Empress & Soldier: Chapter 15 part 1
In which Druisius goes drinking.
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I CROSS THE BRIDGE. It sways a little under my tread. A stone one will be built, arched and high enough for boats to pass under the central span, but not yet. Not until the channel through the once-wet lands is opened. The higher land the city is built on will become an island, the new branch of the river the border. The Emperor’s gift to the Trakïyani.
Other cohorts build the dams and channels, a different skill. This bridge needed little. It is only plank walkways lashed to floats. Ropes to guide in the night. Above me the sky still holds light. The first bats are out. The Trakïyani tabernae will be busy.
I step off the bridge, walk through narrow streets to the first taberna. Ask for beer, nod to men I know. Some are Casilani, off duty as I am. I drink a little of the thin beer, say a few words to men coming and going. Watch. No tables with men whispering. No excitement on faces. Too early.
I join a dice game, a few throws only. Leave my beer behind when I excuse myself. It will not be wasted. The streets are dark now. At the third taberna I order food, a stew of peas and barley, cheap and well spiced. I drink a bit. Words catch my ear.
“I’ll bet they never build the bridge.” The speaker is young, flushed from drink.
“Why wouldn’t they?” His companion’s tone is mild. Almost disinterested.
“Well, why haven’t they started it?”
“Because it would get in the way of the barges. You don’t block a river in the middle of heavy shipping.” The speaker has said this before. “The floating one’s easy to open and close.”
“Still don’t trust them,” the young man says.
“They killed my brother,” a third man says. “His father. I don’t trust them either.”
I keep my eyes on the bowl of food. Speak to the server, complimenting the stew. Nothing to show I am listening.
“That governor lost his life,” the second man points out. “Slow down on that beer, boy, or you’ll lose it in a minute.”
“I’d fight them,” the youth says. “Will, if they don’t build the bridge. Me and my friends.”
One of the older men snorts his derision. “That’s the beer speaking.” I hear a cry of anger, look around. As many are doing.
“That’s mine!” The young man reaches for the cup, held out of his reach now.
“You’ve had enough.” An edge of anger to the words. “Talking nonsense.” He gulps down what’s left in the cup. Turns to the other man. “Your nephew’s welcome again when he’s learned to school his words. If not his thoughts.”
“And if I agree with him?”
The man shrugs. “When you’re working, or drinking with me, keep your mouth shut. Now take him home, and he’ll get no special treatment from me tomorrow. If he can’t keep up, he can go home again.”
The man pulls the youth off the stool. Pushes him forward. I have turned back to my food, wiping the bowl with bread. The other man drops coins on the table, leaves too. I drink my beer.
I wait. Until the need to relieve myself cannot be put off. Step outside, into the alley. Splash piss onto the cobbles. A footstep, behind me.
I do not turn until I am done, my clothes rearranged.
“You heard,” he says.
“Everyone did. It is just a young man’s bluster, yes?” That will not stop the boy from acting. If chance allows.
He hesitates. “I think so. A bit surprised his uncle agrees with him, though.”
“He lost his brother. The boy’s talk brings the memories back. The anger.”
My friend nods. “He’s worked for me for years. Never heard him talk like this, until the boy arrived.” He takes a deep breath, exhales. “I’ll have a quiet word.” I begin to walk. He falls into step beside me. Names a taberna. “There’ll be dice. Coming?”
~
I leave the game, my purse no lighter or heavier than when I joined it. The moon is high, a curl of light among the stars. Water laps against the bridge as I cross. The guards are patrolling, but they know me.
At the house a lamp burns in Tarquin’s workroom. I knock lightly on the open door. He looks up, says my name. Closes the ledger in front of him. “You’re up late,” I say. He looks tired. The skin under his eyes sags.
“Accounts,” he says. I go to the sideboard, pour wine. He takes his cup, lips curving briefly. “How well you know me,” he murmurs.
“My job, yes?” I sit. It has been many years since I have waited to be asked. When we are alone. “I went across the river tonight.”
“And?”
I tell him what I heard. He considers. “Just talk,” he says finally.
“Maybe. If it was just the boy.”
He moves his head, disagreeing. “A little discontent. It’s always there. Nothing to be concerned about; there’s no leadership.” Not now. He—and I—made sure of that. “Neratus has heard nothing.”
Neratus, a lieutenant, also listens, among men of his own rank. “He does not go where I do,” I say.
Tarquin is not interested. “There is something I must tell you. I am marrying the governor’s niece.”
I cannot hide my surprise. Tarquin sees it, laughs. “I was equally taken aback,” he says. “Apparently the governor likes me. He made the proposal to his brother-in-law, and it was accepted.”
“You have no choice?” Only women, I thought.
“I suppose I do, but I would be a fool to say no.” He shrugs. “A match advantageous to me, and she is no doubt both presentable and well-trained in the duties of an officer’s wife.”
“Do I stay here?”
Surprise flashes across his face. “Yes. Why would you not? All officers have their aides.”
“She will not want me in the room next to yours.”
I think his cheeks redden. “Likely not,” he agrees. “But it’s a big house.”
~
I lie on my bed. Sleep is not far off, but I am thinking. Of a discontented man, a belligerent boy. Maybe nothing. I am not sure. New leaders can arise. Tarquin is distracted, dismissive of danger. Across the river the beer is acceptable and the food cheap, and my coins welcome. I think I will cross the bridge more often for a while.
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