Terra Incognita

92

The Golden Fleece was open for business, but Ruso was not going to make the same mistake twice. There was plenty of time to get to the next town before dark, and he had stocked up on food at Susanna’s. He had also salved a small part of his ailing conscience by leaving the last of the stolen money with Susanna, who had promised to pass it on to Aemilia as an investment in the brewery. Finally Susanna had revealed that she was the one who had summoned help to get Catavignus out of the burning malt house.

“I’m in your debt,” Ruso said.

“I never liked the man,” she said, “But he was a fellow member of the guild. And if we don’t help each other in a place like this, what hope is there for any of us?”

He slowed the horse, reached into the saddlebag, and drew out a sausage in pastry. The secret of happiness, he reminded himself, was to enjoy simple pleasures, and not to spoil that enjoyment by thinking about the past. Or the future. About how empty the house would seem when he got back to Deva. Or about how different things would have been if he had never volunteered for this wretched posting in the north. Valens was wrong. He didn’t like to be miserable. Being miserable was no fun at all.

He had just sunk his teeth into the pastry when he heard fast hoof-beats approaching from behind. He nudged the horse aside to give the messenger plenty of room.

Instead of passing, the rider reined in his horse and drew up alongside. Ruso sighed and prepared to abandon his lunch for another medical emergency.

“Where is your chair and your boxes?” demanded an unexpectedly familiar voice.

“I’m having them sent down later,” he said, staring at her. “You haven’t ridden all this way to remind me about lost luggage, have you?”

She said, “I have been walking home with the cooking pot and thinking about you.”

“I see.”

“And about Aemilia. And about Rianorix.”

“I see.”

“You are right; I am very fond of Rianorix.”

“That’s obvious.”

“He is brave and honorable and handsome, even with his front tooth knocked out.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“He is like a brother to me,” she said. “We were children together. I understand his mind.”

“I see.”

“But he is not very clever,” she said. “Aemilia tells him to do things and he does them. He is selling the beer to Susanna who is selling it to the army. He does not like the army. But he is happy because he can give all his friends free beer.”

“I see.”

“He would have died for Aemilia,” she said. “He would not die for me.”

Ruso did not know what to say.

“So I tell him I am not going to marry him. He can ask her if he wants.”

“I see.”

“You are saying I see a lot. Never mind what you see. What are you thinking?”

He surveyed her for a moment, wondered if she had stolen the horse, and decided he didn’t care. “I am thinking,” he said, “that the sun has brought the freckles out on your nose. And I am thinking that it will be very lonely back in Deva without you.”

“I will tell you what I am thinking now,” she said. “I am thinking that perhaps you are still wondering whether I want to marry you.”

“Ah.” So she had heard after all. He shifted in the saddle and wondered what to say. The last person he knew who had withdrawn a proposal to a British girl had ended up dead in a back alley.

“But I do not want to marry you because you are foreign and you do not trust me.”

“You did threaten to stick a knife in my back,” he pointed out, feeling relieved and faintly ashamed.

She said, “You were working for Metellus.”

“So were you.”

She did not reply. He broke off half of the pastry and handed it to her. Ahead of them a native couple were bumping toddler twins along the road in a handcart.

“Tell me something, Tilla,” he said. “In this place the man is expected to bring money to the marriage and the girl’s family doesn’t have to pay a dowry?”

“That is right. A bride price.”

“Hm.”

She said, “Now what are you thinking?”

“I am thinking,” he said, “that if you promise to keep away from the knives, perhaps I should introduce you to my stepmother.”