Ruth Downie - Tabula Rasa

Ruso noted that the presence of the tribune seemed to have cured most of Fabius’s ailments, including the inability to do anything.

“Let’s hope we get somewhere with one of them,” said Accius.

He did not need to say why. If no other obvious culprit came to light, they would very urgently need a better story out of Daminius. Soldiers were supposed to be protected from professional questioners, but if there was any question hanging over the optio, Accius would have to decide whether he was going to uphold the law or get some answers.

The tribune said none of this. Instead he got to his feet and lifted his chair with both hands, placing it carefully back against the wall. “Ruso, when you’ve spoken to all those women, come and find me and report. Fabius, chase your clerk and see how he’s getting on with pinning everyone else down.” Perhaps in case they were wondering what he would be doing, Accius added, “I’ll be tracing Daminius’s history and reporting to the legate. He’s asked to be kept informed. Oh, and we’ve heard back from the slave trader’s agent at Vindolanda. Nobody’s tried to sell the boy so far.”

On the way out, Ruso visited the imprisoned quarrymen. They looked even glummer than before. Daminius was seated facing the wall with his elbows propped on his knees. Ruso asked Liber, the one whose alibi was “to snack bar VIRANA,” to make himself known. Ruso was pleased with what he saw. Not because the gods had favored Liber with a muscular build, a polite demeanor, a full complement of black hair, blue eyes, and white teeth, but because if a young man who looked like that had been seated at one of Ria’s tables yesterday, Virana would remember.

Virana greeted Ruso with the sort of smile that cheered the weary heart and would have made him feel especially welcome if he had not known that she bestowed it on almost any man wearing a military belt. “I need to tell you something, master!” she cried, breaking off from wiping a table not ten feet away and waving the cloth at him in case he had trouble locating her. “Have you found Branan?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ve remembered the soldier!”

Ruso looked at her, wondering how she knew what he was about to ask, and then realized they were thinking of different soldiers. “Candidus?” He fingered the forgotten letter to Albanus, still tucked inside his belt.

“He was here, but they called him Perky. I thought that was his name. That’s why I didn’t tell you before.”

According to Nisus, one of the last things Candidus had said was that he was meeting someone for a drink. A man he’d seen before . . . he didn’t know where. Now, when Ruso did not have time to deal with it, the search for Candidus might be leading somewhere. He sat at a corner table and ordered a cup of spiced wine, noting the sidelong glance from a middle-aged woman across the room when he invited Virana to join him. “I need to know who Can-who Perky was with,” he said.

“He asked me to come and sit beside him but I told him I had to light the lamps.”

“Was he on his own?”

“I told him, master, I don’t go with just anybody.”

“Of course.”

Virana shifted one end of a bench to make more space for herself. “I don’t know why nobody believes me.”

“It must be very annoying,” agreed Ruso. “Who called him Perky?”

“Besides, I can’t keep getting up and down now unless I have to. Ria says I can sit by the bar as long as I get up when there’s serving to be done.” Virana collapsed onto the bench with a sigh, then lifted her skirts, stretched out pale bare legs, and circled her feet in midair.

Aware of the woman turning round to stare, Ruso took refuge in his wine.

“See?” Virana demanded. “It works. Not swollen like they were before. Ria says I can keep a stool by the bar.”

“Very good,” said Ruso, adding with deliberately clarity, “My wife will be very pleased.” He lowered his voice to ask, “What about Candidus?”

She pointed toward the woman. “He was sitting over there.” She stopped, as if this had answered the question.

“Virana, I’m in a hurry. Could you-”

“With some men from the fort here,” she added. “They were playing dice.”

This was new. “How many men? Do you know their names?”

She scratched her head, dislodging one of the pins that never held her hair in place for long. “I think there were two of them,” she said, shifting sideways and grunting with the effort of bending to pick the pin up. “I’m not sure. Is there one called Gallus with fair hair?”

“Gallus?” This was worrying. His deputy had not mentioned a social evening with Candidus.

“I know he works at the hospital,” said Virana, inadvertently confirming his identity. None of the other staff had fair hair. “And the other one was the hospital cook.”

This was even more unexpected. “So Candidus, Gallus, and the cook were playing dice,” he prompted. “Then what happened?”

“Then they finished the game and the other two went away. Perky wanted to talk to me. But I didn’t sit with him, because I don’t-” She registered the expression on his face. “Anyway, he carried the oil jar for me when I filled the lamps and we talked for a bit and then he finished his drink and he went back to the camp.”

“On his own?”

“I felt sorry for him. He said it was cold at night and his tentmates weren’t very nice.”

“Do you think he might have gone somewhere else instead?”

Virana frowned. “Where would he go?”

Where indeed? “Did he mention meeting anyone he hadn’t seen for a while?”

Virana’s face brightened. “When he first saw me he said, ‘Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?’ ” She looked puzzled. “But I don’t remember him, and he said he’s never been to Eboracum.”

“He was probably just making conversation,” Ruso told her, wondering if Candidus had also invited her to come and help him polish his equipment, or whatever euphemism they used these days. “Can you remember anything else at all? Did anyone follow him?”

Virana pondered this for a moment.

“This is important,” he explained. “You may be the last person who saw him before he disappeared.”

“Oh, no, master!” Her confidence was unexpected. “I am not the last person who saw him.”

It was all Ruso could do not to grab her and shake the rest of the pins out. “Then who is?”

Virana frowned. “I don’t know, master. Surely you saw him the next morning when he was working at the hospital?”

“You’re talking about . . .” He paused to think. “The day after market day? Not the day he disappeared?”

Virana said, “You didn’t say when. You asked if I saw him.”

Ruso let out a long breath and managed, “Yes. That’s true. Let’s see if you can remember somebody else.”

“Another soldier?”

“A man called Liber.”

Her face lit up. “He was in here yesterday. Did he say something about me?”

“No,” said Ruso. “I’m just trying to sort out who was where when Branan went missing. Can you remember when he arrived and when he left?”

“It was after the mistress had the headache,” said Virana. “She went upstairs, and then . . .” She thought for a moment. “You must have seen him yourself, master. He was sitting at table three when you came in.”

“I didn’t notice,” Ruso confessed.

“Then he had to go because he was on duty.” She pushed her hair back from her face, leaned across the table, and whispered. “I think he likes me!”

“I think he likes quite a few girls,” Ruso told her, wishing he did not have to disappoint her and wondering yet again why Virana’s experience had failed to conquer her optimism where good-looking young men were concerned. He downed the last of the wine. “I need to go. Thanks for your help.”