Semper Fidelis

Chapter 49

Ruso’s head was throbbing. He supposed he should be glad that they had left him the dignity of a loincloth, but the stone walls of the cell were cold and unyielding against his naked back, and the iron bands he had seen two days ago were now cutting into his own wrists. He could not even scratch at the crawling itches of the nettle stings because the chains were too short, clamped to the wall in such a way that it was impossible either to stand up properly or to lower his hands from shoulder height when he sat.

What a fool he had been. What a pompous ass. I swore to serve indeed! At every crossroads, he had taken the wrong turn.

Pera’s careful report about Tadius had been destroyed because he had blundered in, trying to help.

Hadrian’s annoyed expression as he had called “Your Majesty!” should have warned him to shut up, but instead he had plowed on.

He closed his eyes and pictured Tilla pulling clothes out of their luggage. If we do not carry too much and we start now, we can be ten miles away by morning.

If only he could have that moment over again. He would say, Give me both bags and you take the box.

She had said, May the gods smile upon you, Gaius Petreius the Medicus.

Whatever the gods were up to, smiling was not a part of it.

He was drifting into a fitful sleep when a key rattled in the lock and the door crashed open.

“On your feet!” bawled a guard. “Septicius Clarus, prefect of the Praetorian Guard, and Tribune Accius to see the prisoner!”

Ruso struggled to his feet and stood with his back straight and his knees bent. It was marginally more respectful than leaning against the wall with his legs stretched out, but much less comfortable.

Clarus stepped into the cell. When Accius joined him, there was barely room to shut the door. Ruso, forcibly shortened and with his thighs already aching from the effort of his unnatural posture, looked up at them and waited while Clarus angled a wax tablet to catch the light from the small, high window. Accius glowered at a space somewhere above Ruso’s head. Normally a disciplinary investigation would be conducted by a tribune, but there were all sorts of reasons why Accius was the wrong man to investigate this, and Ruso guessed he had been forbidden to speak.

“Gaius Petreius Ruso,” Clarus declared, looking up from his notes and addressing him as if he were making a speech in the Forum. “As you are known to the emperor, I will be making the inquiries relating to the accusation of murder that has been made against you.”

“I didn’t do it, sir.”

“I am instructed to inform you that if you confess, things will be easier for your wife.”

“I have no wife, sir. I’m divorced.”

Clarus looked down his nose at him for a moment, then continued. “Last night you were confined to quarters.”

“I was called to a medical emergency, sir.”

“Yes.” Clarus ran one finger over the notes until he reached the point he wanted. “And when the emergency was dealt with, you went out through the east gate disguised as one of my men.”

This was not going well.

“You were seen at the mansio asking for your wife.” Ruso swallowed.

“There was blood on your hands.”

“The blood was from a patient, sir.”

Clarus let that rest. “There are some doubts about the loyalty of your wife, are there not?”

“I have no doubts, sir.”

“You wouldn’t deny that you asked to see her?”

“I needed to inform her that our marriage was no longer legal, sir. Because I’d been demoted.”

“But you still think of her as your wife.”

The burning in Ruso’s thighs was becoming unbearable. “I didn’t kill Geminus, sir.”

“Several people have told me that you had a grudge against him.”

“Not him personally, sir. The things he did. He caused the deaths of three of his recruits and then made threats against me when I tried to look into it. I wasn’t the only person who-” He stopped just in time and finished with “who had trouble with him” instead of who wanted him dead.

“The tribune here was already dealing with the business of the recruits.”

“Yes, sir.” He could stand it no longer. He wriggled round until he could lean against the wall with his aching legs stretched out in front of him.

Accius burst out, “Stand up straight!”

Clarus shot him a warning glance while Ruso shuffled back to his original position. He turned to the prefect. “Sir, I’m not going to escape. Could I have the chains removed?”

“Other men, perhaps,” said the prefect. “A man with your history, no.”

“My history, sir?”

“Your record of violence against fellow officers.”

Ruso frowned. “What?”

Clarus sighed. “You see, Ruso, we know a great deal about you.”

Ruso closed his eyes, realizing at last what-or rather, who-was behind Clarus’s interest in him. “I once pushed Metellus into a river, sir. I did it because he deserved it.”

“And did Geminus deserve what you did to him too?”

“What happened to Centurion Geminus wasn’t justice, sir. And the person who did it is still free.” He took a chance. “I’ve worked as an investigator in the past, sir. I could help you track down the guilty men.”

Clarus snapped his writing tablet shut. “Do the honorable thing and confess, Ruso. You don’t want to meet the questioners, and we don’t want to have to use them on a man of your former standing. It’s undignified.” He turned and thumped the door with his fist. “Guards! We’ve finished with this man.”