Semper Fidelis

Chapter 44

“Well,” said Sabina when the woman had gone, “what did you make of her? Shall I take her with me?”

“Take her with you?” At the sight of Tranquillus’s mouth forming an “O” of horror in his little round face, Sabina felt a shiver of delight. This afternoon had been the best entertainment she had had since coming to Britannia. “Oh, Tranquillus! You look almost as amusing as she did when I said, ‘Do not pray too hard.’”

“Madam, the woman is a native!”

“That is what makes her interesting. Clarus, what do you think?”

“And very impertinent!” put in Tranquillus before he had a chance to answer.

Sabina sighed. “Yes, I suppose so. Sooner or later I should be obliged to have her beaten, which would be a pity. Do our centurions really gamble away their men, Clarus?”

“It’s not customary, madam. I think that woman must be the wife of the rather wild-eyed doctor who ran after the emperor this morning.”

“Really?” Sabina sat forward, felt herself jerked backward, and aimed a slap at the slave who had failed to let go of her hair in time. “A doctor ran after the emperor? How wild was he? Did he have to be restrained?”

Tranquillus said, “He was not quite that wild, madam.”

“A pity. Still, at last, something interesting! I love a good scandal.”

“But, madam-”

“Don’t pretend you don’t, Tranquillus. We all know what you wrote about Tiberius. So what will happen to the gambling centurion?”

But disappointingly it seemed nothing would happen to the centurion. The case had been referred back to the tribune. “The same tribune that the woman said does nothing?”

“Perhaps because the centurion is innocent,” said Clarus, setting aside the usual disdain of the Praetorians for everyone else in order to defend a fellow officer.

Tranquillus said, “One cannot believe everything the Britons say, madam.” Sabina sniffed. “She seemed alarmingly honest to me. And not unintelligent.”

“She may believe what she says,” put in Clarus. “Apparently the natives here imagine all sorts of nonsense.”

“I see,” Sabina said. “Perhaps I shall bring her back and ask if she believes in men who wrap themselves in their ears.”

The chief hairdresser was hovering in front of her, clutching a mirror. Sabina snatched it from her, because no matter how many directions one gave, a mirror in someone else’s hands was never at quite the right angle. She moved it about, examining the result of their efforts, and saw the relief on their faces when she said, “I expect that will do. It is rather hard to tell. Why is it that no one has made a mirror in which a person can see all of herself at once?”

It was one of those perfectly sensible questions that left everyone in the room looking worried, as if she were about to order instant execution if they failed to produce whatever it was she wanted. The next question was just as good: “And why,” she said, “do our officers leave it to some mad-eyed doctor and a barbarian woman to discipline one of our centurions?”