Semper Fidelis

Chapter 32

Ruso took another swig of the wine with rose petals steeped in it before he set off, but by the time the torchlit entrance to the mansio came into view, his headache was showing no sign of clearing. Still, Austalis seemed to be stable, and with luck Tilla had heeded his message and gone to bed. The last thing he wanted tonight was an argument. That could wait until morning, when he would have to admit that his attempt to call Geminus’s bluff had achieved exactly the opposite effect to the one he had intended.

If only he had kept his mouth shut.

That pretty wife has you dancing on a string. Perhaps Accius had a point. Other officers’ wives stayed back at base, tending their homes and children and meeting up at the bathhouse to gossip. Other officers’ wives did not follow them around the countryside raising awkward questions to which they would never understand the only answers their husbands had to give. In fact, now that he thought about it, Tilla’s presence and her insistence on voicing the demands of the women outside the camps made his job infinitely more difficult. It was time they bought a slave. Next time he was away, the slave could look after him and the wife could stay at home.

He strode on, not looking at the light but at the surface of the street. He did not want to round off a difficult evening by stepping in a pile of dung.

There had been an accumulation of small exasperations back at the hospital: first the cook’s failure yet again to remember his instructions for Austalis’s diet; and then someone had packed the pharmacy scales ready to travel, and when they were needed, nobody could remember which box they were in. The search was complicated by a period of semidarkness when it was discovered that nobody had filled any of the lamps, owing to the nonarrival of the oil that Stores insisted they had sent, but the hospital staff were adamant they had not received. An emergency request to Stores to allocate some more had resulted in the messenger being told to piss off, which was more or less what Ruso had been told himself-only more politely-when he went across to insist on some action. He had been on the verge of losing his temper when the first amphora was traced to the headquarters building, lying in a side room with the words HOSPITAL URGENT clearly chalked on the side.

A less rational man would begin to think the gods didn’t like him. A rational man would conclude that someone at the hospital-and he certainly didn’t trust that clerk-was deliberately making his life difficult.

He was so preoccupied that the rapid thud of hooves and the yell of “Look out!” took him completely by surprise. He felt a rush of air as the horse swerved to avoid him, no doubt as alarmed as he was by the sudden appearance of a pedestrian in the middle of the road in the dark. The rider yelled something at him and hurtled on toward the east gate. Ruso stepped aside in case there were more horses, but the cavalryman seemed to be a lone late arrival.

He took a last deep breath of cool night air before making his way up the mansio steps. If Tilla was awake, he would begin with the good news. “I’ve cleared up this Metellus business with Accius,” he would say. “We can stop worrying. He’s not bothered.”

Seconds later, he found that rehearsing his lines had been a waste of time. He had started the scene in entirely the wrong place. Not only had Tilla received no message to say he would be late, but the first words after an accusatory “I was worried!” were “What have you been saying about me to the tribune?”

The headache gained him no sympathy at all. He helped himself to a cup of water-clearly none was going to be offered-before sitting on the edge of one of the beds and trying to explain. “I thought he would listen,” he said. “I even thought he might look into it. I never thought it would come to this.”

“But I told you it was a secret! How can I give him a name when I swore on the bones of my ancestors that I would not?”

He heard himself offer the lame “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“And it is not me who mixes up your medicines.”

“Forget the bloody medicines!” Had she sat here all evening making a list of things to argue about?

“But the first thing you will be thinking is It is Tilla again.”

“I think it was someone at the hospital.”

“Yes. But first you will be thinking it is me.”

She was getting her tenses mixed up, something she rarely did now unless she was very agitated.

“I am a nuisance to you.”

“Oh, gods above.” He lay back on the bed and pressed his hands to his temples. “Not tonight, Tilla.”

“No,” she agreed. “Not tonight. But this is worse than the pay wagon. This time I swore an oath to say nothing.”

He was not fool enough to think he could change her mind. “You realize if we don’t come up with something for him, there will be consequences for both of us?”

“That is his choice, not ours.”

“But we’re the ones who will suffer for it.”

“Something in this place stinks,” she said, lifting her chin as if the smell were under her nose at that moment. “I should have tell him he must deal with what is wrong, instead of trying to silence a person who tells the truth.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Perhaps we should say that to him.”

“Perhaps you should try presenting your witness so he can hear the accusations for himself.”

She shook her head. “The tribune would not believe a word this person said.”

“Marvelous.” He raised himself up on his elbows and took another swig of water. “The only way out of this is to convince Accius that the rumors about Geminus are true. And the only way to do that is to present a witness we can’t produce.” He glanced at her. “There must be other witnesses. It’s not just this one person, is it?”

“I could ask, but I do not know anyone who will talk.”

“Better and better.”

Tilla was silent for a moment. Finally she said, “We could go back to Gaul.”

That pretty wife has you dancing on a string. He was only here in Britannia because of Tilla. “Last time we went, I was on sick leave at the end of a contract,” he pointed out. “This time it would be desertion.” He pulled off his boots. “What I want,” he said, “the only thing I’ve ever wanted, is a job where all I have to deal with is what’s in front of me.” He slung his belt over the bedpost. “Is that too much to ask?”

She said, “What is in front of you?

He hauled the covers over himself and closed his eyes. “A good night’s sleep, I hope.”

“And tomorrow?”

“Amputation of the right arm at the shoulder.”

“In front of me is a girl many weeks’ walk from home, abandoned with an injured child. And a centurion with something to hide.”

He sighed. “Stay out of it, Tilla. There are any number of veterans who will swear to you that the training isn’t as tough now as it was in their day. Geminus is a bully, but no doubt he sees himself as trying to restore standards.” He opened his eyes. “Did you do any reading this evening?”

“He should have sent the ferry.”

For a moment he thought this was her last word on the subject. Then he heard “Do you think he was angry because two men were fond of each other?”

“They shouldn’t have made it obvious,” he said. “Somebody should have warned them: Never do anything to make yourself a target in basic training.”

“But when the emperor himself runs after boys …” She paused. Some sort of commotion was going on outside. There were doors banging. Raised voices. Footsteps and the jingle of military belts approached the window. Ruso lifted his head to listen, but the soldiers carried on past.

“The emperor can do what he likes,” he said, relieved that whatever the fuss was, it did not require a medic. “He’s not answerable to Geminus.”

“Geminus likes to frighten people.”

“Recruits have to be toughened up. And taught to obey orders. They don’t drill them for fun. Discipline saves men’s lives, Tilla. If I didn’t believe that, I’d have no business being in the Legion.”

One of the soldiers was coming back. She had just said, “It is not saving very many lives here, is it?” when someone thumped on the door and shouted, “Message for the medical officer!”

Ruso sighed, rolled off the bed, and padded barefoot to the door. His eyes widened as the captain of Accius’s guard whispered the message in his ear. He said, “Is this some sort of joke?”

“I hope not, sir.”

Reflecting that this was not going to help his headache, he buckled his belt and retrieved his boots from under the bed. “Don’t wait up,” he told Tilla. If the guard had not been standing three feet away, he would have told her the news. Instead, all he could say was “Something’s happening. You’ll find out in the morning.”