look the innkeeper gave her suggested she would be sorry for this later.
“Good,” said Ruso, adding, “At least one of you has some sense,” although he doubted that his approval would offer her any protection once the door had closed behind him. “You’ll be hearing from us,” he continued. “In the meantime, get that room scrubbed clean, wash the bedding, and air the mattress. It’s a disgrace. If the accommodation inspectors see that, they’ll close you down.”
The man looked up. “What accommodation inspectors?”
“The ones who are about to go around checking lodgings ready for the visit of the Imperial household,” invented Ruso. “Who, frankly, wouldn’t put their lowliest turd collector in a room like that.”
According to the unemployed boatmen whose board game Ruso interrupted, Tetricus had been seen heading upriver just after dawn. Nobody knew where he was going, or indeed whether he had subsequently returned, rowed past, and traveled in the opposite direction. Despite the promise of the cheapest rates on the river, Ruso rejected the offers of a boat trip on which they might be lucky enough to spot him. He left a message instead. He ought to break the news to Camma. And although she was unlikely to care, he would have to ask her if she could read the letter, or if she had ever heard of Room Twenty-seven.
Mulling over his morning’s experiences as he strode back up the sunlit street, he decided that being an official investigator was much easier than being a doctor. It was the sort of job where you could impress people without knowing very much about anything at all. On the other hand, it seemed to consist largely of making other people miserable. Tilla was right about one thing: The sooner it was over, the better.
12
R USO HAD BARELY lifted his hand to knock on Valens’s door when it was wrenched open. Glimpsing a pile of luggage in the hallway behind his wife, he did not need to be told that she and the newly widowed Iceni woman had been waiting here for hours with everything packed, that all the transport to Verulamium had gone without them, and that if he wanted any lunch he was too late.
She told him anyway.
“I’m sorry, I got held up.” He was ashamed to hear himself adding with guile worthy of Valens, “Didn’t you get a message?”
“No.” She glanced up the stairs and lowered her voice. “Perhaps the dead man you sent forgot to tell me.”
Valens’s consulting rooms were separated from the main hallway by a narrow lobby that housed mops and brooms and smelled of vinegar and rising damp. He drew her into the dark space before asking, “How’s Camma?”
“She is tired and sore and frightened for her husband. And she wants to go home.”
“That’s him in there,” he murmured. “The dead man. I’ve found Julius Asper.”
He was unable to see Tilla’s face, but in the short pause that followed, he hoped she was framing an apology.
Instead she said, “You sent his body here with no message to his wife?”
“I was busy trying to find out what happened to him,” he said. “The porters were supposed to tell Valens to keep it quiet till I got here.”
“Valens and his apprentices were out. Your men came to the house door and told the kitchen boy that if he did not let them in they would leave the body in the street.”
“Oh, hell. Did Camma hear all this going on?”
“She was upstairs.”
“Good.”
“And now we are not going to Verulamium?”
“Not today at least. I need to talk to someone tonight who might have seen the brother.”
“So I must unpack the luggage?”
He groped for the latch of the surgery door. “Keep Camma out of the way a bit longer, will you? We’ll get him tidied up before she sees him.”
“You are still not going to tell her?”
“Of course I am. As soon as we’re ready.”
“I see.”
“Well, it won’t bring him back, will it?”
He ducked inside the consulting room to the sound of, “Wives do not need to
“Good,” said Ruso, adding, “At least one of you has some sense,” although he doubted that his approval would offer her any protection once the door had closed behind him. “You’ll be hearing from us,” he continued. “In the meantime, get that room scrubbed clean, wash the bedding, and air the mattress. It’s a disgrace. If the accommodation inspectors see that, they’ll close you down.”
The man looked up. “What accommodation inspectors?”
“The ones who are about to go around checking lodgings ready for the visit of the Imperial household,” invented Ruso. “Who, frankly, wouldn’t put their lowliest turd collector in a room like that.”
According to the unemployed boatmen whose board game Ruso interrupted, Tetricus had been seen heading upriver just after dawn. Nobody knew where he was going, or indeed whether he had subsequently returned, rowed past, and traveled in the opposite direction. Despite the promise of the cheapest rates on the river, Ruso rejected the offers of a boat trip on which they might be lucky enough to spot him. He left a message instead. He ought to break the news to Camma. And although she was unlikely to care, he would have to ask her if she could read the letter, or if she had ever heard of Room Twenty-seven.
Mulling over his morning’s experiences as he strode back up the sunlit street, he decided that being an official investigator was much easier than being a doctor. It was the sort of job where you could impress people without knowing very much about anything at all. On the other hand, it seemed to consist largely of making other people miserable. Tilla was right about one thing: The sooner it was over, the better.
12
R USO HAD BARELY lifted his hand to knock on Valens’s door when it was wrenched open. Glimpsing a pile of luggage in the hallway behind his wife, he did not need to be told that she and the newly widowed Iceni woman had been waiting here for hours with everything packed, that all the transport to Verulamium had gone without them, and that if he wanted any lunch he was too late.
She told him anyway.
“I’m sorry, I got held up.” He was ashamed to hear himself adding with guile worthy of Valens, “Didn’t you get a message?”
“No.” She glanced up the stairs and lowered her voice. “Perhaps the dead man you sent forgot to tell me.”
Valens’s consulting rooms were separated from the main hallway by a narrow lobby that housed mops and brooms and smelled of vinegar and rising damp. He drew her into the dark space before asking, “How’s Camma?”
“She is tired and sore and frightened for her husband. And she wants to go home.”
“That’s him in there,” he murmured. “The dead man. I’ve found Julius Asper.”
He was unable to see Tilla’s face, but in the short pause that followed, he hoped she was framing an apology.
Instead she said, “You sent his body here with no message to his wife?”
“I was busy trying to find out what happened to him,” he said. “The porters were supposed to tell Valens to keep it quiet till I got here.”
“Valens and his apprentices were out. Your men came to the house door and told the kitchen boy that if he did not let them in they would leave the body in the street.”
“Oh, hell. Did Camma hear all this going on?”
“She was upstairs.”
“Good.”
“And now we are not going to Verulamium?”
“Not today at least. I need to talk to someone tonight who might have seen the brother.”
“So I must unpack the luggage?”
He groped for the latch of the surgery door. “Keep Camma out of the way a bit longer, will you? We’ll get him tidied up before she sees him.”
“You are still not going to tell her?”
“Of course I am. As soon as we’re ready.”
“I see.”
“Well, it won’t bring him back, will it?”
He ducked inside the consulting room to the sound of, “Wives do not need to
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