A mule cart drew up on the track behind the riders: Conn and the other searchers from the house. They too looked weary. She guessed both groups had already spoken on the way here.
Her husband unfastened his sword, then murmured something to Accius. They seemed to be arguing. Finally Accius handed over his weapon. Leaving the cart to his companions, Conn slung both swords over his shoulder and went into the house without a second glance, as if he disarmed legionary tribunes every day. Tilla wondered what role he had played in the troubles.
Enica stood back, allowing the soldiers to enter. Leaving the guards outside, the officers walked into the yard. The tribune’s gaze darted about as if he were assessing the location and looking out for threats and escape routes. Tilla wondered if he had ever been to a native farm before.
She stood back as her husband introduced the tribune and Enica to each other. After a quiet conversation the two men walked up to the fire, bowed, and threw herbs into the flames as a mark of respect. Then they stepped back and waited as the scent of rosemary and bay wafted into the air. Enica went to fetch Conn and the others. They emerged from the house, several of them carrying drinks. Conn wrapped a cloth around his hand and hacked some untidy slices from the outside of what remained of the lamb now that the proper portions had been burned for the gods. None was offered to the soldiers.
Accius was still glancing around, taking it all in. Tilla guessed he would rather have spoken privately with the man in charge than face a group of locals whose language he neither spoke nor understood. But the man in charge would have been Senecio, who was not here, and even if Romans had been good at negotiating with women—which they were not—Enica was in no fit state to deal with him. She had wisely called everyone together, and he was outnumbered.
In spite of all the Army’s weapons and armor and discipline and shouting, and despite the Great Wall that would help them to control everybody’s movements, they had been unable to stop one of their own people committing a terrible wrong. Yet, the disgrace of having a child snatcher in the ranks did not seem to have taught Accius humility. Tilla listened as he introduced himself, and then to her husband’s translation of it. Accius regretted that he had brought no news. He had just spoken to Senecio, who was well, and he had come to say personally how sorry he was that the boy was missing.
Tilla felt they could have worked out for themselves that he had come personally. He could only be speaking of it because he wanted to make sure that they understood what an honor it was. Then he told them that the army was taking “this allegation” very seriously indeed.
Her husband did not translate it as she would have done. Allegation was a cautious word but not a good one. It suggested that the tribune thought somebody here might be lying. Her husband translated it as “bad news.” Either he did not know the word, or he knew the offense it would cause. She wondered how many of the Britons had noticed.
After that, the tribune told Enica that the army was doing everything in its power to find her boy alive and well. He seemed annoyed when, instead of falling at his feet and thanking him, Enica interrupted.
“She says,” Tilla interpreted before her husband had the chance, “the boy has no coat with him.”
Accius replied that they knew what the boy was wearing.
That was not what Enica had meant, though. She was worrying about her son out there, enduring a second night with no warm covering.
“The description of the boy has been sent out with despatches to all military establishments in the province together with official posting stations,” the tribune announced, “and the legate has ordered a reward to be offered for his safe return.”
Tilla left her husband to translate that into British.
The Britons looked unimpressed. Conn was more interested in what had happened to the soldiers who had come to search the farm.
Accius told him they were now under arrest.
“Then why are you here?” Enica demanded. “Why are you not making them tell you where my son is?”
“Let us have them!” put in Conn. “We’ll find out.” There was a chorus of agreement.
When he could make himself heard, Accius explained that the men had been questioned and their stories were being checked. Meanwhile other searches would continue. “We need to coordinate our efforts.” He placed a hand on her husband’s arm as if to introduce him. “All messages will go through Medical Officer Ruso. He will keep you informed. If you have anything to tell us, speak to him.”
When her husband announced, “From tomorrow morning I will be based at Ria’s snack bar,” the tribune looked at him in surprise, as if this was something they had not talked about.