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

boarded up, and the gates opened and shut precisely as we instruct. There’s more food for us and fodder for the horses being delivered, and tents for the men of Lindinis. The Elder Sister said the townsmen wanted to raise arms and stand with us, but I persuaded her that we had help coming. I told her we don’t wish any harm come to this city. I’ll go now and make final arrangements with Sorio and our people for tomorrow.’

Tiro thought she looked anxious as she left. Quintus grunted by way of response, and Tiro’s heart sank a little.

Marcellus arrived, splashed with mud and looking weary. Quintus passed him a cup of wine wordlessly, and the centurion tossed it down in a single swallow. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

‘It’s all confirmed,’ he said to Quintus. ’Scouts saw the Augusta legion camping for the night about five miles away. They mixed in with a couple of pickets. Word is they still expect to pick up more recruits here. So the legion will march right into the city through the Glevum gate tomorrow, pausing in the forum to add in whatever Corinium men they can add to their ranks. They’ll leave through the Verulamium gate.’

‘And no sense that they expect any resistance?’

‘No, Brother. We are a well-kept secret still.’

’Till dawn tomorrow, then.’

‘Indeed.’

Quintus smiled at his fellow officer. It was a rare sight, that smile, and Tiro was more pleased to see it than he would have thought possible. Their very slim chances rested largely on Quintus, and Tiro hoped the frumentarius would have it in him to lead their little army with spirit when the time came. Or just as likely, he thought gloomily, the Roman would sink back into his usual silent moroseness. And then they’d all make a swift passage to Hades tomorrow.

At dusk Marcellus and Tiro set off on their final camp rounds. Tiro lingered to chat to the Durotriges, as Marcellus went to speak to his section leaders and check the horse lines.

Sorio nodded in greeting. ‘She’s fine, she’s in the tent there. She’s been to look after her pony. Drusus has wagered her a game of latrunculi, and I think he’s being badly beaten. I just hope he hasn’t gambled away all my fortune.’ Tiro glanced into the tent, where two young faces were intent on the game. Aurelia looked up when he said, ’Remember your promise, young lady.’

She nodded. ‘I shall be a model of obedience.’

‘Good. Decurion Sorio has arranged for you to be billeted with a local family first thing in the morning. Be dressed and ready with Milo before dawn.’

She grimaced, and for a moment he feared she would renege on their pact. Then she smiled brilliantly and nodded. ‘Whatever you say, Tiro.’

Well, that was easy. Too easy? By Jupiter, I’ll be glad when tomorrow is over, and Quintus and Julia can sort their daughter out for themselves.

As he approached the command tent he heard raised voices, and flinched. The last thing he wanted was to wander into the middle of another row between the frumentarius and his lady. He was relieved to see Julia leaving the tent. She stopped, looked at him.

‘Um, good evening, my lady,’ She ignored his greeting.

‘Did you know what he’s going to do? Afterwards, I mean?’

Tiro felt horribly uncertain. He cast about for some response, but she rushed on.

‘If he survives — which of course he won’t because he’s got this lunatic sense of responsibility, and he doesn’t value himself, or me, or Aurelia, or — or anyone — ‘

Tiro, feeling useless, stood like a block.

‘—so, even if he does come out of this in one piece, do you know what he has planned?’ This time Julia paused, and seemed to want a reply. Tiro longed to run away. I’m completely out of my depth with this. Women! Gods, what I’d give for Britta to be here instead of me.

‘He’s going to scuttle back to Rome, that’s what!’ She almost spat this out. Tiro saw uneasily that her eyes were wet, her beautiful complexion reddening into splotches and — oh Gods, was she about to start wailing? But Julia dragged a breath in, and composed herself. ’Tiro, your boss is a coward, a cold-hearted bastard, lacking all self-worth and determined to sacrifice himself and everyone who loves him.’

Even to Tiro, these varied epithets didn’t hang together well. But he could see why she might be upset. Come to think, this cosy homecoming plan of the boss would drop him, Tiro, right in the shit too. He was distracted for a moment, trying to work out what the disappearance of Quintus, either into the arms of the Departed, or even worse back to Rome, would mean for Tiro himself. Return to gaol, he supposed. Or a lifetime of scrubbing out the Londinium garrison latrines.

He was jolted out of his introspection by a glare from Julia.

‘You fool!’ She pushed past, nearly knocking him over. She stalked past Marcellus, too, who raised his eyebrows.

‘Don’t ask, sir,’ muttered Tiro, leaving in his turn. No way was he going into that tent. Marcellus could deal with the frumentarius tonight. Tiro headed off to eat with the troopers, promising himself he would avoid his infuriating Italian boss till morning. Maybe things would blow over by then.

It was a short and anxious night. Tiro woke in the dark with sticky eyelids, feeling cold and unrested. He was roused by the watchmen, silently stirring everyone two hours before dawn. After a scratch breakfast of cold bannocks and water, the men moved into pre-arranged groups. Tiro went to check that Aurelia and Milo had left with Drusus for their billet.  Agrippa Sorio silently grasped his arm in greeting, and pointed towards the gate out of the amphitheatre, now filled with a steady stream of men