Medicus

73

Tilla had sat exhausted on the floor of the little storeroom for some time, wondering what to do next. She did not understand why the officer with the many long words and the odd hair had ignored her requests to send a message to the medicus. Nor did she understand why he had brought her to this place outside the fort. She knew where she was. Even if she had not recognized the route from the glimpses afforded by a badly tied blindfold, she would have guessed from the rattle of the brittle willow wands that rolled away beneath her as she sat down.

It must be dark outside now. The shop had fallen silent. She had heard the shutters being dragged across and the clank of the lock. It seemed no one would come for her until morning.

Then, not long ago, there had been shouting and banging nearby. She thought she recognized the voice of the medicus. She had leaped up and begun hammering on the door. "My Lord! It is Tilla! I am here, my Lord! Help me!"

From somewhere outside there was a loud crash, and then the voices faded. No one came. Perhaps it was not him. Perhaps he would not have helped her anyway

Not long after that came the sound of voices raised in anger. The words were muffled by the stone of the wall. She could not make out what was happening.

Her captors had left her necklace in place. She ran a forefinger along the smooth curve of one of the acorns. She would not taste the poison yet. But if she could escape no other way, it was ready.

The willow wands rattled as she stood up. The officer had ordered the man in the shop to help him drag something heavy across the door after she was shut in. Tilla felt around for the latch, running her fingers around the cold metal shapes and trying to understand how the mechanism worked. The latch was the kind that could be opened from both sides. It seemed the officer had not bothered to wedge it shut, relying on the weight of whatever they had put against the door to hold it closed. She bent down and snapped the end off a willow wand, then poked it under the latch to hold it up. She cleared the rest of the wands back to make a space for her feet. Then she braced herself with her back against the door and the boots the medicus had bought her planted firmly on the floor, and pushed.

Nothing happened.

Tilla relaxed, took a deep breath, and heaved again. Something behind her moved a fraction, then fell back into place as her strength gave out. She stood up, shrugged her bruised shoulders to loosen them, shook each leg in turn, then braced herself a third time, took a deep breath, pursed her lips, and heaved. The door moved farther, but not far enough. The fourth attempt was worse than the first. She was sliding down in despair when she heard someone jangling the lock on the shutters. A man was shouting her name. A man she had once hoped she could trust. She held her breath.

"Are you in there? Tilla, it's me! Ruso! Can you hear me?" And then, to someone else, "Can you see how this damned thing works?"

The medicus had planned to sell her. But he was a better prospect than the one with the odd hair, who reminded her of a dead spider. "I am here, my Lord!" she cried, banging on the door again. "Help me!"

Moments later she was almost knocked backward by the enthusiasm of his embrace. "Tilla! Thank the gods! Where have you been? Are you all right?" He drew back. "What's the matter?"

She shook her head. She must remember why he was pleased to see her. It would be so easy to be deceived again. "It is nothing, my Lord." If she explained how the cavalrymen had left her bruised and stiff, he would pretend to care.

"I was afraid you were dead." The dark eyes were searching hers. "Where have you been?"

She swallowed. "You would sell me."

"What? No, you don't understand-I never wanted to-"

From somewhere back in the shop, Bassus's voice cut him short."You never wanted to? Are you joking? We had a deal!"

"Nobody will be selling her," put in another voice. "That slave is the legal property of the Aesculapian Thanksgiving Fund."

The medicus turned and demanded to know how long she had been locked up here. "Until the deadline ran out, I suppose?"

They both ignored the torrent of words that followed.

"So," she said to him, "it is true. You would sell me."

She tried not to flinch as the medicus took her by the shoulders. He looked as he must look when he was trying not to tell a patient bad news. "No," he said. "I mean, I didn't…"

She raised one hand to her throat.

"Well, yes…" Ruso stumbled on, correcting himself. "But I didn't-what are you doing?"

She put the acorn up to her mouth. "Why should I live as a slave in this world when I can be free in the next?"

His grip on her shoulders tightened. "What are you talking about?"

Her lips brushed against the curve of the acorn as she made the words. "Let me go, or I will take the poison."

"Tilla, for pity's sake!" He was looking at the acorn, trying to decide whether he could grab it before she put it between her teeth. He would not be fast enough. They both knew it.

"You are as bad as the others," she told him. "You are worse. You pretend to have honor."

For a moment he said nothing. Then he raised his head. "Daphne needs you, Tilla. The baby is coming and she's in trouble. I think she's going to die."

"Go and help her yourself," she told him. "You are the medicus."

"That's how I know," he said.

"You lie to me. You are lying now about Daphne."

"Daphne will die," he urged. "I'm begging you, Tilla. If you know how to help her, come now."

She knew what he was thinking. He was wondering if she had lied about bringing out babies just as she had lied about being able to cook.

"Why do you care for Daphne? She is a slave. You are a medicus to the soldiers."

"If you can't help," he said, "say so now and I'll go and do my best." He was afraid, but not for himself. He was afraid for Daphne.

"You will make it worse," she told him. "Let go of me and show me where she is." She raised her voice so the other men could hear. "If anyone comes near, I will go to the next world."

The medicus turned to the men. "Stand back," he ordered. "Let her pass."