I bit so hard on my lip that it hurt. “I don’t think Rhodri’s guilty. And making trouble for the Brits is cruel and stupid.”
“That’s Meditor.” He took another drink of the beer. “You mind?”
I shook my head. My stomach would wait for better things. “Agricola won’t do it. He’s trying to win them over, not punish them.” I don’t know whether I was attempting to convince myself or Mollius.
The vigil snorted. “He’ll do whatever is best for Rome. And that translates into whatever is best for him. And even if he doesn’t let Meditor go all the way, some of the men will. They’ve been itching to get at “the troublemakers” as they call them.”
He turned to look at me, his worn and tired face suddenly earnest. “Listen, Arcturus. I’m nothing. An old soldier. I’ve killed a lot of men, because I didn’t have a choice. I do now. But Meditor and his boys will harass every hut from here to the coast if they get a chance. If you know where that boy is, find him. And if you know he’s innocent, you’d best be prepared to have proof.”
“Thanks, Mollius.” I laid the denarius on the bar. “Keep the change.”
His mouth curved wryly. “I’ll just lose it on a bet.” His hand reluctantly caressed the coin before he picked it up. “Thanks.”
I leaned in close again. “Did Meditor say anything about a Marcus Caelius Prato?”
He wrinkled his brow for a minute, then shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard. Why? How’s he figure?”
“He’s the real owner of Lupo’s-the place where Maecenas was staying.”
His thick eyebrows arched in surprise. “Want me to find out about him for you?”
I looked my gratitude. “Very much.” I lowered my voice still further. “He murdered one of his slaves today. A prostitute. Beat her to death.”
A spasm of pain and disgust crossed Mollius’ worn face. He lowered his eyes, and groped for the cup. His head tilted back, and back again, as he drained it, and laid it with a thump on the bar. “Don’t consider it a favor. I’ll do what I can.”
The beer was starting to take him again. “Goddamn pietas, you know? Agricola kills the natives, the natives kill someone else, some prick kills a whore-all pietas.”
He stared at me, his eyes watery and blind. “It’s not just a Roman thing, y’know. Not just Virgil and Aeneas and all that literary, legendary crap. Everybody’s got a little pietas. It’s a fancy name for what it means to do what you think you have to do, for your country, your god, your wife, your kids, your miserable shitty little life, no matter who gets in the way and who it hurts. No, my friend-everybody’s got a little pietas.”
I left him on the stool, muttering to himself. The fly and I escaped together.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I walked along the quays and the docks on the way home, past the palaces, large and small, brooding over the river-their inhabitants and visitors still scurrying like ants, though the sun had withdrawn its favors and darkness was around the corner. I didn’t think, didn’t talk, didn’t whistle, just walked. No one followed me. I followed myself.
When I opened the door, Draco and Brutius greeted me.
“How’s Bilicho?”
“He’s very well, Master, Coir’s been with him all day.” Draco answered promptly. Brutius cleared his throat.
“What is it? What happened?”
“Nothing to do with Dominus Bilicho. He’s been awake for hours. There’s someone else to see you.”
I started walking toward the triclinium. “Where?”
“No, Master, not there.” This time it was Brutius. “Your examination room.”
I didn’t need to ask who. Avitus, again, I was sure of it. He must’ve wanted to see me personally, and to keep it quiet, which is why Brutius and Draco were so nervous and why they put him in here. I walked fast, fully prepared to face the beneficarius, and found myself facing Gwyna.
The switch didn’t bother me much. She was dressed somewhere in between her campaign uniform and the plain tunic I’d kissed her in. She turned with a genuine-looking smile of relief, and came toward me, her hands outstretched.
She grabbed my arms and got closer. “Thank God you’re all right. I came as soon as I could.”
I stared down at her, and disengaged myself. “You run as hot and cold as a thermae. Last time I saw you was yesterday. You shoved me out the door, remember? What’s wrong, Gwyna? You need something?”
The blue didn’t snap this time. She held up her head, and returned my stare, some pain making fine lines around her eyes.
“I deserve that. I’m sorry.”
I chewed my cheek a little. After we both shuffled our feet and smoothed our hair, I motioned for her to sit in one of the two chairs I pulled up near the brazier. I sat in the other. I looked at her until her face turned red.
“Don’t stare at me.”
“Why not? I’ve come close to doing a hell of a lot more.”
She jumped up angry and headed for the door. Then she stopped and turned around, slowly, deliberately, walked to the chair where I was still sitting, and slapped me across the face. Twice. She was strong for her size. Then, still slowly, still deliberately, she lowered herself back in the chair, her eyes black-hot and her lips curved into a challenge.
I rubbed my cheek, and chewed it some more. Then I leaned over, grabbed her arms, picked her up and pulled her into my lap, the chair squeaking beneath the two of us. She fought me with her mouth, pulling my hair and scratching my back and the match was about even. She might even have been winning a little.
I broke it off, finally, needing to breathe. Her breath was warm and on my neck and her hand stroked my face.
“You need a shave.”
“Did you come all the way out here to tell me that?”
She pushed herself up from my chest to look at me. “I came here to thank you. And to tell you. Everything.”
Her hands were doing their best to keep me from paying any attention. I picked her up again, while she protested, and placed her, more gently this time, back in her chair.
“You can thank me later. And for what?”
She leaned forward. “Agricola came to see my father today. It made him happy-happier than I’ve seen him in a long time. They talked about Claudius and the wars, when my father was young. The governor gave him a ring. It helped him-helped him heal, just for this one day. I know it was because of you, and I … I thank you, Ardur.”
I rubbed my neck. “Thank the governor.” I looked up. “But not like that.”
She grabbed my hand and held it to her lips. Her eyes wouldn’t let go. The words rushed out of her, and they sounded true. And felt good enough for me not to care if they weren’t.
“When I thought I’d lost you, I felt like I was dying, too.” She gave me a crooked smile. “The games we play. My family has always been too proud. I was going to tell you everything. Even-even if it meant you’d stop wanting me. And then you sent the governor. And I knew you still cared, and I hoped you would even after I told you.”
“Told me what?”
She watched me for a moment. “Your hands are shaking. What’s wrong, Ardur? What happened?”
I held my palms together. “There was another murder today. Caelius beat one of his prostitutes to death because she knew something about Maecenas’ murder.”
She paled, her blonde hair glinting copper in the red hue of the brazier. “Caelius … he’s consolidated our debts. My father told me today. I-I think he wants to marry me.”
I jumped up and pulled her to me, holding her tight enough to hurt, my arms locked around her, my lips in her hair.
“Tell me what you know, Gwyna. About Rhodri. About everything.”