Back in the kitchen, Tilla wrapped a cloth around one hand, steadying the steaming pot over the fire. Then she hooked a tangle of dripping cloths out of the first rinsing bucket with a stick and lowered it at arm’s length into the hot water. She could hear someone moving about and chased away a fleeting sense of dread. Camma’s behavior at the funeral had been caused by grief and shock. Time and kindness and the favor of the right gods would restore her. Moments later she heard footsteps in the corridor. Camma was disheveled but bright eyed. She was clutching a wooden box with fancy metal hinges. It could have been a funeral cask for a newborn child. She said, “I caused trouble for everyone this morning.” “Yes.” Tilla was eyeing the box. “I was wrong.” “It is forgotten.” There was no sound from the baby in the front room. “What is that?” “I think Andaste sent you to save me so that I can see Asper and Bericus avenged.” “Sister, what do you have in that box?”
