Cradawg had finished putting the last finial upon the last corner of the low, stone structure when Lucius and Adara came down the path to greet him.
“All finished, Praefectus! Just in time for Saturnalia, as requested.” The thickly muscled Durotrigan crossed his arms and looked at the bathhouse, even as the smoke from the hypocausts began to rise in a slim plume out of the chimney. “You can now wash in something other than a barrel!” Cradawg laughed.
“It’s perfect,” Lucius said. “I’m just glad you were able to get the rest of the supplies from Lindinis.”
“I’m as surprised as you,” Cradawg admitted. “Some of the lads at the fabrica confided in me that the ordo was none too happy with you. Luckily, the boys there know me and knew they were doing work for the ‘Dragon Praefectus’ of Rome, a
