Medicus

71

Truso should have gone straight to the hospital, but instead he hurried to the house and spent several minutes scratching notes onto a tablet, which he then thrust into the trunk with all the versions of the Concise Guide.

Albanus was waiting for him with the look of anxiety that seemed to be his permanent expression lately. "Lots of people have been asking for you, sir. There's a line waiting in the hall."

"Where's Valens?" Ruso was still breathless after sprinting from the house.

"Officer Valens has been taking the urgent cases and telling the rest you'll be back any minute, sir. And Officer Priscus said you had an appointment with him-about the Aesculapian Thanksgiving Fund?"

"Yes, I know about that one. Anything else?"

"I need a word with you too, sir."

"Is it urgent?"

"Not really, sir."

"Good. Let's get working on this line."

He had almost emptied the bench in the hall when there was a commotion in the corridor and the door shuddered as someone fell against it. Ruso glanced up. "Put the bar across, Albanus, will you?"

The clerk leaped to secure the door and Ruso carried on cleaning up a nastily torn ear as the shouting faded away down the corridor. "How did you get this?" he asked.

"Over at the wrestling," explained its owner. "We're cheering our lad on and there was a bit of an exchange with some lads sitting behind, and next thing I know I'm upside down with somebody's boot kicking the side of my head."

"Ah," said Ruso. "Sport. Always brings out the best in a man. Albanus, just poke your head into the corridor and make sure there's nobody lying dead out there, will you?"

Moments later Albanus returned to report that some plasterers from the Twentieth had got into a dispute with a visiting crew of sailors. Knives were out before the centurial staff had been able to wade in and restore order. Now the wounded of both groups had been brought in for treatment and, having tried to carry on the fight in the corridor, had been sent to wait under guard in separate rooms.

"Idiots," observed the man with the torn ear.

"What a joy payday is," remarked Ruso. "I'll just pop a few stitches in this ear, then you can go and have a nice nap while I have the pleasure of meeting the navy"

In fact it was Valens who dealt with the sailors while the plasterers were assigned to Ruso. Only one was seriously injured: a stab wound that had probably penetrated a lung. The man required some immediate and careful patching before he was admitted for observation, nursing care, and an outcome whose uncertainty would have frightened him if he had been sober. The others he released into the care of their centurion, who looked willing to inflict a few injuries himself if anyone showed any more signs of misbehaving.

"We'll be seeing that group lined up outside HQ tomorrow," observed Ruso as they left. "What's next?"

" 'Evening, Ruso." Valens appeared around the door in a gruesomely bloodstained tunic. "Good of you to turn up."

"Nice outfit," Ruso observed.

"Don't insult me; I've taken time off from my onerous duties to bring you some news. They've found Tilla."

"Where? Is she all right? Where is she?"

Valens shrugged. "According to my sources, a road patrol found her taking a stroll eight or nine miles out of town."

"Where is she? Is she all right?"

"I imagine they've taken her to Priscus in the hope of a reward. As advertised."

A dreadful thought crossed Ruso's mind. "To Priscus?"

"That is what it said on the advertisements, isn't it?"

Ruso turned to Albanus. "What time is it?"

"I think I heard the eleventh hour just now, sir."

"Is the cashier's office still open?"

Albanus frowned. "I doubt it, sir. They'll have locked up some time ago and gone to the sports."

"Tell the next patient to wait a minute. I need to go and see Priscus."

Ruso sprinted along the corridor, narrowly missing a collision with a couple of orderlies carrying a man on a stretcher. When he reached the office, it was locked. One of the records room clerks informed him that Officer Priscus had been called away The clerk's tone suggested that it was very convenient for Officer Priscus to be called away early on payday while everyone else had to stay behind and work.

"Where are the records for the Aesculapian fund?"

The clerk looked surprised. "In Officer Priscus's room, sir."

"And if someone wanted to make a payment while he was out?"

"We'd tell him to come back tomorrow, sir. We aren't allowed to handle cash. We don't have the facilities."

Valens had gone by the time Ruso got back to his surgery. "Albanus," he said, "I need to get at the records of the Aesculapian fund. I need to, uh-find out how much I owe. I was supposed to pay it back today and I haven't had time."

Albanus frowned. "They'll be in the administrator's office, sir. Nobody can get in there."

Ruso looked him in the eye. "Is that definitely true, Albanus? Surely a man as thorough as Priscus would arrange for a spare key somewhere in case one got lost?"

Albanus was chewing the end of his stylus. "I really couldn't say, sir. Officer Priscus wouldn't tell the clerks anything like that."

"No, because he's a secretive bastard. But you know where it is, don't you?"

"Sir, I really can't-"

"Albanus, I am your superior officer and this is an order. Find a way to get me into that room."

Albanus stood at attention. "Yes, sir!"

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't think it's here."

They had been through the whole of the Aesculapian Thanksgiving Fund file twice, the second time struggling to read by lamplight. Ruso sighed. "It's no use. He's taken it with him."

"Is there anything I can do, sir? Shall I keep looking?"

Ruso shook his head. "Put all this stuff away and lock up. I've got to go out for a while. I'll go and warn Valens he's on his own."

Valens was predictably annoyed but unable to prevent his colleague from leaving.

Making his way down to the south gate Ruso heard footsteps running along behind him in the darkness. "Doctor, sir!" gasped a breathless Albanus.

"I'm in a hurry, Albanus. Can't it wait?"

"No, sir, I don't think it can."

"Walk with me."

The clerk fell into step with him. "Sir, you remember I said there was that one thing I needed to say to you?"

"What was it?"

"Well, sir, you know I went through all the incoming post logs looking for a letter from Saufeia and I didn't find one?"

"You've found one?"

"Not exactly, sir. But I thought, maybe it came in some other way and somebody replied to it. So I went back and looked through the outgoing logs instead."

"And?"

"And I found it. A letter to Saufeia. Dated two days before she died."

"Is there a file copy?"

"No, sir, just a listing in the log. Date, who to, who from."

"And are you going to tell me who it was from, or do I have to guess?"

"Yes, sir! No, sir! I'd be glad to tell you, sir. To tell you the truth I was a bit concerned."

"Albanus, who is it?"

Albanus told him. Ruso turned to look at the shadowy figure of his clerk. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who else knows about this?"

"I haven't said anything to anybody else, sir."

"Don't. Don't say anything to anyone unless…" Ruso hesitated. They were approaching the torches of the main gate now. A couple of men passed them in the dark. "Don't say anything unless I, uh-unless I appear to have got into difficulties tonight. If that happens, go to my house tomorrow morning and go through my documents very thoroughly. Then I want you to tell the whole damn province."