his face.

She said, “And you could try smiling more often.”

“You should have met my brother Dubnus. You’d have liked him better.”

She said, “I shall learn to like you well enough. Find a wife, Conn. The old man will not last forever, and he wants grandchildren.”

“Any more orders?”

“I will be back with more in the spring,” she promised.



Pertinax swung himself toward the hospital wagon on his crutches, telling his anxious helpers to stop circling round him like bloody vultures: He wasn’t dead yet.

His daughter turned to Ruso and said, “Valens says you haven’t bought a horse with my money.”

“I’m still deciding,” he told her.

“He says you’ve never bought a horse in all the years he’s known you.”

“I’m taking some time to choose,” he admitted. “I’ll pay you back in Deva if I don’t go ahead.”

Serena shook her head. “You always were indecisive, Ruso. I don’t know how your wife puts up with— Not that way, Pa! Turn around! ”

Watching Pertinax pause and then shuffle round in a circle to park his backside on the floor of the wagon, Ruso said, “I’m not quite sure myself.”

“I don’t know how she puts up with that girl, either.”

Ruso glanced across the street to see Virana hurrying toward them. Her baby daughter was swathed in a thick golden blanket that had been a gift from . . . he still found it hard to refer to them as “Tilla’s family.” He was ashamed to say it, but she had been exclusively his for so long that he was jealous.

“Virana’s a friend,” he said. “She’s not coming back to Deva,” he added, with no pleasure. “She’s going home.” He had insisted they stick to her agreed departure date, but no matter how annoying she could be, he would miss her cheerful smile, her willingness to work, and her unwavering loyalty. And Tilla would miss the baby, because Tilla always found it hard to part with babies. She was, in that respect, the worst possible person to be a midwife. She had tried to channel her efforts into medicine for the sick and injured, but the babies kept coming and somebody had to deliver them.

He had no idea what Virana was doing in the fort, or who she had charmed on the gate to gain access. “Is everything all right?”

“I must talk to you, master.”

Ruso turned away from Pertinax, who had managed to bottom-shuffle his way into the wagon and was swearing because he had dropped one of his crutches in the street. Ruso now took little notice of his complaining. He had looked Ruso in the eye after Branan’s return and said, “Good man.” Ruso had left the room feeling three feet taller.

Virana said, “It’s about your wedding present for the mistress.”