Ruth Downie - Caveat emptor

Just now she had tried to persuade Serena to come back to Londinium with them, but Serena had refused to budge. It was obvious the girl was lonely: Her husband and friends were twenty miles away and her cousin was too busy to spend much time with her. Perhaps that was why she was unusually friendly. As a rule, even though nothing was ever said, she was sure Serena still saw her as the housekeeper.

Today, however, she had seemed delighted to welcome Tilla into the mansio garden, where a maid was supervising the twins at play, and congratulated her on her marriage. “I suppose you’re pregnant,” she said. “It’s very decent of Ruso to marry you.”

Tilla said, “It is very decent of me to marry him too.”

Serena looked taken aback, then the broad face broke into a handsome grin. “Perhaps all men are a trial when you have to live with them,” she said. “I’ve done my best, but Valens just makes no effort. I’ve told him what he needs to do to shape up. He agrees with everything I say and then carries on the same as before.” She paused. “He might listen to Ruso. I don’t suppose you could get him to-”

“No. But I think Valens is hoping you will be back soon.”

“Hah!” Serena had managed to look both outraged and smug at the same time. “He thinks I don’t know what he got up to after I left. One of Pa’s old friends from the garrison went over when they had a burglary. He said people heard women in there in the middle of the night!”

Tilla paused. “A burglary?”

“It’s all right. They didn’t steal anything.”

“That was me,” said Tilla. “The woman in the night. We were staying there.”

“You?”

“And my patient, and her baby. Your father’s friend should find out the truth before he gossips.”

For once, Serena was silent.

Tilla said, “Valens asked me to talk to you. I said no. He must talk to you himself.”

Serena paused to watch one of her sons trying to throw a ball at the other. It looked more like war than sport. “But he hasn’t,” she said.

“Not yet,” agreed Tilla. “I can take a message if you like.”

“It’s not my fault!”

Tilla sighed, gathered up her skirts, and got to her feet. “Many things happen that are not our fault,” she said. “At least, that is what we tell ourselves. But if you will not talk to each other, how can anyone help you?”

“What am I supposed to have done wrong?”

“I do not know,” said Tilla, fighting an urge to tell this pampered girl how lucky she was to have a husband and two healthy children, “But my mother used to say that if you cannot bang your head through the wall, you will have to turn to the left or right.”

Serena pondered that for a moment. “Maybe that sounds better in British.”

“No,” Tilla conceded. “It sounds annoying in British too.”

In the end she had left with a message for Valens that his wife was not missing him one little bit. It had not been a successful meeting.

A ginger cat stopped lapping at the puddle under the water trough as she approached. Out of habit, she paused before crossing the road, but there was no traffic. There was only the fleeing cat and an old woman limping away in the distance. She glanced behind her and was surprised to see the guard she had noticed earlier. He dropped hastily into a crouch and began to fiddle with his bootlace, but she had already recognized him. He must have followed her all the way from the Forum.

Tilla told herself to be sensible. She was in a public street and there was still plenty of light. The man might just happen to live in the same area as Camma, but the business with the bootlace was very suspicious. Still, if he were going to accost her he must have had plenty of chances to do it before now. She paused to scoop up a handful of cool water from the trough. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, dried her hand on her tunic, and waited. The guard looked up and stopped pretending to tie the lace.

As he approached she folded her arms and stood defiantly, at the same time mentally pacing out the distance behind her to Camma’s door and wondering whether she could outrun him.

She said in British, “Are you following me?”

The guard’s grin faltered when she did not return it. He said, “Cheer up a bit, love. You won’t get much business with a face like that.”

“I am not looking for business!” Was he lying, or had he made an honest mistake? “I am a respectable married lady on the way home!”

He backed away, both hands held up in surrender. “Sorry, missus. No offense. I saw you in the Forum on your own, and at this hour-”

“Can a woman not walk across the Forum without being ogled?”

The grin returned. “Fair enough. I’ll see you safe home if you like.”

“No! Go away.”

To her relief, he did not argue. She watched him head off down a side street before turning back toward the protection of Camma’s house. Were it not for her friend, she would be glad to get out of this place.

She glanced back along the street before crossing the next junction by the silent meat market. To her relief there was no sign of the guard.

She wondered why the Medicus had rushed off and whether he was back at the mansio yet. He had looked disappointed when she refused to join him, but this evening she wanted to say good-bye to Camma and the baby.

She must be strong. There would be other babies. Perhaps-

She did not see the stranger until his arm was around her throat.

She managed a stifled scream as he dragged her backward into the alleyway. She was off balance, gasping for air, struggling to pull his arm away, and trying get back onto her feet as something jabbed into her back and a voice growled in British, “Shut up, keep still, and you won’t get hurt.”

Her heart was thudding. Her body was desperate for air. She could not think. He was saying something. She heard only, “Got that?”

She shook her head, unable to speak. What a fool she was. If only she had not been so rude to that harmless guard…

The grip around her neck tightened. “I said, this is a message for your man. Tell him to clear off and keep his nose out of other people’s business. And you, keep your mouth shut from now on. If you don’t, me and my mates will get ahold of one of your friends and show you what happens to blabbermouths.”

The release was so sudden, and the shove in the back so forceful, that by the time she had picked herself up, he had gone. She stumbled back toward the empty street, filthy and trembling and short of breath. Pain radiated from her elbow and her knees where she had fallen in the mud. She could still feel the roughness of his arm around her bruised throat.

This is a message for your man. And you, keep your mouth shut.

By the time Ruso had finished searching Asper’s office, the guards who had been waiting outside for him were looking exceedingly bored. The Forum was empty. The working day’s clamor had fallen silent. There was hardly any traffic: Vehicles had been unhitched and drawn into secure yards for the night. The guards escorted him to the mansio and did not look sorry when he dismissed them.

Publius greeted him at reception with the news that Tilla had left some time ago, and he was sorry but there was still no news of who might have delivered an unsigned note yesterday. Ruso made a quick tour of the building, annoying any staff he could catch by asking them the same questions Publius had obviously asked already. Finally convinced that nothing more could be done to trace the well-wisher tonight, he locked the door behind him, shut out the world, and stepped into the tasteful privacy of Suite Three. A couple of blank writing tablets had been thoughtfully provided on the side table and someone had filled the brazier with hot coals, anticipating a chilly night.