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

for Bo Gwelt. And amuse Aurelia, while Julia thought more about her niece’s troubles too.

Aurelia had been mooning around the house since the early morning visit, wondering aloud every five minutes how Cerberus was doing, and where Tiro and the Investigator were by now. The promise of the outing to the baths galvanised her, and they set off with Britta after breakfast.

It was a drier day, still chilly. The town bustled with visitors. They passed the theatre on the way to the baths. The noise of music clashing out on cymbals and a battered horn drew their attention, and they paused to see the fun.  An actor was declaiming outside the entrance to the theatre, publicising the current production. It was apparently a jolly comedy by Terence. In contrast the actor looked thoroughly miserable, the victim of a streaming cold. In between wiping his nose on his robes and coughing, he was regaling passersby with snippets of comic dialogue and making exaggerated claims for the wit and beauty of the leading actress. A small crowd began to gather, laughing and making fun of the actor’s red eyes and running nose. The poor man tried to rise above the teasing, pitching his hoarse voice higher.

‘… with luxuriant red locks falling below her waist, and roving black eyes, she’s the loveliest slave you’ll ever see. And best of all, folks, she turns out to be a free woman of fortune. Our lucky hero has a lot to look forward to.’ As he spoke a willowy young woman slid through the theatre doorway, moving gracefully to his side. Her face was obscured by a translucent veil, but as the actor reached the end of his pitch she whipped off her head-covering to reveal a pale face and a mass of tumbling auburn hair cascading down her back. The crowd gasped, and the actor beckoned them forward.

‘Buy your tickets now, ladies and gentlemen. Don’t risk the disappointment of a full house if you want to see the lovely virgin Fulminata on stage tonight!’

Julia laughed. The poor man needed a hot posset for his cold, not the charms of Fulminata, who Julia doubted was a virgin.

Aurelia, not a natural lover of literature or drama, was hopping from foot to foot despite the warmth of her cloak. Julia obediently walked on to the baths, where they joined a short queue at the entrance. A man with stubbled jaws in front of them was bewailing the poor state of commerce in the town.

‘If you ask me, Docilianus, the town council have got it in for us local merchants. Will they lease me a decent pitch to sell my shoes and leathers? Will they hell! Over there outside the forum is good enough for you, Septimus.’ Docilianus shrugged his big shoulders. He was shielded from the morning chill by a good-quality birrus. Julia remembered how she’d lost a scarf herself in these baths; he’d need to keep an eye on that birrus.

Inside the changing room Julia paid a slave to guard their clothes. They headed through to the tepid and sweat rooms before relaxing with a scented massage. Julia greeted a range of acquaintances; it was a busy morning at the baths. Aurelia had gamely gone to plunge into the circular frigid pool. She rushed back.

‘Aunt Julia, Britta—you’ll never guess what I’ve just seen. Ladies paying to have pigeon dung and wee put on their hair!’

’Some people will do anything to get blonde hair, Miss,’ said Britta. She ran her fingers through her own gleaming locks. It was her one vanity.

A loud slap, a shriek and the smell of burnt hair emanated from an adjoining salon.

‘Ooh, look! It’s that fat woman over there. She was having her hair curled. The bath slave over-heated the curling irons, and burnt off some of her hair. So funny! May I swim in the Great Bath, Aunt?’

Julia, who felt a little sorry for the slave, was preoccupied in looking around the Great Bath. She nodded permission for Aurelia to join a group of shrieking young girls splashing in the big pool.

Ah, there she was, her old mentor and friend, Velvinna. Julia’s brow cleared. She asked Britta to keep an eye on Aurelia, then excused her way behind a loitering young woman, robed and hooded. Stray locks of a rich red escaped the hood. Julia muttered a hasty apology as the girl swivelled, glanced at her and edged away. She had remarkable black eyes in a very pale face, Julia noticed, now squeezing past an attendant bath slave who was carrying a basket of unguents and massage oils. Julia rotated her own relaxed shoulders, and thought she should come more often to bathe and enjoy a massage.

Velvinna was waiting for her in one of the alcoves. The two women embraced. Velvinna stepped back, apologising as she coughed.

‘Sorry, my dear. Don’t get too close — I seem to have caught this wretched cold that’s passing round. How are you, Julia?’  Julia glanced down at her friend’s ankles, showing under her tunic. They looked less swollen than the last time the two had met.

Velvinna caught her glance, and laughed.

‘Yes, yes. Physician, heal thyself, of colds and heart disease. And yes, I am being cautious with the correct dosage of the foxglove, just as you prescribed. I’m sure this cold won’t kill me, Julia, but I am getting older and one day my heart will give out despite your excellent medicine.’

Julia summoned a slave and ordered honey cakes and watered wine with added ginger for Velvinna’s cold. They settled in for a chat, catching up on news of mutual colleagues and general town gossip. Velvinna was well-liked, a respected wise-woman with connections across the Dobunni and other regional tribes. Their talk paused for a moment. Julia saw that Aurelia was still occupied in racing her friends across the pool, with Britta watching nearby.