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

creature, all damp fluff and wagging tail, ’I doubt this one will make a hunting dog. Or a guard dog.’  She looked at Tiro reflectively. Once again, he knew his duty. He held his arms out for the bundled puppy.

‘Leave him with me, Miss Aurelia. I’ll look after him till we can either deliver him to your home, or find somewhere else for him.’

He saw Aurelia’s face crumple, and added hastily, ‘And then when you’re old enough to have your own house, he can join you there, can’t he, Mistress Britta?’

Aurelia nodded and handed the puppy over, partially assuaged. Just in time. A swift booted step sounded behind them. Quintus looked pale and taut-faced. Tiro doubted the interview with Lady Julia had prospered.

‘Oh, sir! Are you the Imperial Investigator? All the way from Rome! Tiro’s been telling me about Londinium, but I bet Rome is even more wonderful. I’ve never been anywhere bigger than Corinium.’

Tiro looked at his boss, expecting a thaw in the face of this artless charm. But Quintus was looking more wooden than ever.  And staring at the young girl. Tiro looked again at the girl, then at his boss. He wondered—

Britta surged across, tucking Aurelia under her encircling arm. ‘My lady, back with you out of the cold. You’ll see Cerberus again soon, I’ll make no doubt.’

As they went back inside, Britta turned to glance at Tiro. Nearly a smile, he was sure. The door slammed shut. Tiro sighed, admiration spreading across his face.

‘Now that is my kind of woman.’

Quintus was still white-faced, his grey eyes fixed on the closed door. Voices had been raised, regrettably unclear.  Tiro shrugged. Not for him to comment. He thought it best not to mention the dog, either. Or his promise to Aurelia.  He slipped the sleeping puppy into his saddle bag and followed his stiff-faced master back to the fort. He was looking forward to a quiet afternoon. Maybe a few games of dice with the troopers, and a nap to make up for all the early starts on this trip.

The next morning they took delivery of two horses provided by Marcellus, a chestnut with a white flash, and a docile dun, and headed south. They didn’t get far. In less than a mile Tiro heard the shortening thuds of a galloping horse pulling up behind them. A trooper with the badge of the Aquae Sulis cohort on his breast flung himself off his mount, and saluted breathlessly. Tiro felt the drag of dejà vu. What now?

‘Greetings from Centurion Crispus, sir, and would you please come back to the fort urgently?’

Quintus frowned. ‘We are on urgent Imperial business. What does your commander want this time?’

‘There’s been a death in the city, sir. Unexpected, like.’ The guard shifted feet, his mouth twisting. ‘It may be murder, sir. The commander was most anxious to catch you before you left the city. He thinks this death may be related to your inquiry.’

Another murder — related? Tiro gave the frumentarius a quick glance. Quintus was as grim and silent as ever. Tiro scratched his flaxen-haired head and turned his horse to follow the boss’s chestnut.

Marcellus Crispus was waiting outside the fort, his horse saddled and ready.

‘It’s an old woman, sir, name of Velvinna. She was found this morning by her household slaves, lying on her bedchamber floor, unconscious and not breathing. Her heart was barely beating. She died within a few minutes.’

Quintus cut in. ‘By Mithras, man! Old women die of heart disease all the time. Send for the priests, or the doctor, or even that Aureliana woman, and let me get on with my mission.’

Marcellus flushed. The young man had such thin pale skin under his freckles, every pulse of blood looked visible. But he stood his ground firmly.

’Sir, that isn’t all. Velvinna may have been murdered. She came to me only a few days ago with rumours of a resurgence of Druidism in the area. Without definite information I couldn’t act. Now I fear she has been silenced. You must see the evidence for yourself. I urge you  to attend the scene, as the ranking investigative officer present in Aquae Sulis. Sir.’ And he had the nerve to snap off a magnificent salute before mounting his horse. Quintus merely nodded once to the rigid young centurion, and followed his lead back across the bridge.

Chapter Nine

‘Come on,’ Julia said to Aurelia over a light breakfast of wheat pancakes and honey with a scattering of dried dates. ‘It’s time for Britta’s gossip ration. Let’s go to the baths.’

She forced herself to sound light-hearted. She barely picked at her breakfast. The recent second meeting with Quintus had left her fighting a rising tide of resentment, streaked with currents of longing. How dared he suggest she was at fault? He had abandoned her, left her to cope alone with Aurelia, (whom he never knew about), and ruined her for marriage (would she really ever have considered marrying, once he had taken her heart away with him?). And now she was so distracted she found it difficult to focus on Catus, though she was burning to track down his killer. Julia stared at the untouched beaker of warm milk in front of her, mulling over the poor boy and wondering how she could help uncover his murderer. The mistletoe berries: that was a curious touch, and not the only one. If she wanted to see justice done she would have to accept the official inquiry. But there might still be ways Julia could shed light on the murder, though that would inevitably bring her back into contact with the Imperial Investigator. She willed herself to shunt aside her resentment for now, and pay attention to next steps. Yes, the baths. Who knew what she might uncover in that hotbed of local telltales? It would be worth the slight delay in leaving