Semper Fidelis

Chapter 34

The lazy lard-arses of the maintenance crews were lazy no longer. It was a bright morning, and everywhere Ruso went, men in brown working tunics were hammering wooden shingles onto roofs, sweeping up old leaves, filling potholes, clearing dumped rubbish, scything grass, slapping on paint, greasing hinges, and opening windows to air long-neglected buildings. The granaries had been opened to release extra wheat, and pink-eyed slaves who had been up all night grinding flour were now shambling back and forth to the ovens with trays of loaves.

An arrhythmic clanging had been echoing across the fort since first light as the sweating blacksmiths labored to keep pace with the demand for tools and repairs. Evidently they were not succeeding: Ruso had been called upon earlier to patch up two men injured in a fight over a rusty spade, and a third who had been knocked out by the ill-fitting head of an axe. A long queue outside Stores was jeering as the clerk who had refused to give Ruso more lamp oil last night was being told by a man twice his size exactly where he could shove his official permit.

Ruso had snatched barely three hours in bed after Accius’s emergency planning meeting last night. The hospital’s role-to open up the empty wards to accommodate the Praetorians-was decided early on, but clearly there was no hope of being sent away to get some sleep. As the discussions wore on, he found himself reflecting that at least they had some warning. He could only imagine the consternation of the man in charge at the humble ferry port of Petuaria when Hadrian’s ships had been sighted in the river Abus instead of the Tinea. There had been a collective sigh of relief at the meeting when Accius announced that the tides were not high enough for Hadrian’s rowers to bring him upriver as far as Eboracum. At least, if he were traveling by road, it would be possible to monitor his progress.

Ruso had just left Accius’s second briefing meeting of the morning, where a dusty cavalryman had confirmed that the imperial invasion-which was how Ruso thought of it-was still six or seven hours away. He strode back toward the hospital, anxious to see Austalis, who to his immense relief seemed to be showing signs of responding to treatment. He had set aside his plans to amputate, pleased that his visit here might at least have achieved one useful outcome. As for the Geminus business … it was unfortunate, but with the tramp of the emperor’s escort growing closer every second, it was hard to see who would care about the loss of a few recruits.

As he rounded the corner, he was startled by a rumbling growl. Furious, deep-throated barking. Something huge and brown with teeth hurtling toward him. He flung himself sideways, hauled open a door-thank the gods, it wasn’t locked-slammed it shut and threw himself against it, feeling the jolt as the massive creature collided with the other side.

Back to the door, gasping for breath, he marveled at the closeness of his escape-until the room went dark and the snarling dog crashed in through the open window. Wrenching himself away from something tearing at his tunic, he was out of the door and scrambling up the nearest pillar with the dog snapping at his feet. Finally he collapsed, breathless, on the shingles of the walkway roof. Below him he could hear the dog scrabbling against the pillar, still barking and snarling as if he’d just attacked it, instead of the other way around. He ran a hand over the back of his left thigh, feeling torn flesh and the warm stickiness of blood.

Somebody was yelling over the din. He lifted his head to shout, “Careful, it’s vicious!” just as the barking stopped.

“Here, girl,” said the gravelly voice of Centurion Geminus. He sounded almost affectionate. Then he called, “Sorry about that, Doc. Did she get you?”

Cautiously, barely able to believe what had just happened, Ruso peered over the rough edge of the roof. Geminus was standing next to a creature that was part large hunting dog and very definitely part wolf. Man and animal were joined by a slack rope that looped around the dog’s neck.

“Is that yours?” demanded Ruso, eyeing it with suspicion. “She tried to have my leg off. She shouldn’t be out.”

“Oh, she wouldn’t have had your leg off,” said Geminus cheerfully. “Not Bella.” He patted the dog. “Would you, girl?” Then he said, without a hint of irony, “If she was serious, she’d have had your throat out.”

Ruso maneuvered onto his back and lifted his leg to examine the bite. It was messy but, as far as he could make out, not deep. The hem of his tunic was shredded and soaked with blood. He was aware that he was shaky and not thinking straight, his body still fearful even though his mind knew the danger was over. Geminus was saying something, but it was a moment before he could unscramble the words.

“It’s all right, Doctor, you can come down. She won’t touch you.”

Insisting on escorting him back to the hospital, Geminus apologized again for his dog, but in a tone implying that Ruso should have known better than to be walking around while the dog was loose. Then he moved on to discuss the plan to invite Hadrian to watch the recruits’ final tests tomorrow morning. Ruso, forcing his jittery mind to concentrate, gave him the latest news on Austalis.

“Pity about that one,” Geminus said.

Ruso had just remembered that he had promised to talk to Geminus about tattoo removal when the centurion said, “No hard feelings over your complaint, by the way.”

“Complaint?”

Geminus chuckled. “You thought he wouldn’t tell me?”

When Ruso did not reply he said, “We’re all grown men here, Doc. Good men have to stick together, not tittle-tattle like children.” He gestured around him. “After all, you can’t trust this bunch.”

Ruso could not think of a reply. His leg hurt, and the revelation reverberating around his mind was leaving no space for anything else. He had dared to complain to Accius. Instead of keeping it quiet, Accius had told Geminus about their conversation. Now Geminus’s dog had attacked him.

Geminus was still talking. “Only fair to give a man a chance to tell his side of the story, eh? You were honest with him, he was honest with me, I’m being honest with you. You only had to ask about the river. I’d have told you. Both those lads had swimming lessons. I taught them myself. They knew what to do. They’d have been all right if young Dannicus hadn’t panicked. As for what went on with Tadius: You’re right. Shameful.” He broke off to shout, “Oi! Sharpen your blade, son!” to a youth who was ineffectively swinging a scythe at a patch of nettles.

They were outside the hospital entrance now. Geminus clapped a hand on Ruso’s shoulder. “Sorry about the leg,” he said. “But you look to be walking all right. Tell Stores I said not to bill you for another tunic. And let me know how young Austalis does, will you?”

Ruso stood in the hospital doorway, feeling the blood pooling inside his boot. He watched man and dog walk away. Geminus had not explained what the animal was doing loose in the street at the very moment Ruso had been approaching. If she was serious, she’d have had your throat out. She had seemed serious. If he hadn’t moved fast enough, would Geminus have stopped her? When nobody in authority cared about the fatal bullying of a few humble recruits, how closely would anyone have questioned the loss of one medic? His death would be just another accident for the unlucky garrison of Eboracum.

This time he had escaped with a warning. Next time there might not be a roof within reach.