Tilla was nervous walking through the garden in the cool of the morning, clutching her bag in one hand and a borrowed straw hat in the other. The air around her was silent apart from the call of a bird and the plants rustling in the breeze. The screeching insects had not woken up yet.
The dog at the gate sniffed at her curiously as she slipped back the bolts, but he was trained to stop people coming in, not going out. She pulled the gate gently shut behind her and said a silent goodbye to the strange household where she had spent the last three days. She had her savings, four and a half denarii, and her comb in a little leather pouch hung around her neck. Her cloak was bundled inside her bag in case she had to sleep outdoors, and her knife was strapped to her belt.
Travelling alone and unprotected to a strange city seemed far more dangerous this morning than it had last night. She had almost lost her nerve as she watched the Medicus sleeping. She heard the steady rhythm of his breath falter. Heard him mutter something as he dreamed. Waiting, motionless, until he settled again, she told herself both their lives would be less complicated if she were away for a couple of days. Indeed, their lives would be less complicated if they had never met, but she did not want to think about that. She only knew that, if she stayed, she would have to face an evening lying across a dining couch in a borrowed dress — probably yellow again, so that her skin would look grey and her hair would look dirty — while all these foreigners wished she had not come so that the Medicus could propose to Lollia Saturnina.
She had kissed him lightly on the forehead, picked up her things and crept out of the room.
Reaching the roadside, she trained her eyes on the western approach and watched for the cart to appear. She reminded herself that she had the protection of the God Who Is Everywhere. Just in case the god needed a reminder, she lifted her hands and prayed that he would keep her safe. That he would look after the Medicus while she was away. That he would help her find out about the Pride of the South. That Lollia Saturnina would have a laugh like a donkey, or dribble down her chin. ‘Amen,’ she added at the end, remembering the formula. It was important to get the words right, or the prayer would not be heard. Everyone knew that, and besides, it would not do to get on the wrong side of a god who was everywhere and saw everything.
There was a great deal she did not understand about this Christos, and she felt no better for praying to him. But she understood that Cass’s brother had died because of someone else’s greed, and that a means of getting to Arelate to find out the truth had been presented to her while she was in the presence of the god’s worshippers. She had upset Cass last night without meaning to, and she needed to make amends. Besides, she was the only one who could help. The Medicus was too worried about debts and murder, and Cass’s husband was no use. Most of the household must have heard him shouting at her again last night. The Medicus, who had barely spoken to Tilla since she had returned from the meeting next door, had pinched out the lamp and observed that Lucius and wine were not a good combination.
‘You should talk to him.’
‘He wouldn’t listen.’
She said, ‘I hear the widow next door is coming to dinner.’
‘And Diphilus the builder.’
‘She is the one who is very pretty and very rich.’
There was only a brief pause before, ‘Diphilus isn’t.’
‘Even if you find out who did poison that man, you will still have no money.’
She felt the warmth of his sigh on her shoulder. ‘I’m going to have to face a difficult decision before long, Tilla.’
She did not ask what that decision was. She did not need to. All she said was, ‘Not tonight.’
‘No.’ He nestled his head in against her. ‘Not tonight.’
A train of donkeys loaded with panniers of lettuces and onions plodded past on the way to market. Minutes later the driver of a cart reined in his mule, called, ‘Oi! Gorgeous! Going into town?’ and pointed to the seat beside him. She told him she was waiting for someone, and he drove on.
Tilla tried to push away the memories of the last time she had been taken away on a cart from a place she did not want to be. She hoped she was not making another terrible mistake. Instead of rescuing her, that driver had turned out to be even worse than the people from whom she was fleeing. If it had not been for the Medicus’ intervention she would not be alive now. What if Brother Solemnis turned out to be another crook? He had not looked like a criminal — in fact he had looked distinctly alarmed at being asked for a lift by a strange foreign woman. But she had been wrong last time. She shivered and rubbed the scar on the arm that her kidnapper had smashed when she tried to escape. The arm the Medicus had insisted on trying to mend when others would have played safe and left her to try and survive with only one hand.
She should have said something to him about this journey. He did not deserve to be abandoned without a word. But if he had known, there would have been an argument. He would have had to pretend he wanted her to stay and eat dinner with the rich widow.
Tilla’s gaze followed the track of the long shadow that stretched away from her feet in the direction of the town. There was still no sign of the man from Arelate.
At her feet, the tiniest ants she had ever seen were swarming around a dead bee, shifting first one end and then the other, nudging their charge along through the dust. Others were scurrying to and fro along an invisible track, carrying back news of the discovery to their nest.
She put on the hat she had borrowed late last night from Galla. Now the tall thin person in the shadow had a huge round head.
The clang of a distant bell made her look up. If Brother Solemnis did not turn up in a minute, she would be missed at the house. Perhaps she had said the prayer wrong. Perhaps the new god was too busy being everywhere to stop here and listen to one woman.
The bee was being hustled away into the dry grass at the side of the road.
This trip was a very big mistake. She should face up to Lollia Saturnina instead of running away. She must go back now, before someone from the house saw the family guest standing at the roadside with a travelling bag.
But then who would find out about Cass’s brother?
‘I am going to count to ten,’ she told the god. To be fair, she would do it very slowly. Then, if the driver was not here, she would walk back down the track and hope the dog would not make a fuss when she sneaked back in through the unbolted gate.
By the time she had reached eight, her hopes of a reprieve were rising. On ‘nine’ they were dashed. There was a vehicle approaching in the distance. There were also footsteps running up the track behind her.
‘Stop!’ cried Cass, breathless, struggling with a bright blue-and-green-striped bag slung over her shoulder.
Ten. She had been caught. Feeling relieved and rather silly, Tilla picked up her own bag and turned to walk back to the house.
‘Galla told me,’ called Cass. ‘Don’t go without me!’