Medicus

47

The third morning of Valens's absence dawned to the sound of musical weather. Walking through the fort, a listener could enjoy the sound of water drumming on roofs and splashing from the eaves, streams tinkling down gutters, drains gurgling and backing up. Inside the hospital were the complex rhythms of leaks dripping at different speeds punctuated with the occasional ping where the staff had placed metal basins because they had run out of buckets. It had been raining since before dawn, as Ruso well knew since he had been called out while it was still dark. Everywhere with a working brazier now smelled of wet wool hung up to dry. Adding to the cheerless mood of the staff was the knowledge that the planned modernization of the hospital building had receded by another day as the weather held up the work over at the bathhouse. Even Priscus's powers, it seemed, had not extended beyond getting his own office ceiling dried out.

Ruso was dictating notes to Albanus in a mood of grim determination when the morning porter interrupted to announce a visitor. Ruso's temper did not improve when the visitor turned out to be the civilian liaison officer, come to ask if he could borrow Valens's hunting net.

"On a day like this?"

"We're making an early start in the morning. Just me and a few friends. Why don't you join us?"

"I'm busy," said Ruso. "Valens is away."

"Oh, sorry. I suppose you are. We're busy too, you know. Not like you, of course. Our work isn't life or death. Well, not usually."

"No."

"And frankly, if we do anything too fast, it just encourages them. They're supposed to take responsibility for themselves, you know."

"Yes."

"But of course they don't. Sometimes I wonder what they have a town council for. Anything that isn't keeping the drains clean and organizing jolly festivals gets sent to us. Widows who've had their prize goat stolen. Shopkeepers who've been punched on the nose by a soldier they can't quite identify. Natives who-"

His flow was interrupted by a knock on the door. "What do you want?" he demanded of the orderly whose head appeared around the door.

The orderly glanced at Ruso and then back at the liaison officer as if not sure which of them he was supposed to be addressing. "Another visitor for the doctor, sir."

"They all want an immediate investigation, you know," concluded the liaison officer, lifting his wet cloak from his arm and slinging it round his shoulders. "And it's always when I'm on duty. Oh by the way, I put your Claudius Innocens on the second spear's list for a little chat."

"He'll have to move fast. Innocens travels around."

"Really? Well, if we don't catch him this time, we'll nab him when he comes back."

Ruso turned his attention to the orderly. "Who wants me now? I'm trying to get some work done."

"It seems to be a native girl, sir. We would have sent her away, but she's insisting on seeing you."

Ruso sighed. "Send her in."

Tilla appeared, busy rubbing her hair with a towel. Her shawl had done little to prevent the rain soaking into the blue tunic that was now clinging to her with an appealing precision that Ruso did his best to ignore. Her feet were muddy up to the ankles.

The liaison officer looked her up and down as they passed in the doorway, then paused to address Ruso from the corridor. "I meant to say earlier," he said, "glad to hear you found your cook. Very nice. I'll look forward to an invitation."

"Do," said Ruso, calling after him, "wait till you try her soup!" He turned his attention to Tilla. "Who gave you a towel?"

She frowned. "Tall, thin, old. His hair…" She paused, then raised her hand in a gesture Ruso recognized.

"Officer Priscus, sir," put in Albanus.

"I see," said Ruso, not altogether pleased at the thought of Priscus sniffing round Tilla. "Is there a problem?"

"I need money, Master."

He saw that she was trying not to shiver. "I gave you money the other day."

"Is spent."

"What-all of it?"

She nodded, slung the towel over her shoulder, and began to count on her fingers. "Bread, apples, onions, carrots, eggs, milk-"

"All right," he interrupted. "I haven't got time for a shopping list."

He loosened the strings of his purse and tipped a quantity of pitifully small coins into his hand. "Take this," he said, adding something he remembered Claudia saying, "I shall expect an account at the end of the week." As she bent to pick the coins out of his palm, he realized that the tails of her plaits were dripping. He could not imagine how long it would take to dry that much hair in a climate like this, and so far she had only walked the short distance from the house.

Moments later he watched his own cloak walk out of the surgery with Tilla underneath it. At least part of her would stay dry. He hoped she would not catch a serious chill before he could afford to buy her some footwear.

"Her name is Tilla," he said, turning to his clerk. "If I'm out I may leave the key at the desk for her to collect."

"Yes, sir."

"And wipe that silly grin off your face, Albanus. Anybody'd think you'd never seen a housekeeper before."