Tabula Rasa

Chapter 62

Ria’s dimly lit storeroom smelled of beer and onions, but it was the only respectable place Tilla could think of to hold a private conversation. Wishing her husband were here to explain all this himself, she fetched down what was left of Candidus’s kit. While Albanus exclaimed softly over it, lifting the shield and trying the helmet on for size, she put the lamp in the bracket, brushed the dust off the third step of the loft ladder, and sat down.

Albanus put the kit to one side and perched himself on top of a barrel. He placed his hands on his bony knees and leaned forward as if he were anxious not to miss anything.

Still trying to think how to smooth the path of the bad news, Tilla cleared her throat. “Your nephew was here until a few days ago,” she said. “He worked in the hospital for my husband.”

When she hesitated, Albanus prompted, “And then?”

“Then one day he did not come. My husband waited, but he did not turn up.”

“Did he send a message?”

“No. So my husband spoke to lots of people and sent letters asking for him and found some of his things still in his tent, but nobody knew where he was. Then he arranged for the army to search all the local farms, but Candidus was not there, either.”

“I see.” Albanus pressed his hands between his knees. “Everyone’s gone to a great deal of trouble.”

She would not tell him that the search had wrecked her own chances of a wedding blessing. “The officers think he has run away.”

“I see. Oh, dear. I had so hoped that joining the Legion . . .” His voice trailed away into a disappointed silence.

Tilla shifted uneasily on the ladder and wondered if it would be kinder to stop there. Albanus seemed to have no trouble believing that his nephew had run off. But then he looked up. “You said that the officers think he deserted his post. Is that what you think too?”

She blinked. She had expected Albanus to ask her what her husband thought. This was a much harder question to dodge. She said, “I think it is possible that he has run away, yes.”

Albanus said nothing for a moment. Tilla thought she heard the curfew being sounded. Out in the bar, Ria was shouting that it was closing time. Then he said, “Please do me the honor of being completely honest with me. Is there reason to think that something worse has happened to him?”

“That is possible too,” Tilla confessed, wondering how to explain. “It is all very complicated.”

To her surprise, this seemed to bring Albanus to himself. He delved into the folds of his tunic and pulled out a writing tablet, followed by a stylus. “Perhaps I can help,” he said, flipping the tablet open and sitting poised for dictation like the clerk he had once been. “Please. Tell me everything.”

When she had finished he spent a moment rereading his notes, tapping the blunt end of the stylus on the edge of the tablet. Finally he said, “This is all very worrying.”

“It may not be Candidus,” she said, carefully avoiding the saying the word body.

Albanus tucked the tablet into his belt and propped the stylus behind one ear. “It may not,” he agreed, “but his knife was found near the right place at the wall, and you have not mentioned anyone else who was missing at the time.”

“It could be someone that nobody knows.” She tried to make that sound more likely by adding, “From a long way away.”

“Perhaps it is,” he agreed, getting to his feet. “Yes. Of course. Thank you for explaining. Thank you for everything you and your husband did to help find my nephew. I’m so sorry to have caused everyone all this bother.”

Her “Where are you going?” came out harsher than she had intended, and Albanus looked startled. He began to apologize again.

“Don’t you want to look for him?”

He scratched his thinning hair. “I shall have to think what to do. This has all been rather a shock.”

She said, “Sit down, Albanus!” and to her surprise he did exactly that. “I know you would rather deal with my husband,” she told him, “but he is not here, and you only have me, and if we do not work together, he will be very cross with us both.”

Was that relief on his face?

“Tonight I am tired from trying to find missing boys,” she said, “but my husband is dealing with all that now. In the morning we must think of a new way to look for Candidus. Something the tribune will not find out about.”

Albanus’s eyes widened. “You think a tribune is involved in this?”

“Accius is a good officer,” she explained, “but his orders are to get the wall built. He is never going to agree that there may be someone buried inside it, even though I have met the person who saw it happen. He will want to cover up anything he finds out, so that the season’s work is finished and the Legion can go home. If your nephew is inside the wall and we leave everything to the soldiers, you will never know.”

Albanus shuddered, and Tilla knew he was thinking of Candidus’s spirit, condemned to wander these windswept hills without the proper rites that would send him on his way to the next world, or whatever it was that Romans thought was on the other side of their gloomy River Styx. Then he straightened his shoulders and drew himself up to his full height so that his gaze met her chin. “I promised my sister I would look after her son,” he said. “I will be grateful for any help you can offer.”

“Good,” said Tilla, stifling a yawn and feeling her stiffening muscles protest as she rose from the step. She was too tired to feel hungry now. She led him out into the bar, where Virana was sweeping up and Ria was setting out clean cups for tomorrow morning. Her cousin and Rianorix had gone, and she had failed to wish them good night or even find out where they were staying. “I have kept you past the curfew.”

Virana said, “He’s staying here,” just as they were all startled by a bang on the shutters.

They exchanged glances. Ria shouted, “Too late, we’re closed!”

“Open up!” came the voice. “News from Coria!”