Chapter 83

Morning came, and with it the sound of birds singing and broken things being swept up. The Warrior-Queen of the Britons pulled the sheet up over her face, wishing away the knocking on the door and the urgent whisper of “Madam!”

The wishing did not work. Sabina, empress of Rome, flapped the sheet back down and said, “What?”

“Madam, Prefect Clarus is here to speak with you.”

“Tell him to come back at a sensible hour.”

“We tried, Madam. He won’t go.”

She ran her fingers through her thin hair. He could not be allowed to see her like this. Gesticulating to the other slaves to fetch her clothes, she said, “Ask him if the carriage is mended, and whether-” She stopped herself just in time from calling them my men. “-and whether the soldiers are behaving themselves, and how long it will be before we can get out of this dreadful place.”

The questions were conveyed, but instead of answering them Clarus called through the door, “Madam, the emperor is in the camp. He will be here at any moment.”

“Here?” She sat bolt upright. “Why did nobody-What is he doing here?”

“I sent a message last night, madam.”

What would people tell him about yesterday? Would anyone tell him how much she had enjoyed it? She turned to her slaves. “Clothes, quickly! Fetch my hair!”

“Madam, if I could speak with you a little more privately …”

“In a moment!”

When she was sufficiently clothed and coiffed to be decent-although the perfect lead-pale skin was still in its pot and the curling tongs were heating in the brazier-she finally allowed him to enter.

Clarus looked even more cadaverous than usual. “Madam. I am glad to see you looking refreshed and well this morning.”

“I wish I could say the same of you.”

“It has been a long night,” he conceded. “But now that the emperor is here, I’m sure all will be well.”

“No doubt he will enjoy setting us all straight. What do you want?”

“I thought you would like to know that the officers were very grateful for your help last night, madam. The camp has been peaceful all night.”

“Good.”

He lowered his voice. “Although some of the Twentieth seem to think that my men murdered their centurion.”

So the woman had talked. Already rumors were spreading among the soldiers. “Well, you’re in charge of the investigation,” she told him, settling herself on the stool as the slave approached with the first pot of skin cream. “It’s nothing to do with me. I thought you had some suspects under arrest.”

“The Briton’s husband and the recruit. Both have been released. You agreed to the release of the recruit last night.”

“Ah, yes. So I did.” She sighed. As usual, pleasure was followed by regret. “I still haven’t signed anything.”

“I think it would be unwise to retract now, madam.”

“Well, what can I do?” She pushed the slave’s hand aside. There was no sense in letting her get cream all over the hairpiece.

In front of her, Clarus was looking genuinely worried. She said, “I never interfere, as you know, but if I were you, I would consider rearresting the other one.”

“Yes, madam. That was what I was thinking also. I shall see to it.”

“Now, go away. I have to get ready to receive the emperor.”

Clarus did not seem in the least offended at being sent away. He seemed to have grown in her presence. He had to duck to get out of the doorway.

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