“Oh, thank you, thank you!” Virana’s troubles were forgotten. “I know how to work hard. I will fetch the wood and the water and light the fires and cook and clean the house and milk the goats, and I promise I will behave myself, and-”
Tilla stopped listening to the promises the girl would probably break within a week, because she had seen who was riding back along the verge toward them.
She gathered up fistfuls of skirt, leapt down from the cart, and ran toward him. “Husband!”
He leaned down from the horse and held out one hand to seize her own.
“Are you really safe this time?”
“I am,” he assured her, bending to kiss the top of her head.
“What did the emperor say to you?”
He swung down from the horse and they fell respectably into step, a glance the only further sign of affection between officer and wife: nothing to entertain the drivers of the baggage train.
“You’ve heard about Geminus’s suicide?”
She said, “I do not care about him. The important people to remember are the three boys who died.”
He nodded. They walked together in silence. Then he cleared his throat. “There’s something I need to talk to you about. We can stop worrying about Metellus’s wretched list from now on.”
“This is good news, husband!”
“Yes. I was hoping you would see it that way.”
“Why would I not?”
He seemed to be having some trouble with his throat. “The emperor didn’t arrange it in quite the way I was expecting.”
“Do we have to go to Rome?”
“No. Metellus does, but I expect his lists will continue to circulate after he’s gone.”
“Like the lady with the sparrow.”
He said, “You don’t have to learn to read if you don’t want to.”
“I want to. So I will know what it says on the all the labels and you can teach me how to be a medicus.”
“How to be a-”
“And when you go away, I can write and nag you, like Marcia does.” His eyes widened. “Gods above. I saw him twice and completely forgot. She wanted me to ask Hadrian for a job for her husband.”
“She does not need to know that you met him.”
“But how else do I explain why you’re a …” He paused, looking round. “Who is that girl that keeps hanging around? She reminds me of somebody.”
Tilla turned. “Do you not remember Virana?”
“The pregnant tart from Eboracum? But she’s-”
“Wearing something respectable.”
“What’s she doing here?”
Tilla took a deep breath. “There is something I need to explain to you.”
“Yes. There’s something I need to explain to you too.”
Their eyes met. “You first,” she said.