“Try some,” he suggested to Ruso, who had just been shown into his office. The bowl contained some sort of grain.
“Barley,” said Catavignus.
Ruso took a couple of the grains and wondered whether his host knew that the army considered barley rations to be a form of punishment. He bit warily, not inclined to sacrifice his molars for the sake of politeness. To his surprise the grains crunched between his teeth and the flavor was unexpectedly rich and nutty.
“Malt,” explained Catavignus as the servant left. “Sprouted and dried at just the right time and temperature. That’s the challenge of this business: getting the malt right. Do you know there are tribes across the sea who use good malt as currency?” He smiled. “If only we could all grow our own money. What can I do for you, Doctor?”
“I was hoping you’d allow me a quick word with your daughter now that she’s finished at the baths.”
“My
daughter
?”
“It’s about Tilla,” said Ruso, untruthfully.
“Ah, yes. In fact if you have a moment, I would like to speak to you myself.”
Ruso, who did not have a moment, wished he had gone straight to the house and asked to see Aemilia instead of trying to observe social niceties.
“As you can probably see,” said Catavignus, nodding toward the window, through which Ruso could see almost nothing, “this settlement has enormous potential.”
Ruso, who had been expecting to discuss Tilla rather than town planning, grunted something that might have been assent.
“A fine location at a major river crossing and a road junction, fertile land, and plenty of local building stone for something more permanent. It’s already a holiday destination for the men stationed up in the hill forts, and I’ve lost count of the number who say they’d like to move here when they retire. And we have the advantage of being right at the forefront of the empire.”
“The forefront?” repeated Ruso, wondering if the man had chosen the wrong word to translate a native concept.
“On the prow of the ship. On the edge. A lamp shining civilization out onto barbarian ignorance. And a customs post always draws plenty of trade.”
“I see,” said Ruso.
“Of course it’s all on a modest scale at the moment, but this is the time to invest. Get in at the beginning. That’s why I’ve expanded the brewery and had a malt house built and a water supply put in. That’s why the guild of caterers is very keen to do all it can to support the emperor’s protectors. Because once the rebels are dealt with, Coria has the potential to become one of the finest towns in Britannia.”
“Really?”
“Not only an ideal place for an ambitious officer to invest, but a good location to settle and raise a family.”
“Ah,” said Ruso. “So this is about Tilla.”
Catavignus smiled as if he knew he had been caught out. “Pretty name. Did you give it to her?”
“I think she made it up.”
As Catavignus said, “She is all we have left of my brother’s family,” the surly boy appeared and announced that the builder was here again.
“Tell him I’ve no more to say to him. Felix had the money. He needs to talk to Felix’s centurion.” Catavignus turned back to Ruso. “I take it you know what happened to my brother?”
“More or less,” said Ruso.
“Ah. Yes. Well.” Catavignus took an ominously deep breath. “He and his family farmed a plot of land just north of here. They were . . .” He hesitated. “My brother’s family led a wild existence,” he said. “There have always been cattle raids across the border, but my nephews made a habit of it. The northerners, of course, retaliated. One night I woke to hear the alarm horn being blown—we lived close by in those days—and rushed up there to find my brother’s house burned and the haystack and the stores ablaze, and in the light of the fires . . .”
Catavignus lowered his head and appeared to be struggling to compose himself. “Excuse me,” he said. “The memory is still painful. When daylight came we searched through the wreckage but the fire was so fierce we could not even account for all the bodies. I’m ashamed to say we all assumed my niece was among them. Of course if we’d known she was a prisoner, I would have taken steps to bring her back. So as the surviving head of the family, I can only say how very grateful we are to you for looking after her.”
“She has worked for her keep.”
“My niece has always been the flower among the brambles of my brother’s family,” continued Catavignus. “A delightful girl.”
Ruso scratched one ear and tried to remember if he had ever thought of Tilla as “delightful.” The word had possibly wandered into his mind, but if so, it had swiftly fled when confronted with the reality. “She’s very attractive,” he conceded. He might also have said erotic, eccentric, frustrating, obstinate, and very likely unfaithful, but not in front of her uncle.
“She tells me you treated her kindly. I suspect you were very patient.”
“I’ve done my best,” said Ruso, glad Catavignus had not witnessed the conversation outside Susanna’s just now.
“Newcomers find our women headstrong at first, but I promise you they’re well worth the effort of taming.”
“Like your hunting dogs?”
Catavignus’s smile reminded him of Tilla. “Like our horses,” he said. “Visit her here whenever you like. My people have a tradition of hospitality. I’ll see to it that you have complete privacy.”
Ruso managed, “Thank you.”
“We’ll be honored to welcome you into the family.”
Ruso’s mind was echoing,
Into the family?
when the surly boy interrupted again to say the man from the infirmary was here to see the master.
Catavignus frowned and excused himself for a moment. To his surprise, Ruso heard the voice of Gambax outside.
Moments later Catavignus reappeared. “Always a pleasure to do business with the army.” He sat down and smoothed his mustache with a forefinger. “A busy morning. Where was I? As I was saying, my people have many kinds of marriage to suit all situations.”
“Marriage?”
“Spring is the right season. And it’s quite common for the wife here to stay in the home of her kin. So if the husband has to be away on duty he can be sure she’s safe and well looked after.”
“Nobody’s talked about marriage,” pointed out Ruso.
“You mean you’ve not been bedding her?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“We’d be happy to reduce the bride price in recognition of the kindness you’ve shown her.”
“There’s a bride price?”
“Traditionally, yes, but a nominal sum will do. You’ve already been very generous.”
Ruso swallowed hard. “Have you discussed this with her?”
“I’m talking to you first. Finding out your intentions.”
Ruso shook his head. “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” he said, “But my intentions in caring for your niece really weren’t, ah—” He could hardly say that he had bought her from a rogue trader in a back alley. Nor, despite his own feelings about it, was it fair to tell her uncle she had slept with Rianorix. “I mean, I know she’s very . . . I am. . . I have been very fond of her. But my first marriage wasn’t a success. I’m not looking to settle down with a wife and family. Even if she did want me as a husband, which I doubt very much.”
Catavignus frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that, Doctor. She does come with land as well, did I forget to mention that? Of course, as a military man you wouldn’t be farming it, but I could put in a tenant and send you the rent wherever you’re posted. Less a very small deduction for costs, of course.”
“Land?” said Ruso, stupidly. “Rent?”
“Of course to an officer like yourself, a little rent here or there is nothing. I’m just trying to make the offer as fair as possible.”
“I’ve never really thought of—”
“Don’t worry, Doctor. I see what you’re trying to say. I’ll keep looking. Somebody will have her, I’m sure. Now, come with me, and I’ll introduce you to my daughter.”
Whatever either man might have hoped for in a meeting between Ruso and Aemilia, both were disappointed. Aemilia had retreated into her room and barricaded the door. Her father’s insistence that a very important officer had come to see her only produced a howl of, “Go away!”
Catavignus explained to Ruso that his daughter was not well, and less politely to Aemilia that she was shaming the whole family.
“Go away!”
Ruso asked for a chance to try on his own. When her father had retreated he said quietly, “Aemilia, this is important. I know about the ring you were given by—”
“Go away!”
“Aemilia, I’m a medicus. Perhaps I could help—”
“Go away!”
“Please just let me—”
“Go away!”
“Aemilia, I know you saw Felix on the night—”
This time “Go away!” was preceded by a loud scream and followed by the dull boom of fists hitting the back of the door.
Catavignus appeared in the corridor, yelled at his daughter that she was a disgrace, that if she didn’t open the door this minute she would be beaten.
Not surprisingly, this did not entice her out.
“Don’t worry,” said Ruso. “I’m used to this. Don’t bother with the beating. I’ll just come back later.”
A
LL THE WAY
back to the infirmary Ruso was running over his alarming conversation with Catavignus.
My people have many kinds of marriage.
Of course there were many kinds of marriage. There were at least three. There was his brother’s sort: the kind where the couple liked each other from the start. There was the sort contracted by the rich and powerful, where the couple didn’t like each other—if they had even met— and probably never would, but the marriage cemented some form of political or financial alliance. Finally there was the sort where each found the other vaguely attractive—well, not unattractive—and where the families of both assured the candidates that they were eminently suited and it really was time that each of them married, so why not each other? After all, how long were they going to wait around being particular? Then they spent the next three years finding out that they didn’t like each other at all, and wondering how much longer they would have to wait for the development of—well, if not affection, at least mutual comprehension. Then, after yet another misunderstanding, the wife sent a long letter home detailing all the husband’s shortcomings. Instead of telling his daughter to pull herself together, the wife’s father scribbled a terse note to the husband demanding that he shape up. After that, it was only a matter of time before the wife packed her many bags—or rather, had her slaves pack them for her—and booked a passage home at the husband’s expense.
None of these seemed to be the sort of marriage Catavignus was suggesting. Certainly none of them covered the relationship he had enjoyed with Tilla before he had made the fatal error of bringing her home.
He exchanged a nod of greeting with the man from We Sell Everything, and made his way back through the gates to discover that Valens had commandeered his chair in the treatment room.
“Ruso! Where have you been? Come and sit down. Gambax, get him a cup, there’s a good man.”
When Gambax had gone Ruso frowned. “I’m trying to get the beer drinking under control here.”
“Really? Gambax told me you and he had a drink together when you first got here. Then you asked specially to be put in the room with the barrel. I hope you’re not falling into bad ways, Ruso. Beer’s not good for you, you know. Bad for the membranes, makes you bulge, and produces flatulence. Dioscorides says so.”
“Then why are you drinking it?”
“To be sociable, of course. Actually they seem to be a friendly lot here. I met some chap in the baths yesterday who invited me to dinner tomorrow. And another man dropped by just now to ask if you wanted to go out hunting.”
“Metellus?”
“I thought about telling him I was your brother, but nobody would believe I was related to a miserable toad like you, so I told him the truth and swore him to silence. He seems like the sort of chap who can keep a secret.”
“Oh, he is,” agreed Ruso. “Secrets are his business. I hope you told him I was too busy?”
Valens’s handsome face clouded over. “Actually, he seemed to think you’d enjoy it. So I said I’d cover for you here. You’d better hurry, they’ll be going any minute.”
“I’ve already told him at least twice that I won’t go. And it’s raining.”
“Oh, don’t be miserable, Ruso. A little rain won’t hurt you. I’m doing you a favor—ah, Gambax. The doctor doesn’t want a beer after all. He’s assigned me to cover the infirmary for him while he goes off stag hunting.”
R
USO’S PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE
of hunting was limited, but even he knew that late morning was not the time to start and that this was a bizarrely equipped expedition. The mounted company he intercepted on its way to the east gate consisted of Metellus, a dozen fully armed cavalrymen, and six hounds in the charge of a mounted servant. A couple of riders had rolled hunting nets strapped to the backs of their horses as if this had been an afterthought.