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

‘Can’t get there fast enough, sir.’

The sustained rain of the previous night was petering out when Tiro emerged from his tent into the grey light of morning. He groaned as he stood. If anything the pain in his side was worse. The wine at the baths last night, and the beer shop crawl afterwards with Marcellus and Prefect Antonius had worn off all too quickly, and he had slept little. He thought glumly of the long ride home. But where was home? Surely not back in Londinium? What he needed in his life now was the gentle touch of a good woman, he decided. It would be okay, perhaps, to settle down with the right person, maybe have children. Not that he had ever intended to marry, he wasn’t the marrying kind. Although…and here he drifted off into the scent of lavender, until Aurelia appeared, shouting,’Tiro! Tiro! Are you here?’ He said nothing, glaring at her. She was looking scruffy after several days with no change of clothes and sleeping rough in a billet. But her mood was clearly sunny, and she seemed delighted to see him. He fended off her attempts at a hug.

‘Ribs!’ he gasped. ‘No touching.’ She released him and grinned.

‘I kept my promise yesterday, Tiro. I did exactly what you said — well, apart from going very quickly to warn Aunt Julia that Lucius was here. And then I got to spend the rest of the day with the Corinium Sisterhood. They’re wonderful, Tiro, they know so much and all about medicines and poisons …and magic! Actual magic, Tiro, and they talk to the Gods, the old gods too, all the time. So that’s what I want to be, like Aunt Julia, one day… Are you listening, Tiro?’ He had closed his eyes, only for a tiny moment, mind. He opened them to see Aurelia peering curiously at him. ‘Anyway, you promised me you’d say more about what you meant by “your mother and your…”

Tiro clutched his side, and leaned back gingerly onto his bedroll, groaning. He thought it was good acting, and anyway he truly did feel rough. But Aurelia was having none of it.

‘Well, if you won’t tell me, I’ll tell you instead, Tiro. You meant that you would talk to my mother, my mother Julia, didn’t you?’

Tiro wondered why the Gods had chosen to inflict such suffering on him. Hadn’t he always made decent sacrifices, and carried out to the letter any promises he made in return for divine favour? And yet here he was, in this impossible position. He groaned again, for real this time. Aurelia laughed.

‘It’s okay, Tiro. I already guessed. I think I’ve known for ages. And one day last year, that wretch Lucius told me I wasn’t really the heir to my father’s estate. He said Claudia had told him I was the bastard mistake of my father’s sister. Well, Father had only one sister, my darling Aunt Julia. And I was so happy — until I began to wonder who my father could be. She never seems to have any boyfriends, always working, only seeing people like Surgeon Anicius. And it couldn’t be him!’ Aurelia shuddered, which Tiro thought was unfair on the tubby little medicus.

‘Then I met Quintus. And I heard from Britta that he and Aunt Julia knew each other many years ago.’ She cast Tiro a look of importance, as if she had discovered the secret of life. Which, Tiro supposed, she had.

‘Well?’ he said, pretending nonchalance.

‘Come on, Tiro — I’ve got the same grey eyes, same dark hair, nothing like my darling father Marcus. It was obvious. And then, when they started fighting every time they met—then I was sure.’

Tiro sighed. Aurelia twinkled and leaned over to kiss his rough stubbled cheek. ’You don’t have to say anything. But I need you to make another promise.’

Now what?

‘Err… yes?’ he said cautiously.

‘Now we know who my real father is, you must promise to go everywhere with him. And keep him safe.’ He saw a glint of bright water in her eye. ‘I can’t lose a second father. And I think Julia wants him, although maybe she doesn’t know it yet. And I want her to be happy. So you’ll get it all sorted, won’t you, dearest Tiro?’

Tiro watched in astonishment as the girl pranced her way out of the tent. So it’s “Julia” now, is it? Oh, how he regretted that night of drunken debauchery followed by prison in Londinium, all those weeks ago. Without that night he would never have crossed the path of the Governor’s Man. What was he going to tell him? He gave the problem two seconds thought. Nothing. He would say absolutely nothing to Quintus. Wasn’t his problem. But he would look after the frumentarius for Aurelia.

Once his bloody ribs had stopped hurting.

Chapter Thirty

It was the final leg of a hot journey. It was still only late April, but felt to Quintus more like June. The heat had persuaded the hedgerow flowers to bloom early. His scarred leg itched with fatigue and the dusty sweat on his clothes irked him. His chestnut horse plodded without enthusiasm along the dusty ridge road of the Poldens. They turned off to Bo Gwelt, and Quintus realised he should have planned what to say. Too late now. Cantering towards him was Milo, with Aurelia in the saddle. And, oh Gods, Drusus lying forward on his horse, galloping to catch her. His daughter saw him and shrieked, nearly tumbling off her pony with dusty hair flying awry and her worn tunic caught up.

‘Sir! I knew you would come back today. I told Britta, and she said how did I know, had Tiro said something he didn’t tell her, and poor Tiro nearly got in trouble till I said, no, no, I just had a feeling. And I was right!’

‘Greetings, sir.’ Drusus drew