Medicus

28

Tilla was pondering the question of food-how much she could save and hide without arousing anyone's suspicions-when there was a thump low down on the door as if someone had kicked it and a small voice announced in Latin, "It's Lucco, missus. I can't knock, I'll drop your tray."

The ginger-haired kitchen boy had brought a steaming bowl of broth, half a loaf of bread, and a cup of water. He placed the tray on the bench and watched as she tore a chunk of bread away with her teeth. She placed it on the windowsill before breaking it awkwardly into crumbs with one hand and pushing it out between the bars.

Finally he said, "What do you do that for?"

"I have guests."

The boy looked anxious. "Cook didn't say nothing about guests."

"You can wait and see them if you like," she offered, moving the stool to use it as a table and seating herself on the bench. She gestured toward the tray and offered him some bread.

He shook his head. "Mistress says you're too skinny and you got to eat it all."

She tore off another chunk and watched the glistening brown of the broth soak up and darken the bread. By the time she had eaten it, the first sparrow had arrived. Lucco said, "I could get Stichus to find a trap," and at the sound of his voice the sparrow flew away.

Tilla frowned. "I do not trap my guests. Sit still and say nothing."

Moments later several sparrows returned and there was frantic action on the windowsill until a male blackbird brought order by frightening the sparrows away and helping himself to the last remaining crumbs. When he had gone Lucco said, "We could have had sparrow pie."

"Is it good?"

"We'd find out."

Tilla fished out a dripping chunk of bread with her spoon.

"I had dormouse once," Lucco announced. "And swan. Stichus brought me some back from a dinner party."

Romans, Tilla reflected, would eat anything that moved. She could almost believe the rumor that they fattened snails in milk and ate them.

"How long have you worked here, Lucco?"

"I was born here," he told her.

"In this place?"

"In this room."

She glanced around at the bare walls and felt sorry for a child who had been given such a poor welcome into the world. "How old are you?"

"Eight winters."

She dipped the spoon to capture more bread. "You have the same name as one of my uncles, Lucco, you measure your age in winters like me, and yet you speak in the tongue of the army." She switched to her own language. "Who are your people?"

The boy shook his head. "We talk Latin here. We honor the emperor."

"But among ourselves?" she persisted.

Still clinging to the Latin, the boy answered that the mistress did not like them to "talk like natives," adding, "The customers don't like it neither."

Convinced that he understood, she continued, "Where can I find people around here who are not ashamed of their own tongue, Lucco?"

The boy looked at her for a moment, then stepped across to pick up the bucket in the corner. "I forgot," he said, "Mistress says I got to empty you out." Moments later he was gone.

She had not been alone for long when there were three short raps on the door. Instead of Daphne, the ample young woman with the silver ankle chain was lolling against the doorpost. "Tilla," she said. "Is that your real name?"

"Is Chloe yours?"

"Of course not. Let me in."

As soon as she was inside, she closed the door. "I hear you've been asking questions."

"I like to learn." So Lucco had talked. And Daphne had not kept the signal a secret. She would have to be more careful.

Chloe said, "Leave the boy alone. If you must ask questions, ask me. And if you're thinking of running away, my advice is, don't bother."

"I did not say what I was thinking."

"They all think about it. I suppose you've heard the tale about Asellina and her sailor."

"There is a girl who ran away with a sailor?"

Chloe shrugged. "So they say. You did well to get ahold of the key. Nobody's done that before. But if you think it'll be easy…" She opened the door a fraction and checked the landing before closing and locking it, "it's time somebody told you what happened to Saufeia."

It seemed that the ill-fated Saufeia had thought she was clever. Clearly she had not realized the dangers that lurked beyond the doors of Merula's.

Tilla said, "Does no one know who killed her?"

Chloe shrugged. "They had an investigation. Lined us all up and asked if anybody saw anything. Of course nobody was stupid enough to say yes. So the soldiers helped themselves to whatever they fancied, pushed off back to the fort, and we've never heard a word."

"Surely it does not end there?"

"Where's it going to go?"

"To find out the truth."

Chloe gave a bitter laugh. "The truth isn't going to bring her back, is it? 'Round here you learn to keep your mouth shut."

Tilla shook her head. "Poor Saufeia, with no one to avenge her."

Chloe looked at her strangely. "They couldn't. They don't know who did it."

"And no family to mourn her passing."

"Look, we did our best. Merula paid for the funeral. Nobody knew what gods she served so we said prayers to all the ones we could think of while Stichus dug the hole, then we threw flowers in and poured a cup of wine over the urn. We even planted violets on top of the grave. Anybody would think we liked her."