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

Quintus looked around for Tiro. He wasn’t to be seen, but it was a good bet he’d be in the kitchen, just about the only cleanish intact room left in the villa and where he’d find Britta and Gwenn, no doubt, as well as food and warmth. He sent Tertius with Aurelia to the kitchen, and went himself to find the Sorios. The short day was beginning to wane. Before leaving, Quintus wanted to be sure that their promises of help would be honoured.

Julia found him first. She glanced at his arm. He scowled, then feeling ashamed of himself raised a fleeting smile of greeting. She smiled back, but after a hesitation that said everything. He made an effort.

‘What help do you lack here? I’ll speak to Sorio.’

‘No need. Our neighbour has already arranged to send over a construction gang from his own estate at Bawdrip.  We should at least have a roof over our heads soon. I will arrange the funeral for tomorrow, and then take Aurelia home with me to Aquae Sulis until probate has been settled and her future is clearer. Britta and I will take care of Aurelia. Don’t be concerned for her, Quintus. I know my brother’s wishes. Aurelia is the sole beneficiary of the estate, and under my guardianship till she comes of age.’

‘Claudia?’

Julia screwed up her face. ‘My brother’s will makes provision for her, but Bo Gwelt is no longer her home. I think we will let Claudia go back to Iscalis and live the quiet life of a widow in Bulbo’s villa.’

Quintus made no objection; his mind was already elsewhere. Julia might feel he should be consulted about their daughter, but he knew himself to be unworthy of the vibrant little creature who made him yearn for home and peace. He looked away. There was one final thing to be said, and he found it hard to say.

‘I know you will do what you have always done for our daughter. You will think of her best interests, love her, and fight for her future happiness. For what it’s worth, I thank you.’

It was a goodbye, of sorts. Quintus knew what was coming at the end of his road: the final act of his soldier’s life that would settle all. If he lived, he would think then about the future. But he saw little need to plan ahead.  A whole trained experienced legion, quite possibly two, against the few men he might scrape together?

Julia was watching him again. To his surprise she came close, sliding her arms around him, still watching. She lifted her face a little. Her clear blue eyes looked into his. He smelt roses, and saw the flash of the gold owlet necklace as he bent to kiss her mouth.

Something inside him tore, began to break free.

A throat was cleared nearby, and Sorio pater spoke. ‘You sent for me, Frumentarius?’

‘How could he have escaped?’

Tiro had been dragged away from his tete-a-tete with Britta. There was no sign of the prisoner, Caesulanus, and no horse where Tiro had left him the previous night.

‘To be honest, boss, I just plain forgot him, what with the fire and everything.’

‘You moron! You useless British moron!’

Tiro looked upset.

‘I apologise, sir. I neglected my duty. I understand you have to punish me, but if there is anything I can do to make up for this, I will.’

Quintus uncurled furious fists. His burned forearm was awash with fresh pain. He drew a deep breath, and then another. It wasn’t Tiro’s fault. They had all been caught up in the disaster of the fire. Tiro had willingly put himself at risk to help rescue Aurelia. Quintus of all people could appreciate how much fear Tiro had felt in the tunnels of the hypocaust. And gone in anyway. That took guts and commitment.

‘Right. You will be punished. You’re coming with me now to undo your omission. Thanks to Marcellus we know where Caesulanus is heading. We may just get there before him.’

‘Where, sir?’

‘Maybe the biggest battle of our lives, Tiro.’

Reading the Investigator’s set face, Tiro guessed their chances of coming back alive were not good. He cursed the gods. It seemed unfair to find the sort of girl he’d always looked for, only to lose her now. Just as he’d begun to hope she might feel the same. The words she’d whispered to him a few minutes ago might be the last he would ever hear from her.

Chapter Twenty-two

Tiro was grateful for the full moon and lack of clouds that night, as they rode west along the low ridge of the Poldens. It was a silent night, with only their own hoofbeats and the occasional fox bark to punctuate the quiet. Tiro stretched, easing sore muscles in his back. The healing grazes on his elbows and knees were beginning to itch. He felt thoroughly miserable. Why had he spent his whole life so far making a mess of everything, chasing booze, fun and easy sex? And now, when at last he knew what kind of life he really wanted and maybe had a chance to achieve it, now it seemed likely he would die first.

At least the scar on his forehead had stopped hurting. He took cheer from that and thought about their next steps. They were to take fast ship at the little port of Crandon Bridge, on the estuary of the Pedrida river. He didn’t need to know more. He’d just go with the flow and throw himself into whatever adventure awaited.

Ahead of him the Sorio boy led the way, sitting easy on his horse with a light spear in one hand. Nice bit of horseflesh he’s got there, thought Tiro, distracted by the horse’s strong lines and well-pricked ears. Drusus hadn’t needed to be asked twice to be their guide