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

along the dark stony track. Tiro turned in astonishment, but Quintus wasted no time.

‘Here, take this!’ he shouted at Tiro, tossing him the halter of the prisoner’s horse.

Rufus and Morcant were passing Tiro, too, both spurring their horses from canter to full gallop.

‘Bo Gwelt! The villa - it’s on fire!’ the boy yelled, as his horse bolted past Tiro.

Chapter Nineteen

Tiro tied up the horses outside the villa, near a bright red cart with two distressed mules harnessed to it. The trussed Caesulanus lay motionless on his horse. Tiro tugged tight on the cord securing the prisoner’s wrists. You never knew though, did you? He whacked the centurion over the head with a stout stick. Not too hard, didn’t want to kill him—not yet. He left the manacled man slumped over the unfortunate horse, and hurried into the courtyard.

A wall of heat and sound nearly bowled him over. Tiro stood aghast, getting his bearings. All three of the house’s main wings were on fire. The south block containing the atrium and reception rooms, and the north kitchen and servants’ wing were blowing gouts of smoke from some of their windows, and Tiro could see lines of fire crawling along the ground floor corridors.

But the fire must have started in the west wing.  Still scaffolded at its south end where the new hypocaust was in progress, the wing was well ablaze, a red mass of heat and crunching blasts of noise. There was a tearing sound as an avalanche of clay tiles slid off the roof and hurled themselves into red ruin on the paving below. The holed roof let out a sustained belch of flame, lighting up the courtyard.

People were rushing around everywhere. Near the kitchen was a water fountain, and a well where a line of servants had assembled. They were passing buckets slopping water, hand over hand towards the flames, directed by a thin old man with drooping shoulders. Tiro realised this was Demetrios, the Greek secretary and tutor. A richly-dressed woman sat wailing in a highback chair. That must be Domina Claudia, Aurelia’s stepmother. Julia’s dresser was leaning over her. The two women seemed helpless in the face of the disaster. A fat man in a smoke-stained toga was trying to grasp passing servants, apparently urgently questioning everyone. Marcus? No, too fat, too strong.

Ah, there was the boss. Quintus had joined Demetrios in directing the flow of buckets, leading groups of servants close to the flames to point out critical spots to fling the water, and diving in and out of rooms not yet ablaze to rescue missing people.

Julia had found a mattress from somewhere, and had Gwenn with her, helping her to treat staff with burns and injuries. An old woman sat shaking on the mattress, crying as Julia smoothed a salve on her face and neck. To his relief, Tiro spotted Britta nearby with his little friend Narina, dipping drinking jars into clean water from the fountain and pressing them into the hands of thirsty people.

Morcant was working with a red-faced man, gasping in the smoke-filled air as they tried to carry a large wooden beam from the carpenter’s quarters across the courtyard. Tiro hurried to help them.

‘We’re going to break down the front door. The domina thinks her nephew is trapped in the main block.’

With Morcant in the lead and Tiro anchoring the end, they swung the wood against the doors. The double doors groaned but held. Tiro bellowed over the crackling of flames, ‘We need to get nearer. Morcant, really swing the beam back this time!’ The three men hefted the wood as hard and high as they could. Morcant’s big muscles bunched and he gave a mighty roar as they swung again. Tiro pushed his shoulders and hips into the action, nearly losing his footing in the process. The leading end of the beam crashed into the doors. There was a satisfying crunch and explosion of splinters as the doors shattered inward. Tiro rushed forward, but was immediately beaten away by billowing smoke and flames taller than himself reaching greedily for the outside air. He fell back, coughing and slapping at clinging cinders on his tunic. There was no going in that way.

Someone else was missing too, he realised.

‘Have you seen Lady Aurelia?’ he called to Morcant. The noise thrusting out from the main wing nearly drowned his shout, and he coughed as he sucked in smoke. ‘Aurelia? Has anyone seen her?’

The other two shook their heads. Tiro ran over to Julia, who was directing a small boy to fetch more honey for antiseptic salve.

‘Aurelia? No, I haven’t seen her … oh Minerva, where is she?’ Panic filled Julia’s eyes as she jumped to her feet. Tiro fought his own confusion, thinking.

‘Don’t worry, my lady. Leave it to me.’

He was sure he knew where Aurelia had gone, but he had sense enough to tell Quintus too. ’Sir, I’m heading to the stables to look for Aurelia. Lady Julia knows. I’ll get Aurelia all right. Oh, and Domina Claudia thinks Lucius is trapped inside the main wing. The fire has well and truly blocked that entrance.’

Quintus was smeared in black ash, sweating and dirty. He shot out a hand, red and scorched, grabbing Tiro by the shoulder.

‘Your arm, sir!’

‘No time. We can’t find Marcus Aurelianus either. We must find another way into the house. Morcant! Take over here!’  Tiro heard Morcant’s deep bellow as he took charge in the courtyard.

‘This way, sir!’ Tiro led Quintus at a run to the stables. Aurelia was crouched down by a locked cage. She’d managed to get the terrified horses out and tied to surrounding trees by their halters. Some of them were still plunging and attempting to kick out, but Tiro saw at a glance they were securely tied. Back in the stable Quintus snapped the shackle on the cage with