A Bitter Chill by Jane Finnis Page A

me….”
    “I am not asking you. I am simply requiring you to help me by doing the work I need you to do. You know why we’ve come here. If there were any other way to find my son, do you think I’d be trailing round this appalling countryside to look for him?”
    “I expect so, yes, just to spite us all.” He glowered at her. “Oh well, at least we’re at journey’s end now. I’m going to get a drink. I assume you’re not planning on doing any work today, Sempronia?”
    “Then you assume wrongly, Horatius. I shall have a hot bath, and yes, probably a little refreshment, and you can do the same if you like. After all it must be at least two hours since you had anything to drink.” He opened his mouth to answer, but she waved him silent. “Then I shall start our enquiries. Be ready for a meeting in about an hour. Now that we’re here, I want to make good use of the time. The quicker we start, the quicker we can finish, and get home to civilisation.”
    “I agree with you there, at least.” Horatius headed for the bar-room, adding in a loud stage whisper, “Rush, rush, always rush! We’ll all be dead before our time at this rate. Or one of us will,” he added, but the last bit was a real whisper.
    “Now don’t stand there day-dreaming, the rest of you,” Sempronia boomed. “Diogenes, get the luggage unloaded. Aulus dear, make sure the boy doesn’t go wandering off. Nestor,” she nodded towards her carriage driver, “make sure the animals are all properly cared for, and get the carriages cleaned up. We’ll need them first thing in the morning. Hector,” she indicated the leading bodyguard, “make sure the accommodation for the slaves is adequate. Margarita, you come with me, and we’ll investigate the bath-house. And you, Aurelia Marcella,” she rounded suddenly on me, “you’ll oblige me by joining me in my room in about one hour.”
    Gods, what now? “Of course, if I can help.”
    “I need someone with local knowledge. We have business in this district, and you’ll be able to give us directions, I daresay. I’ll send for you when I’ve had my bath. Kindly be ready.”
    Sempronia took the largest guest-room, and adopted a smaller one adjoining it as a sitting-room. Her husband chose the next biggest, which adjoined the sitting-room on the other side. Timaeus helped him to bed, making it clear his master needed rest and quiet and no interference from strangers. Priscus, Horatius, Diogenes, and Margarita and Gaius took the other rooms. Timaeus said he would sleep on a couch in the sitting-room, so he could be near his patient. There was plenty of space in the slave block for the other servants.
    But even getting the sick man settled caused a squabble. Horatius wanted that second-best room for himself, and so did Priscus. They both complained to me loudly in the corridor outside that his lordship could have managed with a smaller bedroom. I was wondering whether to fetch Sempronia to arbitrate, when we all heard the old man say, “Sempronia, tell them I’m taking this room, and there’s an end of it.” He didn’t raise his voice, but they stopped protesting at once.
    I found the handsome Timaeus in the kitchen, warming up a disgusting-smelling potion in a small brass pan. To my surprise, not to say relief, Cook was chatting to him amiably, so at least someone in this bickering bunch knew how to be diplomatic. I watched him stir the pan. He had good hands, well-shaped and with long slim fingers, and he wore an iron ring. So he was a citizen, perhaps a freedman, one of Plautius’ clients. I’d taken him for a slave.
    He gave me a dazzling smile. “I’m afraid we’re putting you to a lot of trouble.”
    “Not at all. We hope you’ll be comfortable here. I’m only sorry his lordship is so ill.”
    “It’s hardly surprising. He should be at home in bed, not careering around the countryside in the cold. Anyway, you can leave it to me to care for him.” His smile widened. “And of