Medicus

27

Priscus snapped open one of the folding chairs and held it out to Ruso before inserting himself behind the polished desk. As he sat down Ruso noticed two things: that the glass eyes of the wolf pelt were now glaring up at a coat of fresh limewash instead of a damp patch and that the chair he had been given had surprisingly short legs. He was obliged to look up at Priscus in order to speak to him, although since the administrator was busy aligning his bronze inkwell against the edge of the desk, there did not seem to be much point in starting yet.

Priscus lifted his hands and held them just above the inkwell, as if poised to catch it should it try to jump back to its original position. Finally satisfied, he smoothed his hair, which did not seem quite as black today. "Really," he remarked, "one would think that most men were capable of obeying a simple order to leave things where they find them." Finally he looked at Ruso. "Oh dear. I seem to have given you the wrong chair. Would you like to…?"

Ruso lounged in the chair, tipping it onto its back legs. "This is fine," he assured Priscus, enjoying the look of disapproval.

"I'm glad you've come to see me," said Priscus. "I need a word."

"Albanus," suggested Ruso.

Priscus's eyebrows rose in a surprise that might have been genuine. "Are you dissatisfied with his work?"

"His work is fine. He's keen, he knows Latin and Greek, and he's the only clerk I've ever met who could spell phthisis right without asking."

"Excellent. I thought you would find him useful."

"He's too useful. He follows me around like a shadow. I can hardly take a pee without him being there to record the event."

"Ah." Priscus inclined his head slowly as if he were afraid any sudden movement might dislodge the hair. "This will be the result of my reassigning his other duties so he can concentrate on helping you settle in."

"Fine. He's assigned to me. Agreed?"

"Indeed."

"So I should be giving him his orders."

Priscus entwined his fingers and leaned forward across the desk. "Is there some difficulty of which I'm not aware?"

"I think we've just sorted it out."

"Excellent. We try and run a tidy administration here, Ruso, but I do appreciate that the complexities are a little hard to grasp. So if there are any difficulties with which Albanus can't help you, I hope you won't hesitate to come straight to me."

Ruso saw the man watch as he lowered the chair back onto all four legs. "There is one thing," he said.

"How can I help?"

"We'd be able to use the supplies much more efficiently if the staff didn't have to keep finding you to ask for keys."

Priscus placed both hands on the edge of the desk. "The men are not permitted to help themselves to supplies," he said. "If I expect to be away for any length of time, I arrange for adequate stocks to be available."

"But…"

"Sadly, Ruso, this a policy we have been forced to adopt. There are people in and out of the building at all hours and even the staff are not always above reproach, so I find it wisest not to tempt them. Lock it or lose it, I'm afraid."

"I've never had this problem before."

"No. But there was an unfortunate incident with an inventory check some time ago, and the chief medical officer was… " He hesitated, appearing to grope for a word. "Most dissatisfied. My predecessor was given a dishonorable discharge. Not wishing to follow him, I instigated a policy of supervised access to storage areas."

As he spoke there was a knock on the door. Having nothing further to say, Ruso started to get up. Priscus motioned him to sit. "If you wouldn't mind waiting, Ruso? Just a couple more things…"

Ruso contemplated the wolf as its killer countersigned dockets for orders to the pharmacy and questioned the need for a new set of scales.

When the pharmacist had gone-leaving behind his request for the scales on a substantial pile labeled FURTHER CONSIDERATION-Priscus turned back to Ruso.

"I do apologize for the interruption," he said. "I'm sure you must be rather busy at the moment."

"I'm told it will improve when we have a CMO."

Priscus raised one eyebrow. "Someone in this room, perhaps?"

"I'm the second medicus," Ruso pointed out.

"But only in terms of date of arrival, surely?" Priscus attempted a smile. "I hear you have combat experience. I would imagine that would stand you in good stead."

Ruso, wishing to discuss neither the ghastly mess of the Jewish rebellions in Cyrenaica nor his own job prospects, said, "What was the other thing you wanted to see me about?"

The administrator turned to one side and pulled a file down from the shelf. "Just a couple more small matters that need to be straightened out in time for the auditors… " He flipped open the file and ran his finger down the columns. "Yes, here we are. Charge for private use of isolation room and facilities, five days, immediate payment requested. Perhaps the bill has been mislaid?"

"I don't think I've ever had one."

"Really? I shall have to look into it. This is exactly the sort of slackness the auditors will pick up on."

"Let me have the bill and I'll take care of it."

"Thank you. I am sorry to have to mention it, but we must tighten up on expenses. Otherwise we may be forced to cut back on the services the hospital offers."

"Ah," said Ruso, wondering which service Priscus would be proposing-reluctantly, of course-to cut.

"In fact, I was hoping to have a word with you and Doctor Valens about some suggestions for cutting costs."

"Well, here I am."

"Simple economies, Doctor. Matters which I assure you will add no burden at all to the medical staff." Priscus spoke with an intensity that reminded Ruso of the gleam in the glass eyes of the wolf. "For example, by insisting that most of the hospital business is conducted during the daylight hours, we could save a considerable amount on candles and lamp oil over the course of a year."

"So I imagine," said Ruso, who had often wished he could find a way to stop people from inconveniently falling ill during the night.

"Small savings soon add up, provided one makes a thorough budget first," continued Priscus, moving his hands in a parallel motion as if caressing a small saving in the air above his desk. "Let me give you a simple example. Boiling dressings in larger quantities gives an economy of scale, but we need to invest more in stock in order to keep the supply up. Short-term expense against long-term gain. Which is why …"

Ruso braced himself.

"We are instigating a system that will account for the resources each individual uses."

"How many man-hours will it take to add that up?"

"That's the beauty of it, Ruso." Priscus seemed genuinely enthusiastic. "The men are here anyway. It's simply a matter of putting them to the best possible use. A short-term concentrated expenditure analysis will allow us to set consistent spending policies. Which will in turn make it possible to exercise some form of budgetary control."

"Are you telling me the army's running out of money?"

"Oh dear me, no! But we should be making the best use of available resources, don't you agree?"

"I suppose so."

"And these days the idea that everyone has the authority to order whatever strikes his fancy just won't do. If everyone just' orders in one thing extra, the budgets are out of control. Let me give you an example. Only yesterday I caught one of the orderlies changing pillows between patients."

"Aren't they supposed to?"

Priscus positively beamed at him. "The stock of pillows and covers," he explained, "is calculated to balance with the timing of the laundry. Unless they are noticeably soiled, pillows are changed on Fridays. Yesterday was Tuesday."

"I ordered the change."

Priscus looked surprised. "Desirable, no doubt, but surely not medically necessary?"

Ruso frowned. It probably hadn't been necessary, but he was not prepared to concede that to Priscus. "Fresh beds cheer people up. People get better quicker when they aren't miserable. It's a medical decision."

"But one that has an effect on the laundry bills." Priscus sighed. "I appreciate your point, but the next time there is a major call on our resources-an epidemic, or a serious accident, or more trouble with the locals-if the budget has been frittered away on inessentials, we'll have no contingency funds to deal with the crisis."

Ruso scratched his ear. "Well, if a plague or a war breaks out, won't someone in Rome notice and send us some more cash?"

Priscus shook his head sadly. "Unfortunately, things are never quite that simple. But of course, nobody takes the trouble to discover the real reasons for difficulties: instead everybody blames the administrators. The fundamental problem we have, you see, is that the people who do the spending are not the ones who have to explain it to the camp prefect. I have to do that. And very shortly the camp prefect will have to explain it to the imperial audit inspectors, and believe me, Ruso, no one wants to fall out of favor with the imperial audit inspectors. They go through the books like terriers hunting a rat."

"Hospital administrators hunting a wolf," suggested Ruso.

"You may have heard that the hospital administrator of the Second Augusta fell on his sword after one of their visits."

"Wasn't he the one who was selling the medicines and keeping the cash?"

Priscus looked offended. "All I ask, Ruso, is that if you make decisions affecting my budgets, you should clear them with me first."

"You want me to prescribe whatever's cheapest?"

"The medical decisions are yours," Priscus assured him. "But I would be grateful if you would keep me informed. Perhaps we could ask Albanus to copy any relevant items from your notes."

Gods above, the man had been planning this ever since his return! Ruso frowned. "I can't have patient records put in the hands of the requisitions clerk."

"Simply the treatments."

"No. You could track them. If you want to know how medicine stocks are going, ask the pharmacy. If you want to know how many pillows are being used, get someone to check your cupboards. That's your job. My job is to get the men here back on their feet as quickly as possible."

Priscus drew a long breath in through his nose and said nothing.

Ruso suppressed a smile. He had never before seen himself as an irresponsible spendthrift. He was quite enjoying the notion.

His enjoyment was short-lived. Priscus reached for another file. Apparently in future the administration would be obliged if he would sign for meals taken when on duty.

"I shouldn't have to pay for them. They deduct enough for food as it is."

"Precisely. Which is why I have seen to it that Albanus has spent the morning going through the rosters to give the pay office separate lists of meals the kitchen has served you when on and off duty. Because payday, as we are all aware, is almost upon us. And otherwise they would have charged you for all of them."

Ruso stared at him for a moment and then said, "Oh," and forced himself to follow it with, "Thank you."

Priscus inclined his head slightly. "A pleasure to be of service," he said.