The Governor's Man by Jacquie Rogers (best beach reads TXT) 📕

No, he was stuck here in this barbaric province until the job was over. No matter the cost in hiding his anguish from these strangers, the young centurion, his illiterate provincial assistant Tiro … and Julia. Whatever and whoever she was now.

Chapter Seven

By the time Tiro came to find him Quintus was his usual reserved self.

Marcellus Crispus was waiting to accompany them to his small fort on the other side of the Abona, having left Piso and an orderly to their solemn tasks with the dead boy. There was no sign of Julia. Quintus told Marcellus about the attack at Calleva.

Tiro said, ‘I still wonder if I’ve seen that bloke somewhere before. Bloody great hole he knocked in my head, though. No wonder I can’t remember now.’

‘I doubt we’ll ever identify him now.’ Such attacks at a well-run mansio were rare, and without more evidence they were left in the dark. As they walked the short distance along the riverbank, the centurion broke into the frumentarius’s thoughts.

’Quintus Valerius?’

‘Mmm?’ Quintus was calculating the odds of it being a random mugging attempt, and not liking the answer.

‘The Lady Julia,’ the young redhead looked abashed, but ploughed on, ‘she had to leave to see her patients before you came back into the morgue. Anyway, Surgeon Piso asked me to pass on a couple of suggestions she made.’

‘Did he now?’

Discouraged by the dry tone, Marcellus paused. Tiro winked at him. Quintus took no notice. He really would have to put the Britisher in his place.

‘Um, yes sir. She said the dead boy looked familiar. The lady is the sister of Magistrate Marcus Aurelianus of Bo Gwelt in the Summer Country. He’s the ancestral leader of the Durotriges of Lindinis. She knows the local people well, having grown up there, and I believe she acted as her widowed brother’s hostess until he re-married a few years ago.’

Quintus stopped dead, thinking. Sister of a tribal noble; resident of the Summer Country near Vebriacum; thinks she knows this dead boy. Could there be links here, between this murder and Vebriacum’s missing silver?

‘And, sir?’

‘Yes?’

’She suggested we look again in his dispatch bag.’ Quintus ground his teeth.

They entered the fort. Centurion Crispus nodded to his guard to shut the Principia doors. He laid out on his wooden desk a large leather bag with a shoulder strap. A dark liquid stain ran from the outer flap, tacky but evidently soaked well into the leather. Quintus wrinkled his nose.

’Blood.’ He lifted the flap, reaching in to search the interior. ‘Nothing in here. So much for the matron docta and her — ‘ His finger jagged on a rough sliver of wood wedged hard into the base seam.

‘What …?  Tiro, your tweezers.’

Tiro pursed his lips and glanced at Marcellus Crispus. He handed Quintus his toiletry set on a brass ring. Quintus used the tweezers to carefully pull a fragment of birchwood into the candlelight. Only a shard remained of what had been a thin note tablet.

‘May I?’ asked the centurion. Quintus grunted, and the young commander held the shard closer to the candle light. ‘Very little to make out, but I think on the letter side I can see three characters: TER. On the address side—hmm, wait a moment.’

Tiro was frustrated. He had excellent eyesight, but without the magic trick of deciphering the little black ink strokes he could offer no help. Maybe the frumentarius was right; perhaps he should learn to read.

Marcellus Crispus looked again, angling into the light the splintered edge where the sender’s address should be.

‘Yes, I thought so. There is a bit more, perhaps part of a sender’s name - VEB. Nothing more. Perhaps in better daylight, tomorrow?’

Both young men looked at Quintus. His eyes were half-closed, as if seeking inspiration from the Gods.

‘Centurion Crispus — Marcellus, if I may? I think after all we are going be spending time working together.’ The centurion looked puzzled.

‘I would normally hand a case like this over to you, being the chance killing of a local boy of no particular status. We are already on an urgent Imperial mission. But this murder may have something to tell us about that investigation too. I think we should collaborate, if you agree?’

This was far and away the most gracious request Tiro had yet heard Quintus make. But Tiro had a pressing question of his own.

’Sir, Frumentarius Valerius — what have you found out about the dead boy?’

‘The boy? Nothing. But we may be able to discover who sent him on his errand, and why. Marcellus, who runs the mines at Vebriacum in the Summer Country? Not the owner — I mean his manager there, his man of business?’

‘I don’t know, sir. We’re in Dobunni territory here, and I have no jurisdiction with the Durotriges that far south. But,’ he paused in thought,’ the Lady Julia Aureliana might. Especially as she thinks she recognises the boy.’

Quintus groaned inwardly. Mighty Mithras, why is this mission such a mess? Look on my years of service in your worship - surely they mean something to you? I will make whatever sacrifice is best pleasing, my Lord, if you can help me see my way more clearly. Preferably without involving the Lady Julia.

‘Right. Could we stay here at the fort for a night or two, Marcellus? Discreetly, though—from now on we should stay under cover. Tiro’s horse has gone lame anyway, and mine needs to go back to the mansio here. Can you supply two horses or ponies? Not obviously of Army breeding, no Army saddles.

‘We need to carry on looking like civilians, Tiro. But before we leave Aquae Sulis, we’re going to pay a morning call on the matron docta.’

Quintus could hardly believe he had said this. He saw with resignation Tiro trying to keep a straight face. Julia was