So he wandered off to look around the camp for diversion, finding it in a scratch fight competition set up by the optio. Tiro grinned, and pushed his way to the front of the onlookers. Anyone not engaged in their duties—and Decimus Senecio was very good at keeping his men busy—was gathered in a ring around a pair of men. The crowd was cheering, casting insults, and placing bets. Tiro looked on with interest, and rolled up his sleeves. The combatants were well-matched, being of a height and not dissimilar weights. The dark-haired trooper sweeping his fringe out of his eyes was older and more experienced, Tiro judged, but his younger opponent made up with a willingness to keep wading in. They were both using standard army boxing techniques, panting and sweating as they circled each other to trade blows. Eventually the older man landed a punch full in the eye of the younger. His eyelid immediately ballooned, and the optio raised and dropped his arm to signal the end of the bout. Exercise and keeping the blood for battle circulating was one thing. Rendering men unfit to fight another.
Tiro stepped forward. ‘I issue challenge to any who will meet me.’ The little crowd cheered. He heard whispers of “Governor’s Man” and “Londoner” passing from man to man. Right, if they wanted to find out how a city boy fought, they were on. He looked round, wondering who would take up his challenge. A much louder cheer rang out when a tall dark man stepped confidently into the ragged ring. Tiro swallowed. The man had huge bulging muscles, biceps gleaming as if oiled and a torso so sculpted he could have been an ebony statue. Tiro wondered whether he was the cohort’s specialist blacksmith. His upper body development was the most impressive he’d seen in a long time.
‘Messalinus! Messalinus!’ the crowd bellowed. The African grinned, showing perfect white teeth, and darted in like a cobra to grab and throw Tiro. Oh yes, thought Tiro, now we’ll have some fun. He fleetingly regretted not being able to bet on himself, then brought all his attention to bear. Messalinus was swift, skilled and astonishingly strong. Deserving of his opponent’s full regard. Just how Tiro liked it.
It was all over in five minutes, but not before Tiro had a bleeding eyebrow and Messalinus was stretched out in the dirt, knocked senseless by one of the shorter man’s crafty moves. Someone threw Tiro a rag, and he mopped the blood off his face to see Quintus and Marcellus applauding.
‘Just won five sesterces on you, Tiro.’ Quintus slapped him on the back as they walked back to the command tent. Tiro was insulted, and said so. The bout had been worth more than that. Quintus actually laughed out loud. Some good news must have come to lift the frumentarius’s mood.
Inside the tent the slave poured watered wine and they sat down round the jug. Senecio bustled in, and Quintus nodded at Marcellus, who waved a hand in deferral back. Quintus looked round at all of them.
‘Right. The scouts should be back soon with their reports. Let’s start making our plans.’ Outside the first rain for many days began to patter on the leather roof of the tent. Tiro drew a slow breath, and leaned forward to listen.
Chapter Twenty-four
Julia dozed fitfully. Her thoughts jostled, trying to make sense of the senseless. She grieved for Velvinna, hoping her friend had not suffered. Her heart jolted faster as she pictured the witch Fulminata, pretending coy gratitude as she entered Velvinna’s little house, leaving poison in her wake. The stomach-churning image of Antoninus Labienus, stalking the innocent boy Catus and killing him with a single barbaric blow. And now Marcus, struck down too—
She was suddenly roused by Britta calling.
‘Mistress, come quickly! It’s the man from the mines, Tiro’s friend. He’s lying here bleeding on our doorstep!’ Julia tumbled out of bed, thrusting her feet into sandals and flinging a shawl around her shoulders. She grabbed her nightlamp, and made her way downstairs as quietly as she could. She was trying not to disturb Aurelia, who had been unusually quiet the whole way back to Aquae Sulis. She’d refused any food at the funeral feast. Only once they had arrived home had she finally given in and sipped a cup of hot milk and honey pressed on her by the worried Senovara.
By the smoking light of wall lamps Julia saw that most of her household was in the atrium. Not including Aurelia, thank the Lady. She glanced at Tertius lying unconscious on the tiled floor, and called to a maid to fetch a blanket. She knelt down by the little man.
‘Who found him?’
‘Me, Lady Julia. I opened the door when I heard a faint knocking. The man fell in, and collapsed as you see him.’ It was Senovara, looking shaken.
‘All right. Britta, take Rufus and a lantern, get to the hospital and bring Anicius Piso back with you. Fast as you can!’
Britta turned to find Rufus already coming in from his bedspace above the stable. The two left at a run, Rufus holding the lantern, Britta catching her plaid throw around her as she struggled to keep pace with the young groom.
Julia crouched low over Tertius, and pressed a finger into the skin beneath his jaw. His pulse was thready, very faint. She lifted up his outer garments and tunic, and discovered why. There were several bleeding slashes on his arms, but the real problem was a deep stab below his ribcage. Blood was pulsing from the wound. Not the bright red arterial colour that would bring quick death. This was a welling, purplish flow of blood, not fast but thick and unstoppable. Julia guessed the major vein in his liver had been severed. Tertius was dying.
Julia prayed briefly, while she leaned hard on his abdomen, pressing both hands into the wound to try to slow the bleeding. Lady, I beg you, please preserve this man. There have been so many deaths already. Don’t let this brave innocent man die too!
She sent to Senovara to get cloths, and balled them up to thrust into the bleeding. It slowed somewhat, and she saw the man’s eyes flicker.
‘Senovara, tell me what happened.’
‘It were so quick, mistress, and I was fast asleep.’
‘Yes, never mind, you heard the knocking, opened the door. What then?’
‘I found this man swaying on the doorstep. He was trying to say something. And then I saw a woman, just out of the corner of my eye, like.’
‘Saw who?’
‘I dunno, mistress. Just a flash really, someone running down the street. Wouldn’t have seen her at all, if she hadn’t stopped by a street lamp and looked back.’
‘Well? For goodness sake, what did you see? Did you know her?’
‘No mistress, though I would know her again.’
Julia, still pressing on the bloody heap of cloth as hard as she could, found her teeth gritting.
‘What — did — you — see?’
‘Well, mistress, she was youngish, quite tall I think. With eyes!’ Senovara paused as if in triumph, then seemed to realise this wasn’t enough. ‘Black eyes, like sloes. Creepy-like, the way she looked at me.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Oh yes, mistress. Then there was the hair.’
Julia decided to cut short the agony. ‘Long, red, curling?’
Senovara gawped. ‘You must have seen her too, mistress! Exactly right. She looked at me, or mayhap at him, the man here lying at our door. Then she ran away.’
The body under her hands stirred, and she looked down to find Tertius awake and looking at her.
’Shush, Tertius, don’t try to speak. I have sent for the surgeon. We’ll get you to the hospital and you’ll be fine.’ She pulled the blanket across his legs and lower body, knowing it was too little, too late.
His face was very pale, the olive skin whitened by blood loss. She shifted one hand to his wrist, checking his pulse again. The hand was cold and clammy. If Anicius didn’t get here soon, Tertius would die on her doorstep.
He seemed to read her thoughts. ‘Tell the frumentarius —I was faithful. Trust—me. Help is coming.’ His voice was almost too faint to hear. His eyes fluttered again, and he groaned. More blood welled up out of her makeshift compress. She knew he was nearly gone. She lowered her head so she could hear him better.
‘Enica—’
‘Don’t worry
about Enica. I will make sure she is looked after and has a happy home. Tertius, who did this to you?’
He seemed to be listening to someone else. He suddenly smiled, radiantly.
‘Tell Enica not be sad. Catus —is waiting for me.’
Then he turned his head with eyes closed, and she thought he was gone. Very faintly she heard, ‘Tell him to watch the —Londinium road.‘
There was no more.
She stood, straightening her stiff back, unaware of the tears rolling silently down her face or the bloody clout clutched in her hands. A horse clattered up the street from the bridge, and Medicus Piso threw himself off and came in to kneel by Tertius. Two orderlies and Rufus ran up behind, Britta following more slowly. Julia sobbed aloud, not hearing herself. The surgeon checked the Syrian’s body for breath and pulse, then stood slowly. He looked at Julia with affectionate concern, and put an arm round her in a respectful embrace.
‘I’m so sorry, Lady Julia. I supposed that Tertius had left Aquae Sulis with Marcellus and the cohort. I had no idea he had stayed alone in the city. Now I wonder why.’
Julia let herself weep a little on Piso’s shoulder. She lifted her head, trying to say something to the servants, to summon some vestige of control. Britta shook her head.
‘Julia, my lady, you must rest now. If you want to avenge our friends and your brother, you need to be strong. Let me look after you, just this once. Tell me which herbs will help you. I’ll fetch you some in warm milk. Then you must sleep. I’ll speak to Surgeon Piso, settle the servants, and check on Aurelia. The morning is soon enough to decide what’s next to do.’
Julia surrendered, letting Britta lead her up the stairs to her bedchamber and pull back the covers so Julia could climb into bed.
The Aquae Sulis baths were open to women from noon. Julia and Britta waited in the queue outside the Great Bath, both veiled and wearing the undyed tunics of working countrywomen. They watched carefully as the men emptied out after their morning of exercise, gossip and drinking. Soon Julia spotted a young auburn-haired woman swaying seductively along the departing line, catching the eye of every passing male. She nudged Britta.
‘There she is!’
‘Wish me luck,’ muttered Britta. She left Julia, removing her head scarf and bustling off as if on a different trajectory. As she neared the departing bathers, she caught the young woman with an apparently inadvertent arm swing.
‘Many pardons, my lady!’
The girl swung round bridling. Then she smiled, apparently mollified by the respectful form of address.
‘Would you be going into the baths, my lady? I see you are quite a favourite with the local people. So beautiful and graceful you are, it’s no wonder. I wonder—‘ Britta said all this in a slow-drawling country voice, with downcast eyes, ‘—you see, I’m a visitor here, and feeling shy about going alone into these famous baths. I’m sure to get lost and make a fool of myself. May I come in with you, just till I find my way around? I am happy to pay for both of us, if you would let me come with you.’
Fulminata’s innate vanity needed little encouragement. She apparently decided the country bumpkin was comely enough to be an asset, and grateful enough to be a generous companion. There would still be young Dobunni tribesmen around, practising their martial skills in the exercise yard outside.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Veronica, my lady.’
‘Well, Veronica, you can call me Fulminata. Come on, I’ll show you the baths.’
Three hours later, Britta emerged, cleaner, poorer and having achieved her objective. She took a careful route home.
Julia was waiting impatiently. The two women changed into the long white hooded robes of the Sisterhood, and set off again into the city as the short spring afternoon faded. Britta paused to drop donatives of respect at the main altar to Sulis Minerva, while Julia made her way past the Sacred Spring. She slipped inside a hidden door and joined the elder Sisters of the Wise Women, who were gathered already in this holy and ancient temple. The place had been sacred to Sulis since long before Rome brought her twin goddess Minerva. Inside the room was tiered with steeply descending banks of wooden benches. Some dozen of the Sisterhood, the most senior healers, judges and teachers of the Aquae Sulis community were seated on wooden banks and chatting quietly when Britta entered a few minutes later. She was accompanied by a new supplicant for membership.
Fulminata looked smug. Britta had been both obsequious and disarming when she confided to her new friend that she was visiting the local Wise Women. She was sure they would be delighted to welcome Fulminata. The girl had the audacity to walk into the centre of the temple’s circular space and fling off her hood with a show of confident beauty. She looked round with practised poise.
A bell, high and silvered in tone, struck once. Silence fell on the group. Julia stood, still hooded, holding out her arm to support a very old woman. The Sisters at once rose, and bowed their heads in respect. Fulminata turned to look. Unease crossed her face. Still she held her head in the same arrogant pose.
‘Be seated, my Sisters.’ The old woman had a surprisingly deep and rich voice. Julia led her to an ornate wooden chair at the highest level of the banked room. She herself sat on the tier below her, listening while the Elder Sister continued. ‘Sisters, we are gathered in judgement today. One is here who has broken our most sacred laws, and deeply offended the Goddess.’ The Sisters all raised their left arms to pointed accusation at the actress.
‘Veronica!’ Fulminata screeched, glaring at her supposed sponsor. ‘What is going on here?’
The old woman stood. ‘You will be silent, Fulminata. You are here under accusation by our Sister Julia. You are accused of murder. One of your victims was our beloved Sister Velvinna. Thus your judgement and punishment fall into our jurisdiction.’
Fulminata shouted, ‘You have no authority, no witnesses and no evidence! I have powerful friends in the Roman authority. I reject your jurisdiction utterly –‘
A muscular Wise Woman jumped up from the front bank and slapped Fulminata hard across the face. The actress wailed and subsided into silence, rubbing her flaming cheek.
The old woman went on. ‘We have prayed together to the Goddess Sulis, and heard the evidence from our Sister Julia. As a trained healer and senior member of our sacred order, her word is her bond. Her witness has been corroborated by others who saw your attempts at sedition. Fulminata, you have committed the most heinous crimes for which there is one punishment only. In avenging our beloved Sister Velvinna, we sentence you to banishment. There will be no rest, no succour, no friendship for you henceforth, wherever the circles of Wise Women hold sway across Britannia and elsewhere.’
The old woman threw her arms wide. ‘Sisters, do you concur?’
The Sisters erupted, standing to roar their approval. Julia allowed herself a quick bitter smile as she made her way down into the central circle. The raging Fulminata cast her a look of hate, but as two Sisters had her pinioned by the arms, there was little she could do.
‘You’re too late,’ she yelled. ‘None of you will survive what is to come.’
’Silence her,’ said the Elder, and the guards gagged Fulminata.
Julia spoke. ‘Sisters, I thank you for your trust. This woman has taken innocent lives, and was actively planning to raise rebellion in our town and beyond.
‘It is not our way to punish with death. Nevertheless, the death sentence would have been the right of Velvinna’s family under Roman law, had she any living relatives. As Velvinna’s lifelong friend and pupil, I ask the Sisters to avenge our friend. Brand this woman so that all who see her henceforth will know she is under order of banishment.’
Fulminata tried to struggle, but was held firm. A brazier with a slender branding iron tipped into the coals was brought into the circle. Julia held out a cup to Fulminata, loosening the gag.
‘The Sisterhood of Wise Women is not needlessly cruel. Here is pain relief for you. Drink it.’
The pri
soner sneered, and tossed her bright red mane. ‘And let you accomplish with poison what your weaker sisters will not command?’ She lashed out to knock away the cup, sending the white liquid spilling.
‘No,’ snapped Julia. ‘I leave that kind of wickedness to you, Fulminata. May the Goddess Sulis Minerva curse you all your life.’
She gave way to the punishment detail, three sombre-looking Sisters whose masked faces stood out black against their white robes. Julia walked back to her seat, not looking back as the actress was forced onto her knees, nor flinching when Fulminata screamed. The smell of scorching flesh made Julia’s stomach churn, but still she did not look. Not till she was seated next to Britta, and the Elder Wise Woman had reached down to rest her feather-light old hand on Julia’s shoulder, did she force herself to look at the new-blazed crimson of the owl brand on Fulminata’s cheek. The prisoner was led away to be cast out beyond the sacred precinct.
Then Julia drew her hood up, and wept silently for Velvinna and Tertius and Catus. And for Quintus and herself.
Chapter Twenty-five
’Sir?’
Quintus turned round quickly, and Marcellus looked up with a frown. They were both peering at the floor where lines drawn and smudged out in the dirt marked their attempts to plan anything less than annihilation from the upcoming confrontation with the Second Augusta. Tiro and Decimus Senecio were seated nearby. The older optio looked tired.
A young guard stood in the tent opening, acne-scarred cheeks blazing with embarrassment. He swallowed at the sight of four senior officers eyeballing him.
‘Yes?’
‘Umm, sir, scouts are back.’
‘Well, show them in, man. What are you waiting for?’
‘Yes, sir. Sir, there’s a lady too, just arrived. Says she brings important messages for the Frumentarius. And you too, sir.’
‘Name?’
The guard looked puzzled. ‘Plautus, sir.’
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