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

Marcus kept his accounts and records, and his library of books too. The floor was tessellated, plain and unadorned. Tiro looked curiously at the hole cut into the floor. He considered the dragged-away tiled cover, wondering which had come first — the secret hole under the floor, or the hypocaust. He remembered that the heating system was not yet complete. Chances were the hole was dug first. Putting the lantern on the floor, he reached his hand in to feel around inside the hole. Nothing … nothing — yes, there was something hidden here. Smooth uncharred leather bags, not large but heavy. Three of them, stacked at fingertip reach under the floor.

Grunting, Tiro heaved out the bags. They were sealed with thongs round the neck. He tugged one open and reached inside, not sure in the poor light what his searching hand had closed round.

Heavy stacked rolls, wrapped in cloth. Tiro closed his eyes for a moment, sucking in a long breath. He felt light-headed.

’Sir.’

Quintus stirred, looked up.

‘The Vebriacum silver? We’ve found it. Some of it, anyway.’

Quintus seemed to come back to himself. He rubbed his face.

‘We need to get out of here. The wind could switch at any moment and trap us. Aurelia, we have to leave your father here for a little while, but we will come back for him when it’s safe.’

He nodded at the puppy, who was waffling around him, trying to climb up. ‘Shall I carry Cerberus, or will you?’

Aurelia gathered up the puppy. Quintus moved to the door, but recoiled, startled, before he reached it.

‘By the Gods, that’s scorching! The fire is still too fierce out there. Marcus must have had a bronze security door made for this room.’ Quintus picked up his damp cloak, wrapped it carefully around his hand, and tried to turn the metal door-handle. In the gloom he accidentally brushed the door with his burnt arm.  He yelped and cursed, stumbling back.

‘No good. We’ll have to go back the same way we came. Get a move on, Tiro.’ He nodded at the hole leading to the hypocaust. Tiro felt his heart beginning again to jiggle in his chest. His legs quivered. Quintus looked at him.

‘Take this other lantern, Tiro. Have a last look round in here while we sort out Cerberus. You know the sort of thing we’re looking for.’ Quintus handed the lantern on the bracket to Tiro, then wrapped his cloak carefully around his shivering daughter. They quickly bundled up the puppy before lowering themselves back down the hole in the floor, and disappearing.

Tiro directed the lantern’s gleam carefully round the room one last time. He was looking for a weapon capable of causing the crushing head injury, which might provide clues to the identity of the killer.

 The ink pot? No, too small and made of breakable ceramic. The brazier … mmm, not enough coals spilled to cause a fire in here, but too hot to be lifted at the time it was burning. No other obvious weapons, anywhere. Maybe the murderer took the weapon with him when he got away. Wait a minute —

Tiro dragged up the long heavy candelabra. It had a stand at the bottom and a tripod flower arrangement at the top for holding candles. One of the triple prongs was sticky with blood. There was also a discarded garment lying on the floor under the desk. He pulled out a cloak, a short one of exceptionally fine saffron-coloured wool, and slipped it behind his belt. A final look round, and a straightening of his shoulders. Then he picked up the lantern and lowered himself into the hole to follow the others.

Chapter Twenty

Julia pulled the lamp closer to examine the injured woman. She’d not really pushed aside her terror for Aurelia. While she worked some remote part of her mind worried at a nugget of reassurance, like a terrier pulling at a rat in a wall. Quintus would find her daughter — their daughter — and bring Aurelia back safely. He must find her.

She concentrated again on the injured woman, Totia, who had broken an arm. She’d tried to go back into the servants’ wing to rescue some little belongings, and a beam from the ground floor portico had fallen on her, knocking her to the floor. Julia set the broken bone and bound the arm into position across the woman’s body.

Totia sucked her teeth in pain as Julia tied the final knot.

‘I’m sorry to hurt you, Totia. The arm is straightened and set now, and I’ll put on a herbal salve for the pain. Don’t touch the salve, though, it’s not good to eat. Go and get a cup of mead from Britta to help you sleep. I’ll see you again tomorrow.’

Julia lamented all the herbal remedies sitting useless in the dispensary at Aquae Sulis. Fortunately she knew where comfrey grew in clumps near the house. Britta had collected some of the early leaves at her direction, and now at least Julia had a supply of healing poultices for breaks, sprains and torn muscles, as well as honey from the beehives for infection, and mead to dim trauma and pain.

Again her mind flitted away to dwell on images of Quintus and Aurelia. Somehow she was sure he would find her. Just as he had saved Julia from the man Labienus last night. That had been the most confusing event she had ever experienced, leaving her now cycling between resentment, amazement and reassurance. In the midst of washing a cut or smoothing honey over a burn, her mind kept drifting back to the warmth of Quintus’s shoulder against her face, the smell of his skin.

She stood up to stretch out her cramped legs before making her way across to her sister-in-law, sitting with Bulbo. He stood, rubbing his hands nervously down his toga as Julia approached and