Medicus

37

Ruso's soot-smirched hand was shaking only a little as he placed the little ointment pot on the ledge of the mortuary window. "Rest in peace," he murmured, then backed out swiftly and closed the door behind him. As he strode away down the hospital corridor, the blue glass bead remained in the pot, safely inside the mortuary. As-he hoped-did any spirit who might be feeling attached to it.

He took another long drink of water before washing off the worst of the soot in the bathhouse, wondering what Priscus would have to say in the morning around the blackened state of the towels and the feathers floating around in the cold plunge. But minutes later, surveying the little hospital room that was his for the remainder of the night, he felt almost grateful for the administrator's insistence on cleanliness, tidiness, and the readiness of all beds at all times.

Ruso placed the candle on the table next to the cup of water and made sure it was steady. He sniffed at the trunk he had brought across with him from the house and wiped at a couple of feathers stuck to its wet surface. Apart from the odd dark trickle, the water did not seem to have penetrated inside. His books were safe, thank the gods. He left the lid open. He would have to put everything outside to air tomorrow. It would all dry sooner or later, but he would be living with the smell of smoke for weeks.

He delved into the trunk and took out one of his father's old letters. He placed it on the table beside the candle and thought how narrowly he had escaped joining him tonight. Then, finding the scroll he sought, he climbed into bed and pulled up the white hospital blankets. If anything could lull a man back to sleep, Hippocrates' musings On Airs, Waters, and Places was it.

The problem with Hippocrates, as Ruso realized some minutes later, was that he was not interesting enough to distract his reader from mulling over an eventful night.

After the scorched pillow had exploded in a snowstorm of feathers, Ruso had abandoned firefighting and dragged his burning mattress into the street. Yelling for help, he then rushed back into the house. Dogs raced around barking and yelping as he stamped out the wisps of burning straw the mattress had scattered in his wake. He wrenched open Valens's door, shouting into the darkness for him to get up and finally thumping him only to find his fist landing on an empty bed. As he ran back into the hall there was a commotion outside. Relieved, he hurried to greet the night watch and was hit in the face by a shock of cold water. Six men clutching buckets then stampeded past him into the house and proceeded to fling water around his bedroom in a manner that suggested they were enjoying themselves while he fought his way through them, desperate to save his books. Despite turning his bedroom into a swamp, the watch captain then insisted the house be abandoned for the night in case the fire should break out again.

"Well," said Valens as he and Ruso made their way to the hospital later, lugging as many of their valuables as they could carry, "it's a shame about the stink, but at least you managed to save most of the stuff. And your very fine self, of course."

"I can't understand it," confessed Ruso. "I went to bed as usual.."

"Ah well, it's easily done. And you have been rather busy lately, what with all your women."

"But I didn't leave anything burning!"

They stepped inside the hospital entrance hall, returned the greeting o? the surprised night porter, and paused to nod to Aesculapius. Over the sound of their boots in the empty corridor Valens said, "You'll have to take back everything you said about dogs, you know."

"I've got nothing against dogs!" Unlike the captain of the watch, who had found plenty to say after the terrier bitch had bitten him in the excitement.

"Where did they go, by the way?"

Ruso shifted his grip on the trunk. "The watch asked the vets to take them in and check them over. Listen, I'm sure I didn't-"

"Ruso, it doesn't matter. Really. They're sending a gang to help clean up in the morning and I expect the stores will lend you some bedding until you can replace mine. Frankly, for a chap who's just nearly had his house burned down-and I could have been in it, did you think of that? — I'm really extremely calm." He paused in the doorway of an empty room. "I'll take this one. You can have the one around the corner. Don't snore too loud or Priscus will complain."

"Priscus?"

"He's here somewhere. Monitoring levels of after-hours activity."

Ruso checked to make sure Priscus was not lurking in the corridor, and cleared his throat. "Valens?"

Valens flung his armful of possessions onto the floor. "Gods, those feathers are everywhere. What now?"

"What if it wasn't me?"

"Ruso, you're overwrought. What do you mean, what if it wasn't ›you? Next you'll be blaming the dogs. Just try and be more careful in the future, will you?"

Ruso put down On Airs, Waters, and Places, rubbed his eyes, and squinted into the candle flame. Perhaps he really had forgotten to pinch out his light. Perhaps the puppy had grabbed it, carried it down to the end of the bed, and… and Valens was right, he was overwrought. He turned back to Hippocrates. Moments later he found himself mulling over the conversation with the civilian liaison officer.

How much do you know about ghosts?

Nothing.

But would you want to annoy one?

He did not believe in ghosts, but neither did he believe in mattresses that set themselves on fire. That was why he had deposited the bead in the mortuary. And why, although he could scarcely believe he was doing it, he now stepped out of bed and gazed around the little room, wondering what he could find that had a connection with the emperor Trajan.

Eventually he delved into his purse and took out a bronze coin. He placed it on the trunk that had been with him in Antioch. Trajan gazed sideways from the surface of the coin while Ruso stood facing him with his arms outstretched.

"Noble Trajan," he said to the trunk, keeping his voice down in case anyone should overhear, "Noble Trajan, this is Gaius Petreius Ruso. We met in Antioch. I was there when you… " He paused.

You must put yourself forward, Gaius!

"I saved your life in the earthquake," he said. Just in case there was any doubt, he added, "We got out through the window. Now, my Lord, they tell me you may be with the gods, and I am in need of your help. I pray you will keep me safe through this night from any spirits who wish me harm, and I ask you to grant peace"-How very, very much he hoped Priscus was not lurking outside the door-"I ask you to grant peace to the spirit of the woman who died wearing the blue glass-oh, this is ridiculous!" He flung himself back on the bed. There was no sense in being logical about the gods in daylight only to abandon oneself to superstition and trembling during the hours of the night. A man did not become a god just by dying, no matter what his successor might decree.

Ruso perched himself on the bed with the blanket around his shoulders, splashed cold water on his eyes, and settled down to spend the rest of the night with Hippocrates.